Why? Why Do You Have to Be an Asshat?

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Please be forewarned - I've had several (okay 5) crantinis and I'm mad as hell.

Break-ups aren't fun. I mean you never hear anyone say, "You know, just for shits and giggles I think I'll break up with my partner tomorrow". Unless of course you're a psychotic, narcissistic asshole and then all bets are off.

Though I have several narcissistic tendencies that scare the shit out of me when I dwell on them for too long, I'm not psychotic. I have the papers to prove it. My recent break up was the result of months of sleepless nights, agonizing conversations with myself and friends and alot of deep deep soul searching. It broke my heart to end the relationship. I hurt him. I don't like hurting people unless they deserve it.

Ex-boyfriend has been emailing me for the last week, hounding me to tell the kids about our breakup. He argued that they had a right to know. I argued that I was their mother, and as their mother I had final call as to when to tell my kids. The kids have not seen him in over 6 months. They have long ago stopped asking when they would see him again. Ex sent me an email today telling me that if I did not tell them, he would. He talks to Nora quite frequently on Facebook about farmville (don't ask...that's a whole other issue) and ipods.

This afternoon I'm in the kitchen and I hear Nora shout, "Mom...what the hell is going on?". Nora shouting is one thing, Nora saying hell means that something of an apacolyptic nature has happened. She comes out to the kitchen with the laptop and shows me Ex's facebook page. He has changed his status to "Single" and put "blank is now new and improved, 100% Dual Mom free".

Blink blink.

So I'm essentially forced to explain to Nora what has happened. You can only imagine how your's truly likes being forced to fucking do anything. Son of a bitch.

Wait it gets better.

My sister in law called me this evening - "Have you seen Ex's facebook?" I said that I had, that he's angry, hurt and lashing out. There was silence on the other end of phone. SIL said, "Wow, I can't believe you're being so diplomatic about this". Wait what? Long story short I check fb only to find that he's essentially had a full on conversation with my daughter about our relationship on FUCKING FACEBOOK for all the world to see.

So I fired off this in an email:
Do not speak with Nora about our relationship ever again please. I have no problem with the two of you discussing farmville or ipods but I will not have my personal life displayed for all the world to see on fucking facebook. I haven't been 14 in a long time and have no desire for this type of display. I thought you were alot more mature than this.

And I get this back:

So the point of your note is that you're pissed off that I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I was no secret that I was going to let my friends know on Friday. (So the only way he could let his friends know about our break up is via FB?) It was no secret that if your kids asked I would tell them the truth. (They would never ask about our relationship unless something provoked them to ask) I'm really not sure what the problem is here.(The problem, you limp dick fucking asshole cocksucker is that your using my children to hurt me) You had advanced warning and now you're embarrassed. To bad. What bugs you is not in any way or form my problem. Be angry at yourself.

So here's the thing. I'm not going to post anything disparaging about you online and I have not done so. (Ummm how is it not disparaging to have a conversation with my 12 year old daughter about our relationship online you stupid fucking bald bastard) That's as far as it goes. I do this for your kids. (You do nothing for my kids...you do this because you know the only way to hurt me is through my kids because I stopped caring about you a long fucking time ago) Not for you. At no time will I lie to your kids if they ask me questions about this.Feel free to send more email demands to see what weight they have with me.

Here's the thing, I get anger. I get that he's angry, I do. But this, this is just beyond anything I ever thought he'd be capable of. I did not want this breakup to end in our slinging names and insults. I'm obviously not going to respond, it's exactly what he wants. However, if he continues to use my daughter to get to me, he's going to wind up with his penis shoved down his throat, and not in a feel good way either. I will fucking hurt him like he's never been hurt before.

Bastard, you would think he'd know after 8 years not to fuck with me. Who's going to bail me out when I'm arrested for assault?

Share A Spoon Salad Style

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Think Tank Momma

You would never know it from my rapidly expanding midriff, but I love me a good salad. Pair it with a glass (or six) of a light white wine and you have yourself a perfect summer meal. So I'm playing along with Zgirl and posting not one, but two salad recipes. No need to thank me, I live to serve. Should you be inclined to want to play along also, just click the pic above and all the fabtabulousness of the one we know as Zgirl shall be revealed to you.

Ok enough bullshit, on with the salads.

First off we have a thai mango salad. If you are a lover of sweet and spicy than this is a dish for you.


This recipe serves 6 people. Or if you're like me who loves thai food it serves 3.
  • 1/3 cup chopped peanuts
  • 2 unripe mangoes
  • 1/3 c fresh cilantro
  • 2 tbsp lime juice
  • 4 tsp sugar
  • 4 tsp fish sauce
  • 1 tbsp vegetable oil
  • 1/4 tsp chili sauce or hot pepper sauce
  • 1 sweet red pepper, thinly sliced
  • 1 cup thinly sliced red onion
Throw it all together and hope for the best.


Toast your nuts in a skillet (that's what she said...sorry I couldn't resist) - about 6 minutes.

The mango part is important. Don't be getting all slipshod and buy ripe mango. You'll fuck the whole recipe up. The mangoes need to be UNRIPE people. Firm, not squishy. Got it? So peel the mango and then cut it into thin (I repeat thin) strips. If you know how to "score" a vegetable all the better. If you don't...well google it, it's complicated. If you don't want to google it just cut the damn thing in thin strips.

In a bowl, whisk together the coriander, lime juice, sugar, fish sauce, oil and chili sauce. Add mango, red pepper, and onion and toss it all together. Sprinkle with the nuts and ta da....a beautific salad that's so yummy it's almost orgasmic.

Special note: Though the recipe doesn't call for it, I often grab a handful of baby tomatoes, cut them in half and throw them in. Adds color and a nice taste. Another thing I add, (can you see that I don't like to follow recipes?) is red pepper flakes. Be careful though, a little goes a long way.

Of course I've made this look harder than it is. It's not hard. Cutting the mango is the most difficult part. Seriously, I've had people offer to pay me for this recipe after I've served it at drunken parties sophisticated gatherings.

On to recipe two.

Spinach Blueberry Salad

I have no measurements for this salad because it's one of those things I make that sort of happened by accident.

  • 1 bag of baby spinach
  • 1 pkg fresh blueberries
  • a bunch of crumbled feta let's go with a cup
  • a handful of chopped walnuts
  • balsamic vinegar salad dressing
Throw it all together.

I'm serious this time.

You'll love it. And it's so easy. I'm all about the easy.

30-Something Single White Female

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Holy fuck.

It dawned on me last night that THAT is exactly what I am. Sunday evening while sitting around drinking wine with my brother and his family (we were drinking the wine, the kids were having juice), he said to me, "Hey T, you could be a cougar now". After calling the paramedics to remove my fist from his face I pondered his statement for a bit.

I'm not one to shy away from a challenge, but hell it's been quite awhile since I have been single. I sure do hope being single is like riding a bike because me thinks I've forgotten how to do it (and yes..by it I think I may subconciously mean IT). Can I get a tutor?

So I googled cougar.

BIG mistake.

If I wasn't scared before, I am now.

As per urban dictionary, a cougar is defined as:

 An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man.  The cougar      can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf. Cougars are gaining in popularity -- particularly the true hotties -- as young men find not only a sexual high, but many times a chick with her shit together.

A young man's drug of choice. Great.

Why am I even talking about this? Well, aside from the fact that I'm fucking retarded, it has been playing on my mind since my brother so delicately pointed it out to me. I've never gone for the younger guy. My husband was 4 years older than me. Recent Ex boyfriend was 5 years older than me, and we all know damn well how those relationships turned out. So I think when I'm ready (and honestly I think it's going to be a long time) I may have to change up my modus operandi.

The way I see it, I have several choices.

  1. Remain single. Purchase several cats and become the crazy cat lady who is seen walking the neighborhood in her "house dress", wearing bright pink lipstick smeared all over her mouth -  while talking to herself. Many years later I will be found dead in my home with half my face eaten by said cats.
  2. Hunt for some stud to fulfill my sexual requirements and throw him to the wayside when I've drained him of all life sustaining fluid (I'm obviously watching too many vampire shows).
  3. Become a cougar. Find a boy 10 years younger than me (would that qualify me for cougar status, do I get a membership card?) that I can mold into the perfect companion. All the while having my friends laugh behind my back at what a stupid OLD fool I am.
  4. Become a lesbian. Hey, I'm not ruling anything out at this point.
  5. Wisen the fuck up and quit worrying about how my tits sag and are bound to get lost in my back fat the first time I have sex* and just go with the flow.
So grrrrrrrrrrrrr??? Somehow I can't see it......

*I can't take credit for the hilariaty of that statement - Betty White uttered those words on a tv show I was watching last night. It was as though she was speaking to me.

Three Minute Update

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What are you looking at? It's only been two weeks - ok dammit closer to three but seriously - do we need to be that specific? Did you even notice I was gone? Ok -  I know some of you have because I've been getting emails that say "Where the fuck are you?"

I'm here I'm here. You'll have to forgive me. I live on an island people. It's summer. Do I really need to explain myself? This time of year means endless days spent laying on the beach (I fucking refuse to heed the warnings of doctors and stay "inside" between the hours of 11:00am and 3pm to avoid the sun at peak strength.....yes I fully realize I'll be laughing out of my asshole when they have to cut my face off because I have skin cancer). It also means it's watermelon margarita season.

So what have I been up to aside from slothing around the beach and drinking too much tequila (let's not bother mentioning the fact that not two posts ago I swore never to touch the stuff again....thank you).

I'm being audited. These goddamn fucker assball shitholes (if you actually work for RC I'm not talking about you....obviously) can't seem to accept the fact that I've been seperated for 10 years without actually getting divorced and that my ex and I actually share custody of our children without having a million legal documents stating the fact. This is the THIRD time in 10 years I've been asked to provide proof that a) my children are actually my children (I'm considering taking pics of my fucking stretch marks and sending it along to them). b) that ex and I do actually reside in seperate residences

What makes this audit especially fun is that I can't find the kids birth certificates. I have tore the house apart and they are no where to be found. I'm thinking I must have tucked them away someplace "safe" when I moved two years ago. Obviously my  hiding spot was really damn safe. This means I have to get new birth cerfiticates to the tune of a gazzillion and one dollars.

I called time of death on my relationship. It was worse than leaving the father of my children.

Spending time with this little imp who is growing up much too quickly for my liking. The other two imps only require my presence when it's time to belly up to the trough or they need a drive somewhere. They don't deserve to have their pictures on my blog. Kidding, I love them all equally. Actually it has more to do with the fact that oldest child is working his arse off so it feels as though I haven't seen him in a dogs age and middle child never leaves his room so I sometimes forget that I actually have a middle child.

Working and fretting about paying bills. Aren't we all? Cursing the fates that I wasn't born into a disgustingly filthy rich family so that I would in turn be able to live the life of materialism I was meant for. This having to be a person of substance because I'm poor really sucks. I'd be so much better at being shallow and superficial.

There's other blah blah blah and yammer yammer yammer....it's mundane shit. I've been catching your posts here and there but be sure to tell me if I've missed anything really juicy. I like juicy shit.