starting over

starting over

that was the name of one of those 80’s movies. kind of cute movie starring jill clayburg & burt reynolds.

movie poster had her biting his ear, i think.  & this blog post has absolutely nothing to do with that.

i have some great news.

if you’re thinking i’m going to say the painting juliana audio book is ready — hell, no.  i was hoping christmas. nope. end of school? not yet.

bummer, right?

imagine me in the recording booth.  it is a blast! i mean, who could read juliana but me?

when i flub a word or hate the way i say a line — the wrong inflection in my voice, or whatever — well, i find myself saying this a lot:

“CUT!”

after listening to the recordings, there’d still be edits to make.  i’m not sure what was wrong with me, but one day, i’m telling you, i sounded like a complete bitch, which clearly wouldn’t work.

when i had to re-record the entire chapter, I reminded myself of what my dad would say:

it was easy, martha, everybody would be doing it.

but, why’s it taking so long, you wonder?

well, there’s my producer. his name’s nacho. short for ignacio, & i promise he wouldn’t mind me throwing him under the bus.

nacho is so freaking busy, it’s ridiculous.

he plays in 3 bands. heavy metal, brown grass (like blue grass, but trashier) & punk, or, maybe it’s cool jazz — i forget.

he’s worth it because he does incredible work & he’s a genius.

no, i mean, the real kind.

just when i thought we were about to pick up the pace, he got a job as the night desk clerk @ a marriott in town.

i love him to death, but i was like, seriously?

deep, calm, cleansing yoga breath.

if it was easy, martha, everybody would be doing it, I remind myself.

things happen for a reason, so chill out, i say under my breath.

good things are worth waiting for, but ……

aaaaaaa-aaaaaackkkkkkkkkk!

so, back to the name of this blog post — I’M STARTING OVER, RIGHT?

relax. not the audio book! merciful heavens, no!

i’ve started a new book.  

that’s right — a new FREAKING  BOOK, like the real-deal, hardback. 

the kind you can hold in your hands with pages made of paper that just smell so damn good.

i’m tired of people saying, martha, are you working on anything new? & me saying, oh, yeah — totally, when i’m primarily writing the book in my head.

or, wasting time doing a blog post.

don’t take it personally. I love talking to you, but blogging does make me feel guilty.

when the book-words really start flowing, like they did yesterday,  i kind of think of it like throwing up.

i know that sounds gross, but when it happens, i can’t write fast enough.

i also write in longhand. on a yellow pad.

archaic? maybe, but there’s something about that process of the words traveling from my brain, down my neck, shoulder, my arm, until they reach the pencil in my fingers that works for me.

there’s a woman i’m working with. some brainy phd psychologist who’s helping me with some research on night terrors for the book.

(that’s part of what the book’s about.     ssssshhhhhhh!)

anyway, i was writing her this email, & the ricocheting ideas — well, my head was like a pinball machine.

so, that’s all. just wanted to share & just let you know it’s coming great.

i’ll work as fast as i can.

TTFN —     ta-ta for now!

feeding the dragon

feeding the dragon

.
the very moment some words came out of my mouth, i heard a noise.

two noises, really.

thunder.

& a crack of lightning, like the cackle of a scary, old witch.

a little dramatic. & they got my attention.

because the words i’d just spoken were serious words. a total “integrity statement.”

i didn’t say them on purpose. not really.

you see, the person i said them to — he had something i needed.

& in order to get it, i had to… well, have you ever heard the expression, “feed the dragon?”

it’s not a pleasant thing. it means you have to put up with something torturous from someone — pander shamelessly, if necessary, all in the name of getting what you “need.”

imagine the old star wars movie return of the  jedi. you saw it, right? the one with the character jabba the hutt — the nasty, fat & slimy alien-monster who looks like a huge, greasy glob of dirt jello. if you saw the movie, you certainly remember jabba the hutt.

in the movie, he captures carrie fisher’s character, princess leia & turns her into his slave girl, & makes her wear iron chains & a metal bikini? princess leia endures jabba the hutt’s rank foulness, not to mention his putrid breath, when she could’ve actually wrapped her slave chains around his neck @ just the right moment & strangled him to death. but she didn’t because she was waiting for the chance to save her lover-man, han solo.

uhm, hello… played by harrison ford? at least you remember his character from star wars, right?

okay – so, how did i feed the dragon in my situation? that’s what you really want to know.

i had suffer through listening to MY jabba the hutt’s story over lunch one day, as i smiled pleasantly, nails digging into my palms, because his story was all a load of horse manure.

when the waitress finally brought our food, it was down to business at last. but, not before he blithely said:

“i hope i can count on you to keep our conversation confidential.”  translation: don’t tell the person i’m talking about, even though she’s one of your closest friends.

did i mention it was a STEAMING load of horse manure? &, if he was telling his story to me now, he had already told it to any & everyone who would listen.

with the squirmy sensation that i was heading straight to hell, i looked him in the eye & said these words:

“i don’t rat.”

hearing the roaring thunder & witchy thunderbolt, i reminded myself that telling him that rather than telling him off would allow me to still get what i needed, because i couldn’t piss him off.

plus, he was also paying for my lunch.

life takes finesse sometimes. a little smooth choreography to help things go our way.

the more i thought about it, i felt really used. like i was his garbage can or something. & besides, when princess leia had to feed the dragon, at least she got to look smokin’ hot in that metal bikini while she did it.

i mean, truly — did carrie fisher ever look better in her life?

i waited a few weeks before i told my friend what he’d said. i couldn’t help myself, because she deserved to know. maybe i could’ve thought, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, but i didn’t see it that way. it took far more integrity to tell the truth to my friend than to keep jabba the hutt’s confidence.

but, let’s be honest. a little part of me wanted to pay ol’ jabba back for making me feed the dragon.

through her seething anger, my friend told me basically the same thing i told jabba — “i don’t rat.” that she wouldn’t tell him what she now knew that he’d said about her.

do you hear the thunder rumbling in the distance? & how the air smells like rain?

but she did tell him. & loose lips sink ships.

what just happened here, i wondered, as i was pulling myself out from under the bus.

it’s called karma, baby.

my friend couldn’t help herself. just like me.

but, that’s not true.

i could help myself. every step along the way, i knew better. i knew it was possible that he would learn that i’d ratted him out to my friend.

maybe you remember what happens to jabba the hutt in the movie. oh, princess leia ends up choking him to death with those chains, all right. to big cheers from the audience. & for my money — it was the best scene from every stars wars movie combined.

i fed my jabba the hutt to get what i “needed” when i should’ve just said, “hey – i’m not listening to this,” whether it pissed him off or not — but that train had left the station.

so rather than lie to jabba about having told my friend what he had said — it wasn’t much fun. root-canal-fun, actually, but i owned it. because i had to be able to look at myself in the mirror again.

karma can be totally annoying. but it’s also kind of comforting in a strange sort of way, knowing that it’s ready to slap us silly when we need to learn a lesson. know what i mean?

& here’s the lesson i learned:

i’m finished with feeding dragons. i’m done.

TTFN

hey, forest – give me a piece of chocolate

hey, forest – give me a piece of chocolate

do you ever feel like you’re in the right place @ the right time? like kind of strangely in the right place @ the right time? i do, & lately, it’s been happening a lot because i’ve begun doing things differently. mama’s got a brand new bag.

it’s not a big deal. nothing more than following the things that are put in front of me — no stopping to question them or falling into familiar analyze-mode. being in the moment is the key, really. with non-resistance. when you start trying, when you start thinking, that’s when it becomes hard.

don’t think? that’s a new one, isn’t it? then, how will you figure out what to do? that’s the point. there is no figuring out. it’s easy. be open to new things, old things – it’s not important. just follow what’s in front of you.

i’ll say it again: in the moment. no thinking, with non-resistance.

the cool thing is that it moves you out of your comfort zone. maybe i should tell you what mine feels like — it’s super soft & cuddly, like a warm, snuggly bed that i really, really, really don’t want to get out of. but this new way of doing things, that cozy comfort zone, wiggly stage fright or whatever else you want to call it becomes rearview-mirror.

this leads to that, that leads to this — just follow the bread crumbs & next thing you know… the right place @ the right time.

you have arrived.

&, now here’s a nifty little treat in the box — you find yourself looking at things in a different way because there’s an exciting new orbit you’re operating in. & i truly hate dull, don’t you?

i understand your reservations — i get it, because it does take a little practice. here’s a little tip to help you know what to follow. it’s usually so damn obvious you could trip over it, but have you ever gotten the same message more than once? as if everyone seems to be saying the same thing, until it’s practically being screamed in your ear with a megaphone? that’s a good indication.

sometimes, it’s just plain, old gut-instinct. just be aware.

no thinking. in the moment with non-resistance.

you’ll know.

TTFN

#100dayshappy

#100dayshappy

as if I don’t do enough social media without taking this on, too. i saw a post on twitter. maybe it was twitter. either that or Google+. the person who posted about #100dayshappy was a total stranger, so it couldn’t have been facebook — you get in big trouble on there for trying to friend peeps you don’t know.

it’s not important how I know that.

so, anyway, this #100dayshappy is a thing — a challenge, really — that for 100 days, you’re supposed to post a photo of something that made you happy that day. doesn’t sound too hard, right? go on their site — 100 Days of Happiness Challenge, i think it’s called — not too hard to find. site says the #1 excuse people make for not taking the challenge is that it’ll take too much time. but who doesn’t have time to be HAPPY, they want to know?

well, i probably usually don’t. i mean, like hardly ever. well, maybe sometimes, that is if i’m not too busy on social media. hmmm-m. but perhaps this could actually HELP my social media situation. a “kill 2 birds,” type-thing. sounds great, i said…

i’m IN!

day #1

pushing my cart through the grocery store when i saw these. perfect, right? stop & smell the roses… i was off to a GREAT start.

0rose

day #2

cruising down the road with my 90-year-old aunt in san angelo, texas. not the kind of thing you see every day. or at least i don’t.

0jesus

day #3

driving to houston for a book signing. i never, & i mean NEVER go on a road trip – changing zip codes qualifies – without eating at least 4 of these. reason being, they make me happy.

0reece

day #4

i was thinking about taking the photos a lot. kind of freakishly, now. @ maudie’s, the tex-mex place around the corner from my house, people were beginning to whisper, why is that fruitcake taking a selfie of the trash can? i was beginning to wonder myself.

0q

day #5

maybe i was having more fun than i thought. seemed like i was going out to dinner a lot, anyway. i ate there 2 nights in a row.

0maud

day #6

wheeling into downtown austin past the iconic changeable letters sign @ el arroyo restaurant on 5th street. had to get this! go spurs!

0spurs

day #7

it had been a whole week now – i was really getting into it. come on -who couldn’t NOT snap a photo of this jaunty mannequin in the men’s department @ nordstrom’s?

0man

day #8

just when this new happiness thing was becoming a habit, i went & blew it. almost midnight & i had no photo for that day. i got lucky taking the dog outside to do her business…. this was on the porch. whew!

0frog

day #9

i have to admit, this one is kind of cheating. i got a Two-fer on Throwback Thursday on FB.

this is from my birthday party in 8th grade. yes, that’s me raising my hand in the middle.

0party

day #10

this is definitely cheating — this picture was already on my computer, but when you’re as busy as i am — well, there ain’t no shame in my game.

wonder woman

day #11

cheating again, but if you’re going to cheat, at least do a good job. Colbert approved!

& btw, i’m in love with Stephen Colbert

colbert nailed it

day #12

enough was enough. i had to get back on the program & have a real-live, non-computer photo.

but, hot damn – when i looked on amazon & saw my reviews for my novel Painting Juliana, it made me very happy, indeed. hell, YES it did! right on, sista!

00am

day #13

driving down south congress avenue i snapped this out my sunroof. my favorite view in all of austin. see the state capitol like a mirage at the end of the tunnel?

i’m back in the game.

capitol2

okay – look on the sidebar — i think that’s days #14 & 15.

see the cool vintage truck & the bright, shiny penny in my hand?

day #16

@ the dessert counter @ central market. yes – i ate 2 cupcakes. pink ones.

cupcakes

day #17

ewwwwww! it’s my brother’s NASTY pal from junior high school, randy loika.

i died laughing when i sent my brother the screen shot.

0loika

so, my friends. want to take the challenge with me? maybe this will help you decide…

& you can do your happy dance!

day #19

here’s the man, pharrell williams singing, “happy”

ttfn

the makeup artist

the makeup artist

a good friend of mine is one – a makeup artist. she’s got a resume long as your arm – movies, mini-series, politicians on tv, all of that cool stuff, & she knows dishy gossip galore … celebs tell you a lot while you’re an inch from their face, knowing that you’re in charge of whether they look hellish or heavenly in front of the camera & they better not piss you off.

anyway, maybe i’m weird, but it’s just that another meaning for the term “makeup artist” popped into my head when my friend & i were @ dinner last week.

wait a minute — you’re wanting to know if she’s done johnny depp, right? dunno. i’ll ask her & get back with you.

his makeup. get your mind out of the gutter.

so, anyway — i was thinking that, couldn’t a makeup artist be someone who’s realllly good at making up after a fight?

like, within my dysfunctional family of origin, here’s how it works. the only way you know someone’s mad at you is when you get the silent treatment. the quiet game. whatever you want to call it, the phone doesn’t ring.

until, one day…

hello?
that’s me.

how are you?
pretend that’s my sister.
chipper tone.
it’s been 3 months since we’ve spoken —
highly unusual because we talk all the time.

i’m good
me again.
neutral tone.
notice how I didn’t say something snarky like,
“oh, so we’re talking now?”
that would be poor form.

well, that’s good.
my sister again.
see how she doesn’t say, “i’ve been being a shit-turd,”
or, heaven forbid, “i was wrong?”

guess what?
still her.

you’re absolutely NOT gonna believe it.
it’s her breathless, secret-confidential-gossipy, voice.
the one i just love.

tell me.
hear the smile in my voice?
— it’s as if we simply set the phone down for a minute
& we’re picking up the same conversation we’ve had a million times before.
& my sister & i are buds again.

she’s the makeup artist.

& it’s kind of messed-up, don’t you think? but, that’s how it’s always been done. especially the part where there’s no, “i’m sorry.” but, maybe that’s okay. i mean, we were taught to never tell a lie. if george washington would’ve chopped down the cherry tree in our front yard, you wouldn’t want to be on the premises, trust me.

but, how about addressing the problem, talking things out — you know, like a constructive, grown-up conversation? oh, hell no! nowadays, parents say, “use your words,” which i find totally annoying & i want to pinch their ninny little heads off… but, you see, no one in my family is confrontational. what we had was more like a hit & run protocol. probably sounds strange, but then, maybe it doesn’t — you decide.

&, something else — in all these years, it’s always my sister who initiates these makeup calls. she’s kind of a hot-head, & i’m what you’d call the roll-over type, but you probably figured that out already, but here’s the thing — when we’re finally talking again, neither of us wants to spoil it. bringing up the reason we haven’t been talking opens the possibility of another 3-month silent period, so where’s the sense in that? besides, saying ugly words to each other is off limits — it’s our sister-code. ugly words, we reserve those for our mother. not the really bad ones we’d whisper to each other in our bathroom when we were growing up — i mean, come on — it’s kind of lousy to say things like that about a white-haired, 5-foot-tall octogenarian.

anyway, i’d like to say my sister calls when it finally gets to the point where she misses me more than she’s mad at me, which sounds all warm & fuzzy, but deep down, i know the true reason.

without me around, it’d be just her & our mom.

god, i love my sister.

you’re wondering something, aren’t you? who’s older? it might surprise you.

let’s see if you guess right in the comments below.

casino a-go-go

casino a-go-go

gambling makes no sense, but these places are packed, i’m telling you.

i’ve heard they pump casinos with oxygen to cause subtle mind control.

i looked it up to see if that’s true. the answers were mixed. a couple of sites say no, but ask.com says they do it to keep people awake so they won’t wander off to bed in the early hours of the morning.

even if it’s not true, SOMETHING’S going on & it’s working.

here’s what happens: you sit down at the slot machines — the one-armed-bandits. you load in your dinero & keep pulling down the handle even though you’re losing your ass. but, I’ve just GOT to win, you think. I’ve already lost so much that it’s only fair.

now, repeat after me: nothing @ the casinos is fair.

i mean, come on! everything is rigged. how could they afford to have a million tuxedoed blackjack dealers & scantily-clad cocktail waitresses swarming the place, otherwise, not to mention those rows and rows of flashing slot machines?

here was my personal low-point of the weekend.

oh, sorry — i was @ a schmancy casino in lake charles, louisiana & i forgot to tell you that part.

i plopped down in front of “pharaoh’s fortune.” there was another machine called “kitty glitter” — like kitty litter, get it? a little casino humor there.

& about those scantily-cocktail waitresses. you have to feel sorry for them, forced to dress like a bunch of hookers in head-to-toe gold sequins with 4 inches of cleavage & their belly buttons hanging out, because they’re really sweet people & they don’t deserve that. i became BFF’s with a few of them while i was losing my ass, but I’m getting ahead of myself, here.

i finally won $200 with one pull of the handle. old pharaoh threw me a bone.

woo-hoo, i thought, but like a total doofus, instead of taking my golden tokens to the money cage, cashing in & calling it a night, i kept going until i lost every cent.

so, why is that considered fun?

must be the risk. like jumping out of an airplane.

or maybe it’s not oxygen that’s pumped into the air, but stupid-elixir.

or it could be plain old peer pressure — you are surrounded by masses of idiots, after all.

and, we sure had a good time.

TTFN

i slam doors when i’m mad

i slam doors when i’m mad

i never realized how much my mother has influenced me until i started writing this blog. i’m serious.

no, she wasn’t a door slammer, but her big sister was — the very reason it was the ultimate no-no when i was growing up. let me rephrase that — the ultimate hell-no when i was growing up & my mom wasn’t going to have it in her house.

the very reason i do it in mine.

may have been the first thing i did when i was old enough to have my own. imagine me signing the papers, walking over the threshold and

SLAM

here’s why i think door slamming works. it’s the watered-down version of throwing a stack of dishes at the wall, or firing a bullet through the television screen like elvis supposedly did. kind of like stark raving mad-LITE.

& besides — are you kidding? i’d never hurt my own stuff. took me a long time to acquire it. not only that, but i really like it.

today was a real door-slammer for me. think i did it 3 times before lunchtime. if no one’s home, sometimes i’ll throw in a couple of long, loud monkey screams but there were painters outside, re-staining my garage doors that look like hell. &, no — i didn’t slam the garage doors. they’re the roll-down kind.

so why was i so pissed today?

just got some not great news about something i’d put my blood & guts into. someone wasn’t quite as impressed with it as i was. not nearly as impressed.

so, what did i do? after i slammed the doors, you mean?

3 times?

got on my old buddy facebook, of course. isn’t that the 2014 salve for the soul? all your pals in one place ready to give you a big old Image

didn’t have to search long. there’s a woman on there who’s the real rainbows & unicorns type. here’s what was on her page:

Image

after reading that little ray of sunshine, i think i went & slammed the door a couple of more times. ate a dozen more lemon cookies. didn’t mention that part before, did i? my bad.

with only a few crumbs left in the box, i switched FB back on & began scrolling. here’s what i found:

Image

best damn idea i heard all day.

here’s another one from the archives:

Image

can i hear an amen?

thanks for listening. i feel better now.

TTFN

maudie’s & goodwill

maudie’s & goodwill

about 5 seconds from my house. I go there a lot. kinda like a “norm!” @ cheers moment sometimes, but you still don’t care if you’re wearing mascara or not. it’s just that kind of place. they’ve got this blistering-hot hot sauce — in case you think i’m a wenie, i won a jalapeno eating contest in college, so i know what i’m talking about… food’s great, too, but that’s not the best thing. it’s the people. the staff.

they’re all so damn happy. tonight, i asked the hostess how she was doing. it’s so fun being here, she said. i just love my job so much it’s not even like coming to work. now, seriously, how many people do you know who say that & mean it? they’ve had the same people working there since beans were new, & that’s saying something.

this is the place where clinton came two weeks ago, if anybody saw my FB post. they said he was a hoot, posing for everybody’s selfies. of all the nights for me to stay home eating a bowl of cereal…. damnit, janet!

here’s the other thing — there’s a goodwill a coupla doors down. people call it the gucci goodwill (GGW to people “in the know”) because all the donations are from the neighborhood — not like i’m some ritzy socialite (as if) but somebody’s bringing in some pretty cool stuff. not the women’s dept. — you can forget it on that — but the men’s? now, you’re going to think this sounds totally gross & i guess it is, wearing somebody else’s shoes — but someone i know got a pair of real-live alligator dress shoes. i guess they were dead-live. no wait, real-dead. whatever, they were slick.

sometimes you can score some pretty awesome albums, too. they always seem to have the same helen reddy’s “i am woman, hear me roar” — don’t know why somebody hasn’t snapped that one up. & a little anne murray “snow bird” — also still there. they had the partridge family & i was so pissed when it was scratched to hell. i got wayne newton’s “red roses for a blue lady.” come on — i hadn’t heard that since my mom played it on the hi-fi, & old wayne still rocks it.

all right, i’m going to let you in on a secret, so don’t tell everybody — you cool?  okay, it’s the auction. most of it you wouldn’t touch with a 12 foot pole, but darlin’, i’ve scored some good shit. 

imagine someone who cleans out their grandma’s house after she kicks off. ew, what’s THIS, i can just hear them saying….  it’s a fine-as-hell oil painting, you idiot. so here i was a couple of weeks ago. grabbed myself up a couple of bullfighting paintings. & no, they weren’t velvet &, no, elvis wasn’t the matador. the technique, the brushstrokes…  absolutely killer. got myself a nifty little iron chair with a tufted seat for my vanity. a waterford bowl. i’m telling you, the GGW doesn’t suck.

i also hang out at estate sales. you can really score at those. gotta get there early, though.

oh, & did i tell you i got some incredible hartman luggage? coolest yellow lamp…  i think i might have a problem.

so, back to maudie’s. i absolutely recommend the tacos al pastor & the chicken flaquitos, or taquitos or flautitos – i never can remember what they’re called, oh — & the avocado tomatillo sauce.

did you notice i didn’t mention when the auction IS?  as my mother used to say, you don’t have to tell everything you know.

TTFN

 

 

 

 

my faith in humanity is restored

my faith in humanity is restored

have you ever had something that bugs the wahoola out of you? sure you have, & if not, you must be either totally zen, brain dead. or maybe you’re just a nicer person than i am, which is a distinct possibility.

okay — so here’s the deal. & this was a big one because it had to do with where i live. specifically, the livestock that live across the street, like 6 “mother-may-I” steps from the end of my driveway. that’s 3 goats, don’t know how many chickens, a goose & huge pig. & this is in a pretty decent neighborhood in the middle of a big city, i might add.

& it drives me absolutely nuts, i’m not going to lie.

not only did my neighbor tell me to jump in the lake when i suggested he move the livestock pen across from his front door instead of mine, but my own mother turned on me. not that she thinks it’s peachy-keen either, but she told me to get over it, because nothing i was going to do would change it, so i should just take a big old chill-pill.

well, i tried, but i couldn’t get it to go down. it got stuck in my throat, or my craw… suffice it to say that it was a gargantuan bur under my saddle.

then, the strangest thing happened this morning. my neighbor said he wanted my input on the new fence & rock wall he’s putting up.

no way! seriously?

it sounds like it’s going to be pretty nice, too. so there you are.

so, what’s the moral of this story? good things come to those who wait? miracles happen? the sun will come out tomorrow?

all i know is that i’m tickled to death, & yes — my faith in humanity is restored.

does anybody want to join me in doing the endzone dance?

TTFN …. & for anybody who didn’t read my post about the grumpy guy @ the liquor store, & you know who you are, TTFN is tigger-speak for ta-ta for now.

so, TTFN!

that piña colada song

that piña colada song

what do you want to hear about? more body language, more miley cyrus, more dear abby?

okay, dear abby it is. i keep a stack of the stupid ones around here, so let’s see what i have. &, incidentally, i don’t read abby’s response before writing mine, just to keep everyone honest.

okay. the letter is signed, “second to a screen name.”

woman has been married for 7 years with 2 kids. husband has what she describes as an “internet addiction.”  he’s online all night long from the time she goes to bed to when she wakes up to take the kids to school. (this couldn’t be going anywhere good.)  okay, let’s see what else…  uh-oh. she did some digging & discovered he’s got lots of different profiles of lots of different dating sites. (well, you saw THAT one coming.)  when she confronted him, he said he has no interest in having an affair, that he’s been depressed for some time & that it’s his way of escaping. she told him he needs a therapist & he said she shouldn’t be hurt because it’s only “make believe.”

their relationship has taken a serious dive. she doesn’t trust him on the computer anymore, doesn’t find him attractive anymore & no longer feels attractive herself & says she doesn’t know how to be supportive when he won’t admit he has a problem.

ahhhhhh, “second to a screen name”…..  what to do, oh what to do.

okay. here’s what i’d tell her:

he’s a freak, & hell, yes, he’s having an affair. & be supportive? are you kidding? instead of being in bed with you all kissy-face & huggy-body, he’s trolling the internet & if you think he’s just on “dating sites,” well, girl — you’re more cut off from reality than he is. you can either take care of business or you can wait until the FBI rings the doorbell & confiscates your computer.

have the internet yanked out, like pronto. what’s he going to do then? start doing it on his phone? get that turned off, too. okay, let’s think about this. you don’t say whether he has a job or not, but i doubt it because he’d be asleep on his desk all day which means he’s probably lost his job now, too.

all right – here’s another idea. do you remember that Piña Colada song? you know, “if you like piña coladas, & gettin’ caught in the rain…. if you’re not into yoga & you’re into champagne,” where the loser dude is doing the same thing except with personals ads? the woman writes an ad of her own, he answers it & meets her for a date & they’re happily-ever-after again.

okay, scrap that. what a BS song — i mean come ON!

you’ve got to dump this guy by sundown or your life is garbage, & if you think it’s going to get any better, you’re nuts.   men like having a warm place to put it, & trust me, they’re usually putting it somewhere.

all righty, let’s see what dear abby says:

#1 on the woman’s agenda should be going to therapist herself before she gets all depressed, too.  #2, since his own “therapy” for depression isn’t working, the wife can’t fix his problem because only he can do that, so let’s hope he comes to his senses while the marriage is still salvageable.

oh, dear, dear abby… you so clearly need my help. this marriage is not, i repeat not, salvageable & she needs to cut to the freaking chase already.

is that wrong?

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