For a long time now, I’ve been one to drift off, not post, not feel it, feel ignored, be bored with the internet in general. So, I wouldn’t post. Sometimes for months and months. Then I would always pop back in and get back into the swing of things. Always during my times of absence, I would pop in and read what was going on in the lives of people I’ve known practically my son’s entire life, so I was up to date with whatever was going on with them.

We’ll I went to go read today, and lo and behold I have been kicked out of 2 forums. Ha! I assume so they can talk shit about me now, because I’ve never been kicked out before.

So, yeah anyway, Merry fucking Christmas too you too, asshole who deleted me. How about you try to get in contact with me before you just delete me?

What the fuck ever man. 12 years, and I get no notice. That is what kills me. It’s not like I uh, have known these people for a few months. I really don’t see any excuse for that at all. None. It’s a fucked up thing to do. I can think of a few ways to get in contact with me before I get deleted. Myspace, Flickr, a comment here, or Email. So, that tells me that I wasn’t wanted there regardless…and I’m sure there is some shit talking going on.

Apparently, it is time for me to move on…and with my many changes I am going to go through this next year, I suppose that is one more. Say goodbye to all those woman I was in contact with for 12 years.

So adios!

I’m pretty positive I’ve blogged this same thing before, probably about the same people. Ha!

There is this one chick, and holy shit is she annoying. At first I liked her pictures, but they are all pretty much shit nowadays. Then, with every single picture this girl posts she bitches about SOMETHING. It’s never just normal bitching like “Today was kinda shitty, because I woke up in a bad mood.” Oh, no. It’s like a family member died, and she doesn’t even know how she will go on with her life without her Aunt. Yet, you never heard her ever talk about this aunt before who lives in another state far away, ever. Then the next day she is so depressed she can’t even get out of bed. She’s so terrified that she is going to lose everyone she loves. They are all going to die. Then she will complain the next day how she is so depressed because her Aunt died, and now she can’t go to California for her birthday to visit her best friend (who is almost just as annoying) who she met on Flickr, and her 21st birthday is going to be SO horrible because she has to stay at home, with her parent’s and brother. Waaaah! Well if your so fearful your family is going to die and leave you, maybe you should enjoy spending time with them for your birthday. Then she has scoliosis. Which I have no idea what that feels like, and I’ve heard it can be painful. So, add that onto her everyday complaints. Her back hurts, and she is always out of painkillers. Never has painkillers. When she does it’s like she gets 2 from the doctor, and then she is so drugged up she can’t get out of bed for days. Then she has no painkillers. She get addicted to her painkillers, too. She is also depressed. She has been suicidal. Now, today she is having bad dreams again, and sleep paralysis. Seriously. She has sleep paralysis. Then she dyed her hair pink, and now people discriminate against her with her pink hair and her pierced nose and lip. Even her family. Her Grandma even tried to pay her to dye her hair a normal color, and she was like OMG so offended!

Oh yeah she’s “bi-sexual” also. So, she just cried, and cried, and cried for like days because of all the Propositions that passed in the various states opposed to gay marriage. Then took to bitching under a shitty picture about how she is a second class citizen now, and can’t marry who she wants. Yeah. It’s like please shut the fuck up. I guarantee you will grow up and marry a man, if one can even stand to listen to your complaints and drugged out nights on painkillers. I guarantee your days lesbian sex are numbered. I bet you’ve only had it a few times, and I can almost say with 100% certainty that you are not a lesbian, but a confused girl who used to have a boyfriend, and does anything she can to get attention.

She can’t work because of her back. She can’t go to school because of her back. She can’t take pictures anymore because of her back, yet she could like a year ago. Then when people started leaving comments and she got a following her pictures went to shit, and she started complaining more and more. Everything has stayed the same and have gone down hill at the same time for her.

Dude, I do not exaggerate all this crap. Ha! True shit! She says all this shit. It’s almost funny at this point. Before I click on her picture, I try to think of what could be wrong today. It’s a game almost. I know this is way, way bitchy. I realize, but I am way, way bitchy. Plus, I have no sympathy for idiots. You have to realize that every single day you complain about SOMETHING. Wouldn’t you think to yourself, “Wow, I’m kinda annoying! I complain on a daily basis. I never have a good day, ever, well except when I have lesbian sex and I want to let the whole web know I licked pussy last night, but yeah, I sure complain excessively.”

Then the people that everyday leave her comments, and hugs, and sympathies. Do they not see that she fucking feeds on that shit. She loves it. That’s why she does it. She wants attention. That’s why she has bright pink hair, and a major piercing in her nose, than the lip, why she’s ‘bisexual” and wears rainbows, why she tells everyone about her lesbian sex.

I bet a million dollars that if everyone stopped leaving her {hug} comments, she would start taking decent pictures again, and stop all the bitching.

This picture:

While I realize this isn’t the most original picture, she has one with her husband, and they are both wearing jeans, and black shirts, holding hands, even standing on the same sides, with their heads cut off. I think maybe her’s you can see their feet…and she added outlets to either side of them. All of her pictures are taken a couple months after mine. I added her as a contact a couple/few months ago, and commented on a few of her pictures, but she never added me back. I think it’s because she’s ripping my shit off.

She has one that looks like this sorta:

Then I was looking at her newest picture a while back, and Jeremy said “Hey, that looks like one of your pictures! Is she copying you?!” I hadn’t even mentioned it.

That was for this picture:

Then! today her newest picture totally resembles this one:

Except she is sitting on the ground, tied to a tree with the same kinda rope, wearing a dress. She also has a wheelbarrow thrown in there also, which I also have in another of one of my picture.

Shit. I would think it was just a coincidence if say any of her shots resembling mine were taken before mine or before I added her as a contact. Then by not adding me as a contact back, she didn’t have to acknowledge me, and could take my ideas. Poop face!

Don’t get me wrong, she takes decent self portraits, she doesn’t suck…but my favorite is that I don’t think she is better than me, and she will get like a hundred comments telling her how brilliant she is and blah, blah, blah. I’m kinda jealous that I don’t get the traffic that other people get. I wonder what they do that gets so much traffic? I swear my position in life is to be the least popular human being in all the land. I wanna be popular dammit! Why don’t people love me?

Ha!

Anyway, it’s oh 3:10 am, and I’ve been editting a picture for HOURS. It’s pretty fucking rad, but I have to finish it up tomorrow with a rested head.

Nighty Night.

Yesterday, I went into my kids bathroom to put something in there, and I noticed pee all over the floor around the toilet. I went bitching at Chase. He lied and said it wasn’t him…it was the puppy. I would believe that if say it were on the rug in the bathroom, and not around the toilet. He’ll be 12 in less than a week, and yet he can’t manage to get his pee in the toilet. Isn’t that pretty ridiculous? What do I need to go buy him targets to pee on, like he’s 2 years old? Either he didn’t get one single drop of pee in the toilet, or every time he pee’s he pee’s on the floor a little. So, I just broke down and started bawling my eyes out at the thought of having to go mop up my 12 year old’s urine off the bathroom floor, after I was done picking up everyone’s shit from around the house just so I could dust. Then soak up the 2 piss spots I found from the puppy on the carpet so I could vacuum.

Huge tears, barely able to catch my breath tears. Then! Then I walk to my bedroom to put all this shit Jeremy pulls out and never puts away in there, and I hear Sheldyn snickering as I left the living room. I knew she was laughing at me for crying the way I was, and that just really, really fucking hurt. I can still remember when my mom cried when I was a kid, and I was always really worried, and sad for her, and I remember going and hugging her and trying to make her feel better. She was my Mom, and was crying. No, my kids laugh at me. It’s making me cry right now. I feel like such a failure in life, but especially with my kids. I have failed obviously. I haven’t raised loving, compassionate children. They are mean.

Chase talks back to me constantly. He’s disrespectful, he’s rude, he’s a slob, he lies, and he does bad in school.

Chase has so many issues I can’t even type it all up here, because it’s just embarrassing.

I have once again put myself in a situation where I am stuck, and dependent on someone else. I thought 6 years ago, I wanted freedom, and independence. I have none of that. My life literally depends on a couple of people. I don’t go out and do anything to improve my life because I’m pretty sure I’m not a very smart person, and I will fail at anything I try. I won’t even try because I have no self esteem because I am so fat and ugly.

I have had a boyfriend for nearly 5 years now, who just doesn’t ask me to marry him even though he’s acted as though that is what he wants. Now, I’ve bitched about it so much, that if it ever did happen which I won’t hold my breath for, it won’t mean what it is supposed to mean. He says we can go get married this weekend, but I just thought and wanted that special moment or that feeling of knowing he was asking me to marry him because he loved me and wanted to spend his life with me. Not because I bitched about it for years. The whole proposal thing. Ruined. I don’t even want it anymore. I don’t want to marry him now because I truly feel like he doesn’t really love me like he used to. I was the one who suggested I move in with him. I pushed and pushed and pushed for that. That wasn’t him. Do you think he would have quit his job, and left the city he lived and grew up in to live with me 90 miles away? Hell fuck no! Not only did I do ALL of that, but I moved my kids up here also, so I could be with him. He never, ever would have done that for me, ever. Which looking back on it speaks volumes to me. Jeremy actually has never really sacrificed anything for me, besides having roommates who sometimes paid rent to him.

I always thought that I would own a home by the time I was 30. I’d have nice things, and be comfortable financially. I’m 33 years old, and I’m so poor my kids qualify for free lunches at school. The only car I have is 43 years old, because I am such a loser that my other car got repossessed. I live in a shitty little house, that I’m not even supposed to live in because I’m not on the lease…and couldn’t be because I have horrible, horrible credit. My credit is so bad, that even if I started to try to fix it, I wouldn’t have decent credit until I was in my 40’s. I will never own a home. I can’t buy a car. I’m still stressing out over being able to buy my kids birthday presents. Let alone Christmas presents.

I was more on track, and my life was more promising when I was 21 years old with a brand new baby…and I was poor as can be. When I die, there will be nothing that I have accomplished besides being a loser who never did anything with her life. It’s a wasted life I lead. It has no hope or promise.

I’m a pretty miserable person, and I often feel like I have nobody. Like nobody really loves me. I don’t love myself. I don’t even like myself. I think my dogs are the only ones who really like me, and that’s because I give them food.

It’s pitiful and sad. I have nothing. I am nothing.

Plus, today like yesterday is windy, and it’s dry. So I sit here and slather lotion all over my body all day long.

I don’t like this weather. I don’t like it at all. I want to wear long sleeve shirts, socks, and sweatshirts. I’m sick of flip flops and short sleeve shirts.

I haven’t had one in a while, and this time I am all alone. I think when I’m alone it is even worse then if someone’s home. Even if the kids were home, it would be better.

So, this time I’m reading Perez Hilton and all of a sudden, I feel my chest tighten, heart starts beating really fast, I’m taking deep breaths, because I feel like I’m not getting enough air, and I’m sure that I am going to die any minute. So, I get up and stretch my arms out, which I tend to do when I feel weird in my chest, walk to the front door, and open it so I don’t feel so alone.

It’s so much better when Jeremy is here and I can go tell him. It makes me feel better.

I’ve been out of my blood pressure medicine for a few days. So, then I start freaking out thinking I’m having a heartattack because I haven’t taken it. So, I call CVS, and check and it’s there. So I started feeling better.

Man, those attacks are so icky. I don’t understand why they happen, or what that medication (Lorazepam) is supposed to do for my panic attacks. They come on suddenly, and leave fairly quickly. The pill isn’t going to hit me within seconds, and by the time the pills hit me, my panic attack would be long gone. What’s the point in taking some highly addictive sedative hypnotic drug. I guess that’s the reason I’ve never taken one.

Ok, so to top off the fact that I feel fat and ugly…I go and get a haircut weeks ago. Remember? I think I’ve said before that I’m not an overly picky person. I can not like something, and just deal with it. To where it doesn’t bother me at all. Well my haircut right now, I absolutely despise! I feel so UGLY with this hair. The chick just royally fucked up my hair. Really fucked it up. I am 100% positive that I could have cut my hair better to where it somewhat looked like the picture, better then this chick. If I could take my head off my shoulders, I would cut my own hair, and it would look good. I’m confident it would. My hair resembled the picture like 0%.

Most days, I wash my hair, blow dry my bangs, and throw the rest of my short little hairs in the smallest most ridiculous ponytail ever. That is my new hairstyle. Thank you lady who cut my hair. You’ve done just the opposite of what the point of your job is. Rather then me feeling cute with my new haircut, you’ve made me feel uglier.

I don’t think you should have to spend $200 for a haircut for the stylist to know types of hair, and what types do what, and what kinda cuts you should do on those hair types. I would think that would be common knowledge, like knowing what the scissors do, and what hair colors do what. Call me crazy. I wouldn’t feel comfortable cutting hair if I didn’t know that.

It’s partially my fault though. I knew that razor cuts and my hair didn’t really work well together. However; I also never had such severe, ugly layers put in my hair with a razor either. I wasn’t asking for them either, so yeah, not my fault. Anyway, it’s going to be a long year, waiting for this hair to grow. I guess we can watch it with my 365 pictures.

What have I learned through all of this?

-Do not do an extremely different style until you’ve found someone who knows your hair, and cuts it good.
- Tell the hairdresser about your hair, what you know looks good, and what you know doesn’t work (ie: razor cuts).

While my sister was here, we were talking about how different I was right after I announced I was getting a divorce. How it wasn’t even me really. I quit doing everything I liked to do (cooking, baking, crafts), and I was all about socializing and partying. I didn’t give a shit what people thought about me. I did random things, I pushed myself to experience things, I did stupid things, I did what I wanted, and what made me happy, and I was confident. I was on my very own trip, and everyone was invited that wanted to come.

It’s really weird actually.

I was just sitting here thinking about how uncomfortable I am being “me”…and how odd it is that there were 2 different Stephanie’s. I look back on those times, and think about that Stephanie. She’s like an old friend, you lost contact with. The friend that you kinda looked up too, and envied. There was something about her, that was alive, and exciting. Almost dangerous. I liked her. I want to be more like her.

I remember vividly the time that Chuck said to me during the divorce times…

“I HATE the new Stephanie!”

then I said:

“Funny! I was just thinking about how I LOVE the new Stephanie!”

The me now, is introverted, a homebody (who really wants to do lots of things, but is to uncomfortable with me.), shy, timid, worry wart, sad, mad/angry, limited.

It boggles my mind on why I don’t lose weight. How many times have I said that I am going to lose weight? So many. Countless. I really just do not get it?! It’s like I am punishing myself or something. I’m keeping myself in an area that I hate, that I feel so uncomfortable doing anything in public or around people. My weight and how I look is something I think about numerous times a day if not constantly on my mind. Just going out and getting the mail, I’m positive that the neighbors are looking out their window and thinking what a fat ass I am. That sounds ridiculous, I know…but I’m not exaggerating.

So, if this is something I think about all the live long day, something I HATE, something that bothers me more then anything else, then why in the hell do I say I’m going to lose weight and exercise, and eat right, and the next day I am eating like shit first thing in the morning? Exercise is a fleeting thought. Always ending in a reason why I can’t do it. (It’s too late in the day, I have to do it early. It’s too hot. I already ate like shit. I’ll do it later. Too late. HA!)

I try to remember what made me do it last time. Then I remember. It’s not something I give a shit about now. I remember noticing that no guys ever checked me out, specifically one. That bugged me. So, I decided to change that. I remember looking in the mirror and being so disgusted with myself. That was it. Soon, I was getting checked out. Now, however, I want to be checked out by just my boyfriend. I want him to think he has the hottest girlfriend around, and can’t keep his hands off of me. Not that he has ever said anything bad about how I look, but come on. I definitely don’t look like I did when we first met.

I want to get that fun and exciting Stephanie back, but still hold onto all the good things about me now. I want to feel good about myself. I’m 5′4″ and I weight like 173 lbs. With my height, and just how I gain weight, I look like shit with extra weight on. Even 20 lbs overweight looks bad on me…and I am 50lbs overweight! I just don’t know how or what in the world can make me get in that frame of mind to where I’ve had enough.

Last Wednesday, I got the bright idea that I would cut my hair all off and go short. So, I made an appointment and got in on Thursday. I was so excited for a change…and a cute new hairstyle. I somehow forgot that I am fat, and when I am fat I do not look good with short hair. It makes my face look fatter, and me uglier.

So, I brought in a picture of the cut I wanted. I wanted a bob, but I wanted it wispy on the ends, not a blunt cut. I said I wanted the ends to sweep my shoulders. I still wanted it longish…but short. The cut I picked was longish.

She said she would have to do a razor cut, and I know my hiar hates razor cuts. My hair is very course, and thick. Not thick in that I have a ton of hair, but a single hair is thick. Plus, I have gotten many a haircuts where I could have layers with scissors.

Obviously, by my after picture above, I didn’t even remotely get the same haircut. I am not a very picky person either. I don’t freak out over major changes to my hair…and I don’t have crazy expectations. I realize the girl in the picture has finer hair then I do. I realize it will look a little different on my head. Yet, these are two different hairstyles.

To top it off, I have no idea how she styled it. So, my hair really looks like shit now. Proof:

After she cut it, she showed me the back. I always have major issues with the back of my hair when people cut it. I looked at it, it looked okay. I went home. I pulled my short hair through a cap and bleached it. I washed my hair, and went to style it. I looked at the back and it was fucking crooked. There was absolutely nothing wispy about the ends of my hair. All she did was razor the shit out of my hair, and didn’t even make it even. Do I have a lopsided head where stylist cannot for the life of them cut it straight? Am I like a 5 year old in the chair wiggling around and they just can’t get it straight? What’s the deal, Lucille?

So, my brother and Agnes come over and Agnes tells me it looks like an older woman from the back. My brother tells me I look like my Mom. Yay! Just what I was going for! Ha! I totally agreed with Agnes, that is what I thought when I looked at it. I took my scissors to it a bit, and threw it in a tiny little ponytail.

My Mom came over on Friday and cut it a bit and made it more of an angled something or another. Either way it looks better, but not good.

It baffles me people! Baffles me that there are people who cut hair for a living, and have been doing so for years. Yet, I have a better eye then they do, and I can take no education and my huge sewing scissors to my hair, and make it look better then they can with their professional equipment and training.

So, it seems I am not on the look out for a new stylist who can actually cut fucking hair. I suppose my next haircut will be at a pricer salon.

Why is it you look at pictures of yourself with long hair, and you long to have it back. Yet, when it’s on your head you hate it and it’s boring? How I wish I never touched my hair last week. I don’t see myself liking it anytime soon until it is long again.

Remind me in like 2 years when I want to chop my hair again, to look at pictures of me with short hair. That will change my mind real fast.