Middle School Dodge Ball Strikes Again

16 Feb

Finally, after 2.5 years of blogging, I get tagged.  A good game of blog tag is much like a middle school game of dodge ball: only the cool kids get to play, if you get picked you best be awesome (and fast) and the game will end with black eyes and bruised feelers. I must tell you that Dribbles & Grits tagged me then calmly let me know that if I break the blog chain of tagging- that my cat will fall into a juicer and the world could possibly end. No pressure. The point of the game is to answer all sorts of  personal questions in the hopes that you will get to know me and maybe I can sit at the mean girls table. I love mean girls… love to punch them. KIDDING! Sorta.

Where were you born?

If I tell you this, then you could steal my identity. But then the joke would be on you because someone already did that…twice. This is why you won’t be able to buy a Cadillac in my name, nor can I. My credit is on lock down and no way would you ever guess the super secret unlock password. So I will give you this- I was born in the North but because I love my  Texas residency more than my credit- I can not tell you in which Yankee state. However, I moved to Texas when I was 2… or 4 … I can’t remember last year much less when I got here.  I consider Austin, Texas my adoptive birth place. My birth state can suck balls… she never sends me birthday cards anyway.

Were you named after someone?

Rumor has it that I was named after an Aunt, but my name is spelled differently. That’s ok because I don’t go by my first name anyway. I go by my stripper name. Better stories attached to tit. I mean “it”….

If you have children, how many do you have?

I have one. She is 20 and her name is The Girl. I couldn’t have any more after she was born. That shit hurt too much.

How many pets do you have?

Rebel Rabbit & Stir Fry

Rebel Rabbit & Stir Fry

Ten. Six are actually ours. The Man came with China. She was a mean little tri color Rat Terrier that he rescued from the pound. They were going to kill her because she was abused and

This is how the hobos thank me.

This is how the hobos thank me.

not friendly. By “not friendly” I mean she makes Mike Tyson seem friendly. He signed a waiver in order to adopt her and save her life. She passed away last month- after an exclusive 14 year romance with The Man. Only he could touch her AND keep his fingers. She still counts in our house. I came to the marriage with Rebel Rabbit- he was going to be euthanized as a kitten because he always threw up his food and had a deformed back. He is a black and white Manx and is almost three- he  is every bit Rebel and rabbit. And gay. Lola  strayed into our yard last summer. She was starving, had puppies and was dumped  in our neighborhood… sans the puppies. We took her in with the intention to get her well and re home her (you will soon notice a trend with our ability to re-home… we ARE the re-home).  I took her to the vet to get her fixed and they asked me what kind of dog she is. I said I don’t know… a Lab I think. The lady looks over the counter and says, “you mean a pit bull?”… yeah that’s what I said lady… a LabraBull. Duh!  We adopted Lola’s mini me from the pound- Trixie was thrown out of a car window and the lady that works at the pound just happened to be behind the car. Trixie is a little black and white Fox Terrier and every bit a neurotic co dependent stalker. We’re betting that’s why she was tossed out of the car. Dexter is a three pound brindle Chihuahua. If you ask him- he is a 250 pound, very fierce, big balling  pit bull. He and The Man have a near illegal bro-mance going on. He was abandoned at a camp ground…we took him in to get him healthy and re-home him…. two years ago. The last to join our home is Stir Fry. She was a cute little starving kitten that started hanging around so we decided to bring her in. As it turns out- she is the coolest cat ever… part cat, part spider monkey and part pirate parrot. She uses her dew claws as thumbs, can open Tupper Ware, likes to ride around on my shoulder and can mimic any bird she hears. Then there are four stray cats that come in, eat our food, let us take them to the vet and then go back outside. Essentially, they are our ungrateful teenagers, only coming home when they want food or need medical attention. Assholes.

What was your worst injury?

One day I decided to be athletic and went to play soccer with The Girl and my ex. I decided to leap up in the air and shoot the ball into the goal all Pele style. It was awesome until gravity yanked my me down to reality. For that big dreams day I received a broken wrist and fractured ankle. My athletic career  started and tragically ended in a span of five minutes. My ego is still in need of physical therapy.

Do you have a special talent?

I can write with both hands, touch my tongue to my nose and I am crazy good at Words With Friends. I can run like a sloth in six inch heels, skate backwards and out drink most men. No hang overs either, it’s a gift from the Gods I tell you!

What’s your favorite thing to bake?

Cupcakes, yo!

I made these! Yummy.

I made these! Yummy.

What’s your favorite fast food?

Sonic. But not for their food- it tastes and looks like plastic. I love, love their fountain drinks and chopped ice. And their ice cream. If I have to eat fast food- that would be McDonald’s french fries. I don’t know what kind of tasty good crack they sprinkle on them but they are the bomb! Cholesterol bomb- but yummy just the same.

 Would you bungee jump?

Oh hell to the no. Are you kidding me? First- there is a math equation involved- I am very, very bad at math. My weight x velocity/ distance to the concussion at the end of the fall. No way. I am way too top-heavy and die 100 times on the way down. Hell. No. Not even if there was a pile of size 10 mega designer shoes waiting for me at the bottom.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Their shoes. You can tell everything you need to know by their shoes.

When was the last time you cried?

This morning when I stepped on the scale. Then I went to Sonic and got an orange cream slush. All better now!

Any current worries?

Yes. I had a shaving accident on my girly pieces two months ago. Now I have a bald patch…it will not grow back.

Name 3 drinks you drink regularly

Sutter Home’s Sweet Red Wine, sweet tea and decaf coffee. All of these happen daily. Some more than others.

What is your favorite book?

George Orwell’s 1984. Read it people. You will freak  out when you see the similarities to today. Mary Pipher’s “Reviving Ophelia”. If you are raising a daughter you better read this book. Your eyes will be wide open and you will have an awesome daughter-mom relationship. Currently- I am stuck on anything David McCullough. He has a tremendous series on historical events. … lots of American History. Tidbits we should all know but no one teaches anymore. The Man gave me all of his books for Christmas… I just finished the one about the Brooklyn Bridge. 

Would you like to be a pirate?

No way… have you ever smelled a pirate or seen their teeth? They all seem to be missing an eye, leg or arm. Not that there’s anything wrong with that … but I prefer good hygiene and my parts in pairs.

What are your favorite smells?

Vanilla, cherry and fresh out of the drier laundry. My go to perfumes are Chanel No. 5 and Calvin Klein’s Euphoria. I love the way The Man smells and I can’t be around The Girl without sniffing her hair.

Why do you blog?

I have pent up anger and excitement issues and I like to think that I am voice for others that can’t or won’t say what they need to. It’s my mountaintop to scream from.

What song do you want played at your funeral?

I’m not having a funeral. I think they are a big fat money grab and I don’t want The Man and The Girl to have to plan such a thing. Give me flowers while I am alive to enjoy them, talk to me while I can still hear you and respond and travel to see me while I am still above ground. Speaking of above ground… don’t bury me either- that’s a butt ton of money The Girl can use for whatever. Toss my dead corpse in the oven and be done. Have a party with bar b que, good whiskey, tell stories of us and have metal bands playing in the background. Celebrate my life and move on, people.

What is your least favorite thing about yourself?

When I was younger I hated everything about me because I thought I had to. I’m 41 now and I love me.

What is your favorite hobby?

Gardening. I love to play in the yard. Mostly because no one wants to help and it’s guaranteed alone time. If it’s crappy outside- nothing beats a great book, a warm blanket and a glass of wine.

What do you look for in a friend?

Authenticity. Compassion. And whatever the opposite of selfish is.

Name something you’ve done that you never thought you’d do.

Get married… three times.  Be a mom. Be a published author (several times now!)

What are your favorite things to do?

Anything outside in the warm sun (not tanning though- I slather on the  SPF) and anything with the family… but I won’t go near any kid centered places. Gives me anxiety. And I can’t have booze there.

Any pet peeves?

Ahole people that talk  behind other people’s backs. Be warned: I will call you out on that. Fo shizzle!

What was the last thing that made you laugh?

The neighbor kid. While I was typing this post- he walked across my rock garden and tripped and landed on his head. That’s what he gets- I’ve told him a bazillion times to stay out of my yard. Hope he has a headache.

Now, I am supposed to tag other blogs to play blog tag … leave a comment if you want me to link yours!

Directions: 1) Tell everyone who tagged you (that would be me)      2) Answer the same questions I did    3) Tag more Bloggers  🙂

Rocker Mom Rambles

You Know It Happens At Your House, Too

My Career Impact

The Craziness In My Head

The Real House Wife of Santee



You’re Gonna Get Your Feelers Hurt: Debuts in a Magazine!

14 Feb

Vday_Liquor Store 2.14.13

Kittens, I am now writing a monthly advice column in a slick fancy magazine! Look at us be fabulous! Here’s a little tease…. but you’ll have to click the link below to see what I tell a couple of woe is me Valentine love birds!

Ahhh, Valentine’s Day. With all of its romance, sexy expectations, overcrowded restaurants and scratchy lingerie… what’s not to like? I say everything. Just from the questions this week – it’s pretty clear most of you don’t really look forward to 2/14 as much as you do to 2/15 or whatever date you have a colonoscopy scheduled. Let’s dive right into your questions- I promise I won’t be gentle….

Click here to read the Q;s & A’s in my debut column in Austin Fusion Magazine!

Can’t wait to hear what you think!


It’s Not You. It’s Not Me. It’s Abilene.

11 Feb

I haven’t posted since June when I wrote about my big brother on Father’s Day. I wrote about the loss of his and his wife’s daughter, Sammi Jane. Their only daughter. Their only child. From there I surrendered to my omnipresent and proverbial dark side. Or as my favorite tv guy Dexter would say, “my Dark Passenger”. I have one daughter; one child. What if something happens to her and I am 3.75 hours driving time away … going 85 and treating red lights and stop signs as mere suggestions, not laws. What Ifs can spin out of control and right into Crazy Town… even with doses of anti depressant on board. Then I feel like a giant asshole for even comparing my life to theirs. How dare I even think that- much less say it out loud.  And so silence and I became quick friends. Brooding partners in desperation drumming up all sorts of escape plans, play acting through what if scenarios and staying in constant contact with The Girl. Every day on high alert in case Mommy, me, was needed for anything.

Nineteen months ago, The Man and I set out for a great adventure. We moved to his home town, bought a perfect story book bungalow and set out on our new Harley to explore. Within the year we got married, adopted various pets and built his real estate business. I have been trying new things: a waitress, a Junior League girl, a roller derby chick, a property manager, a baker and various other things. The Man said to take a year off… try things I have always wanted to do and enjoy myself. I have tried so many things- but I miss my daughter every single minute. The absence of her in my daily life overshadows any fun or growth I could extract from new experiences. I have tried. Really, really hard. I don’t think I have ever committed to something so huge and stuck with it for so long. I have never purposely moved from day to day with such conviction- knowing every day will just bring more heart-break and loneliness.

He’s lived all over the world and adjusts to uprooting like a pro. I have lived in Austin, Texas since I was five. I have no memory of living any other place for the next 36 years of my life until we moved to Abilene. Until then, I saw The Girl every day for 18 years. My sister, my friends and our friends, were constants in our lives. Some of our friends we haven’t seen since we got married. Over a year ago. I miss them. Austin was always humming along with us and offering all sorts of diversions, shopping and food. Experiences. Creativity. I crave that craziness.  I am no good at up-rooting. I am really, really bad at it. And I miss my daughter.

I missed her first big broken heart. I missed her first job interview. And her second. I wasn’t there when her horse Faith, who had all of The Girl’s rodeo dreams saddled to her Palomino back, was declared lame. I wasn’t there when those same dreams had life sprinkled back into them by a generous cowboy who gave The Girl Trooper; a Chocolate Palomino. I haven’t been there for all of the training and love she has given them. And them to her. I missed her first day of college. I was there on every other first day of school and  I was front and center for every other first. I can’t stand that I missed the firsts of her adult life. She still loves me, though. Even tells me how proud she is of me for giving love another try after a devastating divorce. For moving away from her and trying a new city. For trying new things and for never once falling in derby practice. She is stronger and better than I am. There is no doubt.

The Man has endured all sorts of craziness from me. If I were him- I would have left me. Sent me packing a long time ago. I don’t feel like me anymore. I only feel like me when I am on my way to Austin- which he makes sure happens pretty much every month. I have gotten out of my car and silently hugged the Austin city limits sign when I roll into home for a visit. I cry every single time when I see it beg me to stay in the rear view mirror on the way back to Abilene. The Austin high travels back to Abilene with me but it is always quickly displaced by Dark Passenger: squeezed out by loneliness, silence and anxiety. The Man has stuck it out with me and for whatever reason he still loves me. I’ve been hard to live with and hard to reason with.

It’s been hard being us.

It’s been hard being me.

Graciously, lovingly, because he wants me to come back to life; we are moving home. It will take time, will be a process but Austin is right there on the horizon.

I can hardly wait.

Voting ends on 2/13/13 @ 4PM PST

Voting ends on 2/13/13 @ 4PM PST


I’ll Have A Venti, No Whip Iced Coffee. And Handcuffs.

17 Apr

 I finally found my scale, packed at the bottom of winter clothes probably so I didn’t have to see it again for six months. For whatever reason, I stepped on the lying son of a biscuit. Oh dear Jeebus it’s bad news. Very bad, epic train wreck, make me go throw up the last two months of meals and possibly cut my thighs off bad news. I text a friend, tell her the tragic turn of events. She says, “It’s okay, we can do this. We’ll kick ass like we did when we were 24!”.  “Okay”, I say, “right after I get off of the suicide prevention hot line and stop crying”. I need peace, quiet and some alone time to search my soul and possibly kick myself in the ass for letting this happen. Again. So I went grocery shopping. I realize most people would rather poke their eyes out with their own tongue and not grocery shop, but for whatever reason, I absolutely love it. I find the world’s best parking spot, right outside of the exit ,and  bonus, in one of those fat parking spaces nestled between a curb and a cart return thingy. I skip out of my truck and walk to Starbuck’s. It’s not a long walk, but normally I would have hit the drive thru and then go park. Points are stacking up for me already! Yippee! I order my all time favorite low-calorie, no sugar, no dairy because it makes me have bad bathroom , icy cold coffee cup of fabulous! This is when I decide that Starbuck’s employees must get bonuses rated on a scale of 1 to Bitch Slap in regards to how badly they can annoy a customer with a craptastic storm of questions.

“What can I get started for you?”

“I would love a Venti Mocha Frapaccino Lite with soy, no whip and no sweetener.” See- I am pretty sure I just covered all of the information the need.

“Would you like the syrup added?”

“No thank you, no sugar. Please.”

“It tastes better with an extra pump of chocolate!”

WTF! Which part of lite are you missing. Do I LOOK like I need EXTRA chocolate? My g scale needs therapy from this mornings weigh in and you want to offer me more fat?  Excellent, Mean Girl, now I will definitely need that suicide prevention line on speed dial. But Nice Cat says, with a smile, “No. No thank you. I would not like any sugar, syrup, chocolate or any extra other ass expanding ingredients added.”

Barista laughs, “Oh that is so funny!”. I am not laughing. I am about to cross over from Very Happy to Get a Special Iced Coffee Cat and become your worst nightmare AKA as Forget Suicide, I’d Rather Go To Jail For Punching You In The Head Cat. Now blend my coffee before an epic bitch battle breaks out here in your shiny hipster infested lobby. M’kay? It looks like my irritable, scrunchy eyebrow look has delivered the appropriate message, perhaps I will now get my coffee so I can go shopping and be happy.

“Did you want whipped cream? I always put extra!”

I will not kill her. I will not kill her.
”No. Thank. Youuuu.”
Life sentence in prison averted and coffee in hand, I walk back to the grocery store and wrestle my cart out of the tangled mess at the door. I strap in my purse, get out my list and pen and look for all things green, leafy, healthy and on the perimeter of the store. Things are going awesome, I am calming down and starting to have big hopes and dreams about finally losing 75 pounds while I sip on my delicious iced coffee. And then they appeared. A screaming, fighting, back talking bunch of out of control monkey kids with oblivious parental units ignoring their bad behavior! I guess as long as the brats are bothering anyone but them , it’s okay. Wouldn’t you know it, I don’t have my tazer or Xanax with me so I quickly move on to the next aisle. More of them there. I look at my watch, is it five or something? Why am I seeing so many freaking people all of a sudden? Where did my holistic shopping trip go? Oh damn! It’s the 15th and everyone just got paid and there will soon be a WWF smack down match going on by the meal deals and Little Debbie snack cakes! There will be no peace. No quiet. But that trip to jail is starting to look like a strong possibility.

Peace , Love & Justice for Cisco

15 Apr
Cisco as a puppy.

Cisco as a puppy.

 You Kittens know that I totally ban all political fucktardery from this and my FaceBook Page. I am making an exception, because Cisco’s story must be told. You know I am a big, BIG animal advocate. Without my retarded gang of Rebel Crabbit, China the Zombie Dog, Trixie the Co Dependant Fox dog, Dexter the Serial Killer Chihuahua and Tiger the Freeloader cat, well, life just wouldn’t be fun. I was in the middle of writing a bitching rant when the FB post (copied below) popped up.

I am quite literally in tears after having read this. I can not even begin to imagine what Mike, Cisco’s Daddy, must be feeling tonight. Aside from lonely, broken and helpless; the pain can’t be measured. As you will read below, an Austin Police Department “officer” was at the WRONG address, shot and killed Cisco in his yard as Mike stood helpless. The “officer” did not apologize but blamed MIKE for Cisco’s death because Cisco wasn’t on a leash in HIS OWN YARD!!!

Not. Even. An . Apology.

Now I am just going to take the liberty of sharing this in hopes that our little club of crazies can put some momentum behind justice for Cisco. There are 10,000 of us reading this blog everyday, 55.5 thousand of us on the FaceBook page and a combined reach of 2.8 million people. Between us all “liking”, “sharing” , calling APD and emailing- surely we can help comfort Mike and get some sort of justice for Cisco.

After you read Cisco’s story below, I hope you will take action by lodging a complaint to APD. Here is the information I found on their site: www.austintexas.gov

* Office of the Police Monitor:  (p) 512.974.9090  (f) 512.974.6306 (w) www.austintexa.gov/department/police-monitor

*Officer Misconduct: (p) 512.974.5200

An  account of Cisco’s last day, written by Candace Michele

I am usually not one to get into the politics of people’s opinions of law enforcement. I know there are good and bad people in every walk of life, but I always try to give the benefit of the doubt to those that are in a position to “protect and serve”. But yesterday, a harsh reality was “served” when I received a phone call from a very near and dear person to me. The words I heard

Cisco grown up & happy

Cisco grown up & happy

coming through my phone were nothing I would have expected in a million years—a very distraught voice saying, “The cops just shot and killed Cisco! They killed my best friend!” In shock, I asked what had happened. At the time, I only got a very brief description, as Michael Paxton was in shock and traumatized over the horrific loss of his dog. I immediately drove to his place (which is about 30 minutes away). When I arrived, I found him clutching Cisco’s body, crying and trying to understand what had just transpired.

Apparently, unbeknown to Mike, there was a domestic disturbance between a male and a female in his neighborhood, and the Austin Police Dept was called in. Unfortunately (seems like such an understatement), Mike found out quickly about the call when he walked into his driveway from his back yard where he and Cisco, his Australian Cattle Dog (Blue Healer), had been playing frisbee. Police officer T. Griffin, Badge #6778, was standing behind Mike’s vehicle, in his driveway. Before Mike even realized Officer Griffin was there, the officer had pulled his gun on Mike, yelling at him to freeze and put his hands up. In a panic, Mike stated to the officer that he lives there, and asked what and why this was happening.

Hearing the commotion, Cisco came from the back yard and into the driveway, barking at the officer, as any dog would do. Mike’s hands in the air, a gun pointed at him, he was afraid for his life, and therefore could not move or attempt to quiet or restrain Cisco. He told the officer that Cisco would not bite him, to please not shoot his dog. Almost immediately, a bullet was put into Cisco’s chest, killing him instantly. Mike still leaned against his truck, unable to move, was not allowed to even hold his best friend as he took the last breath of his abruptly-shortened life.

As was realized after this horrific event had transpired, THE COP WAS AT THE WRONG ADDRESS!!! An innocent man was traumatized by not only having a gun pulled on him by someone that is supposed to be there “to protect and to serve”, but his best friend of seven-and-a-half years was wrongly shot and killed. FOR WHAT?! Because Officer Griffin did not confirm where he was supposed to be before these events transpired!

Nothing will likely happen to Officer Griffin for any of this, as his supervisor arrived after everything took place, and she defended his actions. Mike was given the officers’ information, as well as a phone number to call, if desired. No apologies, no sympathy. Nothing. The officer even told Mike that Cisco should have been on a leash! IN HIS OWN YARD?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

We ended up taking Cisco’s body to be buried at a friend’s house, out in the country. Four of us spent two hours digging and breaking through limestone-filled ground, to make a hole large enough to lay to rest this man’s best friend and companion.
There are so many things wrong with this situation, that I just can’t even express it in words. My heart aches for you Mike. I know how much you love Cisco, and how much Cisco loved you. Although I am not sure what justice can or will be served in this case, your story will not go unheard. Along with many of your friends, in an effort to gain some sort of justice for you and Cisco, I am tagging all of our local news media here to get the word out.

This type of excessive force has GOT to be stopped. There needs to be consequences for behaviors such as this. There needs to be a system of “checks and balances” used, to be certain this type of thing doesn’t happen anymore—none of this would have occurred, had the officer just VERIFIED THE CORRECT ADDRESS before pulling a gun on Mike and his dog. I urge anyone and everyone that reads this, to please share this story, and let it be known that these happenings aren’t just things we read about going on in some “other city”, but right here, seriously affecting people we know and love.

Share, Like, Email and call. Next time this “officer” ,or another, can’t at least respond to the correct address; it will be your pet, your child or you.

 I hope you will take action by lodging a complaint to APD. Here is the information I found on their site: www.austintexas.gov

* Office of the Police Monitor: (p) 512.974.9090 (f) 512.974.6306 (w) www.austintexa.gov/department/police-monitor

*Officer Misconduct: (p) 512.974.5200

You’re Gonna Get Your Feelers Hurt: Road Less Traveled Called Do Yourself A Favor

13 Apr

 We covered the lies, sex, “just friends” and when to call bullshit on the word “safe”. If you missed all of that- go here: http://wp.me/p1VQXo-qk to catch up. Now we need to dig into the really important things like your kids, your dignity and your sanity. There is more than a partnership at stake when someone cheats- your entire skyscraper of hopes and dreams will crash down and take out your structure and foundation with it. Possibly anything that happens to be standing too close. Whatever is left standing- you might have to light the match yourself to  scorch the earth so you can grow again. Hopefully faster, stronger, smarter and carefully pieced back together. A  bull just smashed the china store and all you have are some tweezers and band aids to put the shards called your life back together again. That’s all the whining you get to do because you have some serious business to attend to. Get out your Preparation H- because you’re about to get a big serving of butthurt and hurt feelers. I refuse to lie to you, pat you on the head and tell you it will all be ok. Because it won’t. Especially if you backtrack and let that loser stick around.

“I love him and I want to work it out”, you rationalize… or try to anyway. Are you trying to go insane? Because this is all you will think about when he is out: are they having fun, are they having wild monkey sex right now and is he coming home. Did you notice I left out “if”? Because “if” doesn’t live at your house anymore. No more chats with your BFF’s about “if” he ever did that I would kill him. “If” has turned into the very scary monster we call “when”. He will do it again- guaranteed. You’re going to lose your mind and what’s left of your dignity if you are willing to lay on the floor and be walked on. For the record- you may love him- but he does not love you. That is worth repeating. He. Does. Not . Love . You. Back. No one that loves you would hurt you to the core and leave you a wrecked mess of tears, snot and incinerated happily ever after fairy tales. No one that loves you would use you, lie to you, disregard you and expect you to lay down and take it. Nope.  And that leaves you in charge of loving you. So do yourself, and the people who really do care about you, a favor and love yourself enough to kick his sorry ass out or you pack your shit and go. Someone has to leave- make sure you decide who. The “when” is right fucking now, friend, as soon as you know about it and verify your available funds are in your bank account- he is without you to fall back on. His Plan B just changed the locks and she is  moving on.

“But we have kids”, you say? You are the parent who truly cares. You are not the one that stepped out on your family and flipped them the bird on the way out, correct? So you get to be both parents now and set the example of no cheating, no lies and no tolerance. That’s it. Does it suck monkey balls? Yes, indeed it does. Your kids are going to act out, they may even dislike you and not understand what just happened.  Depending on their age- they may not for a while. They will, however, eventually understand that no one screws over their mommy and that you will stand your ground, protect your family and kick the ass of whomever dare cross your moral line in the sand. This lesson is crucial to kids: boys see how not to treat a woman and girls see that they don’t have to take excuses and cheating- and vice versa is the cheater roles are reversed. You and the kids will be just fine thankyouverymuch because you won’t have that voice in your head nagging and distracting you from being the parent, leader and example you signed up to be to them.

“We have to keep this quiet because he works with her and we don’t want him to get fired”. Here’s how you handle this- it’s hard to do at  first but by the time you hang up the line, or burn rubber out of a parking lot, I guarantee you are going to feel like a million shiny new diamonds. He will do what I am about to tell you to insist on because he wants to keep his job, his reputation and not have a loser bomb explode all over him. He also is banking on keeping you and the sky is the limit when it comes to demands he must meet. You’re not staying- but he doesn’t need to know that right now. All he needs to know- is that you need some piece of mind so you can focus. He thinks it’s focusing on your marriage- you are really buying time to focus on gathering financial information, lining up your legal team and making your new life plans. Here’s the play book : Get him and her on the phone or in a neutral place with lots of people. Here’s what you say with no emotion, a hint of bat shit crazy in your eyes and an I-will -follow- through -so- just- try- me- attitude.  Your goal is to make them very confused about your current mental state: you either need anger management or you truly are a bad ass.

To Him: “You are going to go to your boss and ask to be moved far away from the Slut here and removed from any common projects AND you are going to look for another job. You will do this by (insert date) or I will do it for you”.

To Her: “You are going to stay far , far away from my family. If I see, hear, smell or even think you are in ANY  way involved with my husband- I will have your job, your home, your reputation, your 401K and your bank account by evoking a legal manuever called “alienation of affection”. Look it up. Outside of your money , I will personally beat your ass if you dare to step one foot near my home, friends or family. I will destroy you both”.

Now sit there through a very awkward few minutes of silence while watching them soak that in. What you just told them is: you have done your legal homework, you have nothing left to lose and you intend to go nuclear at any given moment. Now they can go tell on themselves and whatever happens- they deserve it. Get up, get your purse, and ask if anyone needs clarification. No? Excellent, now calmly leave or hang up.

“It was just one time”. Yep, and so was my ability to trust you. End of story.

“God said till death do us part”. Here is where a whole bunch of you are going to hate me. Like really hate me. Because I am about to  shake your foundation  – and take away the very last thing you are maybe grasping to. If your God demands that you remain locked in a marriage to a person who has zero regard for your health, well-being and safety- then your cheater isn’t the only thing you need to be divorcing. M’kay? Seriously. A relationship is a two-way road. You can not be in one by yourself. Period. No one should feel obligated to stand and take multiple punches to the throat. Because that’s what it feels like when you discover your one and only has slut on his hands. I literally threw up, went to my closet, closed the door and crumbled to the floor. I could not breathe, I could not think and I discovered what is feels like to not feel. Someone had died . That person I thought I married. That person I thought I knew would never ever do this. He was dead and I was left with the shell of him with a stranger stuffed inside. I died a little that day, too, and I still had the very nasty task ahead of me of telling my daughter what happened and what was next. Don’t even kid yourself that you can recover your marriage or relationship. You will always wonder and never be able to resume trust, intimacy and that easy feeling you had. Every time he is out too long- BAM- throat punch sends you reeling to the floor and gasping for hope and air. No one deserves that life and no one should be expected to live it- regardless of whatever book says you should be a martyr and accept those terms. There’s nothing down there on the floor for you- so don’t sign an extension of your broken ’till death do us part  agreement. Get up, brush the cheater off of you and get going to your new life.  It will take baby steps- but I promise you will be running in your LBD at date weight before you know it. Then looking back from the mirror will be new you: holding her head high and being able to withstand the next hurricane without going to her knees.

You’re Gonna Get Your Feelers Hurt: It’s Called The Road Less Traveled For A Reason

11 Apr

 I have a  ton of emails and messages asking me how to treat a cheater. He/she cheated with my/ their: coworker,  sister, brother, BFF, boss,  ex (es), neighbor,  assistant,  pastor and so on. Should I take them back, try harder, lose weight, become a hooker, revenge cheat, insist on counseling, burn the house down, burn them up or just get the hell out? The short answer is yes. And no. So my suggestion to you , my dear sweet Kittens, is to pour yourself a drink, strap yourself into your big girl panties and take your chances with what I have to say about this subject. While you read, try to remember where you put your spine because  you’ll need more than a tissue to get through tonight. It’s gonna get ugly, I promise I won’t be gentle and if they aren’t already- you’re gonna get your feelers hurt. Staying put with a cheater  is solidly on the road less traveled for a reason: because it’s hard and rarely works out. And stupid.

As an aside- I shall refer to the cheater as “he” going forward because  English rules state that we should always default to the male pronoun. And I am too lazy to keep typing he/she/them. And most cheaters are “hims”. Pretty sure that’s all correct.

Yes, I just said that. I said staying with someone who intentionally hurts you  in one of the deepest, most personal and painful ways is dumb. It’s reckless for you, your health, your career and your family. Have you no sense of self-preservation? If someone rolled you in blood and guts then pushed you off of a boat into shark infested waters- would you take them to counseling to figure out why they did it? So they could do it again- but in a better sneakier way next time? No. You would hopefully survive and then get back on the boat and give them the ass kicking of their lives, tie the anchor to them and toss them into the water never to be seen again. “Oh, but I LOVE THEM!”, you say. That’s awesome, but it doesn’t really matter since they don’t love you back. Ouch.

“I’m sooooo sorry”, he said with tears in his eyes while trembling and grasping at the wedding ring that was just launched at his  head . Charming , heh? He’s on his knees, begging you to stay, saying all sorts of beautiful things he hasn’t said since before you said ‘forever only you’ to each other. Snot running down his face, red rimming his eyes from the thought of losing  you, the kids, his car.  Wait, what? The car? Really? Yes, really. He is not sorry he hurt you, tossed out your vows, broke your trust, wrecked your family and ripped your heart out. Nope. He is sorry he got caught. You have to understand that “I’m sorry” is for accidents. Like breaking your favorite coffee cup, forgetting the wine at the grocery or dropping the kid on it’s head.  Cheating doesn’t happen by accident. He didn’t accidentally slip and land with his penis in his secretary. Just for argument’s sake,  let’s just say he did slip and by chance landed on her doggie style and his weenus just sorta fell in. Why the hell were they naked?  Together. Cheating takes careful planning, deliberate communication and constant deceit. Every minute your cheater is with you  he is lying to you. He is taking away your soft place to fall , your security, your naked sexy time and quite possibly your financial resources to buy her dinner and presents.  He’s out. Period. There are no take backs in cheating. He chose her by lying and sneaking around. He chose to be with her and lose everything he had with you, including his car, and he walked out. He just didn’t take his stuff. Honey you’ve just been reduced to his maid and storage shed. So be a good little wife/girlfriend and throw his shit out onto the lawn and turn on the sprinklers. No reason not to be helpful and wash his laundry one last time. Maybe lighten his load by cutting one arm and one leg off of everything. I may have done that once. It was therapeutic. It burns shit to the ground so there is no going back. And smart kittens don’t go back. Ever.

 “We didn’t have sex, we just talked”. And texted, Skyped, had lunch, dinner and coffee. Oh really, so why didn’t he invite you? If it was nothing and she’s just a friend then why haven’t you met her? Why all of the secrets? The courtesy rule is this: if your one and only has an opposite sex friend- then you are included, invited and in the know about their goings on. There is nothing to hide, conceal or exclude you from. Here’s a tip for you on the brink cheaters: if you find yourself deleting texts, clearing browser history and returning calls from your “just friend” from the toilet- you are now entering Cheaterville.  My ex cheated on me and this is why I  first  suspected his lying no good sorry cheating ass. The several calls a day I received from him to say hi, share a stupid story about work or ask about dinner stopped. So did the texts. Before I knew it, he had nothing to talk about to me when he got home. Late. You know why? He already shared it all with someone else- there was nothing left for me at the end of the day. Red flag. Big. Red. Flag. This is cheating. Possibly the most hurtful to a woman. He took the emotional equity of our relationship and handed it to someone else- leaving me with nothing but a lonely house and a very broken heart. It didn’t matter if they didn’t have sex because he gave the truly intimate sharing of our marriage to someone else. The inside jokes, pillow talk and random sharing of daily stupidity is the glue that binds you together- the common ground you can always find when the going gets tough. The “do you remember whens” that make you snort your coffee over breakfast. That is the good stuff and when you lose it- it’s gone forever. That level of intimacy is built up over time, the ability to trust your other half enough to say , “hey I just sharted on myself” and shared experiences are priceless. When that is all betrayed – there is nowhere to go but out the door and down the road to a life called single.

“We were safe”. I’m sorry, this person just cheated on you and now you want to believe he actually used a condom? You can ponder that pile of bullshit on your way to get your STD panel  at your Gynos. Seriously. Do not wait. Get it all done today and then again in three months. It’s bad enough you just had your life go nuclear- don’t also die in the process.  You. Could. Die. I am personally watching a loved one suffer through AIDS because her partner cheated on her. He died years ago. She is alive and dying. Alone. Let’s face it- the cold hard truth is that your future partner options are extremely limited if you have to disclose that you have HPV, Herpes, Hepatitis or HIV. If the cheating isn’t enough to make you kick some lying, heartless, selfish sorry excuse for a human being to the curb- then this should be. He risked your future, your fertility,  your health and your life. No take backs in that department either. No tolerance. No redos.

Tomorrow we will cover: retaining your dignity and sanity, the perils of counseling, the kids, hiding the dirty laundry and playing hide the sausage with the boss….

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