Figure it out and Get Over it.

Women are bitches.  Figure it out and get over it.

I am still continually dumbfounded over the ignorance of men in regards to women.  Men, get it through your heads, women are not to be understood, rationalized with, or calmed down by your dimwitted bullshit.

The old adage about women always changing their minds is true.  Of course it is.  The reason we change our minds so much is because we have no fucking clue what we want to begin with.  We can and will tell you every god damned thing we don’t want; however, the wants are still foggy.  Why?  Because as women we have the ability to get anything we want, all the time.  It’s totally true.  We have the vagina.  Sounds crude, I know, but you may as well face the facts.  When we are posed with so many choices it is almost impossible to choose.  You can’t really blame us.  It’s stimulation overload.  You wouldn’t want us to short-circuit and start smoking out our ears and shit, would you?  (Keep in mind, we have the vagina.)  Situations in which the mind changing experience occurs can be lessened by you (the man) keeping your damn trap shut during the debating process.  Be patient, nobody has died (that I know of) because it took a chick too long to finalize her decision on where to eat dinner on Friday night.  Promise.  I know stuff.

The same kind of thing goes on in reference to making a decision.  There are just too many damn choices. The simple question “what do you want to do today?” causes all kinds of anxiety, excitement, and finally, downright anger in the female mind.  How am I supposed to choose something to do from ALL THE THINGS there are to do?  Yes, that IS how we think. ALL. THE. THINGS. Do you know how many that is?  That’s a lot of damn things.  So we list all the things and then…we have to narrow shit down into categories, and keep narrowing until we finally come up with like our top 46.  These situations cannot be entirely avoided, but, they can be toned down.  Just man-up and offer YOUR opinion.  Given a few choices, we can usually make a snappy decision.  It can be done.  You know how you do all that preventative maintenance stuff to your car?  It has to be done with women as well.  Be prepared.  Duh.

Quit spending time trying figure a bitch out.  This will never happen.  We don’t want you to figure us out so stop it.  If you figure us out, what exactly are we supposed to do with all that time we spend explaining shit to you? Anyhow, we don’t have ourselves figured out so just how in the hell do you expect to?  Also, the second you get us all figured out, we’re gonna change our minds anyway.  Didn’t you learn anything in the first paragraph?  Oh, I get that women always say that we’d like you to figure out how we think and stuff.  We lie.  We really just want you to shut up.  Well shut up and listen.  Listening is huge. If you listen to even ¼ of what we say, you’ll have a head start on knowing what the fuck is going on the rest of the time.

In closing…

Love us, listen to us, and learn these three phrases that I learned from the Drunken Queen many years ago…

• “I love you”
• “You’re always right”
• “You look beautiful” 

Answer every question with one of those three statements.  It will make life a whole lot easier.  Trust me.  I know stuff.

Men – be sure not to tell anyone I told you all this stuff, k?  It’s a secret.

Oh, the places you’ll go…

It has been brought to my attention recently that are a few places we visit where there are no 'walls'...

Walls defined (by me) as:  fees to enter, membership required, certain attire required, you must be ‘this tall’ to ride, you must not be this color to enter, you must drive this kind of car to come here, and you have to dress this way to visit here, you must be pretty to hang out here.  Those walls. We’ve all experienced them. Sometimes walls are good.  They can keep us safe in certain situations.  They act as protection.  Other times, walls act as what they really are - barriers to keep us either in or out.  For whatever reason.

Being the type of person that I am (I hate people) I usually tend to dig the whole wall thing.  I get that certain people just don’t ‘belong’ in certain places.  What?  They don’t.  I know for damn sure my old, fat ass doesn’t belong in the junior section of the department store or the nightclub with the 21&under set. The dude next door to me who is a scream-talker doesn’t belong in the library or the movies (or really anywhere, whole other story). Pets shouldn’t be hanging around in restaurants while I’m trying to stuff my face.  Kids shouldn’t be unattended at the…anywhere.   You’re getting this, right?

This blog post isn’t about those places.  It’s about the places that have no walls.  I’ve been noticing some shit lately.  Let me explain…There are few places I’ve found where you can find all walks of life.  What I mean is the places where ALLTHEPEOPLE visit at some time or another.  Places we are allowed to visit to and we are accepted.  Equally.

The gas station -   Most of us have been here at one time or another.  The gas station is a place where all people are welcome.  There are no walls.  At the gas station you see white people, black people, rich people, poor people, handicapped people, kids, adults, nicely dressed folk, people in work clothes, fat people, skinny people, dying people, newborn people, etc…  It’s a mixed up jumble.  There is no hierarchy. Everyone is equal at the gas station.  It’s a place we all have to go unless of course we’re of the billionaire set and our butler, Jeeves, gets the gas for us.  See?  Even Jeeves can hit the gas station.  There is no judging (well, there might be some).  Everyone is there for one common goal.  Gas.  This may seem like a simple concept but think about it.  How is possible for people who cannot agree on anything else in life to accomplish this gas pumping task?  Together.  It’s been happening for years.  Since cars were invented.  We go, we pump, and we get along.  No walls.  It’s seamless.  It may only be for a few short minutes, but we do it.  Amazing, no?

Government Agencies– For the most part, we’ve all had to hit a government building.  Whether it’s a courthouse, a clerk’s office, the capital building in your city, a police department, a utility office, the housing authority, the agriculture department, council for the arts, community development, you get the idea.  At one time or another we’ve all had to visit a government agency.  Again…race, financial status, sexual orientation, clothing style?  All of those things go out the window.  It’s another place with no walls.  Everyone is welcome and encouraged to visit.  We are just able to roam freely, together.  And?  Nothing out of the ordinary happens.  A wealthy older white woman can sit right next to a homeless black man.  The girl with the ring in her nose and tattoos can have coffee at the same table with a man in a business suit.  People are there for all different reasons.  The young couple getting married, the old couple getting divorced, the family filing a will with probate, the poor getting assistance with finances, the attorney arriving for court, you renewing your driver’s license; all visiting these agencies. It happens.  Every day.  And guess what?  It works.  No walls.  Everyone is equal.

There aren’t many places where everyone is accepted.  No matter what you believe, who you are or where you live, this is true.  There are places where you can see a lot of different types of people.  For example, the grocery store or an amusement park has all different kinds of folks.  However, you have to have money (wall) to go to the grocery.  And, while an amusement park has quite a mix it’s not a place we are all welcome (A lot of us don’t have tickets).

I’m not really sure where I was going with this post except that it was something that really interested me.  I like to observe people and their habits.  I happened to be sitting at a red light one day and looked over at the gas station and watched all of the different walks of life.  Yep, that’s where this whole thing began.  I guess my main point here is that if we (people) can handle being together in places without walls, why in the hell doesn’t it carry over into our daily lives and places with walls?  Why do we accept people in certain situations and not others?

 I hate people.

Tattler Thursday Blog & Social Media Hop!

Welcome everybody *waving frantically*! I'm so excited to be here co-hosting the Tattler Thursday Hop. Probably more excited than I should be. I'm an odd bird. Whatever. That doesn't change the fact that this is a great hop to share your all your social media links. I know stuff. I'll shut up now and you go and link up. Go head, do it. - PPB

Hiya Snappers! Welcome back to the 18th week of the Tattler Thursday Blog and Social Network Hop!

It's time to tattle and hop!

It's a share your crazy, gross, hilarious, in-the-trenches parenthood stories, kind of blog hop! We love funny kid stories and we want to hear yours!

Just leave a comment with your story, post not required! So think of your funniest, wackiest or favorite kid stories, leave a comment  with your story/tattle, follow your Hostesses and Co-Hostesses, visit and discover other blogs, and have fun!

Remember the easiest way to get a follow back is to like/follow other pages and leave a comment! So hop around, tell your friends and share, share, share! This is a hop designed for you to have fun and share! Happy Tattling!

Tweet about the Blog Hop HERE!

This week's featured blogger of the week is, Literally Vague from Chaos With A Curve! Go check their site out! It is a conglomeration of 4 women bloggers who blog together because they want to be heard. Because they have something to say, whether you want to read it or not.  Thanks for commenting last week Literally Vague ! You are now entered to be featured on The tattler's Studio next month!



To be picked as next week's featured blogger of the week, and to be eligible for September's Tattler's Studio featured post on W3G, all about you and your blog, simply comment on one of the three Hostesses blogs with a funny, silly, gross, scary, wacky, or crazy kid story!

	The Rules are:
	1- Follow Your Host and Co-Hostesses
	2- Grab the button and display it on your blog or hop page/section
	3- Leave a comment with a funny, wacky, or gross kid story/tattle

*Be Sure to Hop over to other blogs and visit/network and share the Hop

*Have fun Hopping! (and come back next week!)

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  Your Hostesses

The Co-Hostesses

   

   

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***If you are interested in co-hosting the blog hop or would like more information, you can reach us at tattlerthursday@gmail.com***

PPB's unwritten rules of 'the' Facebook

Just a few, k? Yeah, you're probably gonna wanna punch me.  That's cool.  You can't.  Punch me.  But it's cool if you wanna.  - PPB

Do NOT ‘friend’ your boss on Facebook.  Ever.  Honestly.  You might think this is a good idea at the time. It isn’t.  I promise.  I know stuff.  4 years from now when your boss is a meth head and you’re now under investigation because he or she made some inappropriate (and funny) comments on your Facebook page? You won’t like it.  Or, in six months when you decide you hate that job and that boss and the feeling is mutual and then he or she decides to comb through your page to get something on you?  You won’t like it.   Your boss probably won’t fully appreciate the picture you posted of you grabbing your friend’s boob with one hand while holding two beers & a joint in the other.  They may snicker a bit and pretend to enjoy it, but they are just thinking of all the ways to blackmail you with that shit later. You won’t like it.  Most importantly, when you call in sick to go the beach you’ll have to constantly remember not to post pics of the beautiful day and the kickass time you’re having and that would just suck. (remembering stuff is hard)  And?  You won’t like it.

Talking all down & dirty about your relationship is a NO. I’m still not sure how or why the fuck people don’t ‘get’ this.  It’s just common sense.  If you wouldn’t say it out loud?  Don’t put that shit on Facebook.  Not the regular bitching about your husband/boyfriend/girlfriend/wife stuff.  I mean your deep down dirty secrets. The people on your page do NOT need to hear, under any circumstances, how your boyfriend broke up with you because you only like anal or that you like for your dog to watch while you perform oral.  Or for example, announcing that you ‘suspect’ your other half is cheating on you.  This is not good.  If they are (cheating), you’ve warned them. (never ruin the surprise)  If nothing’s going on, you’ve opened the door for one of your other Facebook friends to begin the backstabbing and commence to stealing your man/woman.  Don’t gasp, it happens.  You know it does.  The more you open your relationship stuff up to others, the more chances you have to fuck up your relationship.  And anyway, you just look and sound like an asshole and we all just laugh at you.   So don’t.  

‘Friending’ your ex, your ex’s ex, your mom’s ex, or anybody’s damn ex - All bad.  I’m telling you.  Just like the boss thing?  You will regret it.  It seems all cutesy and awesome to be friendly and sweet and let every lil ole person you meet enter your world.  It isn’t.  It will bite you right in your sweet ass.  It may be later than sooner, but trust me.  It. Will. Happen.  At some point (probably 3am on a Friday), one of these exes or even YOU will be all drink-y and cry-y and they or you will inevitably say something completely fucked up that will turn the world upside down and force it to burst into flames.  Then?  The shit will come squeezing through the fan.  These people are exes for a reason.  Somehow, somewhere, you or someone you know wanted to rid their lives of these people.  Leave it that way.  Look forward, kids.  It really is the only way to go.  The world is an ever changing place.  Keep up.  

Do NOT let your children on your Facebook page.  Of course you should be on their page; however, there is no need for your 13 old to see ANYTHING you do on Facebook.  This is real shit, folks.  No matter what you think you aren’t letting them see?  They see.  Every post, picture, status update you like or even think about liking?  Facebook is letting your kid see that shit.  So even you aren’t posting anything off-the-wall personally, your kid does not need to find out that you’re in a private group for men who like women who dress like men or whatever else is getting your freak on, on Facebook.  That’s really a sit down discussion type thing.  In my humble (and awesome) opinion, the kiddos do NOT belong on Facebook. Period.  Its way too, well, Facebook.  Hell, I have to scroll really fast sometimes not freak the fuck out on some of the stuff I see with my 43 year old eyes.  That is the stuff your 9 year old is investigating. Thoroughly.  Keep in mind, your kids will also see all of your friend’s crazy shit too. You know you have that one friend who can’t stop giving every gory yet oddly enticing detail of her sex life. Or that other friend who you haven't seen in over 15 years, just got arrested for growing medical marijuana and constantly posts ’fuck the police’. Or that friend of a friend (who you don’t really know) who just happens to a sex offender with a yen for the kids.  All of this stuff happens in the real world.  Your kids shouldn’t have to read & or experience it on Facebook. Yes I know I'm an old stick-in-the-mud jackwagon, but whatever.  Oh and your kids always make stupid comments on your posts and act really dumb and stuff and that pisses me off.  I hate kids.  I damn sure don't want them on my Facebook page.  

I hope you’ll take the time to let these few rules marinate and then set (sorry for the foodie talk, I'm hungry). You need these rules.  I promise.  I know stuff.  For those of you who already follow these rules?  You rock the mostest.  The rest of you?  Get on that shit.  What the hell are you waiting for?  

Idle Chits & Chats, SUCK

Have you ever…

Sat someplace with a group of people that you had no interest in communicating with?

It’s a situation that happens to everyone at some point.  Unfortunately, it happens to me?  A lot.  I hate people.  I have no desire to participate in idle chit-chat about your (or my) mundane life.   I mean really.  I do laundry, have kids, cook meals, have sexy-time just like everybody else.  I don’t need to hear about how someone else performs these tasks.  Do I?  No.  I’m rather at peace with my own thoughts.  I can entertain myself.  It’s true.

The part I hate most in these situations is that people give me the stink-eye and such because I’m not a participat-er.  Like I’m some kind of damn freak (I am, just not about this) because I don't want to hear their shit.  I’m comfortable just sitting quietly and reading or looking at my phone or writing or thinking about my own sad life or anything rather than hear about how about how you just learned to make low-fat cheese balls.  I mean honestly here, I can’t be the only one.  Can I?  Also, I damn sure don’t want to know your opinions on religion, politics or what year Ford made the best Mustang.  I don’t care if your boyfriendgirlfriendwifehusband cheats/sleeps/leaves/eats too much.   I just don’t.  I have enough stuff going on in my own life that I can’t keep track of.  Now I’m expected to follow your shit too?   Mind your damn business you dirty ole' stink-eye givers.  Don’t hate me cause’ I have no interest in your game.   Oh and while you’re at it, go poop in a hat.  (I just love that. Poop.  In a hat.  Ha!)

Oh and the topics of discussion that usually occur in these situations?  PUHLEASE.  Why do people think that while sitting in a room with strangers or people you barely know is the time to bring up that fact that you are a die-hard right-winger or that you can only poop on Tuesday, or that you have to vomit every time you eat, or that you are highly allergic to dust?  I.  Don’t.  Care.   Also, I doubt anyone else cares.  Unless you have something to say that directly involves me or my family?  I.  Don’t.  Care.  Now don’t mistake me for being rude.  I’m not that.  I’ll make eye contact and give a ‘hello’ and answer any questions pertinent to the situation.  I do not, however, want to see pictures of kids, dogs or hear that you’re getting kicked out of your house cause’ you’re a swinger. (“Can you believe my neighbors actually filed a complaint?”)  I’m just not interested.  Look around fuckers.  Nobody cares so…shut it.  Really.

The white noise is also awesome.  That’s what it’s like.  The blabbing of a bagillion (yes, a bagillion) people talking smack about nothing can be overwhelming.  Seriously, I know stuff.  Come on, if you’re in a room with more than like 5 people?  All of the talking becomes one big hum. (White noise) You can’t tell where one person’s complaining about the kids starts and another’s diatribe about the Middle East ends.  Shut up.  Reading.  Over here.  Dicks. This especially blows while trying to work.  The rumbling of a bagillion voices in my head is for sure not conducive to actually accomplishing anything.  Especially when mixed with the voices that already live in my head.  Come on people.

I guess I’ve just never been one of those cool people who can handle the shit outta some small talk.  I can do it.  I just prefer not.  It gives me all kindsa heebie jeebies and sends my anxiety into overdrive.

Anyhow, if you come across me in one of these situations, I’d appreciate it if you just shut up.  My Doctor and I thank you in advance.

PPB on the Facebook

I like the dentist.

Nope, this post isn't about the dentist.  Not even a little.  It's about dating & relationships.  Any relationship, really.

You know when you first begin to date someone and you begin the 'getting to know you' stage?  You discuss your likes, your dislikes and all that good happy shit.  You remember that, right?  Come on, it hasn't been that long.  When the SAB and I first started dating we found we had so many things in common.  It was weird.  Not in a bad way, just weird.

We had all the big things in common like neither of us wanted more kids and we both lean toward the left in political views.  We had both been married twice.  In fact, we each got married the same year both times AND were married for the same number of years each time.  (wacky)  I had an 8 year old daughter and he had an 8 year old daughter (and a 16 year old daughter).  Also, we were both self proclaimed dating whores.  

All that stuff is actually kind of common, however, it's the little things.  Right?  Me and the SAB (yes, I know it's grammatically incorrect, suck it) liked the same songs and the same movies.  That's pretty normal. However, we both recite movie lines and when he would start singing some off-the-wall song?  I could finish it.  (yes, in public...what. ever.)  TV shows & food.  The same deal.  We even drank the same damn drink. After a few months of dating we could have taken 1st place on the Newlywed Game simply because our answers were all the same.  I mean seriously, we even ordered the same ice cream conconction from Cold Stone Creamery.  (German Chocolate Cake, YUM)  We referred to each other as the 'opposite gender version' of one another.  It was uncanny.  (the word uncanny is totally underused)   How we responded to things and our thoughts and emotions about almost everything - same.  

I know lots of you out there have probably experienced all this stuff.  Am I right?  Well me being the awesomely cynical human I am? I started second guessing all that shite.  We can't be exactly the same, can we?  Then this happened: "You just cannot like everything I like.  If I said I like the dentist, you'd say you like the dentist too". Of course he denied it .  Whatever.  He'd have a eaten a turd on the roof of a laundromat with me (and say he loved it) if I'd have asked.   And so it goes...  "I like the dentist" became our running joke.  Still is. We're extremely immature.  Shaddap.

Fast forward 2.75 years later.  We are still amazed every day at our similarties.  Each day we find new things that we have in common.  We have also found that all those "I like the dentist" things aren't as alike as we thought.  For example, the SAB does enjoy watching Sex and the City reruns with me, however, he'd be much more content watching some dumbass documentary on Hugo Chavez or some other such bullshit. Also, while I can really dig on some fried food, I don't want to eat it every day like the SAB would do if I wasn't around.  Yes, I'm still trying to figure out how to fry mayonnaise.  What?  I'll be sure to the keep the life insurance policy updated.

Anyhow, even though I now look back and think "I went to a fucking houka bar with this man?", it was all worth it cause in the end?  We both "like the dentist". 

Holy Wow! I'm so excited to be co-hosting the Tattler Thursday Blog & Social Network Hop among the likes of these awesome bloggers! Anyhow, be sure and link up your blog and your Facebook, Twitter and Bloglovin below. Hopefully, I've done everything right and it all works! SMOOCHYDOODLES and Thanks for hoppin!

Hiya Snappers! Welcome back to the 14th week of the Tattler Thursday Blog and Social Network Hop!

It's time to tattle and hop!

It's a share your crazy, gross, hilarious, in-the-trenches parenthood stories, kind of blog hop! We love funny kid stories and we want to hear yours!

Just leave a comment with your story, post not required! So think of your funniest, wackiest or favorite kid stories, leave a comment  with your story/tattle, follow your Hostesses and Co-Hostesses, visit and discover other blogs, and have fun!

Remember the easiest way to get a follow back is to like/follow other pages and leave a comment! So hop around, tell your friends and share, share, share! This is a hop designed for you to have fun and share! Happy Tattling!

Tweet about the Blog Hop HERE!

	The Rules are:
	1- Follow Your Host and Co-Hostesses
	2- Grab the button and display it on your blog or hop page/section
	3- Leave a comment with a funny, wacky, or gross kid story/tattle

*Be Sure to Hop over to other blogs and visit/network and share the Hop

*Have fun Hopping! (and come back next week!)

---

  Your Hostesses

The Co-Hostesses

  

  

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***If you are interested in co-hosting the blog hop or would like more information, you can reach us at tattlerthursday@gmail.com***