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She died of a wonky heart

mended_heart-10668Today is May 23, 2016.  Three weeks ago I went to the emergency room because I thought I had a bad ulcer.  I had a sharp pain in the middle of my chest that went all the way through to my back.  After an ultrasound and an EKG I was moved up to the ICU.  When I finally saw the doctor he told me that I had a minor heart attack and I have a left bundle branch block.  The technical definition is a condition in which there’s a delay or obstruction along the pathway that electrical impulses travel to make your heart beat. Basically that means that my heart is wonky and doesn’t beat right.  So, I survived my first heart attack. Now what?  Well, I have to go see a cardiologist next week to find out if I will have to have a pacemaker installed.  “Installed” probably isn’t the correct word to use.  It makes me sound like a cyborg.

Anyway, all this has, not surprisingly, opened my eyes to my mortality.  I’m only 41, but I guess all my years of drinking, smoking, stressing, eating good southern fried foods, and generally living like there’s no tomorrow, has finally caught up with me.  To put things into perspective, I actually went online last week and created my last will and testament.  Not that I have that much to leave anyone when I die, but what I do have I want to go to the right people.  Even after being in the hospital for a couple of days and having all kinds of tests run, I still wasn’t too worried about all this.  I even went right back to work. Gotta make that money y’all.

However, a week ago I had just went to bed and as I was just about to drift off to sleep I had this horrible feeling of falling into complete and utter darkness.  It was terrifying and not like anything I had ever felt before.  It took a few seconds but I knew I had to wake up and when I did it was with a gasp that scared me even more.  Maybe my heart stopped beating for a few seconds or maybe it was just a bad dream, but either way it scared the hell out of me.  It was so vivid and real that I wasn’t sure what to think of it.

Of course I have to think that if that is what dying feels like then it’s terrifying and I don’t really want it to happen. Or at least if it happens I hope I’m already asleep and don’t realize it’s happening.  I know I don’t really have much choice in the matter so I’m doing my best to not think about it.

I know I haven’t posted to this blog since January and that’s probably because when I’m happy I don’t have as much to bitch about. 😉  And I have been very happy here in Tennessee with Buck.  I found a great job that I’ve had for almost a year now, and even though it’s probably one of the most stressful jobs I’ve ever had, I still enjoy it.  Buck makes me laugh daily and I know he loves me very much.  We’re even planning on getting married in about a month. That’s something I never thought I’d do again, but I think he’s worth it.

So that’s all for now.  I hope I’ll be able to write again soon and to keep writing.  Writing on this blog has been my therapy and a joy for me for the past five years.  I appreciate all the wonderful and supportive and funny comments my readers have left me.  I hope I have many more years of writing left in me because my story is far from finished.

Love always,

Ginger

Peace, Love and Happiness

One night, while at the local watering hole with DC, one of her old high school friends  showed up.  She sat down with us and we started talking.  She told us about her kids, grand-kids, and all that good Southern small talk shit.  Then once we moved on to the topic of relationships, she dropped a bomb on us.  She has not had sex in ten, ten, years.  Oh my God.  I almost spit out my beer.

DC was also shocked, but she said that she had also gone years without before.  DC then noticed that I had turned pale and stopped breathing at the thought of not having sex for TEN years.  DC then asked me, “Well Ginger, what’s the longest you’ve ever gone?”  My answer, “six months.  Those were six of the longest months of my life.  DC then proceeded to laugh and snort, spitting out her Scotch, then saying, “That’s all? Six months?!”

So last week I went 4 days without sex.  Before that I went another four days without sex.  As of tomorrow I will have gone another four days.  If I can make it past day four I will have accomplished a tiny milestone towards my new goal.  Celibacy for one *cough* year.  I want to cry just typing that, and yes, I hang my head in shame.

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Shame, not from being embarrassed that I willfully choosing to become celibate, or that I probably won’t make it even three months, but that it’s come to this.  That I actually need to quit having sex cold-turkey because I have a serious problem.  You may think I’m just trying to be funny, but I’m not.  There are so many things that I’ve done that I couldn’t even write about on this blog because, even though this is anonymous, I was still so damn ashamed of myself that I couldn’t even to write about the awful things I had done.

So I’ve decided that since I’ve left so much out of my blog because I wasn’t proud of doing those things, I’m going to write about them while I’m suffering through my year of celibacy.  That way, I write more, I purge my sins, and you don’t get left out of the confessional loop any longer.

Call it a cleansing process.  I’m already about to have a panic attack just writing about it, and it hasn’t even been four days yet.  I plan to do anything necessary to stay celibate.  No more hanging out at the bar, getting drunk, flirting with strange men.  No more online dating websites.  Most of all, no more ex-lovers, ex-husbands, and ex-boyfriends tempting me by waving their cocks in my face.  No more dick-blindness.  SLUTS FOR A CURE.  So, there’s my half-assed plan on remaining celibate for ONE YEAR in search of inner-peace, self-love, and authentic happiness.

Peace, love, & happiness.

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Last Friday Night

Pop-music-alcoholSome nights just aren’t meant to go as planned.

Friday night was supposed to be a fun night out with friends.  It turned into one of the worst nights I’ve had in a long time.  It’s partially my fault.  I just don’t know when to say when, and I’m not just talking about alcohol.

It started out fine.  DC and I went to another local bar where Teacher was playing.  When we arrived there was a large table full of friends having dinner.  I knew most of them.  They’re a great group of people and they invited DC and I to join them.  Not long after we sat down, more friends showed up and joined us.  There were probably twenty of us in total.  We ate, drank, laughed, and enjoyed Teacher’s music.

One of the other people that showed up was Bacchus.  He brought a date and they joined us at the big table.  He and I had talked a few nights earlier about what might happen if I went Friday night and Viking was there, then if Mr. 7am showed up, then Paul Bunyan, and of course Teacher would be there.  It could potentially be one big cluster fuck.  Then Bacchus said “and then if you left with me.”  I thought it was funny and that the cherry on top would be me going home completely alone.  Turns out I wasn’t so wrong about that part.  More on that in a minute.

A little while later Teacher’s girlfriend, who I still think is the most bland person ever, showed up with her guy friend that was with her last time we were there.  She was sitting directly behind me at one of the pub tables, our backs to each other.  We never speak or even really make eye contact which is fine with me.  They didn’t stay long.

When DC and I went out to smoke the Viking showed up.  He said hello and went on inside.  The Viking is a guy who I’ve met a few times.  He’s also a friend of Teacher’s.  I saw him at another bar a few weeks ago when I was out with Bacchus.  We talked and had a good time.  Since the Viking and I were already friends on Facebook, I sent him a message the next day.  I told him it was good to see him and that maybe we could hang out sometime.  He agreed and said he’d let me know when he got back to town.  He works out of state.  Part of the reason I went Friday night was because I knew the Viking was going to be there.  I wanted the chance to talk to him more and maybe see if he was interested in hanging out more.

I had talked to Mr. 7am again on Wednesday, and he said he wanted to hang out this weekend so I told him he could just pick me up from the bar when he got off work.  I know I said I was going to stop seeing him, but I figured I’d give him one last chance.

He text me a little after 9:00 pm and said that he had to go home after work because he was going to get up early and cut grass before going back to work the next afternoon.  I was angry and hurt and embarrassed because I had let him do that to me yet again.  I told DC and she said I probably should give up on him because something just isn’t right with him.  I know she’s right and that’s what I should do.

tumblr_m7lajcEDVo1qchllgo1_500In my anger, I decided it was time to move on, so I changed my focus toward other pursuits.  I was no longer dickmatized and since Mr. 7am was no longer coming to the bar, I decided to try to talk to the Viking a little.  A bunch of us were outside smoking and talking and Viking sat down beside me.  We talked a little, mostly joking around and enjoying the crazy conversation that his friend and an old drunk man were having.  Things didn’t really seem to be going anywhere with him, so again, I decided to move on.

I had noticed the bar manager the few times that I’ve been to that bar, and I decided maybe I should give him a shot, just for kicks.  He did remember my name, even though I couldn’t remember his, but then again, most people find it easy to remember my name.  However, I wasn’t really in the mood to put any effort into him and quickly let that one go too.

The bar was getting ready to close so after one last beer I followed Bacchus and some others back to the room that he had gotten for the night.  That’s when the party really got going.  There were people in the room, outside the room, just everywhere.  I managed to have a really good time even though I wasn’t really on the prowl anymore at that point.  I was just having fun hanging out with everyone.

It did strike me a bit odd though that the Viking hooked up with the falling-down-drunk girl from a few weeks ago.  She seems nice, but evidently her standards are pretty low, as are his.  I was glad to have dodged that bullet once I saw how disturbing the “hook-up” looks from the outside.  They got caught making out in the back of a vehicle and then shortly after they left together.

tgif8So the numbers were falling but there was still a good crowd there hanging out.  I did manage to get into a conversation with the bar manager, and he seemed nice, but he also seemed to be stuck on the tall blonde bartender.  So again, I moved on.

Finally, we were down to the basics.  Just me, Bacchus, and Mr. & Mrs. Right.  They are friends that I met through Teacher and I adore both of them.  Eventually Mrs. Right decided it was time to go to sleep so she passed out on one of the beds in the room.  I was outside the room sitting on the tailgate of Mr. Right’s truck talking to him and some old drunk guy who disappeared at some point leaving Mr. Right and me to talk.

CqFOqHDHxZ8lAs we were sitting on the tailgate talking, I noticed that the curtain in the room was open about a foot.  Then I noticed the lights lower.  See, I forgot to tell you that Bacchus’ date had also passed out, on the other bed in the room.  She had been there for a few hours and was out cold.  While I was trying to be a good friend to Mr. Right and give him some relationship advice (I know I should not be giving relationship advice, so no comments on that one please) I saw something through the window that I wish I had never seen.

I was trying really hard to pay attention to Mr. Right talking to me, but it was very difficult considering I was watching Bacchus have sex with his date, with Mrs. Right asleep in the next bed less than four feet away, and I just couldn’t concentrate.  It was an odd mixture of shock, disgust, anger, and yet I couldn’t stop looking.  I was just praying that his date was actually conscious during it.  Otherwise, that would be pretty shitty of him.

So, there I was panicked and frozen sitting on the tailgate of a truck in a hotel parking lot watching my friend fuck some drunk woman (who told DC & I at dinner that she was married) while trying to give heartfelt advice to Mr. Right.  What a fucked up night it was.  It still makes my head spin just thinking about it.

To be true to the “confession” part of my blog, I have tried to be more than friends with Bacchus a couple of times, but only because he was flirting with me just as much as I was flirting with him.  He even came right out and told me one night that I’d have to make the first move.  I did and that turned out terrible.  He got scared and ran.  So that’s fine.  I think he makes a better friend anyway.

Wonderwoman_dodging_bullets_by_TopcowImage2dFI consider myself to be a good person.  Yes, I do bad things sometimes, but not terribly bad.  In general I’m a caring, compassionate, loving, smart, friendly person who tries to give people the benefit of the doubt.  So why is it that men keep choosing these skanks, plain janes, and old drunk whores over me?  Not that I really wanted any of those guys, but (and this is the narcissist in me coming out again) why would they not even try….or did they try and I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to take notice?  Either way, I’m so happy that I went home alone Friday night (the only part of the “plan” that actually went as planned).  I may not have felt that way when I first got home, but after a day or two of meditation and writing I realized where I stand with people and how many bullets I’d probably dodged.  So…yay me!

Happy humping & keep your options open, but watch out for those stray bullets!

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99 problems but a prick ain’t one

So, I had an interesting night.  It started out that I was just supposed to ride to a neighboring city to hear Teacher‘s band play.  I’m friends with a couple in the band and my friend Bacchus was nice enough to offer me a ride.  Everything was fine until I found out that TB was supposed to be going also.  TB, short for Talker Bitch, is batshit crazy and everything that comes out of her non-stop mouth reeks of bullshit.  I noticed all this when I first met her a week ago, but I was drunk and was trying to have an open mind and make some new friends.  Damn.  That was a terrible idea.

So she rides with us to the bar.  We get there and Teacher’s band hadn’t started playing yet, so he was outside smoking with all of us.  While we were there he made a snide remark about E.B. and asked what time he was coming.  I didn’t take to that very kindly and quipped back that I had a very heavy purse in my hand and his head makes for a very large bald target.  TB quickly got all hyped up and kept telling me that I shouldn’t let him talk to me like that.  First of all, it was a joke.  I knew that.  Given the opportunity and the right mood, I would probably have done the same thing.  No worries.  I was fine.

As the night progressed, and TB drank more beer, she became an attention whore to the tenth degree.  That was fine.  I was sitting at my little table drinking my Diet Coke and minding my phone.  Oh yeah, by the way, I was the designated driver, hence the “no alcohol for me” thing.  This was probably only the second time in my life that I have been assigned “Designated Driver” duties and I took it seriously…well, seriously enough.  I had one drink because someone brought it to me, but that was it.

We did listen to the band for a while once they started.  Teacher was awesome as always.  No surprise there.  Then during the break we went back outside to smoke.  Somehow during the conversation, TB came over to me, grabbed my hair, and pulled.  I almost lost it.  I said, “What the fuck! Not cool.”  Of course she and Bacchus tried to play it off.  She especially.  She said, “I didn’t pull it.  I just did like this.”  Then she proceeded to gently run her fingers though my hair.  That just made my temper flare even more.  Hasn’t this damn girl ever heard that you don’t fuck with a redhead?  She needs to be schooled.  I was tempted, but I didn’t school her.  Oh, my God, I wanted to choke the bitch.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.  I overcame.  I was proud of myself.

Then once back inside, there was this whole other drama with this meth head bitch who looked like Twiggy, if Twiggy was raised from the dead a hundred years from now.  But of course, a lot of the guys thought that she was easy prey and tried their best to get in her pants anyway.  Even though she was high as hell and crazy as hell.

Then there was the narcissistic chauvinistic fat-ass lawyer who thought he was hot shit.  He gave me the creeps big time.  I just backed away slowly and went back into the bar like a good little girl.

If all that wasn’t enough to kill my mood, then the next part completed it.

I walked inside to go to the bathroom.  The bar was closing up and Teacher was taking down the equipment.  He came up to me and said, “Would you mind driving me home?  I’d really appreciate it.”  Without thinking I said of course I would.  First, and I told him this, TB was about to give me an aneurism, and second I didn’t want him driving if he was drunk.  I do still care you know.

Well that didn’t go over too well with TB and Bacchus.  I honestly thought Bacchus would be ok to drive, but I guess I was wrong.  They got pissed.  I freaked out, but I didn’t let them know.  I said I’d see if Teacher would want to just ride with us.  So I went inside to tell him what was going on and he told me not to worry, just to take them home because I had already promised them.  FUCK.  Confession: I almost teared up when he told me to go ahead and take them home.  I’m not sure why.

I drove them back here.  I thought they were going to fuck in the backseat while I was driving the 45 minutes back, but that was mainly because that’s what happened the last time I was the “designated driver.”  I don’t think they did, and when we finally made it back I just wanted out.  We were waiting on her mom to meet us and pick her up, which was taking forever.  I was tempted to get out and just walk home from there, but I knew Bacchus wouldn’t let me do that.

Eventually, like this post, it all ended.  I got home, got some sweet tea, pulled out the laptop, and started writing this.  So there ya go.  Like the song says, ” I got 99 problems but a bitch prick ain’t one.”  She was definitely my top problem for the night.  No more TB for me.

Ahhhhhhhh.  Sweet silence.  It’s just you and me, girls & guys, just like it should be.

Happy (quiet) humping!

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P.S.  Yes, I’m actually writing a P.S.  My 40th birthday is next week.  Expect my 400th post on my 40th birthday to be one you’ll never forget.

Viagra: The Great Deceiver

thingThing was a former body builder in his late forties.  His hobbies included going to the gym daily, eating 8,000 calories a day, working, and playing with firearms.  His arms were huge by the way, and his ass was hard as a rock.  Just picture the Thing, but without all the weird rock skin.

His personality wasn’t as satisfying though.  He was not what I’d call exciting by any means.  He was nice and somewhat talkative, but that was about it.  On our first date we drank several beers at his house while he cooked dinner.  Actually I think he went through a full case, but he is a big guy.  The date started early in the afternoon.  We went out to the woods and he let me shoot his .22 (that’s a hand gun 😉 ) for a while.  I killed an empty beer box, so that was fun.  Then we went back to his house.  By the time we got to 5 o’cock he started making his move.

I was fairly tipsy by then so I just went with the flow.  Actually I kind of attacked him…in a good way of course.  My hormones had been in overdrive and he seemed like a good outlet.  We made out for about ten minutes in his kitchen and I finally just asked him if he wanted to go to the bedroom.

Once we got to the bedroom he stripped me down, then he stripped down and I got to see him in all his musclebound glory.  Unfortunately the muscles were the only impressive things about him.  He was ok though.  We had sex, then I fell asleep.  About an hour later I woke up to him pulling the covers off of me and getting ready for another go.  Afterwards, I fell asleep again.  Another hour later, yep, you guessed it, he was back for round three.

After round three I thought surely he’d let me get more than an hour of sleep.  He did.  He waited two hours until wanting round four.  By then I was exhausted.  I managed to get another couple of hours of sleep before rounds five and six.Viagra-Ring-Results

As I lay there after round six, I couldn’t help but wonder, WTF dude?  He’s almost fifty years old and just came six times in less than 12 hours.  I was so tired that Viagra hadn’t even crossed my mind.  I was tired and sore and couldn’t think straight, so I slept.

He took me home the next morning.  He had to take his mom to church.  It was Easter Sunday, the day that I have chosen over the years to celebrate my debauchery at it’s finest.

Five days later he came over to my place.  We didn’t waste much time getting into the bedroom.  Naturally I thought it would be like last time.  Not that I wanted another sex marathon, but one good time would have sufficed.  That didn’t happen.  He came within three minutes.  I, however, didn’t, at all.

He headed to the bathroom after he finished, so while he was in there I got dressed.  I tried to lead him back to the living room and towards the door because at that point I just wanted him to leave.  He did.

So, after consulting my sister on the matter, we decided that Viagra, or the lack thereof, must have been to blame for that second “date” disaster.  Shame on you makers of Viagra.  You got my hopes up and then sent them crashing back down.

Happy humping, and humping, and humping, and humping!

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