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Memorial Day Musings

roseSo here I am at work, contemplating life’s wonderfulness and thanking the universe for sending me Teacher, and in walks Car Wash Guy.  In between contemplating and daydreaming, I was also doing some work for Bossman (who I’m not happy with right now, but I’ll explain that later).  So I was able to ignore CWG for a few minutes, but eventually he asked me a question about a camera and I had no choice but to acknowledge his presence.  After he asked me about the camera he quietly asked if I had changed my number.  I told him that I had and it was because I got a new phone from Bossman.

Then CWG said something odd.  He said, “I got my divorce.  She cleaned me out.”  Wait.  What?  I don’t remember him being married.  I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that.  When I questioned him about the married part he said, “Yeah, I told you I was in the middle of a divorce.”  Well, ok, whatever.  However, I swear I don’t remember him telling me any such thing.

He asked if I still had his number.  I lied and said I didn’t.  It’s probably still in my phone, because I’m too lazy to delete numbers.  So when he asked for my number I told him that I was seeing someone.  He quickly said, “Oh, ok, I’m sorry.”  Then he pretty much just left.  Thank God.

As I said, I had been contemplating and daydreaming before CWG came in.  So after he left I Continue reading

35 Reasons you might be rejected by the Preacher’s Daughters

These are all based on real men whom Fallen Angel and I have either:  gone out on at least one date with, talked to, or have been contacted by on dating websites.  A couple of these I actually married, but later divorced.  This is only the tip of the iceberg though.  My sister and I were able to rattle off this list in about fifteen minutes.  As we listed them I typed it into my phone.  I plan on adding more to it as time goes on, and as the memories return to us.

  1. Pretty but dumb as a box of rocks
  2. No ambition
  3. Poor
  4. Player
  5. Acts like a twelve-year-old
  6. Ball-less
  7. Doesn’t own a car and lives outside of a major city
  8. Sends four texts for every one you send
  9. Admits on his profile to being molested, and outs his sister as also being molested as a child
  10. Secretly gay
  11. Raised by the mafia
  12. Con artist
  13. You ask for a hammer and he hangs up on you
  14. Not mechanically inclined
  15. Atheist
  16. Too religious
  17. Just got out of prison
  18. Crazy baby mama
  19. Crazy ex-wife/girlfriend
  20. Has too many kids by too many women
  21. Has too many kids
  22. Gets high too much
  23. Too much facial hair
  24. Needs more facial hair
  25. Doesn’t shower on a daily basis
  26. Spends four nights a week playing pool at bars, yet doesn’t drink or gamble
  27. Lives with parents/family
  28. Talks too much
  29. Excessive drinking
  30. Superhero syndrome
  31. Posts on profile that he’s “in a relationship”
  32. Has his girlfriend/wife message you on the dating site requesting “group fun”
  33. Extreme mood swings
  34. Unacceptable in bed (dick too big, too small, too kinky, not kinky enough, selfish, or just sucks in bed)
  35. Pedophile

Created using Out of Milk, http://outofmilk.com/android

If you would like to know more about any particular one, or if you agree with Fallen Angel that we should add the full stories and turn it into a book, please leave us a comment below. 🙂  I’m trying to lure her into the world of blogging, so any help would be much appreciated.

Happy humping!

Love & Sex Q&A #7

Love & Sex7

Is it important to you to have a particular kind of wedding?  If so, under what circumstances would you be willing to forgo that type of ceremony, or even elope?

This one is easy.  As long as a groom and a ring involved and it’s legal then I’m happy.  Not that I’m looking to ever get married again, but if I do find Mr. Rightdick that’s what I need at my wedding.

My first wedding was me, the groom, his psycho mother, and a justice of the peace at the courthouse in downtown Brooklyn.  I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.  He was wearing jeans and probably some ugly shirt.  There are no pictures for evidence or to back up my story.  I do have  the marriage certificate though.

My second and last wedding was an actual wedding.  I planned most of it and it was almost exactly what I wanted.  I did have to work within a tiny budget, but it turned out nice anyway.  It was sort of an Irish/celtic themed wedding.  Feel free to laugh.  Thankfully I didn’t go the completely cheesy route.  My wedding dress was white with dark green accents.  The bridesmaids dresses were dark green too.  Overall it was a beautiful wedding.  My mom’s friend took care of the flowers and did a great job with the Preacher’s small country church.  She put in lots of greenery and it had a forest-like feel to it.

Yes, the Preacher officiated the ceremony.  Who else could I get to do it for free?  LOL  He walked me down the aisle, gave me away, and then took over to do the rest of the ceremony.  My grandfather started it off, but then turned it over to the Preacher once we got up to the altar.  The only thing that I really remember about the ceremony was that my soon-to-be husband and my daddy were both just about in tears the entire time.  Meanwhile, I stood there like it was no big deal.  I was happy, but I didn’t want to turn into a crybaby and mess up my makeup. 🙂

I’ve already had my big wedding.  I don’t think I’d want to go through all that stress again.  I’ve never been fond of the idea of eloping, but if I found the right man and the time was right, then I may be tempted to do it.

Now if I could just keep a man as long as I keep the rings, I’d be doing good.  Currently I have a collection of four engagement rings.  If I had a ring for every proposal then my collection would be much larger.

Happy humping & remember to get a prenup!

Why I call hubby #1 the Con Artist – part 2

First of all I’d like to apologize for taking so long to post part two of this story.  I’ve been without internet access for the past ten days.  Thank God it’s back on!  I missed you all so much! 🙂  If you missed part one you can find it here.

After I got back home from my disaster of a trip to NYC, I got a call from the Con Artist.  He tried to apologize for not picking me up and taking me back to the airport, but I wasn’t in a very forgiving mood.  He said that he was hung-over and sleeping that morning and just didn’t hear the phone.  Whatever, I was so over him and his bullshit.

In May 1996 I was back in my hometown living with my cousin.  I was broke and looking at a very bleak future ahead of me.  I had no reason nor desire to live a “normal” life at that point.  I had been fired from my job as church secretary, spent five months sowing my wildest oats in Atlanta, and had lost all hope of ever being that good little preacher’s daughter ever again.

When the Con Artist called me for the first time in nearly a year and asked me to come back to NYC and stay with him, I figured what the hell.  It’s not like I was doing anything else at the time.  I just really wanted out of my hometown and away from everyone I knew.  Even though I didn’t like him or trust him, his offer was convenient, and so I took him up on it.

I packed all of my clothes into a couple of big boxes and shipped them to his house.  My cousin took me to the airport and I got on a one-way flight to NYC.  The Con Artist picked me up from the airport and Continue reading

Why I call hubby #1 the Con Artist – part 1

Some stories are just too long to be put into one post.  I could probably write an entire book on my first ex-hubby, but I’m going to narrow it down to just two posts for now.  Enjoy!

It was August 1995 when we started talking on AOL.  Yep those were the good old days of AOL chat rooms.  For some reason he liked stalking the chat rooms set up for various southern states instead of the NY rooms.  I knew that he was Jewish, he lived in Brooklyn, NY and he was 32 years old.  I didn’t know a lot else about him at the time.

After a couple of weeks of talking online and on the phone he asked if I’d like to come up to NY to visit him one weekend.  I was very hesitant at first because then I was a 22-year-old virgin working as a church secretary and even though I had been to NYC once when I was in high school, the thought of going back by myself scared the crap out of me.  He was persistent though and offered to buy my plane ticket and get me a hotel room to stay in while I was there.  It made me feel a little more at ease knowing that I wouldn’t have to stay with him at his house.  Reluctantly I accepted his offer and we planned it out for the weekend coming up.

It was a Friday evening when my plane landed at JFK airport in New York City.  He met me at the airport and as soon as I saw him he said let’s go have a drink.  After having a couple of drinks in a bar there in the airport we went out and got a car service to take us to the hotel in Brooklyn.

Admittedly I wasn’t very impressed with him at first.  He was crass and not that good-looking.  He was a less attractive looking and shorter version of Jerry Seinfeld.  He had on some of those really faded or whitewashed type jeans and a polo shirt tucked in to his jeans.  He looked like he was stuck in the 80’s.  I later found out that his wardrobe wasn’t the only thing stuck in the 80’s.  For him, the 80’s were the best years of his life, full of sex, drugs, and wanna-be mafioso types.  He told me about how his father owned a club back in the 70’s and many of the local mobsters frequented it .  His father died of a heart-attack when he was five and his mother, who on her own had to raise a wild unruly son, just about went crazy with grief and stress.  Well, she didn’t raise him completely on her own.  The local mobsters that were friends with his dad offered to help keep an eye on him.  I think he would have been better off just with his crazy mother raising him.

After we went to the hotel and I changed my clothes we went out to dinner.  It was a nice restaurant in Brooklyn, but he wasn’t the best conversationalist that I had ever met.  He had few table manners and even fewer things in common with me.  When he did talk it was mostly about himself and how much money he had and how he had just gotten back from a trip to Arizona where he took a jet for a test ride.  I’m not really the gold-digging type, but he did make it all sound quite impressive.  Being that I was a poor little Southern girl working a low-paying job, this was about the most excitement that I had in a long time.

He took me to a couple of bars and clubs in Brooklyn and everyone seemed to know him.  There were lots of goodfella types that came over and talked to him.  I was so out of my element that everything was exciting and interesting to me.  I was naïve and clueless and very soon became drunk.  He was trying to drink me under the table.  He failed.  I still had a high tolerance for alcohol and by the time I was feeling tipsy, he was about on the floor.

He finally was too drunk to go anywhere else so he said we’d get a cab and he would take me back to my hotel.  As drunk as he was though, he still tried to get me to let him in my hotel room.  I refused and he got kind of upset.  I told him that I was a virgin and there was no way in hell that I was going to lose it to him.  I ended up having to push him out of the doorway so I could close the door.  Before he left he said that he would be back in the morning to take me back to the airport.

The next morning I got up and got ready to head back to the airport.  I waited and waited.  I called his house, but there was no answer.  I called & called, still no answer.  Great.  I had no idea what to do.  I had spent the last little bit of my cash to pay for the cab the night before because he said he was out of cash.  So there I was with no money and no ride back to the airport.

Before I had a meltdown I decided to just call a cab and then give the driver a check once we were at the airport.  I had no cash so what was he going to do?  Refuse to take it?  It was a plan, although not a great one.

On the ride to the airport the cabby was a talker and asked me why I had come to NYC.  I told him a little about what had happened and then decided to go ahead and tell him that I had no cash, just a check.  I swore to him that it would be good and pretty much begged for his help.  He was really nice about it all and said that would be fine.  I guess my innocent looks and demeanor at the time helped me out a lot in that situation.

I arrived back home later that night and swore that I’d never speak to that asshole again.

Stay tuned for part two of Why I call hubby #1 the Con Artist.  What?  You thought it would end there?  My life is never that simple because I’m not as smart as I look. 😉

Happy humping!