For the past week I've been digging for some light-hearted rantspiration because I feel as if I'm constantly like damn girl, why you gotta be so dark all the time though? Lighten up yo. Except I haven't used the word "yo" since I was 12 when I also used to force my handwriting to resemble… Continue reading Confessions of a Broken Bride
Tag: #mom
UPDATE!!!! re: “An Unhappy Mom With Things To Say”
If you follow my Instagram account then you would already know that my son is back at the fighting gym and is now on the "blue team". No later than 2 days after having sent that email, (if you are completely lost that's cool you can read it here) I received this response: Hi Ely,… Continue reading UPDATE!!!! re: “An Unhappy Mom With Things To Say”
The Coolest Flocking Flamingle Like EVER.
"Hi! I'm Ely... the stepmom!" [insert fake smile] "Welcome! Oh this must be... [insert pause while I fake-patiently await oversized raging hormonal pre-teen number 37's name. Also- what the hell are these kids eating? Are they all on steroids?! They're giants! 6 foot tall little boys and 12 year old girls on their periods everywhere… Continue reading The Coolest Flocking Flamingle Like EVER.
An Unhappy Mom With Things To Say
Word for word. That's how I graced the subject line of the e-rant that I just electronically shipped to the manager of the gym where my son has been receiving mixed martial arts training for the past 3 months.You already know that this title was well fucking calculated. I'm sure this guy gets TONS of… Continue reading An Unhappy Mom With Things To Say
The Results Are In. Facebook… You ARE The Mother
I don't know if it may be that Mother Nature is having a hormonal tantrum, or if perhaps global warming is to blame, or if there was like a catastrophic sperm-storm that hit every other uterus here in Miami and who knows where I was (thank God) but literally, I feel like I'm being ambushed… Continue reading The Results Are In. Facebook… You ARE The Mother
3 Years of Tiers and Tears
First off, let me just say this. CAKE IS NOT "EASY AS CAKE". Whoever said that- fuck her. Or him. Cake is straight up HARDCORE mafia-level serious business. Not only is it an art, but it's a science. Every little detail matters. Whether or not you sifted your flour, what kind of flour you use,… Continue reading 3 Years of Tiers and Tears
The Cracked-Out-Unicorn That Could. or Couldn’t. Whatever.
Lately? It's like I'm either a cracked-out-unicorn pooping glitter and vomiting sunshine or an over-sedated, insomniac, depressed-about-being-depressed-about not-knowing-what-he's-depressed-about Eeyore (if you don't know who Eeyore is, we can't be friends. Good day sirs and ma'ms). Either way I'm some kind of horse, apparently. So that's just peachy. Unicorn or Eeyore. Horse or horse. (Shut up… Continue reading The Cracked-Out-Unicorn That Could. or Couldn’t. Whatever.
Little Letters To Astronomical Assholes: SuperCunt Stylist
Dearest SuperCunt Stylist; You don't know me. Not personally at least. We shared 15 minutes of mostly awkward time together and exchanged a few forced words that served to slay the dragon-sized silence that filled the space between us. But don't you worry because I'm confident that by the end of this letter you will… Continue reading Little Letters To Astronomical Assholes: SuperCunt Stylist
Twenty-Sixteen Twenty-Smitzsheen
I'm going to try my hardest NOT to make this a cliché "Looking back at 2015...." or "My hopes for 2016 are..." kinda post. Just no. First of all, 2016 is like in 9 hours and I'm pretty sure my life will not be drastically altered or "improved" in any fucking way by then. The… Continue reading Twenty-Sixteen Twenty-Smitzsheen
Vortex of Funk
I actually left work early today. Halle-fucken-luyah! Maybe...I told myself...just MAYBE my kids won't eat Burger King, Mac-n-Cheese, or cold hotdogs and chocolate chip cookies for dinner! A few minutes before I gathered my life back into my oversized bag, I sat at my desk listening to Rihanna complaining about collecting money from some bitch… Continue reading Vortex of Funk
