wouldn't it be hilarious...

if you got a book from the library - a really good book - and took white out to every character name from page one to the very last page?

-Louise

I wish you hadn't told me that

My boyfriend David's best friend's name is Brian. I get along exceptionally well with Brian. He's practically my brother from another mother. I know a lot about him. I'd say I know as much about him as a girl who knows her boyfriend of 2 years. Except for all the intimate boyfriend type stuff of course.

You know how when you date someone, in the beginning it's always so perfect. You click in every way. There's little you don't agree on. You laugh at his jokes, he's candid and honest. And you just know it's gonna be like that until...well until it's not.

I've known Brian for about five years. We've spent lots of time together considering he's David's best friend. I felt that I knew him pretty well. Until I found out I didn't.

Yesterday Brian, David and I were out shopping for some much needed furniture for Brain's new apartment. After spending entirely too much time driving up and down a heavily trafficked street, he finally found what he was looking for. We got the new love seat in the truck and proceeded to bring it to Brian's house.

David and Brian are practically professional furniture movers. They got it in and situated in no time at all. As I was sitting at the table watching everything go down, Brian put his coffee table in front of his new love seat and says, "It looks so much better. Now, when I get my ESPN Magazine I'll even have stuff to read on my table."

And so the following conversation takes place.

Me: You subscribed to ESPN Magazine?
Brian: Yep. Some chick came knocking on my door.
Me: What the hell? You should have ordered from Jake like I asked you to so that the money would have gone to his school.
David: Well Jakes couldn't offer what the girl at the door could.
Me: .....what?
David and Brian: Think about it.
Me: Oh my God, she was a hooker???
Brian: No, just a hoe.
Me: WHAT??
Brian: So one night this chick knocks on my door selling magazines. I fucked her.
David: (laughing in approval)
*I shoot David a dirty look and the smile kinda comes off his face.
Me: Eww. That's disgusting.
Brian: What? I used a condom!
Me: Oh, that solves EVERYTHING! Thank God for that.
Brian: Condoms are effective.
Me: Not 100%. Wait a minute. How did you get from buying a magazine to having sex with some skank?
Brian: Well she knocked on my door, went into her whole thing about the magazines so I had her come in so I could take a look at what she was selling. When she came in, she was hella hitting on me, telling me I have good genes, checking out my TV and shit.
Me: groan. Wow. Classy.
Brain: So after I placed the order she was still sitting where you are (I promptly move) and said, "Do you have anything else you wanna ask me?" And I said, "Anything?" And she said, "Anything." So I said, "You wanna fuck?" And she acted like she was shocked. Then I said, "Come on you knew it was coming with the way you're talking." So I hit it and quit it.
Me: That is fucking gross. I can't believe you did that.
David: What? I'd do it too.
Me: Oh really??
David: Yeah. Well no. I mean...if I was single. Brian doesn't have a girlfriend he can do that.
Brian: (laughing) It's not a big deal.
Me: I'm hella disgusted. I can't believe you did that (pointing at Brian) and you are pissing me off (pointing at my boyfriend David).

And that was the end of that conversation.

eww. I would have been much happier to not know this. But for some reason, people think it's ok to tell me more than I really need to know.

-Louise

Kids and Husbands and Stuff

I was a bad, bad step-mom the other day.

It all started when I came home from work to find one of my step-son’s friends at our house. This wouldn’t have been a big deal if my step-son had asked first, but he hadn’t gotten permission from either me or his father, who happened to be working late that night. This has been an on-going issue with him, so needless to say I was not happy.

Dylan, my step-son, came up with this story that Luke was locked out of his house because he had forgotten his key and his parents wouldn’t be home until 7pm so that is why Luke came over without Dylan getting permission first. Total lie. How did I know? Well as soon as Dylan fed me this line of bull I saw him turn towards Luke and wink like, “Haha we got away with it!” Oh hell no!

Then my husband calls. I relay the story and my frustrations to him and he says, “Leave it alone, it’s not that big of a deal.” But, in my eyes, it was a big deal. I’m sick and tired of Dylan lying and acting like he can do whatever he wants. Of course, I’m also texting Louise the whole issue and she is responding with stuff like, “Oh hell no.” and “Kick Luke’s ass out!”

At least she supports me!

I desperately want to make Luke leave, but without the backing of my husband I hesitate and began to doubt myself. “Maybe Luke is really locked out of his house.” “Maybe Dylan is telling the truth this time.” I decide to test these theories out. I go up to Dylan’s room where they’re playing video games and ask Luke for his parent’s cell numbers so I can call and let them know that he’s here and he’s welcome to stay for as long as necessary. At first I get this blank, deer-in-the-headlights look from both of them. Then Luke mutters something to the effect of having already called them so there’s no need to call again. I say, “That’s fine, but I’d like to talk to them as well.” Luke then tells me that he has forgotten their phone numbers!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Now I’m totally fuming.

My husband calls as I’m standing there flaming mad. Again he doesn’t back me. He continues to tell me I’m making a bigger deal out of this than necessary. So, I go back downstairs and begin wondering if maybe I am overreacting. With Louise’s help, I quickly deduce that no, in fact, I am not overreacting. But, I also don’t really know what to do. I want to kick Luke out and ground Dylan for lying, but will this cause more drama than it’s worth between me and my husband????

So, I come up with another plan.

I go downstairs to the fuse box and turn off the power to the upstairs. No power = No video games = Luke, probably having to leave because his parents will “miraculously” come home earlier than expected. So, when the boys come down wondering what’s going on, I pretend to be on the phone with the electric company trying to figure out the problem. I even call my husband asking him, “What could be wrong?” and “What should I do?” He has me check a million things that I “check” before he is truly puzzled by the problem. I know he’ll figure it out soon enough, so I’m hoping my plan works fast.

Within 30 minutes of the “power outage,” Luke had to leave!! Apparently he “found” a spare key in his wallet. Yeah, sure he did. I then wait another 15 minutes before turning on the power to the upstairs and calling my husband acting like a total ditz saying, “You were right! I just needed to flip the switch the whole time! Duh!! I was looking at the wrong one. Silly me.” He bought it.

I know this is bad parenting at its best … or worst … not sure which is more appropriate here.

For all the nay-sayers out there, don’t worry. I was punished by God almost immediately after I did this. Both my water and my internet went out for about two hours. As soon as it happened, I texted Louise telling her God was punishing me for my crimes.

Lessons learned: God is watching. Karma is a bitch.

- Thelma

wasting time by Louise

I wasn't planning on blogging till tomorrow. But my son Jake is driving me effing crazy. He's so much like me. And sometimes I really hate it.

When I was in school (well, even now sometimes) I did exceptionally well when I applied myself. When I didn't, I failed miserably. My report cards looked like one of that of someone with a split personality. One quarter would be A's and B's. The next would be D's and F's. I knew I had no one to blame but myself. I knew I could do well above expectations, I just sometimes chose not to.

Jake is the same way.

At present time, he is getting A's and B's in all of his classes - except two. And the two that he's failing are with the same teacher. And he's not just failing. He has like 37% F's. It's horrible. I'll tell you why. He had a sub for the first month of classes. He didn't take it seriously.

I had a conference with him and the teacher a couple weeks ago and she assured him that if he turned in his missing work and studied for his tests, he'd be able to bring it up to a C. I told him he's lucky to have a teacher who allows him to redeem himself.

However, he chooses not to. I was able to get him to catch up on the biggest point assignments. He tells me he's studying when he's in his room. He's doing his homework. (feel that cool breeze? it's called smoke up your ass)

I just quizzed him on his spelling words for the test he has on Friday. Like he does every Friday. Out of 24 words, he got one right. And it wasn't even like he was almost correct. He spelled intentionally as intenshunaly. Really Son??

I have tried so much. No computer, no TV, no Nintendo DS, no going out with friends. My last resort, I think, is to sit over him while he does his homework.

But I absolutely refuse to do that. I know that times are different from when I was a kid. But when I was 12, I was responsible enough to do my homework without being hovered over. I was raised to take responsibility for myself. I firmly believe that in order for someone to do the same, they have to be presented the opportunity to do so. Jake is well aware that if he doesn't pass these two classes that he will either repeat the grade or at the least have to go to summer school. I've tried so hard to get him to be responsible. So now I've decided that he is the maker of his fate.

I'm sure that makes me a bad parent in some peoples' eyes. And for the most part, I'm ok with that. We're all entitled to our opinions. But I refuse to raise a spoiled kid who blames everyone else for his actions. There was way too many of those out there.

Thelma

My name is Thelma. Well, at least, that’s what you will know me as. I’m twenty-something. I’m a woman living somewhere in the rural Midwest. I have: step-kids, pets, a house, a husband, a job. I live a seemingly normal life. And, yet, it all feels so abnormal to me.

Why?

Because I live a pretend life.

No, it’s nothing as juicy as me being a secret agent or a serial killer or a polygamist. It’s more that I am not who I portray to others. The real me: Sometimes hates my husband. Sometimes thinks about cheating on him. Sometimes feels like running away and never looking back. Sometimes feels like grabbing my boss by her throat and saying, “You know you’re a real bitch.” Sometimes feels like walking out of my house and never looking back. A lot of times, feels lonely and unappreciated. A lot of times, wishes I had a different life. A lot of times, wonders about the roads not taken. Most of the time has a smile on my face, acting like the above thoughts and feelings don’t exist.

This is exactly why Louise - my bestest, realest friend - and I are starting this blog. Think of it as an anonymous, public outlet to bitch about the daily trappings of our lives. As a way to say what we think and feel but can never say it for fear of judgment or some sort of repercussion. We’re real women, with real experiences and we want to vent without having to censor ourselves. This blog will contain posts of brutal honesty about everything ranging from our kids to our bosses to the mother-f*&ker who was tailgating me today.

Continue at your own risk. And, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Louise

I just wanted to give a run down on who I am. Well, who I really am. The idea of this blog is simple. We as women always have things rolling around in our heads. Things we never say. Things we never say because we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, we sometimes worry that people won’t think we’re “ladies” because of what we really think, and sometimes we just don’t feel it’s worth expending the energy to say how we feel. That last reason is almost always my reasoning for not saying what I think. Although, I do say what I think probably more often than I should. And that causes people’s feelings to be hurt. Which therefore is the reason why I don’t feel it’s worth the energy the rest of the time.

I’m a 31 (yikes) year old woman living and working in the San Francisco Bay Area. I have a 12 year old son and a boyfriend of 6 years. Yes, 6 years. Is there a marriage in the future? Not a chance in hell. And that’s my decision. I know many women want to be married, to have the dream wedding, the piece of paper that says you’re in a committed relationship. I don’t get down like that. Marriage is not for me. I’m not saying that everyone who is and ever was married is stupid for choosing to get married, I’m simply saying it’s not for me. I’m not religious. I don’t believe in a higher power (except karma), I don’t believe in fairy tales, and I don’t believe that I need a legal document to proclaim my monogamy. Because let’s keep it real: nothing is forever. The Mayans and Nostradamus can back me up on that. I’m always one step ahead of the game. I’d hate break up and have a judge tell me what I can and cannot have. If you’re mature enough to be in a long term committed relationship, you’re mature enough to act like a civilized adult and properly divide what’s been accumulated. And now I’m stepping off my soap box….

Thelma and I have real lives. Obviously, our names are not Thelma and Louise. We have our own blogs in real life with our real lives. Blogs that I will never ever share on here because we choose not to reveal our real selves. Refer to paragraph one in case you need to know why. J We’ve always talked to each other about any and everything. She is truly my best friend. I know that I can tell her anything and she will not judge me. No matter how shady I decide to be at that moment in time. And I don’t know anyone else on the planet like that. Truth be told, I probably never will meet another person like her. I’m good with that. Without getting into an estrogen-filled-cry-me-a-river-I-love-you-so-much type of thing, Thelma means the world to me. I love her more than I love all of my family and friends combined. Excluding my son. I love her as much as I love him. I can honestly say that I don’t know where I would be in my life without her. And I can only say that about one other person; my son. We decided to do this blog because we can’t say stuff that we really want to in our real life blogs.

The more we got to talking, the more we realized that we should definitely make a blog dedicated to this. Not only do we love the idea, but I can guarantee you that most women will love it too. We want to keep it as real as we can. Real names excluded of course. We’re hoping to reach out to women – as many as we can. Hopefully we’ll give women (and maybe men too) a place to vent their thoughts that they don’t want to speak out loud.

My vow to you is that I will always be me. I will not sugar coat anything. Just as I am in real life. I’m known amongst my friends and family as being a little too honest. Which often comes across as mean, but even more often comes off as funny. I can’t promise you that I will always be funny because not everything is funny. We will not let this be a man hating blog. This will be a sound board for us, and hopefully you to let everyone know what it’s like to be a girlfriend, wife, sister, mother, aunt, grandmother, and any and every other hat we wear.

My hats are obviously mother and girlfriend. I am also a sister and aunt. But when I take those hats off, I’m just me. Louise. Louise who cusses a lot- more than my boyfriend likes, Louise who smokes cigarettes – and goes through rings of fire to hide it from her boyfriend and son, Louise who has always wanted to do something with her life. Louise who took broadcast journalism in one of her many high schools and wrote for two school newspapers. Louise who loves to write, but isn’t driven enough to write a novel. I prefer real life. At one point in time I thought it would be awesome to write for a real newspaper, be an anchor woman, or a radio DJ. Instead of following one of those career paths, I had my son right out of high school and put my life on the back burner to attempt to raise my son to be a strong, independent, productive human being.

Now at 31 I’m attending school to work on my AA in business administration. Not exactly the journalist I wanted to be, or the labor and delivery nurse, interior designer, sports medicine doctor, or lawyer that I once wanted to be. But it’s the most practical for me. Maybe in the next life time….

Before I wrap this up I want to acknowledge this one (or few) thing(s). I am real. I know I said this before. But I suppose this is my disclaimer of sorts. I know I’ll most likely piss some of you off with the things I say. And for that I’m not sorry. I whole heartedly intend to be as true to myself as possible because I believe that if you can’t be true to yourself, you will not live a happy life. Thelma and I hope you enjoy, love, hate, and laugh at any and everything said from this point on. And please feel free to contribute any stories. As we are under the Thelma and Louise cloak, so will you. We will NEVER EVER disclose any personal info. I’m ready to get on this roller coaster and let my hat fly as I throw my hands up and go through the loops.

-Louise