Cherry Bomb

Tuesday's aren't they just full of hope? Not really. Tuesdays are like the worst days besides Monday. But its closer to Friday. Sorry, I have been in a funk lately. I have had no will power to blog. No will power to read. No will power to do much of anything. I have sort of lost my mojo. People pissing on my parade and I don't like it. 

Let's just get to it. This weekend was the Honky Tonk with some great peeps. I met new friends and got to do alot of people watching. I did a little dancing. My legs hurt the next day which means I am way out of shape. And I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache which only means I am not a professional drinker anymore. In other words, me and drinking are only friends until the next day. 

Here's the highlights. Beer, shots, beer, dancing with fingers, pee bandit, uncontrollable giggles, Waffle House, bed. 

The place that we go has a cover of $8 smacks and free beer until 11 pm. You can't beat that. Here's where the shots came in. We had a bet, me and my partner in crime, Becca with my former partner in crime Mary who moved. She won the bet so we said we would do shots in her honor. All I know is I don't like shots. I don't do them but a bet is a bet. I do know that I will never drink something called a Cherry Bomb again.

Next on our way to the awful Waffle Becca has to pee. Like really pee bad, to the point of cold sweats. I ask her if she wants me to pull over. She says yes. Driving down the road I pull over on the side of the road behind this building. Nothing out of the ordinary just the back of a building with another smaller building with a light on and a motorcycle parked beside it. Becca gets out runs around the car and in T minus two seconds five burly bikers come flying around the corner. Before she could even get her pants down, she takes off like the road runner around to the passenger side, jumps in, I put it in reverse and back up and speed away like the Dukes of Hazzard. We drove by and I noticed the sign. Knowing a little about the biker world realized that this was a motorcycle cop club which then became even more funny. We sped off like crazy. Becca still had to pee. I go a little ways down the street, pull into a grocery store with a fully lit parking lot, she jumps out and lets it rip. I laughed so hard I banged my head on the horn while it honked loudly. I swear we can't go anywhere without something happening. We laughed, while she explained I needed to hurry to the Waffle House so she could go wipe. Really at this point it doesn't matter? But it was still hysterical. I have never seen that girl run and jump into a car so fast in my life. Good times.

And for your viewing pleasure, here it is. The video of the night. You have to listen to it closely. I love how the DJ is counting down for the line dance to begin while we are getting ready to do this disgusting shot. Oh, and mine was as full as Becca's but I said, no way and poured mine into someone else's glass. Believe me what I took was enough. Ugh!

Jun 8, 2013 | by dustydunbaralley on Keek.com

Happy Tuesday!

Dusty

Oh! What a Night!

Last week, I posted just a little fragment of a throw back picture on Instagram. This week I am sharing the whole photo for those of you that didn't get to see it on my personal Facebook. And then it's story time.

(L to R: Rachel, Mary, Carla, Me, Stephanie, Becca)

So you know I have been pondering life lately, friendships and my future. Like I have said, with my sweet Mary moving away, I don't want to regret not spending time with people that I love and reconnecting to the friends who truly were and are my friends. These five women were in my life for a reason and this night was no exception. Here is a little back story and then a little about this night. 

It was 2003, my Bachelorette party. We drove to Atlanta for the weekend. I was once engaged to a guy. A great guy who brought some great people into my life. Let me just get this out of the way. I don't like hurting people unless I am defending my family or friends. We were together for a while. We had a great life. This was one of the happiest times in my life. But I hurt him and a lot of people. I strayed. I thought I wasn't worthy. I was fooled. The relationship because souly of me ended. I apologize to him, all of these people above and all of the people that I hurt during this time. 

As I raise my child, I find it sometimes difficult teaching him the lessons in life when myself need to rectify certain things that of happened over the last several years. Since having him I have done everything in my power to do the right things.  He was a wonderful guy, with a great family. I was lost. I hope someday there is forgiveness because we share some of the same friends. But after this ended there was a separation. Everyone went different directions. I know he doesn't read this blog nor gives a flying rats ass but from the bottom of my heart I am sorry to you and your family. I wish you well. I know that he has married now. I hope he's doing great happily married, receiving bunches of hugs and kisses with children running around and if its any consolation my life didn't end with a happy ending. It ended with a womanizing, cheating douchebag. I received my karma Mr. P. But, I do have a wonderful son out of it and I move on to find happiness for me and my child.

Okay, I feel better now. This was an eventful weekend. We started out on a road trip in a van driven by Stephanie, who bought it shortly before. We made a quick trip to pick up her tags and off we went. The ride down in the tube of death was eventful. After getting lost trying to find the hotel, crossing 4 lanes of traffic at wharp speed, we finally arrived. 

Saturday we got ready, went riding around Buckhead to find a party place. A guy standing outside with a megaphone shouted, "We want you on our bar!" Huh? My Aunt Carla said, "We are going in for one drink and leaving." Guess what? We never left. Coyote Ugly, we left our hearts with you! Here are the events of all these beautiful women above.

Rachel: My cousin. I think she slept through most of the death ride. I deemed her full of useless knowledge on this trip because she claimed to know Brad Pitt's birthday and all celebrity gossip. It was also discovered that after returning to our hotel and we were getting dressed for bed. I looked over and noticed that her bra and thong were neon green as she was bent over. In a drunken stupor, I yelled, "Oh, my god her ass just swallowed Kermit the Frog!" We laughed and snorted for a long time until passing out. 

Mary: Mary and Carla were no good on the way down. Mooning the interstate traffic. Mary and Becca in this friendship were the Jagermeister queens. Give them a bottle and usually Mary ended up on my floor. The highlight of this weekend was when the music was blaring and she is standing on the back of the booth, security had asked her to get down. After doing mouth to mouth shots of some clear liquid, looked at us and him and said, "He doesn't fucking know me!" She clapped her hands as to turn him off like a clapper light contraption and continued to dance. She only did so dancing while drunk. She eventually ordered food at Waffle House, passed out at the bar, woke up, went outside, and tried to get into the wrong van. Mary 0 - Coyote Ugly 1.

Carla: My aunt. My rock. The sensible one screaming at Mary not to do mouth to mouth shots. She's a nurse. Mary didn't care. At one point, I looked up and she had been swept off her feet by a gentleman. Literally in the air. It probably would have been fun but I think she was afraid her tits were going to pop out. She also couldn't believe that my cousin was wearing a lime green thong. Trust me. It was traumatic. 

Dusty: Had my hot pants on. Danced like I was a Solid Gold dancer. These were the days I wore a thong. This was the last weekend I did so. I am fairly certain, that I had to use a metal detctor to retrieve it from so far up my crack. At one point during the night while shaking my money maker, someone slipped $20 bucks in said thong that apparently was hanging out my hot pants. Sober I would have thrown the money back at them. Drunk, I bought a round for my friends. I am caring like that. I threw all thongs away after arriving home.

Stephanie: Driver of the Tube of Death. Has an unmistakable laugh. She's a people watcher and very hella tall. She and I line danced until my feet hurt. And she smoked the longest cigarettes in the world. Windshield pokers. I swear they were weapons. Beautiful heart and always in control. A little flirt. I think she did a little dirty dancing herself with a few. But if she was drunk I was drunker because I never could tell. 

Becca: My partner in crime. The calm one. Laughed until she cried. She and Rachel conspired alot I am sure. She's a silent dancer. Could drink us under the table. By the end of the night she was slurring her words. I always love when she got hammered, she pronounced everything slowly. She was the co-pilot. At one point, I am sure her eyes popped out of her head while riding in the bullet and prayed to Baby Jesus. This also was one of those rare moments she wore her hair down and had makeup on. She made me aware of this after seeing this photo.

So my point to this story is this. I love these girls. This was one of the best times of my life. Yes, we gathered for a reason, but that is the past. My future is to re-connect and although one of us is missing, we will toast in her honor and send her photos. I want to be able to say, "hey, lets get together and not let anything stop us." I am too old to dance on table tops again, but I do want to revive these friendships. For these five I will love forever. Next weekend, its Honky Tonk time and I get to see a few of these girls. I absolutely can not wait.

Happy Throwback Thursday,

Dusty

Where's Waldo?

No your eyes are not deceiving you. It's me. I know. I know. Blogger was a little shocked to. It took a long time to open the site because I think it didn't believe it was me and was doing a full body scan to make sure. Once it reached the breast area it was confirmed. No tits. Check. Proceed.

Did everyone have a great Memorial Day slash long weekend? I did. And if I see another skinny Barbie like figure in a bikini with a fruity drink in their hand I am going to order that they be sought out and destroyed by a Mob like group who force them to eat large pizza's three meals a day without exercise or sunlight for three weeks straight. Please bitches eat some beef.

Sorry I have neglected everyone. It's been a hectic two weeks. The Kid had baseball tournaments. And it literally consisted of go to work, get home, dress him in proper attire, attend such game, scream my lungs out, come home, eat, shower and bed. Then repeat the next day until the little shits got beat. Don't get me wrong I loved every second of it. But I was worn out. And I hear in this game of motherhood that it only gets worse as they get older. Oh goody. By that time, the gas prices will be sky high and I will have to revert to a dog and sled type transportation method which will get a lot of stares in the South since the only time it snows, is when the Midwest decides its had enough for a dumping season.

I also have just been dealing with life. I have not been feeling real swift lately. Another beautiful magical thing of living in Tennessee is the allergy season. I take medication for it but now I have to be fully tested this Friday. So I can't take any for seven days because it alters the test. By the weekend, I will look like Rudolph which is only supposed to fun a certain time of year. All I know is as soon as these tests are done I am going to pop a Zyrtec like a two rounder drug dealing hooker on dollar night.

I also in my lovely absence have taken up residence with a new doctor. My primary physician decided to up and close her practice without any warning. I suspect she ran off to join a line dancing cult. In the meantime, my aunt referred me to a great guy. The only catch is they used to date. He's now married with children, but he walks in, sticks out his hand and I am like, "Dude, we have been drunk together. Let's hug it out." After we get through the catch up on how ya been, whatcha been up to and yeah can you believe it, I have a kid, he sends me to have blood drawn. Six vials of it. If he wanted to paint a room with it, I would have bought him a gallon at Lowe's. He wants to check my sugar levels and every other test known to mankind that will be easy to cure with a vitamin. I explained to him that I feel like I am going through the change of life. Yet, he also seems to have had a major reaction when I told him I put 5 teaspoons of sugar in my coffee every morning. Apparently, this is frowned upon in this establishment. But it could explain my tiredness, night sweats and my ass ballooning up to the point of taking flight if my thighs weren't so big to keep me grounded.

So, in light of all this bullcrap. I decided to take matters into my own hands and cut out the sugars. I gave up my beloved Sprite for Sprite Zero. I am not real thrilled. I had no sugar in my coffee instead using flavored coffee creamer which I picked one that wasn't of my liking, Italian Sweet Cream. I thought maybe this was my ticket to cannoli flavored heaven but that was a bust. I am trying Vanilla Caramel tomorrow. I am not having bread and only good sugars. So far my head is pounding and I have pissed my brains out from the water intake but I am bound and determined to get in my swim suit before the season is up. And it works in my favor since Easter is over and I can't eat the Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs, six at a time.

Did I just ramble? Okay, well, that's life lately and let me know your favorite coffee creamers. I am bound and determined if all else fails to save my teeth.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

In The Bucket

Everyone has a bucket list in there life. No we probably don't always set down and say this is the stuff I wish to do or have before I croak, but at one time or another everyone says "I want to do this or that." I was thinking about all I want to accomplish or do. So here's my bucket list. I know I probably won't do most of these but it sure is fun to dream right?

1. Be a good mother!

2. Move to the Cape Cod area. I want to retire in a quaint town where I can see the ocean and smell the air. Ride a bike to the grocery and set out on my porch with the breeze. I want to have a little cottage and eat seafood.

3. Own a boutique. Maybe this is what I will do later on in life after I move to Cape Cod. A little store filled with salvaged treasures and cool clothes with my own creations. I love salvaged,vintage pieces whether it be furniture or clothing. 

4. Go to Italy. I want to have all the food and bread a girl can eat. Then after I have taken in enough red sauce to have acid reflux for days then I will go see the sites.

5. Be published in a magazine. 

6. Go to New York and attend Fashion Week. I will probably see New York before I see fashion week but it would be so fun and hip to set in an audience and see all the designers even though I can't afford a thing. I would also like to see New York at Christmas, skate in Rockefeller Center and then visit the Hamptons.

7. Meet Bon Jovi! I mean there's a little teenager inside all of us. Who doesn't want to hang out with a rock band. I did meet all the guys from Def Leppard once. That was pretty cool.

8. Take Ian to see a Yankees game. 

9. Learn to sew. My mother was teaching me but we got side tracked. But I would love to learn. I would be a pillow making beast.

10. Hug a panda. I love pandas. I just want someone to give it a little sleepy drug, I will run in kiss it, give it a hug and make like Speedy Gonzales out of there before it realizes I am bait. 

11. Learn to snow ski. I love snow and being from the South we don't see a ton of it. But I would love to stay in a cabin and snow ski.

12. Attend the Olympics. I love the games. I am so not athletic but I would love to see all the athletes competing and the reward for all their hard work.

So there's my bucket list. By most standards not really anything exciting. But I am a simple kind of girl. 

Do you have a bucket list? What's on your must do list before you kick the tin can?

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Proud Mary

It's been a bit huh? Sorry I have been missing in action. I have been just busy. Busy with my thoughts. Busy with my son and busy contemplating life. It's funny how there are twist and turns. I thought I was over most of the twist and was turning a curve but then something hits you and sends you back to the fork in the road. I still have no idea where I am headed. 

Lately I have been dealing with finality. The finality of love lost. To know that it is possible forever. With the knowledge that everyday my child grows a day older, one step away to becoming something only a mother dreams of. The hope of one day finding a peace inside with the ability to know that my mistakes where just that. And then of loss. Loss of an identity. Right now I don't know which one to tackle first. 

Sometimes it unimaginable having to say goodbye. I have done it like most too many times. As we get older the inevitable happens and that loss is almost too much to bare. Goodbye to love one's is never a heartache you get over. 

Then there is a different goodbye. A goodbye to friends. People you trusted with your heart. Somewhere you know that they can make their way back, but you wonder will they? 

I have been blessed in this heart with some of the greatest friends. Friends who love me for me. Who know me. My true heart. I am not a naturally trusting person. Always cautious as to who and when I let people in. It's served me well in my life but also as a henderance. Mostly held at arms length but then there are a few that encompass my soul. Those I love with my whole heart knowing that I will never be hurt by. 

Sometimes life gets in the way. Our paths become different. We change and follow a direction unknowingly or maybe unwillingly taking the time to nurture that friendship making it grow as we grow. 

This weekend I hugged my friend Mary goodbye for she's moving on. Her family moving to start a new journey. We had time to reflect on the best years we spent together. Years that others that joined us can never say it wasn't the best time of our lives. The laughter and the fun but the purity of true friends just enjoying each other unedited, uncensored, and free. Free to be who we are. Then it was gone. Gone by a decision. A decision to walk away from one of the happiest times I have ever known. Why? A question that will forever be undecided or unanswered only to say that sorry seems the only thing that makes sense. Sorry that I hurt a beautiful heart for he undeserving knowing that to lose love by choice is one thing but losing that best friend in someone is another. I yearn to place a new best friend to love one day. But also sorry I walked away from friendships with the trick of the mind to think we would all still remain in tact. Some did and some did not. But I am more sorry that I wasted so much time not always being present. 

But we venture. Out into the unknown. Time takes over. Our lives change. Some for the better and some not so much. We grow older, our families change. We add lives that take up our time unselfishly, yet somewhere, yes somewhere it should have been shared. 

My soul has always been with these friends. The family of Gray's. Even far away. They are my family. And as I hugged her and I know not for the very last time because she's only going to be miles away and I vow to visit, we both crying, we took a breath at the same time as at one time our souls in sync and say I love you, at that moment I realized no matter the time lost, nor the change of having babies and busy schedules, my heart will always be where she will be and her heart will always be where I am.

I cherish every second with them. A life time of memories filled with photos, stories, and proof that bonds with friends do exist. I am so lucky that there are people in my life that I love so much. One's that no matter how crazy my life gets, they still are honest and loyal and love me and I intend to love them just as much right back for they have stood by me on my own journey and no matter how right or wrong I was........ remained.

Say I love you today and every day to your friends,

Dusty

Rewind the Time

So, I thought it would be a great idea since I have some new peeps to do a throw back post. One of my all time favorites. Let you get a feel of who I am and then refresh the minds of the ones who read. Some of you when you start reading a blog don't always go back through all the posts. I myself find someone new I go back and read as many posts as possible to get a feel of what's going on. So I give you one of my master pieces. Enjoy.

No Thong Zone

Did everyone have a great weekend? Oh, mine was another adventure, but that's for another day. Let's just say a trip to the vet and my dog apparently has a hemorrhoid like her mother. It's true. Dogs get the dangling death or the equivalent of them like in humans, so she also has problems with her anus. We are a team. Apparently, my dogs and I share so much. Last month, I had to share maxi pads with the one on her period and now the oldest lab has anal seepage. We are NOT sharing the same medicine. I love her so much but I am not giving up my Prep H. Call me selfish, but she can drag her ass and make it feel better. I, for reasons only known by God, cannot do the same. This is just delish. But back to the original story.

Last weekend, I had to go exchange some jeans that I had ordered on-line. You remember those flared LC jeans I featured in my blog? Well, the jeans and fluffy didn't get along so I tried to return them for another size, but to no avail, other people seem to have a fluff problem, so I just got my money back. Figuring I had $34 smacks, I would look around. I see this cute dress for summer but only on the mannequin, so a nice middle aged lady came over and I asked if she could get it down. I look at it and am pretty convinced I will buy it since it was $21 smacks and then she says, "well its pretty sheer, you might want to check out our intimate department and get a t-strap to go with it." Huh? A t-strap? Why in the world would I wear a jock strap with this dress. So I said, you mean a thong? She said, "yes, those things that young women wear so they have no panty lines." Looking at her like she had four heads, I mean she was a blue hair telling me I should wear a thong, knowing she probably has on exactly what I have on...granny panties, I wondered over.

Let me tell you its been years since I wore one of those t-straps. I think after a certain age, you just don't and second, she obviously didn't take a gander at my milkshake. I put on a thong and I am sure it would get lost somewhere amongst the massive cinnabons I am lugging around. Plus, I need something a little tight across thy skin because when I walk, it looks like two pigs fighting over a piece of cornbread. I carry the dress across the store, go take a peak. Memories started to pour in and I then remembered distinctly why I don't wear them anymore. First, my butt crack doesn't need dental care. Second, with the current ailment, I don't think it would be a healing process to wear it.

I browse through a few and then it brings me back to the time, a few of my fabulous friends went to Atlanta for a girls weekend. My aunt, cousin and I stayed in a room together. We ended up at Coyote Ugly. Several drinks and shots later, we come back to the hotel after dancing enough to be the spot light of the original show and the hotel. We go to get dressed for bed and my cousin goes to put on her pj's, I look up and she has on this matching lime green bra and thong. All of the sudden I blurted out, "oh my god your ass looks like it just swallowed Kermet the Frog!" After many minutes of uncontrollable laughing, snorting and silence with laughing again, we passed out from exhaustion from the giggles. That's when I gave up the thong. See I had worn one that night as well and all the dancing and repeated digging the next morning was uncomfortable, but seeing someone else's butt swallow a granny smith apple put it perspective. I never looked at my own butt to see what it looked like but seeing her butt, I realized, there is nothing beautimus about anyone's hiney. It's two mounds of dough divided by a line a fabric. I, from that point forward entered the "No Thong Zone." I tried boyfriend undies once but because my butt looks like a busted can of biscuits in them, they just rolled up on the sides and those went to the trash. These underwear are only meant for horn dog men, to look pretty and be gone in two point two seconds. They aren't for long term use.

So, I wandered back over to the section, put the dress back and walked out. I am trying to convince myself that the dress could be worn without the usage of a t-strap, but because the help even mentioned it, I was detoured. Sorry, Kohls, but Mee Ma helped bring back painful memories and you lost the sale on that day. I may be back or order it on-line that way when I receive it at home I can throw on my granny panties and walk around to see the jiggle factor and shine a light on the dress to see if you can observe my wassa or not.

I am proud to have entered the "No Thong Zone" even if it makes me un-hip, not sexy or it saves one frog in this world.

I know funny huh. There is a post that follows post later on called We Broke Up this where I had the hemmy removed. You can go stalk my blog and find it.  But this was best day of my butts life.

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

To Infinity & Beyond

There's a feeling you get when you become a mother. I don't know that I can explain it but you automatically feel in love. It's defiantly a different kind of love that you would have with another person. You are a lioness protecting your cub at all times. 

If I never do anything else in my lifetime I would be content. Why? Because my greatest accomplishment will be my son. Will I be perfect at it? I don't think so, but I believe there is a bond between a mother and her child that is different than a father and a child. And boys attach themselves to their mothers especially. 

For years before I had The Kid, I wanted a tattoo but couldn't make up my mind. I mean its permanent. There's no rubbing it off. So when he was about four, I got his first name tattooed on the inside of my ankle. It was uncomfortable but I thought I was at the front of the titanic yelling, "I am the Queen of the World!" But here lately as he's gotten older I have wanted another one. Something that symbolizes my love for him and represents me as a mother. For the last several months, I have looked and drew them out. I pinned them on Pinterest. I went back and forth and I knew that I wanted an infinity. Infinity is forever. I found one. I actually showed it here.

I wanted something dainty and girly because it was going on my wrist. So, I said, let's do this.  I hem hawed around about it for a long long time because I hate needles and I was a big fat chicken. Same scanario as with the other tattoo. I finally made the appointment with my cousin. And here it is.

It's pretty awesome. And who better to place something so meaningful for the rest of your life than a family member. Brian is so talented. He's got his own story himself. Fought his way back, now has a beautiful wife and a daughter. He made a choice to live his life the best way he can and is doing something he loves. To say how proud I am of him is an understatement. 

He was pretty nervous doing it because my wrist is tiny and it used a very tiny needle for this particular tattoo. He had not used one before so I was his first. And let me just inform you because I know you all are wondering. Yes, it hurt like a bitch! I think he probably thought I could have been giving birth again. Holy shitballs. I gritted my teeth, no tears and did it.

I love tattoos but I want them to tell a story. A story of a journey or love that way in your heart it's there for the right reason. So here's my story in my own words...........

"Two hearts. One a mother's, one a son's bound together until infinity."

So there's the surprise I promised. Happy Monday!

Dusty

Just Me!

Thank you all for supporting this crazy ride! This has brought me so much happiness and comfort knowing I can spread my crazy bull around to those who will read it. Have a great weekend. I can't wait to show you my surprise on Monday! Now I gotcha and you wanna know don't ya? 

There's A Big Fat Difference

A few weeks ago there was a series going around called If I Were A Boy. I didn't get to honestly read a ton of them but it got me to thinking about raising my own male species and what its like to be in a male's shoes day to day. I know that in life we all want equality but let's get real, it's still not there yet. The statement Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus is probably the most accurate. Women by nature are nurturing and men are materialistic. Now before you go ranting let me explain. 

In some way or another we all have both traits. Whether you have a mothering instinct or not depends on your own personal level. You may not ever want to be a mother, but you have pets and that also falls into that nurturing category. Men are more masculine. The bring home the bacon type. Keep the household running. That's why when our relationships go down the tubes, the woman is always the one who suffers emotionally. We don't think about the things we have it's what we are losing. Men get all huffy when we then in turn take everything they own because they decided to not keep their peckers in their pants. I mean think about it. How many times have you heard, "I can't believe he did that. I loved him so much. We had a family. We were supposed to grow old together." And the males say, "Can you believe that bitch? She took my house, my pension, half my bank account and she's even turned the dog against me!" See the difference here? One is WE and the other is MY. Now not all men are like this. I am just speaking somewhat generally. I truthfully am so glad I have a son but it's hard sometimes raising one.

Male and females are different in many aspects. If I were to scratch my crotch and adjust myself in public, people would think I have the ickatooty. 

Guys tend to set around and talk about boobs. Ever met a man who wasn't interested in a breast of something? Not many. But if I were to set around and talk about the Tennessee Mahogany Throbber, I would a slutbunny. 

Men can grow their hair out and we flash back to every hair band in the 80's and fall madly in love with the wanna be rock star. A girl shaves her head, she's a dike. 

If we don't shave under our arms it's all gross and disgusting but they lift their arms up and it looks like an orangatang escaped from the zoo.

A man can have a hobby that cost thousands of dollars a year just to keep them occupied. A woman spends $300 dollars on a Coach purse and its a WTF moment and possibly a cause to file for bankruptcy.

Call a woman a grill master and all the buddies in the yard are going to call him the P word. I mean they have hiked their legs and peed all over the outdoor cooking stigma.

But here's the deal. I wouldn't want to be of the male persuasion. The dingalings serve their purpose but it's not model material. It just hangs there. Dangling. Just waiting to be stomped on by the cat the woman loves so much but it only wants to set in his lap. I don't care to be in charge of cooking out doors. I personally am afraid to light the thing on fire. I am partial to my eyebrows thank you very much and who wants to smell like a shish kebab all day. I don't need an expensive hobby. Books are cheap and I can entertain myself with the ID channel. If things don't work out I at least know how to Good Bye Earl his ass after 8 hours of tube time. And if I have an itch I will just set on my foot, scratch back and forth and claim my thigh was itching. 

All I can say is men are good. They are good at what they do. They are good at the things that society and nature tells them to be at and Women well, we just fucking rock!

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Pot Problems

I have been pondering. Uh, oh is right. This weekend while I was stuck in the house so the dark clouds could pour down rain on our Easter weekend, I did a little research. By research, I mean I was in my pj's on the internet looking at "stuff."

I researched chalk paint which I have fallen in love with. There is no prep time, no need for primer and you can take a darker color add a little white to it and come up with a lighter version. I will be using this paint while redoing my kitchen which to inform you I have decided on my color scheme. 

But I also have been looking into vitamins and herbal thingamajigs. Something to do a little cleansing while not setting on the pot all day and also to curb my appetite. Not that I eat alot. I don't consider eight Hershey kisses alot. 

I read about Green Tea and how it has a ton of antioxidants in it. It's good for you. Speeds up the metabolism and helps flush the system. I drank some Green Tea years ago and I ended up on the pot. I see a theme here. So, I thought I would try it again. I drank it hot this time and it was yuck. I am the girl who puts milk and 5 teaspoons of sugar in her coffee in the morning, so drinking this by itself was almost like asking someone on Survivor to eat a bug. 

I want something that is also caffeine free. I don't need to be jumping out of my skin. I found that Green Tea comes in capsule form, but these capsules also contained some caffeine. How much is the kicker. I have no clue what the equivalent is. So, I guess I should stick to drinking the bland tea unless anyone else has tried the capsule and can give me the 411. 

I bought some new vitamins as well. I get pretty exhausted by about two in the afternoon. I thought maybe I am low on some vitamin, so I bought a bottle. It said helps promote energy,  stabilize metabolism and a dietary supplement. The problem with vitamins is then I can't go to the pot when I take them. All these minerals get together and have a little gathering party in my colon and then decide to just mingle in the colon kitchen until a greaseball comes and interrupts the good time. Plus, they taste just like gummies. I hate gummies but I also don't like to take horse pills.

Dr. Oz has recommended this shitzl called Pure Garcinia Cambogia Extract. It's supposed to be a fat buster and increases your serotonin levels to enhance your mood so your less likely to binge eat. I think that means I will only eat three Hershey kisses. I read the reviews mostly all good. But then if I read one bad one I am convinced its a waste.

So I ask you. What herbal supplements do you take? I need something with energy. I need something to make me not have a sweet tooth. I need something that doesn't make me go to the pot all day yet lets me go to the pot.

Give me the scoop. 

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

Trickery

Easter has come and gone! You know what that means? No more Peeps! That's right. They are leaving. Gone. Finito. Sianara. Exito. Bye Bye. Later Tater. I was in Target yesterday and they were already packing them up. Which got me to thinking. I can seriously understand why our country has a high obesity rate. Starting from Halloween on there's nothing but sugar filled isles. Candy! Candy! Everywhere. We get no reprieve until now. After this holiday, the sugar filled high in carb evil that in our sights for almost seven months and really means probably about eight total because the retailers get a hair up their asses to put out decorations and celebrating holidays a month before the stupid holiday arrives is over. So, we sweek (combination of sweet and week) toothed individuals succumb to the glorious Gods of Candyland goodness. No wonder my kid needs $700 dollars worth of dental work. Apparently, I let him sign up for "let's rot our teeth out" kind of life. 

Although I do not let him eat those Peeps in my sight. They scare me. The only satisfaction I get is some snot nosed kid has gobbled them up. Death by kid. I wonder if there is a special sentence in Peep death. Five years of freedom if you ask me. Eating a Peep should constitute a hall pass if your kid gets in trouble at school. "Oh, I am sorry my kid busted your kids nose, but I can't punish him. He destroyed 3 packs of Peeps at Easter." He's part of the Peep Mafia.

The Kid asked me if the Easter Bunny was real. I of course asked him why. He said, "Well, some kids are saying he's not and that its your parents." Well, my answer is this. If you believe in your heart that he's real then he is. Then he said, "Oh, mom I know he's real. You don't have any money and he brought me an Easter basket with candy and gifts." Well, if that does just put a nut in your ego. But then again this can work to my advantage. If he thinks I am poor then he won't be asking me later on in life for a car. Now this is some shit I can get on board with. 

Yes, I know eventually, he's going to find out that all these characters are make believe which if you ask me sucks the big flag pole because I still myself think Santa could be real. But it also poses the question, of well, when he finds out is he going to call me a big fat liar? Maybe I will tell him it was Duh. Duh made me lie to him from the age of believery and that his father is to blame. Oh, I am kind of loving this game now. Crap that won't work. I can't let his father take the wrap for that. Plus, I really should save that card for the later in life thing I mentioned before like the car idea. I mean if your going to blame someone for something, a teenager not being able to drive his own vehicle would be the perfect way to one up the other parent. You know that when it comes to that age we are probably going to tangle like wild cats. He's going to want freedom from the nest and I am trying to convince him that 25 seems like a great age to leave it. So, yeah, I better save my terrible, "it's your father's fault" card for later in life. 

In  the end, The Kid woke me up this morning and said, "Mom, the Easter Bunny came. He brought me a bunch of candy and I wanted to share this with you." I got up, looked on the night stand and there was the Reece's Peanut Butter Egg that was in his basket. And I realized at that very moment that my Easter gift was the fact that he had the heart to share his candy. Only because he probably knew I would steal and eat it when he wasn't looking. And if he only knew I paid for it so its really mine to eat anyway. I love this bunny believing game. I got chocolate out of the deal from myself.

I say believe forever if you want. Nobody says you can't. Now where's this money tree I keep hearing about?

Happy Monday,

Dusty

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Ka-Change

I don't like change. Do you like change? I mean in life it is sometimes inevitable. I have been contemplating so many things lately. For instance.. I have thought about changing my hair color. Going back to my roots. My hair is pretty dark naturally. But I know that when I change it I will freak out and spend more money to lighten it up because I know it will send me over the edge into tears. But I also know that it will be less maintenance. 

I want to change my kitchen. I want to paint the walls, cabinets and my island. I want to make my island a different color than the walls just to add character. But I am afraid it will not be how I want it and then I have spent the money and then I have to spend more money to redo it. I know it will be fine, its just the initial change of it. And this coming from someone who went to Interior Design school. You would think I would be changing my whole house every five minutes.

I want to change my blog name? Have any of you ever thought of doing this? I feel like I am at a place that I want to be more identifiable. Or taken more serious or something that is simpler. I have been giving this great thought, but then I think about all the changes I have to make. Buttons, business cards, social media sites, etc. And then I worry more about will people like it, will the follow me with the change? I am so indecisive about it. I really want my blog to grow. I really want it to be something everyone talks about. 

There are other things I am all up a rut with. My body, life, attitude.. just the normal life things that make me indecisive which is hard for me because I am not usually a back and forth type girl. I either like it or I don't. I either jump in feet first or I say you go first you twit. I don't know if its the blues or its just I need to just take a few leaps and become brave. 

Have you ever been like this? Just needing change so bad but afraid to do it? Would you follow me if I had a blog name change or should I keep it? It's just hair right? Ugh, see....

Thoughts welcome,

Dusty

Life's Like Leg Lifts

Have you ever just felt like a dump, frump, slum, glum, and anything else you can think of that makes you feel  blah. That's how I have felt the last two months really.  You all know I went to the doctor because I broke out in hives. Well, I now get to go see an allergist. High five myself. The other reason I went to the doctor was because I haven't felt worth a shitballs. Really, I have no drive to do much of anything except hole up in my house. I mean its not really that I don't do anything, I have a child who keeps me busy, but I feel invisible otherwise. 

I was telling the doctor that I have been working out and haven't lost a pound. Zilch. I am not over weight, but I am so out of shape and I have noticed that things are moving to the midsection. Me not likey. I can wear a muffin top proudly but when I start looking like a busted can of biscuits then I start feeling like an puff a lump. I feel bad. My insecurities take over and I don't feel good about myself. 

I talked to the doctor and I felt like she didn't offer me any advice. I mean my co-pay is $25 smacks and the insurance probably paid her $250 and all she could say is, "well, you know how long it took me to lose weight? Six months and that was walking a treadmill every single day." At that moment, I wanted to jab her in the throat. But that would not have been the right thing to do considering she's a one woman operation and there would be no one there to treat her wind pipe injury. But fantasizing is a great learning skill. 

So, she explained to me about the metabolism and eating every so many hours to keep it burning but I just feel like I am eating all day and I hate it. The only thing I want to eat all day is kettle chips. But apparently that's frowned upon in this establishment of the weight loss world. I bought some new DVD's and am fairly certain that Shaun T might be ready to fly right out into the world of free love which is fine with me but I want to see results. My operation bikini has went down hill and I now have enough of a collection of workout videos to make me at least be Jillian Michaels' long lost cousin. Maybe I should try her videos, but then again I want to live to see 42 as bad as that number sounds. 

So, what's a girl to do? How do I feel better about myself? How do I just accept that its just a funk and I will snap out of it? What do you do when you get like this? I mean for me its hard. I am the advice giver. I am the mother hen. I am the one who speaks the truth and give people the reality and yet, I feel like I have had no one to give me back what I need. I am not usually the blah blah girl, but it really makes me aware that yes, I can have the emotional and physical struggles just like anyone else. I just need a little lift. Life is like leg lifts. Some days you can do it and some days its too painful but eventually the strain goes away and you can get back to being spectacular. 

Happy Tuesday. Thanks for letting me share.. 

Dusty

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Life is not always a Smoothie

So, I am out of town for a few days and I come back and there is all this wild craziness about Google Reader and Bloglovin. Somehow, reader is going away and Bloglovin is where its at. If you ask me Bloglovin is always been where it's at. I love it, well, I love it when I am caught up not when it says I have 225 unread posts. But really people just do me a favor because I have no clue what Google Reader even is, just go ahead and follow me on Bloglovin here. (and I just typed bloglovin 5 times in this paragraph)

But really I got worse problems or had them. First, I bought new underwear. Yes, when the elastic starts turning into homemade rubber bands, it could be time to get something to cover all that territory. I get my new package of 6 and according to the size chart bought the size recommended. I get home, throw them in the wash, dry and take them out and I am fairly certain these will only fit a 12 year old. I don't know if they shrank or if I just really believed the chart process, but these could only be good for dust rags at this point. Oh, and whatever happened to all white undies? I like living dangerously and not having to color code my under garments. 

Second, I must learn direction.  I basically take direction like this.- go to first stop sign make a right, then follow that road until you see a big tree, turn left go just long enough and you will see a garden gnome on a fence post turn into driveway and go past big pond...you get the point right? So, I go to Orlando for a marketing summit and rent a car and off I go. Going to the hotel is fine and the rest is nothing but European Vacation. Round and Round I go..Look kids, Big Ben! Parliament! All I can say is thank goodness I left in enough time to get to the airport because I totally drove around in a circle trying to go West or was it East?

Finally, remember last week and my super delicious dupe boots I found. Well, Wednesday night while getting my outfits together and packing, I decide to try on my looks to make sure I have everything and I am not going to look hideous. Which in turn means I will probably look hideous. Any hoot, I put my left boot on and something was stick out in the inside sole of the shoe. I put my fingers down into it and feel two sharp, pointy objects. I realized it must have been shoe tacks. I called to see about returning them and here's the kicker they didn't have my size anymore. So, I had the option to return and get my money back but peeps, these shoes are more awesome in person, so Saturday morning I took them to a shoe repair shop and for $2 smacks he took the shoe tacks and staple out of the sole and I am one happy lady. But it screwed up my whole thought process on packing and my outfits. That one pair of shoes totally gave me the Debbie downers and I ended up packing nothing spectacular and mostly frump. Plus, it was colder there than in Tennessee. I froze my baguettes off. 

So there's my whole story. It's life a life lesson. Well, not really. I just realized that when life gives you lemons you make smoothies with something better than lemons. 

Dusty

The Big O

I am out of town to Orlando for a marketing summit meeting, but I am sure I will have a few stories to tell. See you when I get back! Until then here's a picture so you don't forget what I look like.

Make sure you miss me!

XO,

Dusty

Around Town

I thought I would say Happy Tuesday. Then go right into the mumbo jumbo because we all ain't got time for anything else. Life is hectic. I read snippets of things here and there and think, what in the world. 

Celebrities provide me with much material to write about. They also provide inspiration through music, fashion or even their words. I mean whoever doesn't think that Lionel Richie didn't speak to them at one point or another is just high on fructose corn syrup. 

Everyone is all a buzz about the new Brandy Glanville book. If you haven't heard she's the chick whose husband had an affair with Leann Rimes. Now listen I love me some housewives no doubt. I myself most days have no filter but I also know when to zip the lips. Yes, I get it. I also know what its like to have been cheated on. Was I hurt? Yes, did I want to tell the world his penis had gross ingrown hairs and he secretly had a foot fungus, yes. But when you have children, you learn to shut your trap with class. This woman's children although I am sure loved by both parents, will get to read this and watch all of the things she is saying. And if you ask me the crazy one is her by opening her mouth every five minutes about it. Move on. She spoke the other night about having a threesome.. And so let me get this straight, you allowed another woman into your relationship and then was surprised he boinked someone else? Uh, I am confused. My point is, I can't imagine you were perfect seeing the way you act now has to be a glimpse of how you could be. I had to face the fact that sometimes it happens. You too are at fault. There was a breakdown. Did I deserve it? No. Relationships change. People cheat. It sucks. But there have been many people who took the high road in Hollywood... Sandra Bullock, Jennifer Aniston, Robert Pattinson, Jackie Kennedy and the list goes on. The truth is you are not any different just because of your zip code or status. But really class and your children's thoughts should be your first priority. You love them and will never say anything bad about their father yet you "write" it. Makes not a lick of sense. This is also a woman who said her vagina was damaged by her ex and had surgery on it. I am going to give you the southern Bless Your Heart. 

This Jodi Arias trial is the talk of the town. I honestly had no clue until last week who or what it even was. I live in a land of Disney Channel people. So I got a little caught up reading and watching. I am fairly certain I am lost. But let me see if I get it. This woman stabbed him over 30 times, slit his throat, shot him and then pulled his body to the bathtub and left? Oh, and the kicker it was self defense? Umm, let me know how this goes because that's just crazy talk. Self defense is you shoot, stab or hit then run away then call the police to help you. But then again, what is the definition of anything in our justice system anymore ie..OJ Simpson and Casey Anthony..point taken.

Kim Kardashian got a blood facial.. what a winner. That's about all I can say for that. Well, I lied. We all want to live a long time. We all especially women want to be wrinkle free, do what we can to preserve our youthfulness. But here's the deal..you dummy. You can stuff it and tuck it all you want. Your still going to get wrinkles. Your hands are going to show age, your going to get the droops. You can't preserve yourself forever and if you keep it up you will look like one of those Phantom of the Opera masks. It's life. I slap on the wrinkle cream and do my best to look good but the sad part is I don't' have a blue million dollars to nip and tuck and no matter what i do, I am still getting older. I have little age spots, little droops of skin and guess what? All I can say is thank you God for letting me be here to experience it. 

That's my around town BS. I wanted to speak my mind on the current events going on. I am certain I will be considered for a position on The View.

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

I Am Not A Bee

Monday madness. That's what the end of the weekend brings. How was your weekend? Mine was uneventful except, well, let me just tell the story. 

I woke up early Saturday morning because my 14 year old beast dog, Mille needed to go outside. She apparently has no sense of time because this is a frequent occurrence that she needs to crap at 3 am. You really have no choice but to get up if not she will bark and bark or she will just crap on the floor. I mean it sucks being ninety eight. 

I walked back to bed and began to itch. I thought maybe it was just dry skin. This winter has been a bitcharoo on my skin. So, of course I scratch. I finally go back to sleep and I wake up in the morning about 7 am and make coffee and clean up the kitchen a bit. I noticed my butt was itching and then my the sides of my torso, my ears and then the back of my neck. I chalked it up to a night sweat and needed a shower because people in their forties sometimes do this or it could have been that the temp in the house was 75. What can I say I was freezing my baguettes off. A couple of hours later I draw water to wash a few dishes. I start doing the woman duties and I noticed my hands were bright red. The water was hot but no different than usual. Then it hit, the itch on my hands almost drove me insane. The palms of my hands were bright red, blotchy and starting to swell. 

So I go to my trusty iPad and look up "red itchy palms" and it pops up, Hives. Say what? Hives! What the heck is that? I read further and then look at pictures. And low and behold it has to be hives. I got the hives. Like I had leprosy or something. As soon as I figured out that's what it was it was almost like a bug crawling all over you, I started to itch all over. Even my knee caps itched. I took a benedryl and it started to get better. But my hands still itched even between my fingers. Where or how did I get hives? I still haven't figured it out. It is either the laundry detergent which I have almost narrowed it down to that since I was folding clothes and my hands started to swell and get itchy blotchy again or it could be an antibiotic I was taking. I have no idea. All I know is I have been scratching like a flea infested hound dog and apparently the hot water makes it worse. I am almost to the point of asking someone to lift my hair and spread that flea guard liquid on my neck and down to my butt like you do an animal. 

I am going to give it about hmmm, another day and then its off to the doctor I go. Thank goodness it hasn't spread to my face nor have I had trouble breathing but I would pay a person $1000 dollars to use a wire brush to scratch my body. I can only pop so many pink pills because it knocks me out. And believe me, I am not producing honey from these hives. So, we will see. Here's hoping it goes away quickly. I don't want people to think I have the mange with all the scratching. Anyone else had these and can tell me a remedy..like quick?

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Blogapalooza

Good Tuesday! Well, its Tuesday, is it supposed to be good? Four more days until the weekend. Ask me on Thursday if Tuesday is good. Last week, I wrote a post about being flabbergasted. I am a lazy ass and won't put the link to it, just go search and find it. Hell, it's just a few clicks away. I said I would write about things that you asked and I am going to address the blogging, books and egos. Please be aware that this is my story and I am sticking to it. If you don't agree. Okee dokee, it's just my opinion.

First, the subject of bloggers writing a book on blogging. It's pretty obvious that I don't have the stats as some of these other bloggers. Sorry, I don't buy my followers with giveaways. I also don't have thousands of followers. I am not going to deny I wish I didn't because I still want people to come to my blog because its a lifestyle of every day living and real life not that I am giving away a bubble necklace and a J Crew gift card but the fact of the matter is I don't campaign enough to do so. I respect the fact that bloggers do giveaways for stats and followers. I 100 percent get it. I just hate the game of it. Does it mean I won't ever do it? No. I actually asked a big blogger the other day if they ever ask these people after they follow if they followed them back and the answer is No. So, if the answer is No then why would these people be an authority on blogging? Well, at some point you have to ask yourself if you have 5000 followers and 40 comments, then do the math. But that's the way they want it. But to tell me or someone how to do it, isn't really an exact science. Everyone has their own method and truthfully if you don't have  thousands and I am talking in the 10,000 range of followers or have been blogging for less than a year and you want to tell me this is the formula? I ain't got time for that shit. It takes many hours of honest interaction and participation in more than a giveaway to become an expert on blogging. I blog because its fun. I read because its fun. But if I do give something away, I want you to come back. Gift cards and material things isn't what my blog is totally made up of. Anyone wanting to start a blog, I say go for it. It takes work, it takes time but it also makes friends. 

Even if you get 4 comments its worth it. It will eventually connect. Connect with all social media. I remember I got the runs when I joined Twitter because I thought the CIA would now know everything about me. That I had signed the rights over to my child and I would have to scan my pupil to enter my home. I used to post at night and I realized that if I posted in the morning all the stay at home moms who fed their boob babies are down for naps, the other rugrats are off to school, and the three minutes of yum yum you gave the husby is over and out like getting gas at the Texaco. They have all the free time in the mornings before they start cleaning the house like mad women on crack, going off to the gym for a workout, planning the menu and plopping in a rump roast before the boobs fill back up, the rugrats come home and daddy is horny as a goat again. 

But remember don't be delusional to think if in 4 months you have all these followers after participating in a giveaway with other bloggers or by yourself that people love you or are coming back to see you. We are vulchers and in this economy Free is free bitches.

What I am trying to say is this.. I am sure there are people that have the authority to write a book on blogging. That there are people that are very successful at what they have done but its been a little longer than a year and a few thousand followers. I think collectively we all have our own way to blog. But to be completely honest, why not just ask for the help. These girls or guys have email addresses. If they don't answer your question, try someone else. Someone will eventually give a rats ass about what your asking and help out. Why would I want to pay $24.99 for a book when I can email for free? It seems to me that they would obtain more followers publishing it on their blog anyway. And if all else fails and you don't get the answer you want via email, I suggest you take a picture of your middle finger, scan it and send it back with a message that says, " I love your blog so much that my middle finger gets a boner every time I read it."

This is my two cents on blogging, books and egos. Sounds like a good breakfast combo.

Goodness I said it without filter again. Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Happy Love Day

It's that time again. Valentines Day. Where in the next nine months there will be a baby boom because some lucky lady got diamonds, flowers, chocolates and everything she wanted or some unlucky dude got totally wasted because he was feeling sorry for himself, paid for a cheap ass hooker and got an STD. Either way someone is getting lucky.

In the mean time, I want to say Happy Love Day. I have tons of you as my Valentines and I love each of you for coming here everyday and showing support for this madness.

Hugs and kisses,

Dusty

The Vajay Didn't Do It

Hello, everyone my name is Ian, or the artist better known as The Kid. Today is my birthday. I am 8 years old. My mom will tell you that she loves me to the moon and back and that I am the best gift she ever has received. But really she wants to tell you the truth. She had me via C-section. She was big as a whale. And nobody told her that even though she didn't give birth vaginally it still didn't stop her vajay from swelling up like two pieces of Texas toast. Nobody told her that she would be carved open like a pumpkin on Halloween and that all her vital organs would rest on her chest like a Fourth of July cookout grill just to get me out. But its all good. So, I want to share some pictures of me and I thought I would let her in on a few secrets. You know the kind you don't tell your mother. 

I used to drink alot. I have sense recovered.

Back then it was all about the hair

and being high on fructose corn syrup

I have always been a chick magnet, girls dug me

my style was impeccable 

but now that I am growing up, duh

I should be mature, what a joke

and grow up to be a respectful man

Whatever, I just want to be 8 years old. But I tell my mom everyday that I love her to the moon and back. She says that behind every good man is a good mom who raised him. She loves me. She's my biggest fan. So without my mom and dad doing the cupid shuffle, I wouldn't be here. Happy Birthday to me, Ian Gage probably known when I get older as Stud Muffin.