Look up for a minute and see the awesome. Go on. I promise I won’t pants you unless you really want me to.

If your reading this in an email or google reader you won’t see what I’m talking about but if you’re on my blog then you can see my awesome new header. It’s all thanks to Sara from Sara Without An H.

I’ve never liked the headers I’ve slapped together (usually late at night while thinking it will only take a minute, HA!) since starting my blog but I absolutely LOVE what Sara has done for me.

I can’t thank her enough but I’ll try. Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!


Stay tuned because on Thursday Wednesday my mom will be guest posting. I’m so screwed.

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When you want to take someone’s cell phone and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. Not your unshiney spot, their unshiney spot. Unless you’re into that sort of thing and if you are then ewww.

*This post was inspired by a dumbass I kept coming across at the grocery store. Thank you for being a dumbass, dumbass.

You know what drives me crazy? Well, I’ll tell you anyway. People on their damn cell phones. Not all people on their phones, just the idiots. Sometimes I’ll come across people who are talking on their cell and then realize there’s no phone & they’re just crazy.

Then there are people who I think are crazy and talking to themselves but they’ll be talking on their phone. It’s so confusing and makes my brain hurt.

I hate it when someone will be talking on their cell while looking right at me (I’ll have no idea that they’re using a bluetooth) and I’ll think wtf are they talking about but I still try to give an answer. But then they look at me like I’m the crazy one and I’ll say “sorry, thought you were talking to me” which will just add to the confusion.

Or when someone is on their phone but they ask me a question and I can’t hear them so I say “sorry?” and they’ll say it again but I still can’t hear them damn rock concerts.

I’ll reply by telling them my name since it seems like a safe bet or just laugh and then I come to find out something like they were either asking for directions or saying they’re having a bad day so while talking on the phone, they’re also talking to me they must not believe in ending the call they’re on and revealing way too much info like the people on those reality cop shows who just make things worse and more awkward by telling their whole life story when they really just need to shut it.

Pretty much what I do on my blog.

Every time I go to the grocery store there seems to be at least one person on their phone that is giving a run down on every freaking product in the store and doing it as loud as possible.

Like the person they’re talking to has never been to the freaking store.

“I’m in the milk section now. What kind did you want? Low fat? Was that regular milk, almond milk, soy milk? Oh, you want non fat soy milk? I’m not sure if they have non fat soy milk, let me check. No, they don’t have it but they have a buy one get one free of the low-fat soy milk. Do you want that one? Well which kind do you want then?”

That’s the point when I want to grab the phone from them and yell “come to the damn store and pick it out yourself”

It seems like no matter what aisle I go to, even if I skip a few aisles to avoid this person, they’re never far behind or they actually end up ahead of me.

I love my cell phone but some people need to know when to put it down. Over the weekend my hubby took the hummingbird to the aquarium and saw a man talking on his cell with a minivan full of kids while parallel parking.

I have a hard enough time parking in a regular spot because of people who park their big ass SUV’s in compact parking spaces. If I have no choice but to parallel park, there’s a lot of cursing and meltdowns on my part, even with two hands.

It’s times like this when I don’t regret the fact that I like animals more than people. Well, at least until animals figure out how to use cell phones and I’m sure if my daughter is already a pro with mine, our cat won’t be far behind because she’s one smart pussy.

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SOC Sunday: Between a rock and a hard place.

It’s that time again for Fadra’s Stream of Consciousness Sunday. I have 5 minutes to write and have to post this without proofreading or spellchecking. And go!
#SOCsundayI’ve been having the hardest time with this and surprisingly haven’t said a lot about it on my blog. Unless things fall through like they did in December, I’ll be seeing my biological father aka sperm donor in a month. He really doesn’t deserve the title of father.

My mom left him before I was a year old and I didn’t meet him until I was 9. His call was completely out of the blue.

He called my maternal grandfather first who then called me. I’ll never forget that night. I was watching E/R with George Clooney. It wasn’t the ER that spent years on air but was a thirty minute comedy that obviously didn’t last long.

My mom had already married my stepdad at that point but I was so excited that I would finally be meeting my father. While he seemed to attempt be one at first, there was so much drama and when I decided to move to Los Angeles to live with him a few years later, all hell broke loose.

The last time I saw him was 19 years ago and for good reason.

My biological dad has schizophrenia and a lot of other issues. The biggest problem is that he always stops his meds, starts drinking, and his nose turns into a hoover vaccuum. Sometimes these episodes end with someone having to call the cops and having him placed in a psychiatric ward.

Then he promises that he’s going to stay on track but he always goes through the same cycle. I saw so much at such a young age. Not only that, my (now former) stepmother was just as unstable as he was.

He’s not coming just to see me in June. His girlfriend’s parents live nearby so I know I could easily not see my “sperm donor” when he comes to visit but I’m hoping it will bring some kind of closure.

While my husband is going along with this, he’s not at all happy about meeting my bio dad or even having me be around him. He knows everything that went on when I was living with him. The psychotic episodes, the drugs, the violence. So I don’t blame him but I have to do this although I’m f’ing terrified.


Want to try Stream Of Conciousness Sunday?

  • Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
  • Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
  • Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
  • Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
  • Link up your post below.
  • Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.
Comments { 7 }


When I was 19 I worked with a girl, Lucy (not her real name). She was a little younger than me and had recently gotten married. A few weeks after I turned 20, Lucy’s husband, Eric (not his real name), had brought dinner to his wife at the shop where we worked. This guy came in a little later that night to see Eric.

I found out this guy had been Eric’s roommate in college during their freshman year.

Eric’s friend and former roommate became my husband six months later. Eric and Lucy had two kids together and several years ago when we went to visit them, my hubby and I knew things weren’t going well. They split soon after.

Eric remarried not long ago and Lucy had a son last summer with her boyfriend. Lucy’s boyfriend and the father of her son died of a heart attack on Wednesday and I found out about it this afternoon after coming home from lunch with the hubby and our little girl.

Lucy lives several states away from me and it’s frustrating that I can’t help in the way I would like to.

It’s just horrible and it’s made me think about things, like what would I do in that situation. The answer, I don’t have a clue.

I know I take advantage of the time I have with loved ones. I like to think I have all the time in the world with them and hate to face the facts that one just never knows.

I can’t stop thinking about how her son, who’s not even a year old, is going to grow up never knowing his dad. Sure he’ll have pictures and be told stories about his father but it’s obviously not the same.

I know my husband can drive me to the point of insanity but I can’t imagine my life or the little hummingbird’s life without him. This whole thing is just so fucking sad.

Comments { 6 }

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