Two Little Words

If I lived my life bogged down in regret, I would have never made it past a Texas highway somewhere between Conroe and Converse. I have regrets...don't get me wrong. I just try not to dwell on them.

Still, I find my mind wandering some days. Questioning. Pondering. Asking myself those two little words that will drive you crazy.

What if?

What if my life had turned out differently? What if I had made this decision, and not that one? What if I had never met him, or him, or you, for instance? What if?

An insistent, nagging little gnat that will eat at your brain until you want to bang your head on concrete or rip your heart out to make it stop filling your chest with such an unbearable ache. I hate doubting myself. I hate yearning for things that cannot be....or cannot be changed.

I hate "What if?"

Tagline: Masturbating Kangaroo Ruins Shot

Okay, people. I give up. Either your funny bones have fallen off, or your fingers. Either way, you've got it better than this guy. His career in...whatever that was he was rambling about in the foreplay...um, I mean, foreground....was forever marred by this horny 'roo. Gives ya' a whole new perspective, doesn't it? Just one misplaced pecker... and you're screwed for life.

Shout Out to tha TDCJ!

Sendin' a shout out to all the 'mates in lock-up with the TDCJ (that's the Texas Department of Criminal Justice for all you crackas with no rap sheet). Here's hopin' you don't drop the soap today!

1994 called...

That last post got me thinking....especially after Laura mentioned walking down the aisle...and so, I braved the heat in my attic to share this with some of my favorite gals....
By the way...1994 called and said thanks for the hole in the ozone!!!
I KNOW ya'll still have those bridesmaids dresses!!! My....what true friends will do!!!!

Friends are Few and Far Between

When I first started this blog, I got all "buh-giggity" about it. Buh-giggity reads excited. According to Denise, my "giggities" get a 'lil drawl in 'em. Sounds more like giiiig-uh-tee, giiiig-uh-tee, giiiig-uh-tee. Reminds you of Carey Grant's "Judy, Judy, Judy." Which, by the way, I just discovered that he actually never said. Leave it to the Almighty Internet to burst your bubble. But, I did find a clip of James Cagney doing the bit on an awards show. You get the idea!

The point is that I love to write. I just don't often have time to write. The only thing I love better than writing, is reading what I wrote! I know. It's some type of sick inner-validation, lack of love and affection thing. I get pleasure from knowing that I am good at something. There just ain't too much that I can say that about!! It's taken me a lifetime to figure out that this one talent is my special gift from God. I treasure it. So, to be able to share it with others brings me joy.

The other thing is that this blog is a public stage for my sick and twisted sense of humor. Which also brings me joy. Although I am not sure I use it all for God's glory. Pretty sure The Big Guy's not too happy about that either. Which brings us to a point for pondering and reflection. What exactly WOULD Jesus do for a Klondike Bar?

"Yes, I'll take one ticket on the Express to Hell, please. Yes, a window seat will be fine. That way, I can enjoy one last breeze before Bedlam. What do you mean you're outta peanuts?! What kinda crap-shoot are ya' runnin' here?? Just gimme some goddamned ginger ale... and make it snappy."

Sorry for the digression. My point is that this blog venture was a sprinkle of excitement into my regular 'ol life. I wanted to share it with my friends. The only problem was, I could only think of five people that met the criteria. The criteria being: 1. They owned a computer; 2. I wouldn't mind them reading my blog, because they lived most of it with me anyway; and 3. They liked me. One of those people was my sister, and relatives don't really count, but I was desperate to get into the fingers on my second hand. Didn't happen.

And, NO...before you think it, I didn't count my husband. We're married. He has to like me...if he EVER wants to have sex again in this lifetime!!

Anyway...This all got me thinking about how valuable friendship really is. And, it didn't hurt that Mickie got her panties in a bunch because I didn't mention that she came to the Princess Party even though she gave me the punch. Damn blog. I knew I was going to have to hurt some feelings to become famous.

The point being is that I value my friends, mostly because I don't have many. I have lived 36 years and I can count my tried-and-trues on one hand. Amy, Laura, Denise, Mickie and my BEST friend, my sistah-from-the-SAME-mutha, Rose. Five in a progression from birth to high school to college to Texas to now. My five friends. They have seen me on top of the world, and at the bottom of a bottle. They have traveled miles in the middle of the night to rescue me, and climbed in my childhood bed to hold my hand while I grieved. They have seen me live ten lifetimes packed into one, escaping death more times than I can mention. They can name every party that composes 'Ol South Week; they know the meaning behind "S-S-S" and "covered and smothered" and where to find "Whitey"; they have teased my hair, squeezed my jeans shut, taken off my boots, cleaned up my puke, and held my hand. They are Ya-Yas. Steel Magnolias. A group of women that have also lived through personal tragedies and triumphs. A few of those I have also witnessed. Moments that bond us together for a lifetime.

So, I ask you. Is 5 friends enough for 36 years? I say that it's just enough. Fills up my memory with enough smiles and laughter to last a lifetime...my heart with enough joy and love to see me through when my Prozac runs low...and fills up all the fingers on one hand.

(I won't tell you who got the middle finger!) Okay, Ouiser.