A Whole Buncha Shit You Never Knew You Wanted To Know About Me (AKA The One Where You Find Out Just How Perverted I Am)

Today is a difficult day for me. Not because of the beasts within, but for a very specific and deeply personal reason. So, while it’s highly unusual for me (especially lately), I’m gonna do my second post of the day. This one is gonna be fun! I’m in need of fun diversion, and I think some of you will wanna do this fun little thing for yourselves, too!

Over at A Momma’s View, the lovely blogger issued a superfun list of 35 questions for her readers to answer. She also asks her readers to come up with a question of their own. So. I’ll do hers and add the ones her commenters asked, and I’ll try to come up with my own to add for you.

Let’s do this thang, chickenwang. ((That was really fucking lame, but it popped into my head so it stays.) (You’re welcome.))

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1 – Boxer shorts or budgy smugglers? Bam. I can already tell these are gonna be my kinda questions! So. Chick. I don’t wear either. But if I’m gonna get to see a man’s underwear, I really hope they’re boxer briefs. Gray or black. Hm. But if he has dark skin, white ones look awesome. Hm, I bet white looks good on pale skin, too. You know what? Fuck the color, just make sure they’re snug. (What? Aren’t these Essay Questions? No? Piss off. They are so.)

2 – What color of underwear are you currently wearing? Black.

3 – How long have you been wearing them for? Let’s see, it’s 3:10 PM at this very moment. So I’ve been wearing them for 8 hours. Geez, why does that sound gross? It’s totally not!

4 – Do you ever use binoculars to watch people? No. But good idea! No, I take that back. My street is filled with old people and college kids. Wait. There’s the Lebanese guy a block down. Anybody have a pair of binoculars I can borrow? I need to find out his answer to the first question. (Look. I’m not a pervert, people. I’m a human. A fucking perverted one.)

5 – Have you ever kicked someone in the groin? Not no, but fuck no. No one has ever done anything to me that would come close to warranting that. At least not once I was old enough to consider retribution. Hell, I probably wouldn’t even now. Even if he or she deserved it. I just couldn’t be that cruel.

6 – Would you pull a trigger? No. No, I wouldn’t.

7 – If you met your favorite celebrity, and they wanted to make out with you, would you? No. Because making out leads to sex. And that ain’t happenin’ without an STD-free permit and exclusive relationship rights. Call me a prude. Don’t give a fuck. (Not without the STD-free permit, anyway!)

8 – Have you ever slept in the same bed with someone you were not in a relationship with (not talking about sex and one-night-stands)? Fuck no. Why the fuck would I be in bed with someone I didn’t want to have sex with? If you crawl into my bed, prepare for the fuckening. Unless you’re a chick. Then get out.

9 – Have you had one-night-stands? Not exactly.

10 – Does sex have the same importance to you now compared to when you were younger? Fuck. No. It matters a great deal more, now! And I’m single – what kind of bullshit is this, universe?! HUH? FUCK YOU. No. NO. No “fuck you.” If I’m not getting laid, neither are you! UNFUCK YOU!

11 – Have you ever eaten a worm? No. But I made my little sister eat one when we were kids. I felt like a god. It was awesome. And then I felt guilty, because I’m a softy. (Fuck off, I am, too.)

12 – What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever eaten? Bread. Nah, I’m kidding. Broccoli. Fucking broccoli. And mayonnaise. And cream cheese. And potted meat. And…I’m going to go puke now. Thanks a lot.

13 – How long do you spend sitting on the toilet? Uhhhhhh. I don’t like this question. Damnit. If I have a book or iPad with me (I know I know germs bleh), my ass will go numb. Good enough?

14 – What do you do when you sit there (besides the obvious)? Read or play games or pet my cat. (Not THAT “cat,” sickos. I don’t do that kind of petting on the toilet. One of the cats always follows me to the bathroom….)

15 – Have you ever been peed at? Yes, yes, I’ve been aggressively peed at by a legion of angry toddlers. It was like walking through a warm sprinkler. Ew. NO. I’ve never been peed at or on. WAIT. YES I HAVE. FROGGIES. FROGGIES HAVE PEED ON ME.

16 – What’s the grossest thing you have ever swallowed? This is a dangerous question. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna say cum. Piss. Piss with cigarette butts in it. Yeah, I’m not fucking kidding. I wish I was. Someone pissed in my soda can and put a cigarette out in it, because he thought I was done with it. Yeah. Fuck, I’m gonna hurl.

17 – What’s the constantly dirtiest place in your home? The kitchen. Ugh, I hate cleaning the kitchen.

18 – Why don’t you clean it? Because I fucking hate it. Dishes and shit. The oven. The sink. Ugh. I fucking hate it, that’s why!

19 – Do you eat your boogers? Fuck. No. But my sister used to. How do you think I knew I could easily convince her to eat worms? Nasty little shit. She was still sneaking them in her twenties. I bet she garnishes her dishes with them now.

20 – Can you describe the one smell that makes you gag? Human. KIDDING. Hmm. The one smell that makes me gag. Rotten milk or eggs. Yeah, that’s two things, but they both popped into mind as something guaranteed to make me gag.

21 – Have you ever had head lice? Yes. My sister brought them home, and we all got ’em. Fucking nasty. And she KEPT bringing them home until mom finally figured out exactly which friend they were coming from.

22 – Have you ever been utterly disappointed in someone? Yes. Yes, I have. And it’s a devastating feeling. To be utterly disappointed in someone, you have to have a high level of trust and expectations. And unfortunately, I’ve been disappointed many times in life.

23 – Have you ever been scared of someone? Yes. I’d have a real urge to piss my pants if he showed up even now.

24 – What do you do when you’re drunk that you wouldn’t want anyone to know about? Uhm. I’m honestly a pretty fun drunk. I just get silly and giggly. If I get too drunk, I run into shit. But that’s normal. Uhm. That I wouldn’t want anyone to know about? Does “get aroused” count? Not really. I think that’s pretty standard, too. I dunno! I’m fucking awesome when I’m drunk. I should probably drink more. (Kidding. I don’t drink often, and I plan to keep it that way.)

25 – Have you tried pole dancing? Not the kind you’re talking about.

26 – Have you been in a strip club? Nope. I’m not into window-shopping of any sort.

27 – Have you ever run over an animal? Yes. And I sobbed so fucking hard…every time…sometimes for days.

28 – Have you ever peed in snow? No! Bucket list!

29 – Have you ever made fun of someone and then regretted it? You bet your sweet ass I have. I regret it still. It’s shameful. Shameful.

30 – What’s your favorite kind of question on Cards for Humanity (if you know the game)? Uhm. Sex ones. DUH. Anybody wanna play?

31 – If the father of your best friend hit on you, what would you say to him? I have a specific man in mind, and my usual timid self would be out the window. I would strongly tell that bastard to fuck right off, stop breathing my air, and I hope your dick falls off.

32 – Would you go out on a date with someone half your age or double your age? No. Half my age would be 17. I have no interest in boys. Twice my age would be 70. I have no interest in changing diapers.

33 – Do you clean the sink after brushing your teeth? Isn’t that what toothpaste is for? Kidding. I don’t. I’m a fucking slob, okay? Sometimes.

34 – Have you ever spat in someone’s food or drink? No.

35 – Have you ever kissed someone only to be grossed out afterwards? Oh god, yes. Patrick, you sleaze.

36 – What is your number one goal in life, and are you living it? Contentment. Yes. I think that’s what it all boils down to. Contentment. And no. I’m not. But I’m striving for it.

37 – Do you spy on your neighbor(s)? If yes, why? No. I don’t give a fuck about their lives. Does that make me an asshole? Perhaps. But it also makes me NOT A CREEPY SPY! So there!

38 – Have you ever danced and/or cried in the rain? I know I’ve cried in the rain. I think I danced in the rain, but I could have dreamt it. Do you have “memories” like that? Where you aren’t sure it ever happened? And maybe it was just a dream? Yeah.

39 – Have you ever ditched work to just chill out on your own (with or without Netflix)? Fuck yes.

40 – And this one is from me: What do you wish you were doing right now (anything goes)? I wish I were sitting cross-legged in a mountain-rimmed meadow, laughing and talking and wishing and sharing and getting righteously baked with a companion. Maybe some guitar playing. Maybe sex under the stars. But mostly a boatload of giggles and exchanges of ideas.

~

There you have it. Wanna play?

 

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Buncha Bullshit: The One Where Stephanie Rants About The Logistics of Making a Major Life Change (AKA:Whiny Girl Rants about First World Problems)

Moving across the country on a low budget is a royal pain in the ass. And the logistics of such are putting a mild damper on my excitement. It’s more epic frustration than woe is me bullshit.

I’m about as frustrated as a crackwhore without any crack or whorish shenanigans.
I’m about as frustrated as a woman in the throes of heightened sexual tension without a partner to take it out on.
I’m about as frustrated as a politician without a Lewinsky.
I’m about as frustrated as the CIA without a brothel.
I’m about as frustrated as. As. Uhm. As someone who is frustrated.

(I just reread this and realized most of the the frustration examples are sexual in nature. Don’t read into that, please. Or do. Either way, I’m gonna stop talking now. (Except I’m not. But it won’t be about sex anymore. Why would I talk about sex? This is a motherfucking clean blog, damnit. (Fuckin’ hell, I have sex on the brain. I’m human after all. Sexbrain is NOT HELPING, SO MOTHERFUCKING STOP IT, BRAIN. (I really should delete this ridiculous parenthetical that’s only making things worse. But I’m not going to. Because this is me. Hi. My name is Stephanie, and I have sexbrain. Hi Stephanie. Welcome, Stephanie. Keep coming back – it works if you work it!))))

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This Poor Little Fucker. That’s me. Seriously, that’s exactly what I look like. I had my portrait done. For seriouses.

It’s all a buncha bullshit. And there’s a whole lotta bullshit that has to be figured out and sorted.

Buncha Bullshit that has to be Figured Out and Sorted

Emotional Bullshit – Let’s get this bullshit outta the way first. My family sucks. Seriously, they can all go eat a giant bag of dicks. I don’t know where my mother is. She may or may not be in town. I’ve seen both her and my sort of grandfather at local grocery stores before. They both ignored me. Pretended I wasn’t even there. It’s no wonder grocery stores are currently my strongest triggers for acute anxiety. But the mother…is unreliable and an untreated bipolar. And she’s probably not even in the state anymore. Who knows. My siblings and my aunt (who was always my second-favorite family member – at least on that side of the family) won’t speak to me anymore, because I won’t “get over” the physical, emotional, psychological, sexual abuse and go to my so-called father’s side now as he lays dying.

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So yeah. Fuck them. I’m not even gonna tell them I’m leaving. For all they know, I’ve been dead for years. Fuck. Them. Fuck. Them. Fuck. Them. And for all the Fuck Thems I type, there are a hundred more tears. Motherfuckers. Fuck Them for making me feel this way. Fuck them for throwing me out with yesterday’s garbage. Fuck Them. I don’t even love them anymore. Do I? Fuckin’ hell, I’ve gotten scary good at compartmentalization. Don’t get me wrong. I know I can’t run away from the damage they’ve done to me over the course of my life. (This is not about running away. This is about moving on to a place I’ve always wanted to be but allowed people to tell me no.) And though I can’t get them outta my head, I can get outta this town of pain and tangible memories.

Whew. There. That’s dealt with. Let’s move on to financial bullshit.

Financial Bullshit – I know I haven’t spoken about my (failed) marriage, and I don’t intend to go into details now. At this point, it’s not something I wish to speak of here. I bring it up now just to make a single point: I was unemployed when we separated. But I was the one left saddled with the entire mortgage and anything else that goes into the typical running of a household. Since he took half of the savings account, it didn’t take long for me to go through every cent as I looked for a job in a shitty economy and shitty area for good employment opportunities. By the time I landed something decent, aside from little temp jobs, I had about 200 bucks to my name. And I seriously thought I was going to go default on the mortgage. I didn’t. In fact, I’ve never missed a single payment. But what that means for me now? I don’t have savings. I have some cash stashed in a box where all of my tutoring cash goes. But it’s “nothing to write home about,” as the saying goes. I’m fine. I pay all of my bills (except the student loan one which I simply can’t pay at this point). And they’re paid on time. I don’t do without food, water, shelter, books, etc. So I work full-time for an enormous corporation, and I’m broke. But only when it comes to anything outside of the basics.

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Let’s see what the news is today. Oh yes, still broke as fuck. Off to work I go, like a good little mindless citizen!

However, this does throw a big wrench into the logistics of moving across country. Do y’all know how much it would cost to hire a moving company to move one set of bedroom furniture, about twenty boxes of books, some dishes and a couple of chests? The lowest quote I’ve gotten thus far was about $3,500. Their competitors said $4,500. U-Haul would be about $1,700, but then there is mileage and fuel costs to consider on top of that. So. What it looks like I’ll have to do is drive myself up there with my cats and whatever I can fit in the car. Leave the rest in storage. And sleep on an air mattress in the tiniest, cheapest apartment I can find to start out in.

This also means that I can’t afford to let people at work know about this until the very last minute. Because I can’t afford to quit my job while I tidy up the house for the market and dig in deep on a job search in Seattle. It also means I can’t just move up there and find a job that way, because I’d have greater odds of landing something good if I were actually there. But I can’t do that.

Then there’s the question of where I’ll live in the interim.

Housing Bullshit – As the regular Peopleaneous know, I’m in the (lengthy) process of preparing my house to put on the market. This involves the ex, as his name is still on the deed. And the house is filled with a lot of his stuff. (Including the guns that I couldn’t get rid of, because they weren’t mine…and I did not want to deal with the explosion that would ensue if I’d gotten rid of them.) So. He’s been over a lot on weekends and evenings. Going through his stuff. Culling stuff. Fixing stuff (very very slowly) and occasionally sabotaging my efforts by doing shit like parking in the middle of the yard after days of heavy rain and rutting the fucker up. That will do wonders for the curb appeal. Fucking wonderful. Anyway. ANYFUCKINGWAY. This isn’t about him. And I said I didn’t wanna talk about him. And I don’t. So. The point is, this is lengthy.

And I have an issue that I don’t know how to resolve.

Issue the First: Selling the house is going to be difficult. First, the market it is in has done nothing but go down down down since I/we bought the place. Second, he never maintained things. And I wasn’t allowed to, in the sense that… No. No. I’m just gonna leave that there. I’m not going to make this about him. He used to be great, and then he lost his way. And then we both changed. I’m gonna leave it at that. Point is, the house wasn’t kept up. Things are broken. Things are damaged. Things have been neglected. Then the other day, the fucking city tore down a tree. Fucking ass sucking dickwhistles. And in the few years I’ve been there by myself, I was mostly so mired down in a bottomless pit of the darkest depression I’ve known. Too far down to even think it was worth getting out of bed to take care of the house. I was in total fuck you, fuck me, fuck the world, fuck the universe, fuck the house, fuck the job, fuck it all mode.

Issue the Second: What if the house sells before I land a job in Seattle? Does that mean I have to sign a 6-month contract on some apartment in town? That would make me lose a lot of money if I found a job just after moving. Plus, who the fuck wants to move twice?

Issue the Third: What if I land a job before the house sells? How do I finagle that? I can’t afford to rent property in Seattle while simultaneously paying a mortgage. Seriously, it’s not like I’m CEO material. I won’t be making that kinda money. So how does that work?

Which leads me to jobby bullshit.

Jobby Bullshit – Should I even be looking for jobs at this point? Is it premature? It’s premature, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be foolish not to? Maybe someone out there thinks I’m worth waiting for. It’s possible, right? Or maybe I could land a job and let them know that when the house sells, I’ll need to fly back down for paperwork and shit. But that brings me back to the issue of rent plus mortgage. No can do, buckaroo. The good news is that I’ve secured three solid references. Two of you read this blog on occasion. Be good to me, fellas! Pretty please.

Oh, yes. More Jobby Bullshit. Another issue I’m having is that I’d like to pursue something that I may actually enjoy. Something with writing or editing would be fucking epic. I can even write without using “fuck” all the time. Promise. The problem is, my deagent-orange-wasting-time-250x127grees are not in English or Journalism or any of those other “required” degrees for writing jobs. The problem is none of my work experience is writing related, aside from some freelance gigs on the side. The problem is, I don’t have writing samples to submit. And I sure as fuck don’t want any potential employers finding this spot: a. because of all the fucking that goes on around here and 2. because then I’d never be able to rant or vent about work!

But I don’t want to do the kind of thing I’m doing right now. And I also don’t want to do the whole Executive Assistant/Administrative thing. I’ve done it. I’m damn fucking good at it. But it’s no fun. It’s draining. It’s meaningless to me. And it makes me feel the time, my life, tick tick ticking away.

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So I don’t know what to do. More specifically, I don’t know how to approach all of this. I’m sure there are other issues that I had in mind before I began this post. But I’ve been interrupted countless times because work. And also because my mind is in a dirty, dirty place right now. So it’s hard to focus. Anyway, this fucker is nearly 2,000 words already. Probably about 1,900 more than it really needs to be! But my name is not Concisephanie for a reason!

I would like to ask something of my dear Peopleaneous.

If there are any of you out there who have done this before and have a clearer vision on the logistics of something like this, please hit me up. I’d love some advice.

If there are any of you out there who have made major career switches without the official qualifications to do so, I’d love some tips there as well.

And if any of you are in Seattle and hiring, pick me! MEMEMEMEMEME!

In the meantime, I’m going to keep trudging forward. This is my year. I’m taking charge of my life. And I’m still holding on to Rollins’ words.

Rollins

 GO!

(Please forgive any egregious errors. I don’t feel like re-reading this right now. Ha! Some copy-editor!)