Show Me On The Doll Where You Want Me To Touch You

I know. I’m old. Shut it:

1. I’m like an old lady in many regards. For example, if I know someone is driving on a long road trip, I demand that s/he call me when s/he leaves and when s/he arrives at the destination. I worry. I get that “please-don’t-be-dead-in-a-ditch” anxiety until I know someone is safe.
2. Every time I’m looking for my stapler, I make the stapling movement in the air with my right hand until I find it. EVERY. DAMN. TIME.
3. Same thing with scissors. I make the cutting motion until I have them in my hand. OCD? Just plain weird? Probably a bit of both.
4. Anyone from here that I communicate offline with knows and (hopefully) understands that I maintain “radio silence” with Tumblr and my phone during the weekends. I’m with my kids just about every weekend, and I want to focus solely on them, since I don’t get to be with them every day like I wish I could. Tumblr and IMing become too distracting for Mr. A.D.D. here, so I just eliminate it on the weekends.
5. Following through with Number 4 is becoming increasingly difficult each weekend. Especially the long ones.

I said “long ones”.

I am not sure what brought about the rash of you all posting recycled SST pictures today, but I, for one, find it unacceptable.

I’m not sure of the cause of this unnecessary phenomenon. But it’s lingering today and I’m doing my public duty in order to prevent any further spread.

Where’s your spirit? You know, that Puritan work ethic that boldly comes out every other Thursday, but not today? The creativity that brings a tear to my eye (out of pride and appreciation, of course) each time you find new ways to reveal or almost reveal your real selves?

Let’s make this happen, people…no more quick “throwback” SST pictures. Be proud! Be positive! Be real! Be naked! Let’s go! Who’s with me?!?

More Tumblr issues. More Tumblr analogies come to mind:

• Tumblr goes down more than a two-dollar whore at a hotel full of Secret Service agents.
• Tumblr is slower than a homeless man on the way to a job interview.
• Tumblr has more bugs than an entomologist convention.

Feel free to reblog and come up with way better ones than I could…

I think I caught it.

Miraculously, between the time I signed out last night and then signed in today, I apparently unfollowed about 20 or 25 of you. If you’re one of the 20 or 25, it is neither personal nor intentional on my part. Let me know and I’ll follow you again.

Effing Tumblr.

• I used a lot of Klonopin this weekend. A LOT.
• I had to spend most of the long weekend at the ex’s house, as that’s where the kids are and where the parents decided they needed to stay (so they could be close to the grandkids—and because they’re cheap).
• Seriously, Klonopin was my BFF the whole time.
• Nothing is ever good enough for my mother—“It wasn’t as good as I thought it would be” is her mantra.
• I love Klonopin.
• The last passive-aggressive shot as they walked out the door? “We brought a lot of coloring books and activity books for the kids, but they’re all about God, and we weren’t sure you’d allow the kids to have them.”
• The six year-old demon’s response? “God? Who’s God?”
• I’m a disappointment because I don’t force my kids to go to church like they did to me and my sisters. They made it a point to try to get the kids to notice that they were praying before every meal.
• I made it through the visit, though, and just need to work on relaxing. But how to do it? Hmmmmm….
• Did I mention that I’m in love with Klonopin?

GIFs.

Love them.

Collect them.

NEED them.

The funnier, the better.

Sometimes when I have time to scroll through the dash and things are slow, I’ll type a random item into the search tag—“food”, “Jesus”, “carbuncle”—whatever… I’ll find posts where people have the photo reply option on and just respond with something that makes absolutely no sense to the post or that just makes me laugh. I like to see the reactions I get.

I know, it’s like the Tumblr version of a prank telephone call. Even as my body ages, I’ll always be 14 years old in my head.

All y’all need to start sending me some of your funny GIFs. And start using your photo reply option more often when you post something. At least I’ll be entertained.

I was so exhausted last night that I fell asleep with my shorts around my ankles. Never you mind what immediately preceded my falling asleep (un)dressed this way (yes, it’s what you think…it’s natural. Shut it.).

I need some real action. And some more sleep.

• I’ve read some amazing, revealing, and honest posts from people these last few days about being victims of abuse in prior relationships. I want to get on a plane and fly to them. I want to hug them and reaffirm to them how wonderful they are. And I want to find the guys responsible for their pathetic and cowardly behavior and do very violent things to them. Seriously. I’ve never been in a real knock-down, drag-out fight in my life, but after reading your posts, I want to make these guys hurt and hurt badly.
• I don’t understand how a man—ANY man—could ever strike a woman with the intent to hurt her. I don’t have it in me. Even at my worst times with my ex, when she threw things in my direction or slapped me in the face, I never thought of hurting her in any physical way. I’m glad I don’t even consider violence an option, which makes it harder to understand how any guy could justify, either to another person or to himself, this type of behavior.
• The majority of people I follow here are women. Single women. Married women. Separated women. Women in relationships, be it through Tumblr or real life. Reading through your posts and seeing the various day-to-day struggles you go through leads me confirm: Most of us men are assholes. And that’s an everyday, not-just-Tuesday truth.
• Part of me wants to apologize on behalf of all men everywhere. But you deserve the apologies from the men in your life that are making things difficult for you, not from me.
• I’m not perfect by any means, nor do I pretend to be. There is a new intern here at work who believes that “professional dress” means coming in looking like she’s going out clubbing. And she dresses that part well. Very well. I would very much like to do naughty things with her, but there’s this whole sexual harassment thing that keeps putting a barrier in my way. Which is probably a good thing for me.
• I love women. And I have a special fondness in my heart for the incredible women I follow here. There…I said it.
• This is an awkward end to a post, isn’t it?

I should have told the “powers that be” here on my first day that I was narcoleptic. Then I could sleep at my desk without getting in trouble.

Why did it take me six months to come up with this ruse plan?