The Betrayal at Camp Webb

Here's the thing about me-  I get really excited about dumb things.  I get freaking PUMPED and this is a problem because the majority of events in my life turn out to be crippling disappointments.  So when my older brother and sister went to Camp Webb and came back with stories (Fishing! Shooting guns! Archery! Swimming! Rowing! New friends!!!!), I couldn't wait to turn the appropriate age so I could go too.  And wait I did.  I waited 3 long years and and during that time I tried to talk my 2 good pals into going too.  One was just absolutely not going to budge about going and the other was like sure.  I would also spend my downtime at home with markers and big poster boards drawing different Camp Webb scenarios of Fun like me with a giant smile petting a baby deer, me with all my new best friends swimming in a lake, me in a rowboat with a big sunshine in the sky with my pal who agreed to go with the letters "BFF" written across the top of the page, etc.
Here's what happened in a nutshell- by the time I arrived to the bus that takes us to camp, my friend had made a new friend and cruelly rejected me as her pal at all.  Like this, "I don't want to be your friend anymore and this is my new best friend" and then they both put a couple of noses in the air and stomped off to sit together on the bus.  And you know what I did?  I cried.  I cried actually the entire time I was there.  And you know the best way to repel a bunch of little girls from being your friend or talking to you at all?  By crying.  So I was all alone and isolated the entire time and even though I've been fishing, shooting, swimming, and boating as long as I can remember I didn't win a single badge.  Wait a second, I did win archery but that's only because I was picturing my old pal's face as the bull's eye. 
So the moral of this story is don't ever ever ever ever go to camp, kids!
And, also, always make sure your friends aren't stupid.

Baby Skates (have tissues ready)

When I was a little girl I got this doll, Baby Skates.
Aptly, I named her Baby Skates.
She was amazing and I loved her with all my heart.  I would hold her up in the air and spin around and sing the Baby Skates jingle from the commercial. She fell down more than she was able to successfully skate. But, as her adoptive mother, I spent hours patiently helping her practice in hopes to one day get it right.  My brother would laugh at it because...well, because a skating baby is kind of funny I guess.  But that enraged me and only caused my bond with Baby Skates to grow even tighter. 
One day after an especially tedious skating/falling down session I thought, "Gosh my poor darling Baby Skates worked so hard today.  She could probably really use a glass of water."

So I poured a glass of water on her face.

And killed her.

That's right, the water went into her inside parts and she broke and then she was thrown away.

R.I.P. Baby Skates
circa 1983
Gone but not forgotten.

Pops

When I think about my dad I get a big smile on my face.  He is a good person and really, really funny.  He is a good ol' boy with country roots.  He is a Covington Cowboy.  He likes to hunt and fish and when I was little and had a pet rabbit he would joke about making rabbit stew because rabbits are for hunting, not cuddling.  Come to think of it, that rabbit did disappear.
He is friendly to everyone and if we go somewhere like Auto Zone or something we will have left making friends with a couple strangers.  You know the type- just a cool person.
When I was in 3rd grade I made up a knock knock joke and sent it to the paper for their weekly make up a joke contest and he still thinks it was comedic genius.  Even though the newspaper didn't :(

Here it is, I'll publish it now:

Knock knock
Who's there?
Francis
Francis who?
Francis a long way from here.

Lolz????

Happy Father's Day Pops!  Love you!

Don't Call it a Comeback

This morning I woke up HAPPY for the first time since you-know-what.  I didn't think that would be the case since I gave back the dog I was watching/in love with (okay, obsessed with) the day before.  Also, I had the recurring nightmare I keep having of this huge anaconda-sized snake that keeps trying to get me and is super slimey and slithery and can slither in anywhere and get me.  But, no, I sprung out of bed feeling absolutely tops.  Today was my mom's birthday and I made her this cake with toffee and choc shavings on top:

I feel like I haven't really cooked or baked in a while since clean living so I was excited to make that.  It was only kind of "clean".  I feel like baking/cooking is an expression of love and I'm always pumped to make stuff and then stare at everyone with bug-eyes like "Wee-e-e-e-e-e-l-l-l-l-ll??".
My family is da bomb and they make me laugh & it was a day I desperately needed.  I mean, does your family sing "Happy Birthday" and then break into Buster Poindexter's "Hot, Hot, Hot"? 

At dinner I was complaining about how I couldn't afford this dumb expensive doctor I have to go to and my little niece, Molly, was standing next to me and disappeared up to her room and came back down and handed me 3 quarters and 2 pennies that she'd gotten out of her piggie bank.  I tried to give it back, but, she assured me she had tons more like them and hugged me.  And then- boom- I was crying because I felt like I just got smacked in the face with Sweetness (& also I'm a sensitive, on-the-verge-of-tears-at-all-times freak..but still).
Here is me and the beautiful Birthday Girl:

I love you Mama! 

Bitter...Party of 1

The conversation I just overheard was two men talking about the movie Magic Mike.  One guy told the other, “I don’t know man.  If there was nothing else on, I’d probably watch it again.”

That made me giggle.

I’m absolutely into overhearing this conversation.  Now they are saying Cabin in the Woods is really a good movie.  And so is Lawless.

Back when I used to want to get married, I would talk to this guy about when he was going to propose to his girlfriend, who he has a baby with, and he is always like – Meh.  And “No time soon!” and laugh while I gazed at him in distaste.  Then he asked how much he’s supposed to spend on a ring and I said well the “rule” is 3 month’s salary, but, I’d take a twist tie.  Just get her what you feel like you can afford. He said, “3 month’s salary?!!!”

He called over another guy (a mature looking professional man)and asked if he knew how much you are supposed to spend and when I told him he said, “No!  That’s A LOT.  Well maybe it depends on how much you make.”

“No it doesn’t.”  I said through clenched teeth.  I seriously personally do not care about a ring price at all but these guys were really making me feel like something was wrong here.

I just feel like the majority of men aren’t men anymore.  I feel like they are all like that Taco Bell guy. 

Just absolute numbskulls.

There’s some kind of stigma now that falling in love and getting married and starting a family is not the macho cool manly thing to do.  My mom said it was that way because of society and things like tv shows (i.e.  Married with Children).   I thought yeah maybe and then I asked a couple of reformed liar/cheaters why they used to behave that way and they said, “Society.  And I like rap music”.  And these people were being serious and my jaw dropped.

Marriage is a vow to stick together through anything and everything.  You are saying without a doubt in your mind I am the person who will always be there for you.  When things get bad you don’t walk away because you made this promise.  There is something to be said about being a part of a team like this.  Whether it’s being part of your ol’ football team or a family team or just a husband/wife team.  If you are part of a “team” (a marriage) you feel more committed, more valued, more stable.  There is also something to be said about being able to track your ancestry (which I take a lot of pride in my Irish and German roots)and family tree.

Like the institution of marriage isn’t honored anymore and that’s sad because I’ve seen many good marriages (my friends, my parents, my grandparents, my cousins,  my friend’s parents, etc) and they are incredible and it deserves respect.   

Feelings

So I've been doing a lot of thinking about my past dating experiences.
I suck at it!  And I don't know why.  Every single person I've ever been in a relationship long term has cheated on me  (Except Cory.  Thanks Cory!).  Eight different loving, committed relationships.  Eight different times I thought I was truly loved and adored and I did things like read  "He's Just Not That Into You" on a plane and shake my head and chuckle to myself because obviously my boyfriend was faithfully devoted and showed zero of these god-awful warning signs.  And when I got off the plane I found out - Stage Five Cheater.
One even wrote me a long, long, long letter about why it happened which basically boiled down to low self-esteem on his part.
But surely there has to be something wrong with me to keep dating guys with this very specific character defect over and over and over and over and over again.  Surely?  I mean, this doesn't happen to anyone else I know.
My friend T-Rex had the brilliant idea to google "why do I always date cheaters".  The first article flat out told me I was no good in bed.  That was rude, Google.  The article wanted me to buy something to teach me how to be good in bed. 
I'm not going to worry too much about that one.
Next we have:
Low self esteem - meh, sometimes but....not like dibilitating. 
Poor judgement of character - No, I mean I am only friends with awesome people.
Denial - Maybe?  What do you want me to do, snatch the phone out of the poor guy's hand and demand to know who he is texting and where he is at all times?  That's no way to live, dammit.

And that's pretty much all I could find.  I just don't want to do it again...ever.  And I can't figure out how to make it stop.

I'm not depressed, I'm not wallowing in sorrow.  I am seriously very much okay.  I'm just trying to think logically about this.
I think I'm going to just try my best to be a better, nicer, sweeter, more thoughtful human being and just kind of go from there. 

I know my friends are going to hate this post.  Friends! Calm down, darling treasured friends.  I'm only going to talk like this for a little while and then I'll be back to my normal ball of joy self who gets overly excited about mundane things like a sunny day.

Joe Loves Beth FOREVER!

The whole reason I started this blog was because my friend and I happened along my old diary and we read it and we were like, "this shit's good".  Lots of drama and nary a boyfriend to be dated who didn't cheat on me. 
What the fuck?
Last night, I went over to my boyfriend's wearing a dress I thought was cute and piled on some make up and curled my hair.  I put on my favorite perfume.  I was dressed to impress and was excited to veg out and order pizza and drink a couple beers and watch tv.
He went to work this morning and I walked downstairs and saw this on the pop machine in his house:

I must've stared at that pop machine button for 15 minutes.  And then I could see all of my delusions of being in a good happy stable relationship float away.  It was like when you have a near death experience and your life flashes before your eyes.  I saw us laughing- lies, I saw him helping me around the house cleaning gutters- lies, our future happy wedding that I imagined would happen one day-lies.  Nope, nope, nope.  I calmly put his key in his mailbox and toddled home in my car in shock.  I vaguely asked him about it and he said Beth must've wrote that on there back in July when she was begging him to take her back.  And I said, I took a picture of that pop machine a few weeks ago and it wasn't there.  Liar.  And then he said, "Lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie".
I don't know what he said but that's what it sounded like to me. It reminded me of the 800 other times I've had that lies lies lies conversation with a boyfriend when you think inside your head, "are you fucking stupid?  Do you think I'm stupid?"  and then the more they talk, the more it is confirmed that the answer to both those questions is yes.
After being in shock and wandering around my house like "huh?" for a while, I literally sat in the corner of my bedroom and cried for hours.  I felt like I didn't have any bones and I was in a lump like a jellyfish. 
But now I feel more like oh girl, at least you know.  At least you didn't marry something like that.  And at least now- you do have a chance at the real thing with a good person. 
Or I can get 5 or 6 more cats and commit to being That Woman.  Either option is better.
It also made me feel closer to all the really good people in my life and thankful for them.  If diamonds were easy to find, they wouldn't be worth so much, y'know? (*note this is one of those lines that I will read back later and be like omg you dork.  you embarassing dork. there were a lot of those in my old diary.)
I'm not blogging this to be craycray, I 'm blogging it so I don't have to keep explaining the same thing over and over again.  Now I can just send everyone here.  Here, read this shit.