Monday, September 26, 2011

Blog 45...Passing Chicken Fucker Status (CFS)

Blog 45...Passing Chicken Fucker Status (CFS)

Right after I left my husband, a few years ago...I lost control...I passed chicken fucker status one night (I was a real dumb ass that night) and my friends called me out on it. And while it really pissed me off (so much that I decided to leave Eugene) it is exactly what I needed. And years later I can look back and think how much I needed that slap upside the head, that wake up call...and how me leaving Eugene...helped me become the person I really am...a Princess...and if I haven’t told you all thank you, THANK YOU...times 11. I learned, I grew...and it is in part, due to you, just being honest.

And we all know I pride myself on being honest. And in life, friendships and relationships are full of ups and downs, it is important to always state how you feel, why you are mad, and move on...

I guess it sucks for anyone that I get mad at, cause unfortunately, I am going to air my grievances in my diary, which other people read...maybe you will all think twice before you piss me the fuck off...just saying.

And this last week, in one evening, I had two ex-boyfriends pass CFS, and it is not okay.

And we are supposed to be friends.

And if you all are really my friends, you will understand why I am upset and our friendship will grow from here...if not, at least I was honest with my feelings...

And if you all get upset at me for writing about this, I understand, and I am really time you all might think before being a dumb ass...

Dumb Ass Story #1...

After finishing a lovely day with a wonderful lady of walking, talking, exploring and music with good food along the way, I should have called the day an accomplishment and gone home (dumb ass move on my part...Hey, if you call other people out, you got to be able to call yourself out)

But an ex-boyfriend of mine and some mutual friends were in town and wanted to dance and I always like to dance, and I missed my I was in.

And the dancing was great (when is my dancing not great)...but the after party at my house was the downfall.

First off, I have psoriasis, and while it is in remission, I would like to keep it that way, so a lot of partying I can’t do, and am kinda over it anyway. And you all can party all you want, that is fine, I don’t mind just watching and hanging with good friends...

But when you come over to my apartment that I work my ass off to have, is my sanctuary and my home, and you trash the place have passed chicken fucker status.

Now I can not pinpoint exactly when the CFS was crossed, maybe it was when you asked if you should buy crack (there are only two rules to my crack and no tenderloin shoes on the the answer was a firm no, and I should have had them leave then) Maybe it was when they got a whole “master case” of whip its for just the two of them, maybe it was when they started to toss the empty whip its on my floor even though I have given them each a bucket.

It could have been when they did not even notice that I went out into my hall to deal with Dumb Ass #2 for a whole hour on the phone, or that when I came back I was a balling mess...when I was dealing with said phone call my picture of my dog Kesey got knocked over and my massage oil spilled over a pile of my JBG tapes...

Maybe it was when the ex-boyfriend passed out drooling on my chair and his friend made a pass at me, when I gave him "the look" he proceeded to go puke in my bathroom.

Now CFS had been passed at this point, and as Pukey McPukester barfed with the bathroom door open (ohhhh what beautiful, harmonious sounds) I shook the ex and told him that himself and homie had to vacate the apartment asap. He answered by inhaling a whip it and passing out again, just as his friend tried to sit on my bed.

He looked shocked when I told him his “puke-stained-ass” was not to come 2 feet of my fucking bed.

As the ex-boyfriend finally stirred and kicked over my brand new record anger and frustration boiled up in me and made my eyes turn to fire...”Get the fuck out of my fucking house...NOW!!!”

The ex texted me to ask what had happened the next morning, I only told him that he kicked over my record player...he texted back, “I don’t blame you”...I am keeping my fucking mouth shut on that one...but...

***Darlin, you have been my friend, and thank you, thank you so much for being their every time I needed you, let me be your fucking friend...
Do something with your fucking life. Your are damm lucky to have the money that you are blessed to have and instead of throwing it away on frying your fucking brain why don’t you do something to help people, help your fucking friends, you could employ all of us, help us all reach our dreams, if you actually saw your potential, and didn’t think that you having money gave you a right to be fucking rude to people and talk to them like shit...and having money does not give you a right to act like a complete fool...
We all like to have a good time...but did you not learn anything from our friend that just died...can you not see that you are worth so much more...don’t you want to do something more with yourself ***

Dumb Ass Story #2...

I have always told the boys, “I know you ryder going to miss me when I’m gone”...and yet, they always forget that is how the song goes...

It is not my fault that you had over a year to commit to me, to treat me right, to tell me that you loved me every day, and you chose not to.

That is not my fault...and there are no amount of flowers, trips or sorrys that can wash that away.

But you know what can be washed away, the confusion I was feeling over my choice...when you pass CFS.

I still can’t believe your dumb ass called me drunk at 2:30am, while you are driving...and you made me plead with you for an hour to get off the fucking road.

Ladies and Gentlemen: I do not drive...for many reasons, but mostly, cause I am scared shitless that I am going to be a dumb ass and hurt someone else’s child.

If you do not have enough self-love for yourself to care if you die, care about the person just trying to get home who you might hurt or our friend driving across country...or the people that care about you, that would be so upset if you were gone from their lives.

How can I put faith in my future with a man when he does not think of the consequences to his actions?

Reckless abandonment just isn’t my thing.

Don’t ever fucking call me drunk and make me worry about you like that...that is some fucked up mother fucking shit right there...times 11.

***Darlin, I love you, always will, but you are not capable of loving me the way I need to be love...I owe you so much, you taught me how to love again when I had shut myself off, to be content...and I thank you...but loving me is a responsibility that you are far from ready for, and is something I can not teach, but is something that you have to learn...I really hope you learn from this...because your potential is breathtaking***

Dumb Ass Story #3...

That’s me folks...But I am trying to write the situation☺

I should have followed my gut all along, and I didn’t. I knew I didn’t want that kind of excess in my house, I should have never let it in...and I should know that I shouldn’t have to tell a man how I want to be treated, he should just treat me the way I want to be treated right off the bat.

I pass CFS when I let myself continue in cycles of finding myself in situations I don’t want be in.

I break free of CFS when I learn my lesson, address my potential and go from there.

And we all might pass CFS many times in our life, but it is the lessons learned from those times that mold us along the way.

I have always said, “I am a not yet a Queen, only a Princess, for I have many more lessons to learn.”

I am getting closer though, I must say...



Walk up to the tree, and in your left hand hold the imaginary bucket...with your right hand, reach up and grab the apple, try to twist, crap that thing is on tight, pull, pull...whooooo, finally got it, into the bucket it goes, and repeat, until your bucket starts to weigh you down on one should really try an apple and lighten your load...Big bite time, oh man, the juice is going down your face and arms, wipe that shit of with your sleeve...those apples are so good you won’t even have to ask anyone,

“How you like them apples...”

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Blog 44..."I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love." (Music is my Church...Part Two)

Blog 44...”I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love.”(Music is my Church...Part Two)

(Blog 25 is Music is my Church...Part One)

Donny Hathaway sings...

”People who believe in music are the happiest I’ve ever seen”

Last year at Christmas time, I went with my dad to his office, he was showing me some stuff for my apartment I might want and I lifted up a blanket. Hidden underneath were approximately 250 vinyl records...they smelled musky and had dust almost a ½ inch thick, as I started to pull them out, my knees began to buckle...Otis Redding, Rolling Stones, George Duke, Joe Crocker, Herbie Hancock, Donny Hathaway, 1947 Jazz Festival...and so much more.

As I turned to my dad, not really being able to speak, he saw me looking at the records and told me he had been keeping them for over 15 years, he knew he shouldn’t throw them away, but didn’t know who would want them.

I shouted, “I WANT THEM”

My dad told me to stop yelling and that I was going to make him deaf...he asked where the hell I was going to put all these records in my small ass studio.


With his hands over his ears, my dad shouted, “But you don’t even have a record player.”

I waved my hand to imply that I did not give a fuck and began to haul the vinyl out to the car.

And in my apartment they have sat...waiting for the right moment...Once in a while I would pull them out and caress them, pondering what they sounded like, yearning to evaporate notes from them, wishing I could hold them and make them sing...
And then this last weekend, I was exhausted and broke and confused...

Having worked 3 doubles and waiting on a check that finally arrived today (whooo hooo) and my heart feeling like it is being pulled in two directions (does one try to work out the problems of the past where love is true even though they seem to take so much effort or does one leap into the promises of the new that seems to give you all that you thought was missing but it is still a huge leap of faith...or does one just drop it all and forget about love for awhile)...I needed some clarity and I needed it desperately.

One of my customers at work came in with a record player and as I took their order (I had to take it twice cause I was paying no attention to them only the record player) I realize what I had to do.

With only a $100 to my name I walked home, and I passed one of those crazy “all you can eat electronic stores” on Market St.

I walked in and waited for someone to help me, I then told the sales dude that I needed a record player...he took me to the correct section.

There cheapest one was $169...

“But papi, I need a record player and I don’t have that kind of money, can you give me any kind of deal, I need, need this, music is my church and I am missing so many sermons...”

He responded with “$120”

I told him I could not pay more than $80 (I needed some money to eat) I would get a floor model, whatever, I did not care, I just wanted to be able to play my records...I finished with a “please papi, please.”

He looked me up and down, took a breath, and said “Okay mami, but I am making no money off of this, but I can are good inside, it shines through, $80, no tax, don’t tell anyone.” (crap...did I just break that deal, well you still all don’t know exactly where I got it from.)

As I hugged him goodbye and repeated “thank you” numerous times...He simply smiled a huge smile and told me to “enjoy”

I told him I would not let him down.

I walked home through the Tenderloin, record player in hand, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary (hey remember, anything can be used as a weapon in the Tenderloin and you have go to be prepared.) I felt a calmness come over my mind, I felt the breaths I was taking all the way down to my toes...

And even though I had to go to another job, I took some time to plug in the record player and grabbed a Joe Crocker album and rested on my bed and listed to the music and had it take me away, if even for a brief moment in time. And in that moment, my troubles of the heart seemed to disappear, and I felt energized and intoxicated at the same time (kinda like an espresso martini makes me feel, whoooo haaaaaaaa and kick)

I left for my other job and over the next few days any chance I got I put on records, and just closed my eyes...and simply melted away.

And all the confusion of my heart lead to some sort of writer’s block and my head seemed filled with too many ideas to be able to express eloquently how I was feeling, how I felt torn, baffled and confused.

So I did what I always do when I need to find my path, I put on music, the record I grabbed was Donny Hathaway...I was kinda zoned out for the first couple of songs (I do have some killer hash) And as I came to a new song had begun, and Donny’s voice encompassed the air I was inhaling and his music spread through my body...”I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love...I Believe in Music, I Believe in Love.”

And as he continued to sing... my writer’s block lifter and it became so very obvious what I was to write about.

It also became quite clear that my matters of the heart would work out the way they were going to, and that instead of stressing about them, I should simply let them unfold, let time take it’s course.

Because I have faith.

I know that no matter how this love story ends, I am going to be okay...Because not only do I believe in music & not only do I believe in love, but I believe in me...

And no matter what choice I make, it is going to be the right one because it is going to be the one that makes me happy...

Yes Music is my Church, and I believe that...

“Music is the universal language and love is the key...So take your brother by the hand and sing along with me...I believe in Music, I believe in Love.”

Sometimes you just need to go to church to be reminded of how strong your faith is.

I believe.



This dance move is ohhhhhh so simple and works in so many situations...

Put your arms out at 90 degree angles, start to move them ever so slightly but rapidly up and down, now start to hop from one foot to the other, still moving arms franticly...who is are!!! And now everybody knows cause you have done the dance.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Blog 43...Princess Dating 101 (Dating Diaries Prologue)

Blog 43...Princess Dating 101 (Dating Diaries Prologue)

As I find myself slowly stepping completely back into the dating world (I was never really out...I think a non-committed relationship just confuses the fuck out of me...and sometimes people can't love each other the way we need to be loved) I am quite tempted to yell “Dating Restriction” and hang out in my most awesomeness of a bubble...

But this time, I actually feel ready, cleansed and this might have something to do with the fact that I just got out of the shower...but who knows.

And its not like I am not going to go on dates (remember the quality of my ass here peeps) So I might as well embrace it...but maybe I can lay out some ground rules so I’m not writing about a homie calling me and telling me he is masturbating to me sitting on his face again. (Dating Diaries Part One and Two are Blogs 7 & 24)

Anyhoo...Let us break this shit down...

-Smelling good is important shit...showering should not be forgotten, nor should brushing teeth. I am not about to kiss a man at 10pm at night who has 10am coffee breath...gum, mints...all great things that man has invented for a reason.

-You all should ask me out, and not the other way around, you want me, you have to pursue me...I am a princess here people...totally.

-And don’t play that waiting to call or text shit with me, I WAIT FOR NO MAN, and by the time you do finally call me, I will have moved want me to be interested in you, you must hold that interest. Remember, with me, slacking is not an option.

-I am a total ding dong, and will probably drop something, spill, knock something over or say something totally stupid...I embrace that shit, and you should to, whether I do it or you do it...

-Cell phones on a date, not okay, and if you do have to take it, say, “pardon me” and step outside (can you believe I even have to write this one)

-Please for the love of all that is holy, if we are out at a nice restaurant do not burp at the table or look at me and say you have to “go take a dump” I am eating here, or was.

-I do not want to go out with God. This one guy hit on me this weekend and I asked what he did and he said he “ran the world”...I responded by telling him that I was a princess, tee hee hee. He returned with, “Well I run computers, and computers run the world...soooo.”...I then told him I only fucked chickens and thanked him for my drink.
(I can’t compete with God.)

-Silence is okay. Sometimes when I am really enjoying being with someone I just close my eyes and think about how content I am...and while I enjoy good conversation, I truly enjoy a non-awkward silence.

-Don’t talk shit on my City. You don’t like it, you should have taken me to dinner in Napa, not my fucking fault...Remember some key notes, I was born and raised here, my family still lives in the same house I grew up in, and I chose to come back here to rebuild my life, you talk shit on the city, you talk shit on me, and I will have nothing to do with that action...

-Don’t invite me out to dinner than give me shit for ordering a nice glass of wine. If you didn’t want me to get the nice glass of wine you should of not taken me somewhere that has a 1998 Chateau Puy la Rose from Pauillac by the glass...some shit I can not say no to...

-And I do expect to be taken out to dinner...that is proper, and you should know I am all about being fucking proper. But dinner doesn’t have to be a fancy ass place (I am not by any means saying I do not like to go out to fancy places, I mean The Boulevard is my favorite restaurant in the world...times 11...bring an extra pair of panties when you go there) See, prior to leaving my ex-husband almost three years ago, I had never been taken out to dinner, (or courted) and anytime I get taken out to dinner now, I am fucking thankful as all hell, because it really means something to me. It is a reminder to me on how far I have come and how much I have grown...and it’s proper.

-I will not hump on the first date.
May I repeat that I am a base girl...First date, first base...I don’t even like to get all crazy until I am ready to hump, cause then I just get turned on and have to say no cause then dude gets all pushy and why even get all awkward like that...when we are ready to hump, we’ll get just should be right.

-Therefore...there is not need to be lude and gross on the first asking if I will gargle your balls (I left that date) no asking me about sexual positions and fantasies...I am trying to eat here...can someone please remember.

-Send you know the song? There is something to be said for giving or sending a lady flowers...or just being just gets you so much farther with the me.

***My dad brings my mom fresh flowers every week so she can wake up every morning and see how much he loves her...this might be a reason I think I am a Princess, my dad treats my mom like the fucking queen that she is, and I have watched their love only grow. He freakin cuts the tree in front of the house in the shape of a heart so when she comes home she knows how much he loves her, for their 20th anniversary he had a plane fly around my mom’s work (the school I was attending) that had trailing behind it...”Daragh, Happy 20th Anniversary, I love You, Neal.” For their 35th, he wrote her a love poem, had it framed and put it on her, can you guess...she knows how much he loves her everyday...
And my dad pretty much does what ever he wants, cause he lets my mom do what she wants but everyday they let each other know how much they love each other...whether it’s the love notes or the dinner my mom cooks for my dad each night.
...Yes mom and dad, you have fucked me and any man who tries to date me...
But then again, I will not settle for anything but the very best.***

-Sometimes a date leads to just a great friendship, and that is okay too. In fact that is more than okay, I am a great fucking friend...and that shit is way less complicated...totally.

And a date is about getting to know someone, to see if there is something more...if you are just trying to hump...don’t waste your money on dinner, be fucking will get a NO (95% of the time) but you will get my respect for being fucking honest...which puts you in the higher percentile...maybe not the top five though...but good luck, and props for being fucking honest.

Cause that is what I am all about.

Wish me luck as I continue on my adventures, I am sure Diaries, Tales & Chode Hunts will follow (Blog 31)

And all good things come to those who wait, thank god I am in this waiting room with me...cause I fucking crack me up...totally.

Class is dismissed.



Champagne is good shit, and an let’s open this bottle...start by undoing the foil, it’s good when you can unravel the whole thing. Now un-twist the twisty thingy that holds down the cork it is time to pop the cork, usually you want to put a towel over it, but remember, you can be a ding dong, this is one of those times, and DUCK, wow, that cork went far as that is why we use the towel, and incase it bubbles over (some lessons you need to be reminded of from time to time)...fuck it, it’s open...time to pour and enjoy...Cheers & Sparkles

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Blog 42...The Birth of a Princess...

Blog 42...The Birth of a Princess...

Sometimes when I go through a tuff day or a hard week, I think back to darker I can appreciate how far I have come and to shed light on my troubles...sometimes thoughts of the past can make any current situation just seem simple.

And while I try to keep my writings funny and full of humor, please note, this is not one of those blogs.

Life is not always about unicorns, sparkles, and rainbows (shhhhh, don’t tell anybody)...there is loss and sorrow and pain, yet from those comes strength and the ability to see a dawn breaking from where fog lingers.

This is the story of my best friend.

A couple days after I attended Ken Kesey’s funeral (if I have not mentioned it before, this was one of the most life changing and profound days in my life...the lessons I learned.) my ex-husband and I had decided to get a puppy. We decided on a Japanese Mastiff properly known as a Tosu Inu. At eight weeks old the hips of this dog rested on my shoulder and if I held my arm out straight, his chest rested in my hand...oh yes, he was my big man.

I said we must name him Kesey...and then whispered in his ear, “You have big shoes to fill.”...he licked me on the face and nuzzled me, answering my statement, without words.

Kesey grew to be 230lbs of the most amazing dog that you have even seen. And he was my man.

People would comment about how obvious it was that I was this dog’s world...his eyes & ears would follow me around the room, he would be waiting after every shower I took (and remember, I shower a shit ton) to lick the water off my legs and own personal shower mat. He would spoon me when I went to bed or napped, on arm around me, he pulled me close and as he dreamed he nibbled my ear. We would dance...I would put music on, he would put his hands on my shoulders and rest his chin on top of my head and we would go around the kitchen.

Kesey’s love for me was unconditional.

For most of Kesey’s life I owned the restaurant, and worked without a day off. I would try to come home to cuddle, do work from the house, or take him to the restaurant (that was his favorite, because he was the most handsomest of handsomes, and oh the attention he would get)...but my time with him was so limited and sometimes I was so stressed it was just hard for me to deal with any one or thing.

Since his time as a puppy, Kesey had a problem with one leg, this bone-bump-thingy, but it never seemed to bother him and the vet said it was nothing.

One day I was walking Kesey and I noticed him limping on that leg...after a week of it not getting better, I took him to the vet. After some tests and x-rays I was told he had cancer, and about a month to live.

He was four and a half years old.

I spent the next two weeks sleeping with my big man on the kitchen floor, encouraging him to hop up so he could use the bathroom, cheering when he had accomplished his mission, and this time around, it was I that spooned him. And I simply held him, as much as I could...I told him how sorry I was for being so busy, how I wished I could take it all back, to just be with his love was the most important thing in this was so pure.

He awoke one morning and I helped him up and outside, as I cheered him back in he stopped in his tracks and looked me in the eyes, the gaze pierced my soul, and I knew.

I awoke my husband and told him we were going to take Kesey to the vet, we had to put him down. He said with earnest that we had two more weeks, I told him “this is not up for discussion, it is time.”

It took four of us to get big man on the stretcher, as we wheeled him in one of the vets whispered in my ear, “You are doing the right thing.”

And I held my best friend as he took his last breath, and as it exhaled out of him, clarity slapped me in the face.

I was alone.

I was in a marriage that had no eternal love. Neither of us loved ourselves, we had stopped enjoying life long ago due to the restaurant and we were both exhausted.

My dad sent me a card on the front was a quote from Rumi...”The true lover is the one who on your final day, opens a thousand doors.”

Inside the card, my dad had written, “Kesey will be missed. He was a great friend...maybe, also...In his dying he reminds us to embrace life and to do our best while we are here.”

As I read it (as I do each morning for it is on my mirror with a picture of my big man) the sting of clarity slapping me in the face finally numbed...and I realized what I had to do.

I went to my husband and told him I was unhappy, that the restaurant was killing our marriage. I asked if we could sell it and move away and start over, I could figure out what I wanted to do and he could still be a great chef, we just wouldn’t have all this stress.

He told me “No”...that he did not believe in me, that the restaurant was his dream, what he wanted and he was not leaving it.

I called my parents and said I needed to speak to them right away...I went down for a night, it is then I talked to my mom about leaving my husband, and she gave me the advice “To give it 150% and you will either save it or be pissed off enough to leave.”

For the next six months I truly gave it 150%...I convinced him to close the restaurants on Mondays so we could have a day off, the economy crashed, I encouraged us to change the menu to work with the economy and pushed to get the local newspaper to do an article on it, which we got the front page of the Friday Business Section. I got us a cabin on the coast for his birthday, he canceled at the last minute, we had date nights. We planned to see my family for Thanksgiving...the entire time down to see them he yelled at me, about how we always had to spend holidays with my family, the people who had helped us buy our house and our restaurant, his dream. I breathed and decided to just shut my mouth, and enjoy it, that this would be our last holiday. I made plans to go see my family for Christmas without him. On Christmas Eve, I told my mom I was leaving him when I returned. I flew home one Christmas night so I could spend it with him. He was late picking me up from the airport. I was on my elliptical on December 28th when he brought me a potted tulip and said “Merry Christmas”

I told him it was “To little, to late………I want a divorce.”

And I hit bottom many a time as I crawled away from my marriage, and I still do not see the top of this mountain, but man, is it a beautiful hill.

And if Kesey had never died, I would probably still be married, I don’t think I would have found the strength to leave.

He gave me the ultimate sacrifice to make me happy.

His last breath became my inner light.

And I miss my friend.

My friend who on his final day, opened the doorway to my self-love...

For my self-love is one of my key components to my being a princess.

My friend, you did not die in vain...thank you, for making



I am always antsy for bread at a restaurant, I feel like it is the first impression, and how are they going to get antsy, this usually means kinda shaking from side to side...ohhh, you have the view seat, here it comes, maybe a little clap is in order when it arrives...okay, now tear off your piece of bread with authority, and grab the butter knife. Is it the salted butter (that shit is the best) you spread the butter on the bread, butter is an awesome thing, don’t be scared of it...spread some more...bite...oh yeahhhhhh...sometimes, the simplest things...when done right...

makes the best dance.