I am me.

There are a lot of things in this world I am not (proud to say !!) and here list of what I am.


For your viewing pleasure...



I am:




*A single mom with wonderful children.













* An 'artist' in my own way.
















*A dreamer.













*A procrastinator. Worst trait by far!










*A devoted friend.

*I am me: If you don't like who I am, you can go pound sand.

Lines

Sometimes in life... lines are crossed, friendships are ruined and trust is betrayed.

I am done having people like that in my life. I will only surround myself by people that are good for me, not fake friends.

*wiping hands clean of what's his face and what's her face*

To What's His Face: Pathetic.
To What's Her Face: Your poor boyfriend.

End of Story.

*flipping off IKEA*

*insert uprighted middle finger here*

Totally the worst $200 I have ever spent.

Am so tired of fixing the freaking drawers on this thing.

Let's count them... 4... out of 6 drawers... broken.

Know what IKEA?

You suck.

>.<

Pushup dilema!

Me at 9. I was a boy beating-up machine!

I'm a little skurred. (*Note the font color..bock bock..)

Once upon a time, I was a freaking studette. I was able to crank out 150 pushups without breaking a sweat. 250 crunches? No problem. I was b r a v e. I would volunteer myself to spar with men. Not boys, men. Like with jobs & tattoos and shit = Men.

Recently, my son started karate. He's training with the same boys ... er... men I trained with many moons ago. Like when I would have to take a quick break during class to change Bry's diaper. That kind of MANY moons ago.

Anyhow, last weekend he had his yellow belt test. *squealing* It was a rough 2 hours on his almost 13 year old body, but is joyous for me! I hadn't stepped foot in a dojo in nearly 11 years. (*Note to readers: Never date your martial arts instructor. They're crazy & the breaks-ups are horrific.) Yet, right away, it felt like I belonged. A few of the instructors kinda-sorta remembered me. I think. *pfft* Sweeeeet.

Watching Bry made me think, "Wow. This is something that he and I can do together! The girls are with their dad on Tuesday nights... It's mom and son time!" So, I signed up for a private lesson next Tuesday, before class. Ya know, just as a 'refresher course'. ;)

After watching his class tonight, I'm having second thoughts. I'm not sure I can safely execute even one pushup now. Uh-oh... Rugburn on the forehead, here we come...!!

Christmas is coming!!

CHRISTMAS IS COMING!!

Yea, I know.

Halloween hasn't even arrived yet and I'm already stressing out about Christmas shopping. . .

Can't help it, it's part of my charm.;)

This year has, financially, been a tough one. The soft economy hit and I had a huge pay reduction at the Escrow Co... So, I left for a new job making less money but more stability... lol.*sigh* Then I got laid off.*groan*

Well, I'm at my new job (which I love to pieces) but the pay's pretty sucky.::sigh:: I kinda feel like I'm back at square one, knocked back about 5 years.

Without the risk of sacraficing time with my children, I can't get a 'normal' 2nd job. I'd rather have a super tight budget then to give up that time...

So, I've been pondering ways to bring in some Christmas shopping money.;) I tend to get pretty darn creative around the holidays. 2 out of the last 4 years I have made Christmas Ornaments. One year I spent a total of 80 hours in the kitchen canning salsa... that almost killed me after I accidently wiped my eye with a jalapeno finger.. Salsa's dangerous.

Anyhow, last year I actually started the ornaments from square one: glass bulbs. Paint. Creativity. WALAH! I made about 45 total for friends, family and co-workers. I'm kind of bummed out that I didn't take pictures of them all, no two were alike. Drats.(Hey family and friends that received ornaments from me, wanna send me a snapshot of them? LOL)

Could I possibly sell them this year...?? I think I may try! Each takes me about 2 hours to complete depending on the design you want... With shipping, packaging etc I'm thinking of selling them for about $9 a piece. I have a few pictures of the ones I did last year. Lemme know what you think!

Pick-Apart

So, I'm in a 'mood'.

Quite frankly, I'm not sure as to what the aforementioned mood is exactly. *blank stare* Perhaps it could be described as a 'hodgepodge of emotions'. How random.

Anyhow, to sort my thoughts I have made the following list of emotions I'm feeling and why. Enjoy the peek inside my melon.

Sad: The passing of my grandpa and the pain my dad's feeling.
Content: With myself as a mom, a friend and a sister.
Disappointed: In the recent turn of events that may leave me regretting my actions.
Perplexed: By the Y Chromosome. I need to find my users manual, I think it's in storage.
Frustrated: By the unknown, I process facts... not assumptions.
Overjoyed: With the man my son is turning into.
Delighted: With what great girlfriends I have. ♥
Confused: As to what steps should be taken next.
Accomplished: Work work work. I love it even when I detest it.
Love: Writing, it has always been my saving grace.
Pride: In how much I've grown as a person these last few years.
Serenity: In knowing that I give everything 100%, regardless of the chance it may implode.

I feel a little better now that I've picked them all apart.

Now, back out of my anti-social bubble. I'm locking the door for a while.

::slam::

Five steps forward, zero steps back...

For as long as I can remember, I have been an aspiring writer, doodler and a professional reader.

As a child, I was often scolded for 'wasting every piece of paper in the house'. (Sad but true, my mom used to hide the notebook paper from me and give me rations during the school year.) I had more pen pals then I could keep up with, often pawning the 'not so cool' ones off on my friends who were in need of a NKOTB fan/friend on the east coast.

My kindergarten teacher said the following words to my mom (circa 1983): "I am going to get Sherilynn's autograph because one day, she will be famous..." Sweet words from a woman I detested because she made me take a nap on a rubber mat. Eh.

During elementary school, I would write short stories about my family... just for fun. I discovered the thrill of reading when I was about 8, starting with Judy Blume and then moving onto the Babysitter's Club. I would read & re-read the books until the covers were mangled and the ink on the pages was smeared. Funny, but my favorite place to read was the bath tub. My fingers would be crinkly and the water would be ice cold, but I would keep on reading. My brothers would pound on the door and I would rudely shoo them away... "Leave me alone, Claudia's watching that awful kid!! I have to see what happens! Use the other bathroom, stupid dork!" (Yes, I had anger management issues as a child. Being the only girl out of 278 children will do that to you.)

As an adult, my love of reading hasn't faded. Reading is therapeutic to me. It allows me to be in a different place and time, almost as if I am cutting up the rotting corpse with Kay Scarpetta. *gack* I've learned to love the Salvation Army book shelves. Why buy one book at Target for $6 when I can get 4 for that price at the thrift store?

I started blogging about 7 months ago after a bit of encouraging words from my girlyfriend Kadi. Her blog had me in stitches on a daily basis (She's a 30 year old mother of 7... how can her life be anything but raw in humor and chaos??) and I thought to myself, "Geeze... crazy stuff happens to me on a regular basis. Most of it seems pretty far fetched, but it's true! The black eye from the dog and the crazy ex in the flannel that broke into my home... I should put this on paper." And I did. Kinda. Blogging has given me the opportunity to spew my mind filth. It doesn't matter if anyone reads it, truthfully. I find joy in the art of expressing my thoughts whether it be on the Internet or chicken scratch on the back of an envelope.

Very recently, I was approached by #1 brother (I forget their names at times, there's so many of them...!!!) with some encouraging words...

"Charlotte's been showing me the friggin funny posts you make about your kids. You have a talent, an awesome one. Here's what I suggest you try. Write a novel. Seriously. You have a knack for storytelling right up there with John Grisham. Pick any subject you're interested in... like... say... your kids. Write a story about yourself, changing the names to protect the innocent. I'll help you get it published. Force yourself to write one page per day come hell or high water. Give it a year to be completed, don't rush it. Rough-draft it once. Re-write it twice, and then call it done. Don't do what some noob authors do and get frustrated because it isn't perfect.Seriously - you can send me rough drafts for editing."

Wow.

Right away, I asked myself.."Self, do you feel like writing a freaking book?" And then I answered myself (bear with me, I talk to myself a lot. M'kay? M'kay...) "Helltotheyes!" I've wanted to for as long as I can remember!

I'm at an awesome point in my life where I feel that I'm extremely content with all aspects of it. My job is chaotic, but I love everything about it (even the boys I work for!). Friends and family come first because, after all, they are the ones who have kept me semi-sane these last few years. *wink wink* And as for my love life... well, I suppose the best way to describe it is that I have stopped seeking 'love' in the generic definition. There's someone out there for me, I'm sure of it. Have I met him yet? Quite possibly. Who knows? However, I will not rush it. Period. See? Content.

Which brings me to the main point of this post.

It's time for me to break out of the Sherilynn Comfort Zone.

For the last 22.5 years, I have been the reader. I have read thousands of books, no joke. I have them seeping off my book shelf, my night stand, a stack on the floor next to my bed, boxes filled in my shed with books I've read that I'm not ready to let go of yet, etc.

And now, I am ready to be the writer.

*crossing fingers*

Wish me luck!

Re-evaluation.

I lost my grandpa today. I'm sad for the loss but grateful that he isn't hurting anymore...

When I lost Gina last year, it pushed me to a point in my life where I needed to re-evaluate who I was as a person. Was I happy? If not, then how was I going to change that? Unhappy with my job? Friends? All of these things can be changed. So I began taking baby steps in a direction that would enrich my life. I cut ties with 'anchor' friends that would willingly drag me to the bottom of a piranha infested swamp just to have me involved in their petty drama. I made a drastic change in employment, which bit me in the ass but I'm glad that I did it because it eventually lead me to an even better opportunity.

I've taken a few months to plant my feet in the 'okay' happiness I've had, not ready to make any tweaks or adjustments to my life. Until now. :)

If something makes me happy, I'm going to do it. (As long as it isn't illegal.. heh..) I will be more cautious about who I surround myself with, no more dating just to fill 'voids'. My words of kindness will flow more easily to my friends and family. And when I say something, I will mean it - good or bad.

*deep sigh*

Bed time.

Mishaps happen... to me.

Stuff happens to me. I'm not sure why. Quite possibly because I have such a unique look on life. Disasters in my life are always bloggable and I am able to pull the humor out of the most stressful situations.

Last Week: I was getting ready to go out to dinner. I parked my car in front of Cousin J's house. I had the flashers on... I returned to the car a bit later and it was dead. *egads* She lent me her car to go to dinner. Her friend-boy, our girly friend Amberly and the neighbor attempted to jump start my car. No bueno. It had to be pushed back to my place. The next day I got a new battery and installed it, no problem.

::fastforward a few hours::

During the drive out to Corona to see my brother and sister -in-law before picking up the kids, I noticed that my car was overheating. AHHH!! I pulled over as quickly as I could and called AAA to come rescue me. I got out of the car to pop the hood and noticed that there was anti-freeze splattered all over the hood of my car. *groan* I patiently sat in the car and waited for the tow truck driver.

He took me to Pep Boys where I was told that if they couldn't fix my car that day (this was the very late afternoon) it would have to wait until morning. Fanfreakintastic. A few hours later, I was informed that all I needed was a new radiator cap. Awesome.

::fastforward a few days:

I attended a BBQ with friends. Somehow, during the duration of the evening... I lost my freaking cell phone. Now, for those who know me, I have a problem with phones. I break them, I lose them, I drop them, etc. Some would say I commit "phone abuse" almost on a daily basis.

...Ok, I can't talk about this anymore. I'm having flash backs and cold sweats...

Gardening Guppies

I am really confused. Quite honestly, I'm not sure how to even address the newest issue in my household. I feel betrayed.

No one told me that my new guppies have been gardening behind my back.

I opened the tank to feed the fish. I noticed something that resembeled an alfalfa sprout sticking out of the rocks in the bottom of the tank. Wha'...? There are no live plants in the tank, only plastic obvious-fake looking ones. So I thought!

After staring at this little live plant swaying happily in the fish poop water, I plucked it out.

A tomato plant. Growing. In the bottom. Of my fish tank.

The "I Didn't Do It" Bear

This idea is going to make me filthy rich. I'm already working on the patent, so don't try stealing it.

This last week, I have been a "Stay At Home Mom". I have to say, I don't know how my girlyfriends do it. (Bless your hearts Kadi & Amberly.)

During my SAHM stint, I've learned a lot about my children. The top five statements that I have heard are (in no particular order):

*I didn't do it.
* That wasn't me.
* That's not my mess.
*I picked that up already, how did it get back on the floor?
And my all time favorite...
*It was her. ::pointing to another child::

My children still believe that I have eyes on the back of my head. That I see all/know all. I can not smudge this illusion by not following through on my "Iknowthat'syourmessIsawyou! Pickitup!" bluffs.

This is where the "I Didn't Do It" Bear comes in. I'm thinking he can be a nannycam only for naughty children. :) He seems innocent enough with his ruffled fur and patches. But, ah... What may resemble a crooked princes tiara on top of his head is actually a digital video recorder. (Bear..heh heh.. with me. I know nothing about technology beyond my cell phone and television remote.)

I'm going to have bears all over my house! I will now know who snuck the fruit snacks, who missed the trash can with the PB&J sandwich, how the fish tank water managed to slosh out of the tank onto the table all by itself, and how in the world the entire box of Q-Tips ended up floating inside the toilet.

*PING! IDEA!*

Know what would be SO awesome? Being able to print out photos of my children in action! Just imagine...

Me: WHO SPILLED APPLE JUICE INSIDE THE FRIDGE!!??

Chorus of angles: Not me Mommy!

I would then be able to present the children with the evidence!! I'm giddy with the idea! Not only will I have eyes on the back of my head but now a camera also.

Time Out Feet

These are Time Out Feet. When placing a child in Time Out, one must ponder proper placement of said child to ensure complete cooperation with the Time Out Rules.

Time Out Rules

1. Child shall not be placed in front of anything entertaining such as a television.

2. Child must be placed within ear shot of the Time Out Giver.

3. Child shall not be allowed to be within arms reach of toys.

4. Child shall not be given the right to engage with other children not in Time Out.

5. Child shall be made to use the potty before the timer is started for the Time Out session.

Don't ask me for details regarding what she did, I'm still in the recovery process. It involved pumpkin seeds, coffee and the dust buster.

I am suffering from Chick-Fight-Frazzle

I have zero sisters and a whole lotta brothers. I don't understand chick fights. As a kid, I fought like a boy. We would slug it out and the last one standing won. *blink blink* I don't think that my mom even heard us half the time... She would manuever around us with the laundry basket and not even bat an eye. My dad would rub his temples and mutter things like "Good grief...".

Now that I have girls, I have been introduced to a whole new realm of sibling bickering. And I have learned that girls are nasty fighters - they spew hateful, ugly things aiming for the heart. It's almost...eh.. entertaining in a really disgusting UFC kinda way.

Here is my Sunday so far.

8:00 am : Maddie scolding Catherine about chewing with her mouth open. Catherine, to disgust Maddie even more, allowed her watermelon slobber to dribble down her face and puddle on the table. Maddie called her a piglet, Catherine called her a fat pigface.Ouch!!

8:27 am: I wanted a few moments of peace and quiet so I snuck outside with my coffee and the paper. Inside the house a chick fight smackdown ensued. I heard a loud smack and then Maddie ran out the back door crying to show me her battle wound which, actually, was pretty brutal. Catherine has tiny little hands but they pack quite a whollop! Across Maddie's back was a welt that was raised and hot to the touch. Catherine appeared at the back door with a nasty scowl on her face and a whole lotta attitude. As they each tried to explain why Maddie had the tar beaten out of her they got louder.. and louder AND L O U D E R.

I calmly set my coffee down and gave them both The Look™. If you are familiar with The Look™, it's enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. One's eyes go glassy, mouth set in a straight line, teeth clenched, a hint of a scowl and one eyebrow raised to the hairline. (-_-) It means: I H A V E H A D E N O U G H.

I put my hand up ala' Moses style and closed my eyes. I then said in the most firm & calming voice I could manage, "Catherine. If you hit Madison again, I am going to allow her to hit you back and then you are going to clean her bedroom. Do you understand that?" Catherine put her hands on her hips and threw Maddie an evil glare. Maddie's turn... "Madison, if you antagonize Catherine just to get a reaction out of her, I am going to allow her to rifle through your jewelry box and pick something to wear for the day." (Maddie HATES sharing her jewelry.)

*insert satisfied mommy smile here...briefly*

Catherine, obviously only hearing one portion of my speech stuck her tongue at Maddie and shoved her saying "I'mma go get your pearl necklace to wear." Madison, having been shoved, smacked Catherine on the back. ::groan:: Catherine smacked Maddie back. Maddie smacked Catherine back.

Now, I know that I should have probably should have stepped in at this point, but I couldn't. My mouth was hanging open and I had somehow forgotten how to speak. I pointed to them both and then pointed to the house. "Inside" was all I could manage.

I heard a door slam from one of the bedrooms and little girl filth fill the air.

Madison: I hate you! You're the worst sister ever! I wish Mom never had you!
Catherine: You're a butthole! A stinky stinky butthole girl!
Madison: Butthole's a bad word, that makes you a bad girl for saying it!
Catherine: I'm notta bad girl, you are a bad girl!
Madison: I'mma tell mom you put your hand in the fish tank this morning!
Catherine: Did not, liar!
Madison: I'm not lying, you are! Liar!
Catherine: Liar!

There was some serious door slamming after this, muffled cries and "Ihatechew's" filling the air.

::slurping lukewarm coffee::

It's been a Hurricane Maddie & Tornado Catherine morning thus far. I've only made it through two pages of the paper, there's sticky watermelon juice on the kitchen floor, water on the table in front of the fish tank *scowl* and my ears are still ringing from the chick fight. I'm frazzled.

Rotten Apple

Disclaimer: This is a rant, not my normal kinda blog. I will be using comparisons that will make sense to some and not to others. If you are not knowledgeable about the content, please do not leave a comment. All that will do is irritate me more. Thank you. On with the show!


I had a very interesting day yesterday. It was my first day on a temp job through a very well known agency. For this blog, I will refer to them as "Rotten Apple".

Rotten Apple placed me with an escrow company in the area. I did a little bit of research online and discovered that said escrow company specialized in Real Estate Foreclosures. I contacted R.A. and explained to my "agent" that I have Z E R O experience with Real Estate REO's. She said that the company actually wanted an Escrow Officer but were willing to settle with an assistant. That I would be making follow-up telephone calls etc. She stated that the escrow company had my resume and knew what to expect of me. Fine.

I showed up to escrow, completely under qualified and unprepared for what lay ahead of me...

First of all, it was a clusterf**k. I have never seen such disarray and chaos in what should be a very controlled environment, in my opinion. Files everywhere. Stacks of them on the floor, on desks, spilling out of filing cabinets, papers everywhere. A folder of "homeless" checks that no one was able to place with the correct escrow. Woah. At 8:15 in the freaking morning, the phone was ringing off the hook. There were 16 lines and at several points throughout the day each and every one of them were lit up. Imagine the stock exchange only on an 'escrow high'.

So I meet with the "head honcho". She explains to me that 'the girls' are going to be giving me work, namely escrow instructions and packaging docs. She asked me if I was familiar with "Streamline", their escrow software. I told her that I was not. She seemed a bit peeved and mumbled that she asked Rotten Apple to only place her with candidates who were. Lovely.

I am placed with two girls, both escrow assistants. They are handing me new escrows and asking me to type escrow instructions concurrently. My response was "If you have a few minutes to run through Streamline with me, I can take notes and start working on them for you." They look at each other then back at me. "You aren't familiar with Streamline...?" No, I said...

They then decide to teach me how to 'package docs' (escrow instructions). Mind you, I have Z E R O experience with real estate escrow instructions, have NO clue what needs to be attached, am confused by all the freaking hands in the pot: Selling Agent, Listing Agent, Buyer, Broker, Seller (being the bank that foreclosed on the property) and Lender. I was given a brief "staple this to this but not this and sometimes this" run thru. Once the docs were stapled, I took them to my desk and took notes - what goes to who etc. Which ones to email, which ones to fax, who doesn't get copies of zone disclosures etc. At this point, my head is spinning and it's only 9:30 am.

I am then handed 11 new escrows to open. Awesome, this I can do!! I grab take sheets, some more coffee, white out and a rubber finger tip. Time to get to work... I'm digging through a fistfull of loose papers trying to make sense of it all, filling in the take sheets the best I can and asking questions as I go along. Finally, one of the girls whose brain I was picking decided to ask me what everyone else was wondering..

Her: Aren't you an escrow officer? *narrowing eyes*

Me: No, I'm not. I worked as an escrow assistant for 4 years though. This is my first experience with Real Estate, I did Personal Property Escrows. I'm a fast learner though. :D

Her: It's pretty much the same, isn't it?

Me: Actually.... no. *blink blink* Not at all. I worked with manufactured homes. (I think all she heard was 'trailers'.)

Her:Well...What CAN you do? I don't have time to train you on our software.

Me: I will do all of your filing, escrow openings and will try to filter your phone calls the best I can.

Her: Okay, call the listing agents and find out when we will get the deposits on these files. *hands me an armful of files* And ask about the vesting so you can type the escrow instructions. (Wha...?) Oh, and make sure to get ahold of title to get new prelims. (WHAT in the HELL is a PRELIM!?!) Also, make sure to record the Order #, the Escrow # and the REO # on the jacket of the file.

I nodded and took the files back to my desk.

Another girl said that she overheard the conversation and that she too thought 'escrow was escrow'.

Me: Not at all. You can escrow things besides stick built homes. I did Mfd. Home Dealer escrows, where the Dealer is the seller in the escrow... the 'seller' aka registered owner is more of a lien holder.

Her #2: They do escrows for that??

Me: *blink blink* Yes... They do escrows for those, for private party sells, even for cattle at some places. Escrow isn't just for stick built homes.

Her #2: *frown* Humph. ::turns around and continues to work::

*SIGH*

Lunch time, thank goodness.

I run to 7-11, grab two rubbery taquitos and a Diet Coke. (O_o) Yum.

I had thoughts of just spending the rest of my day in the parking lot, sitting in my hot car doing a crossword puzzle...

When I returned to my desk I had messages waiting for me from agents I had called. They were asking me questions regarding their escrows that I was completely unable to answer and had to ask if I could call them back. (Note: Agents are not nice.)

Time for me to pester the 'smart girls' in the office again.

Me: The listing agent wants to know what the difference in the fees will be if her client decides to do a 10-31 exchange.

Her: Give her the fees off the list. *buries her head back in the 6 inch thick file*

Me: Okay.

I sit at the desk. I look to my left and there is chaos. In front of me, chaos. Behind me there's a meek little thing being trained by a foul-mouthed, hot-tempered woman.

At this point in the day, I am feeling completely helpless. I am watching these girls hustle about the office, practically shoving each other out of the way at the copier (Yes, 30 girls. One copier.) and there isn't a damn thing I can do to help relieve their stress! *whimper* No one had the time to even give me the password to get INTO Streamline where I could have tinkered around, looked through the escrow documents to familiarize myself with the verbage, etc.

I spent the rest of the afternoon working on take sheets.

When I ran to my car at 5:02 pm I was fuming. Rotten Apple was fully aware of the fact that I was not familiar with Real Estate Escrows. They sent me in there blind as a bat just to have a warm body sitting in the chair. I felt like a dumbass.


First I talked to Cousin J and girly friend J.G. to get their opinions... Do I call R.A. and tell them that I am not going back to the escrow company? That I was of little use to the girls there, no one had time to train me etc? Yes, they both tell me: Call Rotten Apple.

*R I N G R I N G*

"Rotten Apple, blah blah blah. How can I help you?"

Me: I just finished the first day of my assignment and I need to talk to my agent.

RA: Okay, let me get her for you.

..insert very long wait here..

Agent: Hey, Sheri. What's up...

Me: We need to talk about my day. I left frustrated and very angry with R.A. for sending me in blind as a bat.

Agent: That's a pretty negative attitude, Sheri.

Me: Yea, I know. You were fully aware that I had zero R.E. Escrow experience, yet you told them that you were sending them an escrow officer. Number one, I was an escrow assistant, not an escrow officer. Big difference.

Agent rudely interrupts here: They had your resume, they knew what they were getting.

Me: You don't understand. Just because I worked in escrow does not mean that I am familiar with REO's - it's totally different!!

Agent: You have a bad attitude. I haven't heard back from them, I called to find out how your first day went.

Me: You haven't heard back from them because they didn't even realize I was there today! It was so busy and I felt helpless, I had no clue what was going on! Those girls are buried over there, you need to find them someone who is familiar with REO's - they don't have the time to train me.

Agent: You said you had escrow experience.

Me: *yanking hair out by the roots* I DO!! There are so many different kinds of escrows, not just real estate!!

Agent: Call me at 8:45 tomorrow morning and I will let you know if they want you to come back.

Me: mmm hmm.

::click::

Note To Those Who Know No Better: ESCROW DOES NOT EQUAL ESCROW JUST AS A PASTRY CHEF DOES NOT EQUAL A SUSHI CHEF. GET IT?

Match Closed

Yes. Again, I have attracted a married man.

I'm not sure that I understand how the penis overrides the brain, but it does. There needs to be more medical research done on this subject, I will give them his phone number as he would make a perfect patient for a "Penis Brain Syndrome" clinical trial.

About a year ago, I joined a dating site called OkCupid. It's kind of like a dating MySpace site, you take test and quizzes and they match you based off of the results. But you can also browse for matches based on location and stats.

This is how "Brstlvr" (YES, I know. I know... I know.) found me. He's 42, lives about 15 minutes from me and said he was divorced. We've been chatting by email for the last 3 months or so. A few weeks ago, I gave him my phone number. We have had numerous chats. I even asked him "You aren't married...right?" He emphatically insisted that he wasn't.

So.

Yesterday I received a call from him. I wasn't in the mood to talk so I sent him to voice mail. A few hours later, after things had calmed down and the kids were sleeping, I called him back. A woman answered. The conversation was short.

Her: Hello?

Me: ... hello...?

Her: Hello?

Me: *checking phone to make sure I called the right number*

::pause::

Me: *jaw dropping* hang up phone

A few seconds later his phone calls me back. No way in HELL I'm answering it! I wait. *ping* Voice mail.

With shaking hands, I listen.

"Hi Sheri, this is Sue... Wayne's wife. I'm not sure why you are calling his phone, but I want you to know that he's married."

I couldn't forward the message to Cousin J and girly friend JG fast enough!

I then sent the following text message to his phone:

'Married huh? Groan... Perhaps you should stay off dating sites, Wayne. Do not ever email me or call me again. In OkCupid lingo, you are dead to me - match closed.'

I wake up this morning to a missed call and a voice mail from Sue. She gave me her phone number and asked that I call her, she has a few questions for me.

My womanly duty never ends. *sigh* I am going to call her back today and then forward her a few of the emails he and I exchanged.

Thank GOODNESS I never met him in person. In fact, we were supposed to meet for coffee this week so I'm glad this happened before hand.

*slurping coffee*

I don't even know what else to say. For all the Hugh's, Jesse's and Wayne's out there... ihatechew.

Everything happens for a reason!

Yesterday was an odd day. I got laid off for the first time ever. Egh. It really wasn't shocking but it shocked me nonetheless. Make sense? We are in a recession and unfortunately, the company I work for relies on the sale of their homes to be the bread and butter. No sales, time for layoffs. I wasn't the first to go and I'm sad thinking I am probably not the last either.


After hugging my supervisor, I sat in my car and cried for a few moments. I cried for her, isn't that odd? I know how difficult it was for her to have to tell me and I let her know that I understood the circumstances.


Then I picked up my kiddos, came home, made them an awesome dinner, played X-Box with them, bath time, bed time... and then spent several hours reading "How To Stop Worrying & Start Living" by Dale Carnegie. (-- Perfect timing on the majority of the true stories in there, btw...)


And here I am. Third cup of coffee. Polishing up my resume to post on monster.


My current employer has been kind enough to keep me on for an additional 2 weeks so that I can find another job. What kind of job am I going to get? I have no clue. I've been in the industry for almost 10 years and the thought of venturing outside of it is scary as hell. Problem is, the economy is so crappy right now that I don't believe that I have a choice but to do so.*eek*


Everything happens for a reason. My current job pretttttttty much sucks fuzzy donkey parts. I love the company, hate my job. So they are actually doing me a favor I suppose. There isn't anywhere else within the company for me to move so leaving it is.


Am I worried? Of course... I've got 3 angels to support. But I know that I will find something. I'm not above wiping down tables and emptying trash cans to take care of my kids.


My coffee's cold, gotta go.

Dirty little secret.

Memo to men: WE DON'T GET YOU EITHER

I'm not sure what kind of woman-law I'm breaking by divulging that tidbit of information, but there you have it. I'm willing to suffer the consequences, someone had to tell you! And what better women then moi?

I know that women are supposed to have super-natural powers. After all, we have eyes on the back of our head and can foresee the future.

But, dagnabbit... We can't figure you out! There are lots of things that we can't seem to wrap our brains around, but here are a few important ones that you must know.

What The X Chromosome Doesn't Understand About The Y Chromosome

*Why you freak out when we cry. Unless you called us fat, it's probably not your fault. In other words, you are the good guy - embrace the moment!! And if you'd like to stay the good guy, hug us and pretend that we look adorable with raccoon eyes.

*The lack of communication. Women need to feel connected to their mate and communication is the key. (Write that down for future reference.

Communication = Key to our parts... eh.. hearts.) If you ignore us for a few days and then want to "coddle", it's not happening. We don't make out with strangers, get it?

*Sports. Period. Basketball, blah. Baseball, blah. Racing, blah. Hockey, blah. Bloody UFC fights, double blah. Listen, to make it fair - for every sporting event you subject us to, you have to watch a chick flick with us. Fair? Fair.

*How you can call the house 'clean' when it hasn't been swept, vacuumed, mopped or dusted. Placing the newspaper into a tidy pile does not constitute clean. (Write that one down too, it will come in handy the next time your mother in law visits!)

You're welcome.

Now tell her you're sorry for what ever you did or didn't do.

C.B.D.

Yesterday was a “cry baby day” for me.

I don’t have CBD’s very often, my skin has grown thick over the years and I’ve learned to let things just roll off my dainty shoulders.

Not yesterday though. *blink blink*

The worst part about it all was the water works turned on at work at about 8:45 a.m. and didn’t shut completely off until about 10:15 p.m.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to hide this kind of episode from your co-workers?

Me: *sniff*

JG: Wassa’ matter Sunshine?

Me: I think I’m gettin’ a cold.

JG: Oh, okay.

Me: *sniff*

JG: That sucks that you are getting sick.

Me: *sniff* Yep. ::dabbing eyes with rough toilet paper::

JG: …are you … crying? *blink blink*

Me: ::water works on full blast::

JG: What is it? *concerned look*

Me: WAHHHHH!!!!

Yea… so that’s pretty much how my entire day went. One cry baby episode after another. (O_o)

I must say though, I slept like a (cry)baby!

Life Is Too Short To:

Fight with family

Not give love another chance

Hate your job

Regret your past

Not blog about horrible first dates

Withhold compliments

Waste sunshine

Dream & not do

Let your toes go unpolished

Worry about what you can't control

Expend extra energy on foes

Forget your neighbor's name

Not forgive & forget

Me

Dear Lying Boys

Dear Lying Boys,

I've reached a milestone in my dating "career" and I've decided that there's no better time then now to lay down some rules.

* Under no circumstance is it okay to lie about your marital status. Engaged = married in my book. And I have NO problem spilling the beans to your wife/fiancee/girl friend.

* If you are missing any noticeable appendages, please forewarn me. It's the polite thing to do.

* NEVER brag about how much money you make on a first date. Otherwise, I will be forced to order the most expensive items on the menu.

* Lying about your height is a no-no. If I can look you in the eyes while in flip flops, you are not 5'6". You are a semi-midget who wears garanimals from Wal-Mart.

* However thick headed you may be, please take notice of my body language. The "Deflect A Jerk" stance is as follows: Arms folded squarely across my chest, head tilted at an unflattering angle & a scowl smeared across my forehead. Trying to kiss me will only get you hurt.

* CHEW WITH YOUR MOUTH SHUT. Seriously, I can't believe I have to even say that but... there it is. There's nothing more disgusting then seeing your half chewed pastrami sandwich from across the table.

* Speaking poorly of your ex's will only add you to my "Jerks to blog about" list. I don't do it, you shouldn't either.

* Answering your cell phone during dinner is rude. If you do this to me, I will be texting the following to my Cousin J & my girly friend J.G. from the rest room : I think I hate him a little bit. Help..!

* Sex is not appropriate dinner conversation. ESPECIALLY on a first date. ..rude rude rude..

* Know that I do an intrusive background investigation on each one of you. If you've been in trouble, I'm going to find it. ;) Not only am I nosy as to your behavior in the past, but I'm curious about what you may be on probation for currently.

* When there are painful lags in the conversation, please do not leave it to me to fill the gaps. Unless you want to hear about how much I love my garden, think of something to say quickly.

* DO NOT SCORE ME while on the phone (augh) during dinner with your friend. Hearing "Oh, I'd give her a 7 1/2 on looks and... uh... ::insert eye googling my boobs face here::... a 9 on personality, making her an 8 3/4" is not okay!

* Getting wasted on a first date is unacceptable behavior. Going to the bathroom to powder my nose is potentially going to end in me burning rubber on my way out of the parking lot while you nurse your 7th beer waiting for my return.

And for the love of everything holy, do NOT ask me how many dates we have to go on before you get to see me naked. >.<

Dear Bacardi:

Dear Bacardi:

The time we spent together was wonderful. I have many fond (fuzzy) memories with you, but I have decided that we just aren't compatible anymore... I must end our long-term relationship.

As Summer nears, I have thought of you often. What fun we had! Yet I've come to the conclusion that you are a sneaky bastard, often stealing my memories, inhibitions and ballerina-like coordination... rendering me a babbling idiot who flirts with any Y chromosome and can't figure out how to even tie her own shoes. For shame!

Should you have any doubts about the mischief I have tolerated from you, please see below.

Exhibit A

The Sheri Ping Pong Machine: While the inebriated voice mail I left Cousin J. was the highlight of the next family gathering, I could have gotten seriously hurt, bouncing off the walls like a damn ping pong ball. And cooking zucchini that late at night was your stupid idea, not mine.

Cave woman Sheri: I was officially stripped of my dignity & class as I pummeled through a plate of pasta with my bare hands because I was unable to properly use an eating utensil like a grown woman. This happened in front of several people and in the back of my mind I can hear you snickering at me still.

Baker Sheri: There are certain things Bacardi, that you should have never been a part of. Candy making, for example. Why you thought it was okay to assist me in helping Cousin J. make peanut brittle is beyond me. And then you left me to help pick the hardened candy out of her pretty kitchen rug and off the walls. Although, you did help numb the sensation of being burned by 315 degree candy lava, so I suppose we are even.

Clumsy Sheri: One of your favorite means of mischief often left me asking for band-aids and peroxide from any kind soul. Really, pushing me down the stairs was uncalled for. And even worse yet, pushing me up the stairs! Clever though, I must admit. My knees will never be the same.

Phone Breaking Sheri: I (with your assistance) managed to plow through cell-phones as if they were free! In a matter of 6 months I had 3 cellphones. Very funny. *scowl* Shall we talk about the time you hid it in my closet and then threw up on my shoes?

Social-Butterfly Sheri: I was pretty shy before. While your intentions were good hearted, bringing me out of my shell often left me spewing apologies the next morning to complete strangers! And no one wants to have to piece their night back together by checking the text messages on their cell phone... And who in their right mind poses with the Jell-O lady at the fair? Yes, Bacardi... You and I.

Shower Sheri: A close cousin of Clumsy Sheri, Shower Sheri is far more important in mentioning as this Sheri happened at Cousin J's house. I went into the bathroom specifically to use the potty, only to end up half in / half out of the bathtub with huge bruises on the backside of my legs and a goose egg on my melon. I had a hard time sitting for days, thanks to you!

Dog Walker Sheri: Having a dog really did damage our relationship. Remember the night the power went out and Remi needed to go potty outside? Apparently she heard the Edison chumps outside and decided she wanted to snack on them. We were trying to get a flash light out from under the kitchen sink, Remi ran around our feet and tripped us with her leash. Once again, you helped numb the sensation of smacking my face off the side of the kitchen sink, thank you. However, I believe my clumsiness would have scored a 2 instead of a 10 that night on the Sherifalldownmeter if it wasn't for you.

That's quite the shiner. Thanks for giving it to me the night before a first date....

In conclusion, I think I hate you Bacardi. While the times that we had together were fun, you just aren't worth the boo-boos anymore. Go find some other light-weight to bully around, I'm finished with you.

Signed:

Me

P.S. ~ You taste like caca, I don't know why I ever loved you!!

**INSERT HUMONGOUS SHOUT-OUT TO COUSIN J AS THIS POST WAS HER BRAINCHILD!! XXXOOO ♥**