Dear Rom-Coms...

I've come to the conclusion that "Sleepless in Seattle" created the monster that is me. I became a hopeless romantic the instant I saw Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan at the top of that stupid empire state building. I think I was maybe in 5th grade when that movie came out and ever since then, I've wanted all relationships to be synonymous with the rom-coms of my generation. Puff. Let's be honest, I'm no Meg Ryan, Kate Hudson or Julia Roberts...Just plain ole me. And hello, plain ole me...this is your subconscious speaking...those bitches aren't real! Kate Hudson, in real life, divorced that dude from the black crowes...and Julia Roberts...was married to Lyle Lovett! Guhhhrrrooosss! But somehow we forget all of that the instant these ladies are swept of their Louboutins by the gorgeous creatures that are Matthew McConaughey and George Clooney. Puff.
In essence, our boyfriends don't stand an effing chance. These poor boys, who have probably not even seen said chick flicks are competing not only against someone who doesn't really exist, but against something they typically know nothing about...and was written by a woman, or a gay man (God bless em!) Granted, real guys have their moments of sweetness, which in my case, are unequivocally appreciated, but the stupid tom hanks factor always come into play in my mind. Puff.
Let's discuss this. What if we stop comparing and appreciate the things they do that make us smile? Stop hoping for our fellas to show up in the middle of a gala in his jeans and flops to proclaim his love for us for all to see. Ain't happening. What if we get back to basics and just appreciate a funny joke or when they pay for our dinner. And what kills me is that the hopeless romantic in us won't let these crazy notions go, which is ultimately unfair to whatever poor chap decides to date us.
So to Tom Hanks and all rom-coms ever created...I love you. You have shown me what being a romantic is all about...but for the love of all that is real and genuine on this effing earth, give the real guy a chance! De-puff.

Rough Drafts

The older we get the more ex boyfriends we have and the more new girlfriends they get. Let's face it...they're your ex for a reason...but I'll be damned if the next girl is prettier, more successfull or god forbid skinnier than me! My ex-husband and I had created a list of places we wanted to go together and thanks to his "I'm going to put you dead last on my list of important things in life" mentality...we never went...to any of them. I wasn't asking to go to Fiji...just New York effing city...and as luck would have it, the first time I have to send him an e-mail through facebook (which in itself is a disastrous pit of jealousy and misconception!)right there...in big cheesey smile photos...my ex and his new, skinny girlfriend..at the Empire State Building. Thanks for that. Ass. PUFF.
The point is, why is it that we feel like it's a personal vendetta against us when they move on...even if we're the one that ended it?! Here's my theory. It's like we're the rough draft. Guys can push our buttons,test our boundaries and see how many times they can completely forget something important we've said until we finally toss in the towel, or vice versa. And this is when the real frustration begins.PUFF.
In essence you've molded them into what a perfect (or not so unbearable) guy should be...but not only is it too late for you to reap the benefits, but some other chick gets to benefit, allllll while thinking, "His ex-girlfriend must have been crazy to let him go!" Double Effing Puff.
The worst of all scenarios is when you actually know the new girlfriend/wife/baby mama...whatever she is. You know her...maybe you've even hung out alll together. You.Your ex. Her. Her ex. Did they have chemistry then? What am I, an oblivious blob of chopped liver! This kills me! Out of the bajillion people on this earth...you pick her. Again, thanks for that. Asses.
Then there's the ex who was SO against marriage that he proclaimed in front of you and alllll of your friends,"Marriage is not for me..." thus making you feel like the biggest piece of dog poo on the planet! But you...you have to laugh it off, like "Ohhh you're so funny! He's kidding..he's uhh kidding.." And then not one little year after you break up he's engaged to some patchouli wearing, lesbaru driving art teacher who hardly knows or appreciates the effort you put into creating the guy he is to her. Puff. Puff. Puff.
Unfortunately in my vast aray of friends from state to state...this is a common misfortune. So I say to myself, and to you, you fantastic girlfriends of mine. Screw being a rough draft. De-puff.

Puffer gets a "God" Wink

David Lichtenfeld strikes again. This is neither my nor David's idea, but it sure did play a MAJOR role in my life, right when I needed it. As I said before, pay attention. Pay attention to the signs in your life. Calm down, I'm not a damn gypsy and I'm not a preacher either. I'm just a girl, who had some amazing people come into her life right when I needed them...almost like they were placed in that very spot just for me. Like David. The instant I sat down on that plane, he looked at me and said "My darling, I can see in your eyes that you're heartbroken." How in the!? What the!? I had never met, or seen this man in my life and he knew. Of course, I then told him my life story and he told me about "God" winks... and a book with that very title..."When God Winks." Living in the Bible belt the second I hear God I'm ready to run for the hills because I'm afraid somebody around me is going to throw their hands up and praise all that is holy...or whatever.Welcome to the south. Though I'm not a religious person, I am incredibly spiritual and when my buddy David tells me there are no coincidences and to pay attention I listened. I bought the book and gave it to the people who came into my life as a "godwink." The book also godwinked a little quote into my heart that I will never forget. "You cannot sit on your baggage, beside the road, waiting for your destiny to come to you. You must get up, get going, and leave your baggage behind. Go for what you believe to be your destiny, and look for all the signposts along the way -- the godwinks -- that are the messages of reassurance that you're on the right path." At that very moment, this puffer who had puffed for the past year about what to do about her crappo marriage...de-puffed...and moved on. Thank you GodWinks ;)

A Puff on "Potential"

How can you possibly convince someone to stop loving? My entire life I have not only worn my heart on my sleeve, but I am also notorious for being incredibly protective of anyone who I care about. Unfortunately, as women, we are balls of mush. Not only are we balls of mush, but we overanalyze everything and everyone...I do this to a fault. "He's such an ass...but I love him." This eensy weensy phrase makes ZERO sense, but I have said it and so have the majority of my friends. PUFF. "I know he's a good person...he has the potential to be so great." Vomit.When I was married I remember thinking to myself many times, "This is it? This is what love and marriage is supposed to feel like?" Not so much. I nestled myself into the comfort that was my life and settled for a mediocre existance. There's always that one thing that gets us...the way they kiss, the jokes they tell, typically they get you when it's time to go to sleep and they are the sweetest, gentlest, most romantic creature you've ever seen...and we forget that just four hours before this same gentle lovemuffin was telling his buddies, "I am NEVER getting married," "Damn, if I didn't have a girl, I'd be all over that." Scuuuhrrrreeeew that! PUFF. Why do we continue to settle for less than we deserve and put ourselves in situations where we know there is great potential for hurt, yet keep going back? Why do we settle for the potential someone has instead of the greatness someone has already achieved?

The Puffer Fish...and the Skinny Bitch

"Eat a cheeseburger." My favorite line to the quintessential skinny bitch. Catty? You betcha! I mean, in essence they can't help it...they were born skinny...but they were not born skinny bitches. What is a skinny bitch? Chances are you encounter one everyday....they are hardly an endangered species. These are the girls who can wear boy shorts and not have to worry about one dimple, one imperfection...and then, these skinny bitches go out to McDonalds and get a #1...supersized and laugh at the fat chick behind the counter. They are girls who wear side pony tails and makeup to the gym...and occassionally even fake eyelashes. PUFF. They can still shop at Limited Too, and bikini shopping is fun for them. These are the girls that while you're shopping for a size ten, she is asking the clerk " Umm, I don't see any
0's!?" Puff. Now granted, not all skinny girls are skinny bitches. My best friend is skinny..but not a skinny bitch.
The worst is when a skinny bitch looks at you in your size tens that are practically clinging onto your "love handles" for dear life and with her skinny bitch eyes says, "Are you really gonna eat that?" or "I wouldn't leave the house if I weighed what you weigh." It's all in the eyes.
I purposely sit with my back against the wall in spin class so that the skinny bitches who are just going to "get tone" don't have the chance to snicker at my voluptuousness. PUFF.
But the best is when you see a skinny bitch at a bar or a club...after one malibu and coke, that skinny bitch is on the floor, probably puking, because she doesn't have a damn thing to sponge up the alcohol. So, skinny bitch...while you're singing "Pocket full of Sunshine" one minute and then barfing the next, I'll be on the dance floor, shaking my badonkadonk and drinking a cornona. De-Puff.

I'm no Carrie Bradshaw...

But I do have a lot to say about things I have learned about life, love and the importance of friends...and a good glass of wine. Something I have yet to write about...being a divorcee. What a crappy, crappy word. Damaged goods. Failure. This is what I thought. No one ever tells you that your life won't be what you want it to be. Parents and teachers say "Believe in what you want and go get it!" Ok, well...I had a house, a husband, two dogs, a cat and a flat range stove top...which is what I always wanted. I never got a chance to cook on that flat stove top. I chose me. I chose to not pretend like life was perfect and to actually see what would actually happen if I followed my crazy intuition...and more importantly, my heart. This puffer started puffing when I realized that I was losing who I was. I would sing in the shower, only when he wasn't home, and I completely stopped writing. I was forced to listen to punk rock music, rather than the greatness that is hip hop and r&b. Let the puffing begin. It took six years, lots of tears, one wedding, one lawyer, one unlived in house to finally believe in me....and in love. We think about soul mates...we think that there is one person who is put on this planet just for us. But what if we change? What if your soul mate doesn't change with you? Does this mean they aren't your soul mate? And really,if you're in IA and your soul mate is in CA....how in the world are you supposed to meet? Divine Intervention? I believe in tunnells. What is a tunnell? I met a very wise man the day I flew home to be with my parents and get my head clear the day I decided to leave my husband. He possessed 76 years of wisdom and grace and in one hour made me believe in love, and fate. He explained that "a tunnell" is someone who helps you see that there is hope at the end of your journey. The tunnell is not your soul mate...they are simply put in your life to hold your hand and guide you. I had a tunnell. I know many people who have tunnells. My 76 year old guide also taught me to pay attention...pay attention to the way you feel, the people who cross your path and the signs that you're doing the right thing. He took my journal from me, which I had yet to write in, since it had been so long....and he wrote this:

"I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow human being let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again."


....Annnnd de-puff

The Puffer....at Work

One. There's always one. One person, or in my case,one politically confused, ocassionally anorexic but would die for an m&m, judgemental, alcoholic woman by the name of....Are you kidding!? I can't name her, I would be fired and banished to cattiness hell for the things I say and think about this woman (aka- spawn of all things elitist and snobby), whose eyes are severely bloodshot at least two times a week from the amount of wine she consumes. Whew...this already feels better. My puffer syndrome begins as soon as I walk in at 8am and she is the only one in the office...we don't even say hello. Once she commented on my "fashion sense" by saying to a fellow co-worker,

Spawn: "Oh,you went shopping and got a new dress, what's it like?"
Co-worker- "It actually reminded me of a Jenny dress..."
Spawn: "Oh, you mean it's really low cut?"

Classic...My co-worker was referring to the sleeve style of the dress, but elitist, alcoholic spawn wanted to get her dig in. I'm sorry Spawn, that you have a chest that is no more developed than a pre-pubescent boy...Sorry for your luck. Anyhow, I digress and I am becoming entirely too catty. As you can imagine, this comment sent my puffer fish syndrome over the edge. Is it jealousy because I'm younger? Does she not like me because I'm too bubbly? I don't get it and it drives me CRAZY when I can't figure out WHY someone doesn't like me. I'm a fixer...I like to figure out what's wrong and FIX it!