Category Archives: hotband

Focus 52: "Mornings"

I hate mornings.

I detest mornings.  I am an insomniac, so I am all too familiar with the concept of being up at a sunrise.  Every morning, the sun rises, reminding me that for yet another night…I have not slept.  It is torture to me.  I am not the type of person who welcomes the sun with a cup of coffee and a positive attitude.  The sunrise says to me, “you are already several hours behind the pack, girlfriend.”  It says to me that it is now time for me to go to sleep, finally, and waste a good portion of the day.  By the time I wake up again, it will be about 3pm.  Too late to do any thing productive.  Generally, I fall asleep around noon, wake up late afternoon and by then, life has pretty much passed me by.  I resent the morning a great deal.  It bothers me.  And, no sooner did I see the sunrise, then I am waking up with a sunset looming only a mere three hours away. 

I loathe mornings. 

However, the only time I make peace with the morning light is when I am at the beach.  When I am on the beach, I don’t feel so much animosity towards the sunrise.  I appreciate it then…because the water is glimmering.  There are people on the shore, starting their day and admiring the sunshine.  Generally, these people have had a good nights sleep and are happy to see the sunshine…and I look at their faces with great appreciation for what they are feeling.  I know at that point…I can lay a blanket out on the sand, fall asleep under the sun, wake up in the late afternoon as I usually do and feel like I spent the day at the beach doing what everyone else is doing.  Lazing about just soaking in the sun.  It’s okay then, to greet the morning.  It doesn’t mock me so much when I am on the beach.  I don’t feel bad about having an insane sleep schedule.  I don’t hate the fact that I woke up so late in the day, because when you are on the beach…sleeping until the late afternoon is not only acceptable, it’s welcomed.

But, in my daily world…I hate mornings.  They remind me of just how much of my life I am wasting fighting with my body’s internal clock.  And it’s a waste of time.  A complete and utter waste of time.  It makes me feel bad about myself.  I hate feeling that way.  My sleep pattern has been erratic since I am a little girl.  Sometimes, I don’t sleep for two or three days and when I finally do, it is because the sun has risen and said to me…don’t you think it’s time to go to bed? 

And I always agree…and go to bed. 

I feel comfortable at night.  There is something about being awake all night long when most of the world is asleep that brings me comfort.  I can be alone in the silence and it is alright. I don’t have to talk to any one. I don’t have to answer to any one.  I don’t have to get dressed.  I don’t have to wash my face, brush my teeth and go out and run pretend errands that do not exist.  I can just sit quietly in the soft glow of my computer and do my thing.  Read.  Study.  Write letters.  Watch mindless television programs.  My DVR is filled with television programs that air during the daylight hours that I can watch at night.  Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I don’t.  But at night, everything is my prerogative. 

Besides, everyone knows calories consumed after sunset don’t stay on the body.

I hate mornings.  I hate everything about them. 

And just when I decide to break up with them for good, my husband takes me to the beach and reminds me why it is okay to fall in love all over again.

It’s okay to cheat on a sunset, now and then.

Focus 52: "May Flowers"

No.  Really.  No “May Flowers.” 

Did you all truly think I was kidding last week?

Here’s your “May Flower.”  Deal with it. 

I am too delirious right now to comprise a post.   Do you want suckage…or would you rather have me back, fully rested and raring to go? 

Yes, that’s what I thought.  So um, in the meantime…hope all you Momsicles out there had a Happy Mother’s Day.  I personally got $100 in DSW gift certificates which is the retail equivalent of 5 orgasms.  So, happy shoe shopping for me.  Got PJ’s.  Got jewelry.  Got candles.  Got flowers. (yes, I could have taken a photo of those for “May Flowers” and been perfectly safe in doing so.  So what?  I just thought of that just now…and NOW, I am pressed for time.  Fuck it.)  Got Glee CD’s and DVD’s.  Got gift certificates for Ross.  Got a big damn fat assed cake. 

Most of all, I got laid.  Awesomely, supremely laid.  The Hotband busted out some moves, circa us…1999.  Threw down the PIPE, dudes.  Rocked it out.  Word!  And that is what got me into this whole “Mother’s Day” mess in the first place…so I suppose there is some poetic justice in that. 

Just would have been nice to have had some new shoes up on his shoulders.

Ah well, that’s what next weekend is for.

Overall, a nice weekend that included my baby boy, my big girl, my son in law, and my grandbabies.  Truthfully, what more could a girl want?

Well, shoes…but again, that’s what next weekend is for.  Oh, and another Israeli missile lodged in my bunker of love.  And THAT, is what right now is for…which is why you got this lame ass post.

I do have priorities you know.

Peace, Bitches.  xoxo

Focus 52: "Silly"

  (Seeing as I just stepped off a plane from Washington, DC a mere couple of hours ago, the post that pertains to “silly” is going to have to wait.  In the interim, here is the photo that the blog post is going to be about.  Please stand by.)

April 11 update:  Well, it seems you are not going to get a blogpost as promised, as I have since moved on in my life.  Would the words “April Fools” suffice?  No?  Not at all?  Okay, then suck it up and just deal with the fact that sometimes a princess just gets a little too busy to blog.  Yes, it happens.  And, as one of my friends pointed out, sometimes…I just suck.  So, this is one of those times.  Deal with it.

What I can tell you is that I have been laid up since this post was made with what I thought was just merely a bad backache.  A phone call from the hospital in DC, however, has informed me otherwise.  Apparently, your clutzy assed Princess managed to break a vertebrae in her back.  For the life of me, I could not recall hurting myself so I had no idea where the sudden onset of pain was coming from.  I mean, I have been lugging around size 44F’s for the last 20 years of my life.  If that didn’t cause me mad back pain, I can’t imagine what would have.  However, as I was talking with the Hotband and showing him pics from my DC trip, I relayed to him a funny story about how I stepped out of my friend Gary’s huge ass truck and, without considering how high up I was, went to go step down without stepping onto the running board first.  Landed squarely on my fat caboose. 

“So um, you think that’s maybe how you hurt your back,” he offers up to me.

“Wow babe, I never really even thought about that until just now.  OMG, that is probably totally how I did this.”

“You know,” he says, matter of factly-like, “I was reading about compression fractures in the back and it appears that when you fall and land on your rear, it causes a lot of downward pressure to the spine and that is probably how you got that fracture in your back.”

“Ah, okay there, Doc.  Thanks for clarifying.”

So, there you have it.  Your “silly” post.  Because nothing is more silly than stepping out of a truck with heels on and landing on your ample ass while three of your friends look on, point and laugh.  Yeah, it’s a stretch.  I’m aware of that, but a promise is a promise and frankly, peeps?  Beggars can’t be choosers.  I didn’t ask you to come back here and check to see if I actually made a post, did I?  Oh no, you did that of your own volition.  I was merely trying to skate by, hoping to go unnoticed.  But, did you let me?  Did you give me that moment of peace and solace?  No.  No you did not.  So this is what you get in return.  A half assed post, nearly a week later about virtually nothing that had to do with the picture in the prompt whatsoever.

Now, go away.  Don’t you have something better to do?  Don’t you?  DON’T YOU???

xoxoxo

Focus 52: "Variety"

I am a shoe whore.

No, no…it’s alright.  Don’t worry about labeling me a shoe whore.  I’m good with it.  It’s okay.  I have come to terms with it and while the term “whore” is a bit degrading, it is what it is.  I mean, a whore is someone who performs sex for money, right?  I perform sex…for shoes.  Now, don’t get me wrong, my husband doesn’t say to me, “Babe, I saw a fabulous pair of Steve Madden’s that you are going to LOVE.  Price?  One blow job.”  But, if he did say that, I would totally be down for it.  So, in theory, that makes me a shoe whore.  There’s not too much that I wouldn’t do for a pair of shoes as long as it will A) not land me in jail where I can only wear state approved canvas boat shoes or B) will not cross the boundaries of my marriage, disabling my pipe line to fantastic shoes for the price of a well timed blow job.  I mean, seriously, are there many men out there who would say, “baby, for just one quick hand job, you can have these Jimmy Choo’s?”  No, not many.  But, my husband is one of them…and I am not going to disrupt the flow, you know?

So, for this week’s Focus 52 prompt being “Variety”, I have allowed you into my closet, so to speak and pulled out 25 of my favorite pairs of high heels.  Mind you, I said my favorites.  This does not include my ridiculous flip flop collection, my multiple pairs of flats, the tons of heels I no longer wear as they are out of season or fashion, the vast array of sneakers that I own or anything that can be remotely referred to as a “stripper shoe”.  I call them “Over the shoulder” shoes. 

You figure it out.

So there they are.  Mama’s babies.  However this photo does not include my crown jewel.  The Pièce de résistance.  (That’s French, Fuckers.  Someone come kiss their way up my arm and say “Cara Mi!  You spoke French!  And if you don’t get the reference, you are too young to be reading my blog.  Go away.)



Here she is:

Ladies, say hello to “Fifi” by Steve Madden. 

She is my new best friend.  My “sole” mate.  And no, I don’t own a DAMN thing that will go with her, but best believe that I will by this weekend.  I see her and my lady bits throb.  She makes me happy.  We are in love and never shall any other shoe render us asunder. 

Until next season.