Kissin’ Bandit

That’s me!

Exceptionally funny, actually. (To me anyway.) I love kissing. I also like to take pictures of myself and another kissing. AKA: KissyFace. Now don’t get me wrong, I prefer to lock lips with one that I truly care for and connect with…however, *those* smoochables are far away… *sigh*

A couple nights ago, I was posting pictures of the last concert I attended. I came across the one of thee infamous photo booth at my favorite venue and well, it brought back a sweet memory.

(in aforementioned photo booth…) ———————->

It also prompted me to reflect on the kisses that have made me dizzy over the years…

How I love me some kissin’. Where the hell is Romeo, dammit? Oh yeah, he moved to Mexico…


Move To Trash

Yes. “Move to Trash” is what I did with all of my blog drafts; all those unfinished trains of thought that were….so last year. It is so like me to start a project and not finish…yet hold onto it with intentions to.

Well, NO MORE. It’s all clutter; I am over the melange of “stuff” that has been piling up around me. This includes not only projects, but material items and relationships that aren’t going anywhere. Savored Life is simplifying. Streamlining.

Really, it couldn’t come at a more convenient time. I am not much into New Year’s Resolutions, though I do buy into Life Resolutions. It just so happens that this happens to be January. And hey, new year, new decade and it looks like a new place of residence come next month…so what better time than NOW?

Yeah. Clean House.

I Should be Ashamed of Myself?


Dr. D and I just had a conversation about working around this semester’s school schedule (mine) and we worked out a plan. He then went into a rant of his own, stating that I should be ashamed of myself for accepting child support and that my children will think I’m a disgrace for doing so. WTS? Ummm…first off, were I making anywhere near the same amount of income or more, I could entertain that thought. (This coming from a father that refuses to even have a life insurance policy on himself, FOR HIS CHILDREN, should anything happen to him. I have one, as per our Mediation Agreement.) I told him we could go back to court if he wanted to see what the judge came up with (we just had it lowered *substantially* early last year) and he got all defensive saying, “No. You just need to draft up a document stating you don’t want any support.” (Knowing full well that no judge would say he didn’t have to pay anything.)

Dude, I have no words…..except “Douche Bag” and “lay off the crack.”


Am I way off base?

As Good As It Gets…

May it only get *better* for them...

Considering I was still a little bitter about the entire NYE “ordeal” (sheeesh, I’m a baby), I decided I was going to return to aforementioned hotel, sit before the blazing fire, under the (still appearing) full moon and celebrate midnight again. Redux! I phoned a friend and off we went. We polished off a bottle of cabernet at the bar and purchased another to enjoy on the veranda. Down by the fire, there was an adorable couple sipping wine as well. We sat across from them and I could see through the flames they were glowing. Now, not just glowing from the fire dancing before them, but glowing because the woman kept outstretching her left hand, and admiring the glistening rock perched upon her ring finger. Smiling, kissyface, hand-holding, etc. It was sweet to witness. At this time, my friend (recently divorced) leans over and whispers in my ear (as if speaking to them), “Enjoy this now, because this is the best it will ever be. This is as good as it gets.” I laughed, then thought, “Is that true?” I looked back to my engagements and remembered how I felt… and you know, they were definitely one of the highest points of the relationships. But, I’m not convinced, nor that jaded. At least I hope not. At midnight, we toasted and swallowed the rest of our wine. I’m happy now. Happy New Year! (all “happy facade” aside!)

Twenty-Ten & The Hangover?

Happy New Year… Happy New Decade!

My NYE plans changed. I stayed in town. (Though I almost booked a last minute flight to Atlantic City to catch O.A.R., but had no partner in crime. Damn.) The formal welcome of 2010 was eh….not my cup o’ tea. It started out promising. Our evening commenced at a gorgeous hotel, that I had somehow managed not to venture prior to, and we found ourselves out on the veranda, under a bursting full Blue Moon shimmering on the Atlantic Ocean. A gas fire blazing a few steps away, a local band jammed poolside and all the beautiful people in my town were smartly dressed and meandering about. (Ahem, where have all these handsome dudes been hiding?)

There were five of us: 3 gals. 2 gents. The boys bellied up to the swanky bar and the two other girls decided to wander the dancing crowd while I chatted with another friend that was there. PERFECT atmosphere. I was excited to toast 2010 here.

::needle scratches across record::

The ladies return stating that we are leaving. Dude, WTS(hit)? Now ya see, the backstory is these two are *looking* for (read: stalking) certain someones and they are obviously not here. It’s 11:40. I’m protesting. I do NOT want to leave and certainly do NOT want to go where they are heading. (local meet/meat market that is fine and dandy on a “regular” night. However tonight, we are dressed up and dammit, I don’t want to leave.) I was out-voted and found it rude (at the time) to ditch the group I came with. Needless to say, I was in a bit of a foul mood the rest of the evening…(no, I couldn’t fake cheer or dig deep to muster up something a little genuine either.) “Happy New Year!…Woo Hoo!” (As beer splashes my beautifully manicured toes and I am bumped into for the hundredth freakin’ time…) *sigh*

I crashed at friend’s digs. The following morning held a parody of sorts when I went to grab the camera out of the car. I noticed light under the utility room door to the garage and thought, “ooops, left the door open all night.” I open door. Bay door is closed, light is on and pit pull is staring at me. Friend has no dog. Close door. Return to friend. “Errrr….why is there a dog in the garage?” She claims I’m “seeing things” and marches over to prove it. Open door. Pit bull staring at her. Close door. “WTF?” I bring my fingers to my mouth, making sure I have all of my teeth.

We still have NO IDEA how that happened…

So yeah, that was my exciting NYE.

That Was A Crazy Game of Poker ~ O.A.R.