On Hiatus...

Heading to New York in three weeks to spend some time with Esther. Until then, this board is going dark.

I will see you all in the fall.

Peace.

Mother Mary...

I don't think I have ever written about my ex mother in law, Mary. She's not the brightest star in the sky, mind you. She is very Brooklyn old school Italian. Recently, my son expressed the desire to be Bar Mitzvah'd as I brought him up in the Jewish faith despite his father being a Roman Catholic.

She has the following conversation with my 12 year old son:

"You can't get bar mitvah'd," she says.

"Why not?"

"Because then...you won't be italian anymore"

I am now a statistic...

I am one of the 14 million Americans who do not have health insurance. My husband applied for a private policy for him, my son and I. We were rejected, well actually, I was rejected due to my bipolar disorder. Now granted, my medications are very expensive. Two of them are generic. One of them is upwards of $200 for a one month supply. Another is about $300 per month. Yes, it is costly to maintain the brain of the Princess, no doubt.

However, it begs the question...why are people with mental illness discriminated against. My son has a heart issue. He got covered without a problem. My father has had multiple heart surgeries and Blue Cross Blue Shield covers him without incident. My mother is a hypochondriac who has everything under the sun, and they insured her.

Me? I am as healthy as a horse, except for my brain being a bit dysfuntional. Shit, my brother has a metal plate in his head...and he is covered! So, the healthcare issue of this country is a very important one for me.

I would like to call bullshit on this one. I am a productive member of society. I work. I go to school when I am able. I pull my weight. I am not a burden or drain on the economic welfare of this country. Someone suggested that I go on disability due to my bipolar disorder. Um, no. I am a little young to throw myself onto the disabled list. Besides, there is nothing I can't do. Except ride a bicycle...but I am working on that one as we speak. Surely someone with a bit of different wiring should be able to get medical insurance.

There are people who are diagnosed with depression who have no trouble getting medical insurance. Many of these people have tried to harm themselves physically. Some have even died...leaving their life insurance policies to pay out for funeral expenses or whatnot.

How can, in the most powerful and wealthy nation in the entire world, people still be without health insurance? I have bipolar disorder, not the plague for God's sake. It makes me wonder how someone, in this day and age cannot have medical insurance. I am watching Obama and McCain very closely right now...one of them has to have the right formula for this. Then again, who knows? There hasn't been a candidate for the job yet that could right this wrong. My hopes were deeply grounded in Hillary Clinton, but that point is moot. I still firmly believe it would take a woman to turn this country around. After all, we do everything under the sun for our families. Surely, if we looked at this country as one big family, something could get done to alleviate the pressure of not having health insurance.

So, me and my bipolar disorder will slink into a corner somewhere and hide, hoping that I never break a bone or have a heart attack.

Out of curiousity, how many of you have been in this situation?

Frankly, I think it blows cowdick...

Product Endorsement...

I don't usually do product endorsements. Well, unless I was getting paid for them from places like "Pay Per Post", may they rest in peace. But this week at the beach, my husband and I discovered something that MUST be shared with all couples. I don't care if you are gay, straight or into horses...you must try this product.

I'm sure by now you have seen the commercials for KY Yours and Mine brand lubricant. Guy says one bottle does wonders for him. Chick says her bottle does amazing stuff to her. When they combine...you hear something combust, or some fat chick start singing opera. Generally, I don't give in to television ads. They are usually not the predictors of what I intend to purchase. However, the purple and blue bottles got to me and I simply had to know what was in these bad boys that would make sex so explosive.

Let. Me. Tell. You. Something.

This product must be purchased. The stuff in the blue bottle, for the men? It's hot. Literally hot. Gets hotter when you breathe on it. (Oh, sure. Like you don't know how I figured THAT one out.) Now true, it tastes sorta like cough syrup, but for the reaction it gave my hubby, it was worth it. He kinda felt like all the blood rushed to his dick and made it throbbier than usual. Yes, throbbier. I can say that. It's a CP-ism. Now the purple bottle stuff? The stuff for the woman? Wow. If you ever wondered what it would be like to play with yourself using ICY HOT or Ben Gay, then this is the stuff. It gets REAL frosty cold. I mean, icy! Hotband says it tastes like Spearmint, so that's a plus for the guys.

So, after all the poking, prodding, diddling and such and of course, after the taste test, we opted to see what these products would be like when combined. After all, this is what they are meant for...the big comb-O. I slathered his blue stuff on him and we doused me in my purple stuff and went for it.

Holy. Good. God.

It was like sitting on an ice cube in front of a fireplace. Things were getting hot that should never be hot and other stuff was getting cold without causing shrinkage and there was just temperature issues all over the place! It caused us to make all sorts of unnatural sounds and howl like wilderbeasts in heat.

The downside? The bottles are small, so they go pretty quick. Hotband and I used half a bottle each in one session (mind you, our "sessions" are rather long and extensive. I wouldn't recommend this stuff for newbies or quickies.) It has a sticker value of near twenty bucks, but it is soooooooooo worth it. Trust a bitch.

I imagine that the stuff would be good for self-indulgent moments as well...though my husband did mention that the cold stuff made him feel like his dick was frostbitten. Just threw some hot stuff on there and it neutralized him immediately. Just some hot stuff...and a little TLC courtesy of CP. *snicker*

So, if you are looking to shake up the party a little and have some good wholesome fun with lubricants, I would highly suggest KY Yours and Mine as a must have for the nightstand, next to the toys.

Rest In Fucking Peace, Dude.

It's 5:07 am. I am having another raging bout of insomnia. No, not even great fucking would knock me out tonight. So I am watching MSNBC and they have the brajoles to tell me that comic legend George Carlin has died from heart failure. Fucker was 71 years old.

George Carlin, for those of you who are not used to a more profane princess, was a thinking man's comic. The old man had wisdom that was way ahead of his time and a performance prowess that will never be duplicated. His career spanned most of MY lifetime and the dude was just a hippie, man. Totally rad. I feel a major sense of loss because George Carlin was one of the first people I learned sarcasm from.

Like you fuckers believe I was actually born this way??? Oh no. Esther did not do ALL the damage. But, she did let me watch him when I was a kid, so she is a major contributor.

So, in homage to George, I leave you with 100 of his most inspiring quotes. Hope it puts a smile on your face. I am having a beer for him at sunrise...even if it makes me vomit. Here's some George for you to suck on:

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Post update. Nah. fuck it. No matter how many quotes I put up here of his, y'all will never get the feel for this man unless you actually see him in action. So, drank my beer, vomited and then I ripped down the quotes. I am putting up one of his most offensive and envelope pushing routines for you to enjoy. Take ten minutes out of your life for a good laugh. And don't take him too seriously...he never took himself too seriously either.

And no bible thumping Jesus freaks coming to burn down my blog, please. If you can't find the humor, please leave my blog and never, ever, ever come back. No. Seriously. Don't.

I can't believe a year has gone by...

Always in our thoughts, NYCWD. Always. Never forgotten.

I am about to find out...

whether my grandbaby is a boy or a girl. I am waiting at home, quite impatiently, to hear the word from my daughter. Originally, I was going to go to her ultrasound with her, then I thought better of it. This should be a private moment for her and her husband, don't you think? Besides, I think I would piss myself laughing watching them stick a big dildo looking thing into her vagina and start probing around. You have to understand, my daughter is the BIGGEST prude on the planet. The mere fact that she is pregnant astounds me. This is the same girl that would not bring her own bras up to the register to pay for them because she was embarassed. So, she would have me bring her 34B bras up to the register. Yes, me and my 44F breasts take these bras up to the register and pay for them. No doubt the woman behind the register thinks I am buying nipple covers for myself. My bras look more like yamuchas with chin straps. You can literally cover your entire head with one of my bras.

Anyway, I digress.

So, I am about to find out whether I am buying pink shit or blue shit. I am very excited to know and the second I find out, you all will know too. Of course you have to be the first people I tell, because I am anti social and I do not like anyone else but you guys.

It is 12:32 pm EST and by now, she should be getting probed. As soon as she comes back, I will let you all in on the news.

Stay tuned.

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1:04 pm: IT'S A GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!
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4:10 pm: And the shopping has begun!!!


Surely you didn't think I could possibly wait, right?

My Monster In Law is in town...

God help me. I love the hotband. Y'all know how much I do. But his mother? Oy. I don't get the woman at all. Everytime she comes into town from Israel she makes some sort of catty remark about my weight. She's very subtle, making sure that her son either doesn't hear her...or blames her lack of ability to speak English well.

The woman is from BOSTON, people.

Granted, she has lived in Israel most of her life, but she speaks perfect English. She refuses to speak English when I am around, speaking only to her son in Hebrew. My husbands father speaks VERY broken English but always manages to include me in the conversations as best as he can.

Let me give you an example. Three years ago, my husband was telling his mother that I used to be a professional dancer. The wench turns around and says "don't most dancers have thin bodies?"

Hello??? Was I born this fat? I wasn't always a size 16 ya know.

Yesterday I was eating a salad and she says "good for you for finally watching your weight".

*frown*

Now mind you...I haven't seen the woman in three years. I suppose I should be thankful that she lives in Israel and I only have to deal with her once every few years when she comes in for one of her visits. Some people have to deal with their mother in laws on a daily basis. The only thing is...my parents don't treat my husband that way. They treat him like a son...better than a son actually. They think he is God's gift on earth for putting up with me for as long as he has.

Anyway, she has my husband completely deluded telling him that she wants to get "closer" to me. Please. We have absolutely nothing in common but my husband. That's it. So unless she wants to talk about him all day, I really have nothing to say to her. She is going to be here for FIVE fucking weeks. Five weeks. Do you understand that is like 20 years? I feel like i am being punished for something I did in a past life.

Did you ever meet someone who just makes your skin crawl and makes you feel like a stranger in your own home? That is my mother in law. I am eating xanax like Pez right now. I am trying so hard to stay calm, for my husbands sake. It's not getting any easier.

Any advice for dealing with the monster in law while she is here?

PS: honey? if you read this? please remember that this is my place to VENT...and dont get mad at me. better i say it here than to her face, right??? *cheese smile*

Did you ever...

catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and be like..."hey, nice!"

Just happened to me this morning. I was getting ready to go to the doctor and as I walked past the mirror, I saw a reflection that I found to be quite pleasing.

I just lost 24 pounds.

It feels really good. Now, I ain't no size 8 just quite yet, nor am I intending to be...just wanted to get under the 200 mark. I weighed my breasts. They account for 14 pounds of my weight. I imagine my ass is worth twice that. I am good with that extra weight...cause it's in good spots. So I am now 198 pounds of damn fine.

I caught my reflection in the mirror today and I was like "whoa!" The difference is amazing.

When I met my husband, I was 185 pounds. I put on about 40 pounds of what I refer to as happily married fat. It feels sorta sexy to know that my curves are appreciated by my husband no matter what I weigh, but it's nicer to be able to slide on my jeans without doing the jump up and down lay down on the bed pull the zipper up with a hanger dance.

Don't y'all act like you don't know what I am talking about. Every girl does the dance now and then.

When your friend has a broken heart...

My girlfriend recently had her heart broken by someone she thought was potentially "the one". She's a strong, beautiful woman and I don't think she realizes it. In hindsight, she sees all the little signs and symptoms of this relationship coming to a hideous end. She chose to block those out of her view and be with this person, taking him as he was with all his flaws. She went out on a limb, tried to meet someone who she wouldn't normally date. She took a chance. The betrayal that he offered to her runs deep. She's angry, but too stoic to cry on the shoulders of her friends. She talks to me like she isn't in pain, but I know she is hurting so badly. It was a huge loss in her life. She is too much a lady to bother getting angry with him and tell him off. She simply allowed her heart to be broken over a lunch date and was content to walk away, no questions asked. But now, she has answers to all the little innuendo she never quite understood. She wonders if there will ever be anyone out there for her. She calls herself a "stepping stone", the woman who trains a man how he should be toward other women. These men go on to meet the women of their dreams and treat them well because she showed them how a woman wants to be treated. She has impacted the lives of so many men and the women that they love...but this leaves her cold. She's alone while everyone else revels in what they have. What she deserves. I try to convince her that they are all not bad. There are men out there that are desperately searching for her who are in pain as well. Men who don't want drama queens. Men who don't want unfaithful women. Men who enjoy the company of a well read and well spoken woman.

God, she is so beautiful. If you saw her, you would be in awe of her beauty. She's one of those girls that lights up a room because she doesn't look like anyone else at all. She is beautiful in mind body and spirit. It pains me to see her spirit crushed by someone who was never worthy of her to start with. I want to hug her and let her cry, but she's not that type of person. She suffers alone, confused thoughts muddling her mind. And a small part of her blames herself for not wanting to see the signs that were right in front of her. I don't want her to blame herself for the despicable actions of others. He was never good enough for her. I suspect she doesn't realize how wonderful she is.

She thinks that she will never get married, never know the happiness that I know. I pray for her to have that kind of love in her life. She's a good, kind girl. She needs love. She needs attention, the right kind of attention. She should be showered in sunshine and roses, light falling on her face every day. Her hands should be held as if they were priceless jewels and her heart polished every single day...never to be tarnished again.

I want to pull all the pain out of her, throw it in a bottle and toss it out into the ocean. I want her to be able to breathe knowing someone loves her and cherishes her with every beat of her heart. She deserves that.

And it breaks my heart that she doesn't have that.

My husband tells me to tell her that not all men are rotten to the core the way her ex was. There are some still out there that would love to worship the words that fall from her lips. That would trace the shadows of her face with his fingertips and memorize every line, every freckle.

Her smile is contagious. Her laughter is sheer melody.

My friend is crushed. She is hurting. And I can't do a damn thing about it.