Like mother, like son.

This is a picture of ME when I was 2. My son could be a spittin' image of me if he had green eyes.

Christmas Eve

Ok, I am on Miller Lite #3 and my 20th petit four. I finally see my little guy tomorrow at 2. By then I will have surely finished this entire box of "pitty fours".

Let's take it way back...to Medieval times!

I was just writing a friend an email and went on a major rant, I really liked it and thought I would share it all with you.

Here 'tis:

Women settle all the time out of fear of loneliness. For some reason it is drilled into our heads as little girls that there is something wrong with us if we are single. Seriously. It starts at all the middle school (6th through 8th grade) dances, all the popular girls had boyfriends - thus meaning they were not sitting down, by themselves listening to "crazy for you" AGAIN by Madonna. The rest of us got to sit there, unpopular (too tall!!) and watch, wishing the guys all sitting together on the other side of the room would come ask us to dance. I really wish women would stop this crazy train. The bridal industry would go out of business, divorce rates would go down. I say let's get back to the medieval roots where men had to slay huge dragons, ride horses and have a glorious reputation before a girls father would allow her to even walk with him somewhere. We women would end up happier if we enveloped the mantra of "wow me, woo me, impress me". Guys WANT to do this, it's instinctual for you men - the proverbial CHALLENGE. I have notoriously made it way to easy for a guy to "get me". "oh dont worry, I climbed down from the highest peak of the castle where I was locked away all by myself, then I built a bridge to cross the moat cause I figured you were tired from riding that horse here, and before I shimmied down the castle I made you lunch cause I knew you'd be hungry." That's how I have done things in the past. That is how I ended up married to a man who had no problem letting me handle all of our bills, our new baby - my own "tough guy" exterior got me there! NOW I aim for "yeah, I can climb down that castle, what chu got? Can you climb UP it?" I have to make a conscious effort to not make things easier. It's confusing at times and I worry that I may give a guy the wrong impression that I am not interested. But I will be damned if I make it ridiculously easy anymore. We shall see, like I said, a new path - new journey.

Men + Space = Happy Men Who Want You

I very rarely worry about this being a public site, however lately I cant help but be annoyed by a certain someone who visits this site many many times per day. It's fine, but what are they looking for? What are they hoping to find and why am I so darn interesting to her? This only bugs me because she put forth a very public effort to break up a relationship in hopes that the gentleman (and BOY is he a great guy!!) involved would somehow fall in love with HER. Now that don't make no kinda sense son. I knew I didn't like Alabama, in fact I was AFRAID to go there because I was convinced my Yankee ass would be run off the road by a home-made nitrous-infused monster truck, complete with a flag pole mounted in the bed of the truck for their ever-so-lovely confederate flag. Barf. C'mon, there's a sharp reality outside of the south similar to a cold bucket of water for those types.

Little girls with crushes truly take all leave of their senses and get lost in their fairytale dreams of prince charming (probably gay) and marriage (bwah ha ha) causing them great humiliation. This humiliation can be avoided if they just realize how great a person they are and start embracing "everything happens for a reason". Don't stalk men. No one likes that, in fact men like the exact opposite of that. Play hard to get. Don't return their phone call 4 seconds after they call you. Even if you don't have a life (that's a whole nuther' post) pretend like you do. Don't email him a million times a day, resist the urge to write your first name with his last name in your notebook. Stand up for yourself! You can be a hot sexy bitch with a little aloofness. Men + space = happy men who want you. A good friend once said to me "I sat there waiting for him to call, I had lost complete control of the situation. So I turned my phone off and went out." This is an excellent example of not being pathetic. A girl should never wait by the phone ( I have, recently even!) - get up, get out and go meet someone else (which I did). Most importantly never ever throw yourself at a guy, don't try to convince him he's with the wrong girl cause if he cant see that himself how is he going to see that you are in fact the RIGHT girl? If he chooses someone else well - his loss. Just means there is someone else out there for you.

one hot sexy bitch,
Flydi

Men.

R.I.P match.com. What a weird strange trip it's been. I will miss your daily tidal wave of emails from poor unsuspecting males in the bowls of Georgia, Alabama (ugh.), Tennessee, SWEDEN, etc. However I wanted to thank you for the hours of entertaining profiles to read, ogle over (I swear you create fake ads using models who don't exist to keep us interested). It would not surprise me if match.com was run out of the basement of some 15 year old's house where in between Xbox games and cheetos this punk is writing back to all of us pathetic women. I will say that there were a couple of surprises in there, and I thank you for the "bones" you threw me, even if they are in fact on the other side of the damn country or in CANADA for christ sake.

Match, you helped me realize that I am a hot piece of ass regardless of my mom status. Problem is the over-abundance of "fish-in-the-sea" you provide us. The slightest flaw or inconsistency in someone we all throw em' back cause we know tomorrow you will send us 10 more dudes to check out. I probably overlooked some really nice guys, that had I met somewhere else I would have considered.

yep, time for me to go. I have been recognized by a complete stranger while out riding my bike. It felt exactly like the moment my mom told me I needed to wear a bra in front of all of my little friends. I was mortified. SO, I have decided to pester my friends and get really drunk at their parties and hit on their husband's poor brother. Which reminds me, you F-ING married men!! WHAT IS YOUR DEAL??? It's not my fault you are a chicken shit and stay miserably married because you are "doing it for the kids", who are not stupid by the way, but my point being - ah- oh yeah, don't strut around with your feathers all displayed and use me to make you feel like the stud you once were (or so you say). What's really in it for me? Blech, baarf!

Match, you have apparently helped many people find true love and I'll eventually forgive you for all of the tall, hot, republicans you sent me. A for effort.
Ciao, I'm off to meet men the old fashioned way.
Flydi

Now for some random good stuff....
***warning, sexually explicit comments below - DAD please don't read any farther***

Penis size has come up lately in numerous conversations with my friends. We have been discussing the serious relationships in our life and how those men were, well, small. In fact remarkably small. My first boyfriend was just the wrong person to start out of the gates with. The bar was set into outer space with his freak-of-nature-multi-orgasmic skills. I alos have a friend, god it is so tempting to put his name here and a link to his website but his fiance wouldn't like that, anyway - this friend is huge. He has since stopped wearing underwear as it is uncomfortable. So he says ;) However I am rather certain he has no idea how to use it propah. tee hee. Ok, so my point is that there are men with small penises and great experience and well-endowed men with no skills - making them even on the scoreboard. What is the deal?? I have had crushes on men and watched them do things; play soccer, play guitar, etc and wished they were the same way in bed as they are when they are engrossed in their activity of choice, soccer, guitar. etc.

Lastly my site is garnering serious attention. My naughty little tangents about hooking up and single motherhood have caught the attention of people everywhere. Rachel, I am really hoping you get to publish that wild story about me and the pilot in LA. The "Bad Girl" story of single motherhood and one-night stands. Although he was more of a two-night-two-city night stand. I forgot to mention he didn't know who Whitesnake was, which in my hairband-crazed brain is just incomprehensible.

and here's a random picture of me....

Picking up the Starbucks Barista

I had a very nice chat with the Starbucks barista today. He was very cute, to the point I actually thought he was gay (no offense!) that is until he pointed out the 5 year-old lift tickets attached to my ski jacket. "I see someone has already been skiing this year, twice even!". I was so embarrassed I blurted out "oh no, I haven't been skiing in like 5 WHOLE YEARS, I just keep these on my coat." I am such an idiot. He winked at me and said "you're not from here are you?". And on it went. From skiing, to Milwaukee to weddings to new years, f;irt flirt flirt. My coffee (decaf, non-fat mocha with no whip cream) was waiting for ME for a change. Ha ha.

So, I got to thinking as I strolled down the sidewalk with all my free time; Is picking up the Starbucks barista as bad as hitting on the bartender? Having been a bartender I used to roll my eyes at men who would pull the ol' "hey baby, why don't you do a shot with me?" line. I mean, how would he feel if I walked into his office and asked him to do a shot with me while he sat at his cube, answering the phone?? Kind of odd. Anyway. Picking up the barista is the daytime equivalent to picking up the bartender in my mind.

I will now go there every Tuesday to see if he writes his phone number on my cup next to the "DIANE, N/F, No Whip, Old lift tix".

Eddie Van Halen is getting divorced!! Yahoo!!

Today is a good day. Eddie Van Halen is getting divorced and finally going to come find me, I just know it. He must have found out I too was divorced and really into lead guitarists our something. Who cares if he is old and maybe even a has-been (why on earth would you let Gary from Extreme be the lead singer of the holier-than-though Van Halen??? poor Dave) - he's one of the best damn guitarists ever. All you guitar freaks be quiet. Don't read this post and then email me about Yngwie and Steve Vai and whoever else you think is better - I simple wont hear of it.

You can read about it here:
http://entertainment.msn.com/music/article.aspx?news=209057

And, as it turns out Yngwie is performing here in Atlanta TONIGHT. How's that for coincidence? I went online to doublecheck the spelling of his name and voila, "December 7th, Atlanta GA The Coca Cola Roxy Theater" was there. Too bad I have 2 Christmas parties to go to tonight already otherwise I would ask Yngwie if he could introduce me to Eddie. ;)

While we are on the subject of hairband guitarist and what not, I should mention that I was out till 2 am on Monday night. yes, a MONDAY night! I hired a babysitter, it was all good. Not like the kid was at home alone with the dog. Ok, so I finally got to experience the time warp that is known as "Metalsome Mondays" here in Atlanta. Take every single metal dude you knew in high school. You know the ones, they always wore the black concert t-shirts with stonewashed jeans and biker boots. They had long hair, and smoked. Well, take all of those guys and put them in a basement bar to sing karaoke with a LIVE ROCK band. yes. I will repeat that. A live rock band. The songs you can choose from range from Journey to Judas Priest to Dio to Boston.

I couldnt grow the kahunas I needed to get up there and sing, but boy if I had been doing tequila shots I would have been up there belting out "Crazy on You" by Heart. As the amps wailed an ok version of a Pantera song I committed to singing on that stage on or before my 30th birthday with my friend Raj. He agreed to do the same. So I will start practicing now!
I have missed my rockstar calling. Fo Sho.

Here's the link to Metalsome Mondays http://www.metalsomemonday.com/

You have no idea what you are missing!

Dear Son,
I was talking about the night you were born last night and wanted to write down a few important pieces of those magical moments. What I remember may be a little hazy as I was on lots of drugs to get me through delivering you, but the feelings were very very real. You were very active even before you were born, keeping me up all night with your kicks and turns and hiccups. Music would perk you right up as we drove in the car to the myriad of doctors appointments, so I hope that this is a premonition to your future rocker stardom.

I was terrified to be your mom. I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough and that I would loose my patience and feel like my life was over. This is true, but I truly had no idea how GREAT my life was about to become. When you were finally born they quickly placed you on my chest, all slippery from birth. You! You just stared at me with deep royal blue eyes. Your little mouth quivering with a quiet little cry. You made these little grunts and gurgle sounds as you stared at me. This moment I knew my life was forever changed. That your life depended on me, and that my embrace would be something you would seek comfort in for years to come. Our bonding moment was so massive that every day I gain a glimpse of how huge it actually was. All the nights I have held you when you were sick, your middle of the night feedings sitting in the rocking chair together while I hummed "fields of gold". They all stem from that first embrace.

You are busy with life these days, but every now and then you want me to hold you and comfort you. Those big blue eyes still looking up at me help me to understand that nothing has changed from that moment we first "met". Everything I type seems so cliche, but your birth and the few first moments of your life doubled the size of my heart. As we sit each night and read "Goodnight Gorilla" and "The Tawny Scrawny Lion" and you point out the "rilla" and "rabbits", I want to wrap you up in security and love, to pour my soul into yours so you feel strong and safe in this world.

I love you little man, more than you will ever comprehend.
love, Mom

My $20 dollar Christmas Tree

This year I decided on a fake tree from Big Lots. It cost me all of $19.99 and took two seconds to put together and stand up. It already has lights on it. THIS IS A SINGLE MOM CHRISTMAS TREE. This tree practically said "sit down! have a glass of wine, as soon as we get this tinsel figured out I'll rub your feet". I couldn't help but notice how "bald" and "Charley brown-esque" this tree was though, however my little son was so excited I didn't care. He helped me hang ornaments, well he hung about 20 ornaments in one place, tossed a rope of tinsel over to the bottom left and did a little dance. Kid really knows how to live. No fussing over a "balanced' looking tree for him!

Anyway, I have kept many of the ornaments my friends from Boston made for me about 4 or 5 years ago as part of a surprise christmas party my best friend organized. These ornaments are made out of construction paper, pipecleaners, etc. I even have a gold star to put on the top of the tree with my initials in red glitter. They always make me cry when I take them out amd they go right along with my rebellion against the lame-ass perfectly decorated tree. Growing up we hung OUTDOOR Christmas lights on our INDOOR Christmas tree. We didn't care, or know better. There was an old gorilla with a saxophone, a rubber "Bert" finger puppet that had become an ornament and lastly was the 60's flowery angel. She was a disaster. Her styrofoam ball for a head had bright orange yarn for hair, one eye and was barely hangin on to her shoulders. She looked like drunk housewife. Her dress was cream with huge orange flowers with blue dots in the center. This had to have come from Big Lots in 1970.

Once all of the ornaments were hung, I noticed my son saying "seeeping ca-las? seeeping? awww, night night ca-las". I glanced over to where he was standing and noticed him talking to the Santa Claus ornament in which Santa is sleeping in a hammock with the words "Key West" written above him. THEN as though that weren't cute enough, he went and got a teddy bear, placed him under the tree - then grabbed his new favorite frosty the snowman napkins ($.99 at Big Lots) and placed those under the tree, THEN he started whispering and covered the teddy bear with his favorite blanket (bucky) and said "awww, go to seep. night night". I almost cried, instead I grabbed the camera.

Yes, this is my child. He has his dad's eyes. The only thing I really liked about his dad anyway.