Sunday, June 30, 2013

My very first guest post for "Raising Wild Things"

This is a guest post I did a few weeks back for my friend over at Raising Wild Things.  She's amazing.  You should go visit.  Anyway, here it is...


Dating in and of itself is an awkward, and somewhat bizarre activity.  You meet someone at a bar, online, at the grocery, whatever make a "date".  A date is defined by the free online dictionary as :

a. An engagement to go out socially with another person, often out of romantic interest.
b. One's companion on such an outing.

My definition of date?  An awkward outing with someone you barely know.

Getting back into the dating scene after 17 years of marriage (2 husbands) is overwhelming and completely humbling.  I mean really, it's hard enough to date when you're 22, single and hot.  38, overweight, divorced twice and a kid?  Absurd.

Here's just a few rules I came up with for the over 40, with kids, newly single woman...

Sleep with whomever you want, just don't let your kids know. Don't get all freaked out.  You're single now.  Every date does not have to be "the one".  Sometimes, a woman just wants a lil somethin' somethin'.  We have needs.  Use protection, be smart and have some fun. Do NOT, however, become the chick people are talkin' about in the bathroom at the bar.  This?  Is all bad. It sucks when you hit the next PTA meeting and Barbie and Babs are over in the corner acting you're the sleazy chick.

"Practice" date.  I did this.  A lot.  I met a buncha nice people on websites.  Yes, the online dating thing can be totally creepy but you can weed through the creepers fairly quickly if you're smart.  (I could write for hours on the whole online dating dealio, that will be a whole other post)  I knew these men wouldn't be "that guy" but some were nice and guess what? I wasn't sitting home on Friday & Saturday nights.  The guys who sucked taught me all about what I DIDN'T want so that was awesome too.  I was meeting people and learning how to communicate with opposite sex without having sex.  I don't regret any of these dates cause I was learning. Learning is key.  This shit is tough.  So a few wasted hours here and there? Totally worth it.

Don't eat sushi on the first date.  It's just weird.  Trust me, I experienced it.  It's that whole "share" the sushi thing and all that.  Plus, that whole raw fish & chopsticks thing can really be awkward.  Really.  

Make sure you ALWAYS answer your phone when your kid calls.  Even if you're just getting ready to get hot & heavy.  This avoids embarrassing early drop offs.  It happened to me.  Trust me, I know.  You don't want to have to explain who "so&so" is when your kid gets unexpectedly dropped off two hours early.  All because you didn't answer the phone.  ALWAYS answer the phone.  Trust me.  I know stuff.

Don't shit where you eat.  Sorry to be so blunt about this one, but do NOT engage in dating with a co-worker, a friend of friend who see on a regular basis, the waiter at your favorite restaurant or the local cop who directs traffic at your kid's school.  All of these are a no-no.  It seems great at the time but when you can't go back to your favorite restaurant cause' the waiter you went out with had Mommy issues?  It blows.  It's also all bad when your kid asks "why can't we go to Auntie so&so's house anymore"?  You really can't answer with "Well, honey, I banged her brother and shit is awkward".  So, just don't. 

Make time to date.  I know this is tough.  It was easier for me cause' my kid went to her Dad's house every other weekend.  I could plan ahead.  Lots of you don't have this option.  But, seriously, if you can find a friend, family member, co-worker to watch your precious punkins for at least an hour here and there, you get out of the house.  You get to meet people.  It's coffee.  Or lunch.  It doesn't have to be a production.  Just do it. It makes you feel better.  I'll be real, sometimes it makes you feel like a giant turd, but for the most part, it is way good for the self-esteem.  I know stuff. 

Never look your best on the first "meet".  Seriously.  I'm not saying to go out with your hair undone, cut-offs and dirty flip-flops or anything. You know?  Don't dress like you're going to be on the People of WalMart website.  I'm just saying, look good.  Not great.  Cause' let us be honest here for a minute.  We don't look all good & cute & stuff MOST of the time.  So look good.  Not great.  Also, if the guy is some kinda yuck?  You haven't wasted your time get all purtied up.  And, if he isn't some kinda yuck?  You have the chance to knock him on his ass with all your hotness on a 2nd date.  Or 3rd.  See?  I know stuff.  Really.

 Be comfortable on your dates.  There is no need to break out the leopard print spandex and create a hole in the ozone with your hairspray.  Especially at our age.  Don't try to be someone you aren't.  (unless of course you're go for the whole role-playing thing)  Do not wear your brand-new linen pant suit.  Scratching your nether region and wrinkly pants?  Huge turnoff.  I've heard.  Dressing like your 21 again?  Doesn't help with dating.  It will get you many offers that you probably aren't interested in if ya' know what I mean? Not to mention, if your kids happen to see you looking like a damn fool?  Remember that naked bathtub picture you snapped when they were 5?  You'll never be able to use it.  Your kids?  Will have the upper hand.  And that just can't happen.  So, don't.  Look like an old (or young) ho. 

                                                                    No.  Just.  No.

Your kids are #1 in the dating scenario.  If your kids have issue with you dating?  Hide it from them.  Who said parenting was easy.  In the long run, happy Mommy = happy kids. That being said, if your kiddos don't approve of who your dating when & if they finally meet them?  Run.  Your kids are smarter than you think

Dating is a risk.  Do it Anyway. 

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Stuff that pisses me off. #1

A lot of things piss me off.  I mean, a lot.  I'm pretty finicky about stuff and I like shit my way.  The right way. The right way is good, right?  I know stuff.  Anyhow, these things?  The ones I'm gonna list?  Make my head spin so fast, it could fly right off my body.  Really.


Karaoke pisses me off.  I know you've heard me say I hate karaoke a bagillion times.  But seriously, it pisses me off.  No, there is no rational reason.  However, I do have reasons.  One time I had to go to a dance competition in some hotel for my sister and it was like 14 hours long, soooo... I did what any good sister does and hit the hotel bar.  Guess what day/night it was?  Can you guess?  Yes, karaoke.  I listened to karaoke for like 6 solid hours.  My ears bled and I was temporarily blinded.  Fer real.  Next, I used to sing karaoke.  Really.  I did.  I was young, like 22.  Did it with a friend.  Monday nights.  I can only look back and wonder...whatinthefuckwasIthinking?  I can't sing.  I can fake it real good.  But oh how those people in that tiny bar must have suffered.  *shudder*  Now, all these years later?  I just can't stand it.  I get an instant headache.  And, comethefuckon...I know they have more than 6 songs on that list. I've seen the list.  It's huge. Also, most of the people who sing karaoke, sing that music.  That music I hate.  That country music. Yep, that kind.  How many versions of "Strawberry Wine" must I hear?

Watermildewblech. <---------- It's not just an angry German word

I absolutely cannot stand water.  Not the drinking kind or the swimming-in kind.  The droplets that are all over your stainless steel everything.  The moist (nasty word) towels that hang after you shower.  The half drenched bath mat. Because, oh you're supposed to move that off of the tub before you shower?  The drops of water that are on every damn mirror in the entire house.  I 'get' some water on the bathroom mirror. Makes sense.  Whatever.  But why is there water on the mirror in the hallway?  Whatthefuck exactly is going on here?  Water makes mildew.  M i l d e w.  It even sounds awful.  I am a complete bleachaholic.  I can't get over it.  I don't want to get over it.  Mildew is blechy.  And stinky.  And green.  And I live in Florida, which a virtually a mildew retention peninsula. So, a bleachaholic, Windex toting bitch is what I'll be.

The Big "H".

Hot damn, I don't know if I can keep your attention for as long as my list of eeks is with the History Channel. I  cannot stand how everything is dark.  Everything.  Was all history fucking depressing or is that just the stuff you want us to know about?  It's the brown channel.  Right?  In Trivial Pursuit, the history pie is brown. Whyohwhy is history so brown?  Some really happy shit happened way back when.  So, History Channel, add pink & yellow and a butterfly here and there, will ya?  I could also do without the not-so-subtle RightwingChristianRepublican message thrown in.  I mean, whatever your whole belief deal is, I'm all good with that.  Just don't slant my history, k? And, last...the History Channel scares me a lil bit.  More like that creepy kinda scare.  When I wake up in the middle of the night and hear that depressing music they play during every show?  The bejeezus is scared right outta me.  I don't like creepy stuff.  It creeps me.


I hate people.  There is no other way to describe my feelings.  People tend to take this wrong way. I don't hate individual people. As a whole, I hate people.  Get it?  People wear me out.  I mean every damn thing I do, is for people.  If weren't people, I wouldn't have to do anything.  That would be great.  Damn people.

And then, there are mean people.  They suck.  I hate them.  The people who are just mean to be mean.  I hate them a lot.  The people who tell lies about you at work so they look better.  Or, the family member who continually brags just to make you feel like shit.  Those mean people.

Wishy-washy people.  They make me gag.  Seriously?  Make up your mind.  Pick who you are and be that. It really is that simple.  The people who don't like it, aren't the people you need. Do whatyougottado.

Ibelieveeverything people.  Annoying. These people are so dumb.  Ghosts, aliens, the media, the internet, televangalists, motivational speakers, telemarketers, the lady buying tampons AND condoms at the drugstore, the local bartender, the neighbor who never mows their grass.  If they heard it from someone, anyone.  It must be true.  And, they are some damn kinda hurry to tell every person they met all this bullshit they believe.  These people wrinkle my twat.   I could go on here forever, but I won't.  I'm sure you all can conjure some people you hate.  It's easy.  Promise.  I know stuff.

So, yeah, these are a few my least favorite things...  More to come.  - PP

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Two days with Opey

You probably don't know this, but Oprah & myself?  We're tight.  Really.  If you don't already know, I'm from Westhaven aka Tinley Park aka Orland Park aka Orland Hills.  I'm from all of those.  It's really the same place.  It's about 30 miles from Downtown Chicago.  Like, Water Tower Place, the El, The Sears Tower (I don't know what it's called now), the Merchandise Mart, Lakeshore Drive, Lake Michigan, Navy Pier, the John Hancock building, Hyde Park, Lincoln Zoo, the Field History Museum, the Museum of Science & Industry and for many, many years...THE OPRAH WINFREY SHOW.  That Downtown Chicago.  Got it?  K.  I'll be honest, I didn't partake in the Oprah phenomenon for the last 15 years or so but back then?  In Chicago?  Oprah was...THE SHIT. That, my friends, is no damn lie.

I moved to Florida on my 16th birthday, June 9, 1986.  Awesome gift, no?  No.  (whole other blog post).  Anyhow, December of 1987 I flew home to visit my most bestest friend, my family & other friends.  I got to do a whole buncha cool stuff.  We visited this kickass place, Ed Debevic's, which was a way cool eatery.  Still is, I'm sure.  EDDEBEVICS.COM is the website.  Check it out.  It was goodtimes.  I got to go to my old High School for a whole day as a visitor.  This meant I got to hang with my friends and get them in trouble & stuff (cause they were supposed to be doing ummm...schoolwork) and I got to do nothing.  AWESOME. We rode the train downtown to shop.  Or rather, look & drool. Gucci, Louis Vutton, Prada, - THOSE STORES. My friend's mom even bought us all tickets to the Nutracker Suite.  Fancy Schmancy for three teens.  We spent the whole time in the lobby trying to pick up dudes.  We were 17, what?  Also - We had tickets to The Oprah Winfrey Show.

Window shopping... remember this pic.  It will be handy.

When she looked like this and her logo was this thingy - remember that shit?  Do ya? 

Anyhow, off to see Opey!  Despite my love for her?  She still had to be given a horrible nickname, cause' I'm me and that's what I do.  We took the train from the burbs & then walked our asses over the studio.  It was all crazy crowded & shit.  Even then, it was a madhouse.  So, we get with the producers (they run all the shit, whatever) and they haul us into a big hallway to...WAIT.  Yay, I love waiting.  Hangin' around with a few hundred strangers all dying to see MY Opey.  Now all during this hangout & wait stuff, we have no idea who will be on the show or what the show is about. This was confidential info and they wouldn't tell us until we were in the studio. Live audience reaction and all that shit...Pfffffttt.  We could have possibly been kinda annoying to the producers over that one.  Worked to our benefit cause they liked it.  Liked us.  We were put in the second row - CENTER.  And, the guests were?  Gene Siskel & Roger Ebert.  The movie critic guys.  (RIP)  Oh boy!  Front row center and the guest is someone we've actually heard of.  Rock on, bitches.

Of course, we had no idea what the hell Siskel & Ebert were yammering on about.  WE WERE 17.  We were busy people watching, staring at Oprah, watching the producers, talking, giggling and acting well...17. We made it through the show with none of party fainting, farting or acting otherwise frightening on the boob-tube.  NO, we didn't get to ask any questions.  YES, you could see our dumbasses when the show aired. *famous* 

Before we got up, one of the producers approached us and asked if we would like to stay for the next tape? Whaaaaaa?  You have to ask?  Hell.  Yes.  They moved us to different seats cause we were too recognizable (I'm totally sure she meant "hot") and we stayed for one of those IhatemyfamilyandIwanttomakeamends shows.  It was awful, but we were on Oprah.  TWICE.  IN ONE DAY.  Well, not really cause that show?  The second one?  Never aired.  What. Ever.  It's still twice <insert huge sticky outy tongue here>, so there. 

So, we are gettin' ready to hit the pavement and the producer, the one who asked us to stay?  Calls us over. I'm trying to quickly replay the events of the day in my head because I'm positive at this point that we are going to be arrested.  Hey?  Stuff happens.  Anyway, she tells us that the following day the guest is this guy...

Holyfuckingshitballsonfire.  Did I mention we were 17?  And Tom Cruise was still all cool & hot and NOT crazy. She then tells us that she thinks we (us, like me & my friends) are cool & SHE GAVE US TICKETS.  Are you listening?  Tickets to see TOM CRUISE. OMG. This was 1987.  Just 4 short years after Risky Business.  This was serious stuff. And?  We were gonna be on Oprah...AGAIN. 

Fast-forward to the next day...We arrive all sassy with our hair jacked up high.  Remember the picture from above?  Higher.  Yes.  Miss fancy pants producer chick finds us right away and takes us in to sit.  IN THE FRONT ROW.  I shit you not.  While trying not to trip ourselves, we take our seats and wait.  After a few minutes, Miss producer comes over and says we have to move.  MOVE? WTF?  She says it's okay, we are just going to switch you with OPRAH'S FAMILY who are in the 2nd row.  (they wanted to  see Tom Cruise too)  Know why we had to move?  Our hair.  IT WAS TOO BIG.  I wouldn't lie. (about this)  Our effing hair was too big for the front row.  Is that not the most awesomest thing you've ever heard? You know it is.  That was the shit.  We had the biggest hair, EVER.  For those of you who don't understand the 1980's big hair?  Get the hell off my blog, cause you are way too young to get me.   

Know what was even better?  Opey took us all (the entire audience) to the movies.  To see the premiere of fucking RAIN MAIN. (in a private theater)

The movie was fantabulous but you all know this.  After the movie, we went back to the studio for the interview portion of this day.  From our 2nd row seats we saw everything we needed to see.  Totally amazing.  We even got to stand in line and shake ole Tommy's hand after the show.  (Opey shook our hands after every show and by the 3rd time, she even remembered me - gaaaaaaaa)  NO, we still didn't get to ask a question and YES, you could see our big-haired selves all over the tv.  (the Drunken Queen probably still has the video) *famous again* 

So, now you all know how Opey & I are like peas and carrots.  Or just peas.  Whatever.  You do know that I was just meant to famous, right?  Meant. To. Be.  Don't deny it.  You know...