Why are you reading this instead of packing up your worldly belongings (bong) and roadtripping to Colorado, the guinea pig of democracy? If you have been too buzzed to read, weed is now legal, but only in the Rocky Mountain High Life.
If you are still reading, congratulations. You are ready to move to the rankings of druggie. Here's how I did. I met what I thought was the man of my dreams. Turns out he is a sociopath, and love is blind. He asks me to quit my job because he will take care of me and my kids "financially" forever. Sounds good so far, right? No job, so no need for a car. Drop my son at his father's house. Four years later, I am living in Medellin talking to my son on skype once a week, doing a gram of coke a day, and reminding myself how dumb I am on an hourly basis. To think I left my family and our dream home 8 years ago for this. If you ever have a chance to pick brains or brawn, pick brains. Wait until I finish my memoir. Chalk full of 45 years of brilliance and insight.
So that's all there is to it. Drop everything and move to Colombia where you can: Live like a king on half the expenses. Do whatever you want. And be taken advantage of at every turn. At least we can all relax knowing the guerrillas aren't in control any more.
Anyone have an extra ticket to Denver?
I hope to be in a better (more intoxicated) state of mind tomorrow. Three beers and no play makes Lori...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzsdgajdstnvasdgn
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
8 Ways to Skip Charm School
Besides my mad mopping and blow job skills, I have mastered the facade craft of being lady like. Thus lies my success in landing 3 complete jackholes for husbands and living a fabulously glamorous life in a one room loft in Medellin. Don't be a hater.
So, here's adding to the millions of uber-useful How-To lists online. Your welcome.
1. Never curse. But if you do, add the letters IE to the end of the word. My fave is fuckie. So much sweeter, don't you agree?
2. Eat like a bird. Do enough coke ( or for my friends in the states, meth ) to keep you up for two days certainly will stop you from ordering the Chateaubriand and, like the classy Lindsey Lohan says, you can drink more.
3. When in doubt, smile, giggle, and arch your back. This has bailed me out of countless speeding tickets. and cavity searches, but not that DUI back in '08.
4. Cry a little when watching tv or the movies, but only if you are wearing waterproof mascara. Then, to create the tears, rub your eyes with your popcorn salted fingers.
5. I always wear skirts and dresses because my one good asset my Mommy gave me were her tremendous gams. Whatever your Mommy gave you, work it. Work it like your fresh off the pole.
6. A simple way to feel like the RuPaul queen you are and piss off every woman at the grocery store is to carry your flowers ( Miss America style) through the entire store instead of laying them in the cart with your purse. Works especially well when your husband is doing his part by pushing the cart.
7. Always say grace before your meal. It keeps most from knowing your not in that Satanic cult.
8. Keep your house and car clean always. I'm not suggesting you clean them, by any means. But #3 shared a long time men's secret that will finally be made known to the masses, and that is "A woman with a dirty house and car probably has a dirty pussy." Take it from me, he would know. He's hired Panamanian hookers, after all.
Thanks for reading so I put off exercising for another hour. Or day. Love ya!
So, here's adding to the millions of uber-useful How-To lists online. Your welcome.
1. Never curse. But if you do, add the letters IE to the end of the word. My fave is fuckie. So much sweeter, don't you agree?
2. Eat like a bird. Do enough coke ( or for my friends in the states, meth ) to keep you up for two days certainly will stop you from ordering the Chateaubriand and, like the classy Lindsey Lohan says, you can drink more.
3. When in doubt, smile, giggle, and arch your back. This has bailed me out of countless speeding tickets. and cavity searches, but not that DUI back in '08.
4. Cry a little when watching tv or the movies, but only if you are wearing waterproof mascara. Then, to create the tears, rub your eyes with your popcorn salted fingers.
5. I always wear skirts and dresses because my one good asset my Mommy gave me were her tremendous gams. Whatever your Mommy gave you, work it. Work it like your fresh off the pole.
6. A simple way to feel like the RuPaul queen you are and piss off every woman at the grocery store is to carry your flowers ( Miss America style) through the entire store instead of laying them in the cart with your purse. Works especially well when your husband is doing his part by pushing the cart.
7. Always say grace before your meal. It keeps most from knowing your not in that Satanic cult.
8. Keep your house and car clean always. I'm not suggesting you clean them, by any means. But #3 shared a long time men's secret that will finally be made known to the masses, and that is "A woman with a dirty house and car probably has a dirty pussy." Take it from me, he would know. He's hired Panamanian hookers, after all.
Thanks for reading so I put off exercising for another hour. Or day. Love ya!
Why PMS is the Most Liberating Gift from God
"Guess what time it is? TOM is coming!", is how I announce it. You may have your own manner of notification (megaphone, billboard) to warn everyone in a four block radius that the psychotic bitch marathon is about to begin. Grab some popcorn, a pound of M&M's, and a straight jacket with a diaper because the time is now, dammit!
Actually, mine isn't that bad. I just sit behind my computer, sitting up in bed, and give the back of #3's head the stink eye, just like I am now. He has no idea how many times I have asked the Almighty why children are starving to death in Ethiopia but he gets to continue breathing in the good air meant for non-sociopath people. That is the extent of my PMS, with the exception of the pillow-soaking tears from regret, shame, and a lack of Adderal. Thankfully the selection of drugs here is bountiful and I just double up. It's the American Way here in Colombia.
So, with my subtle hints to #3, he hears it's a coming. He sees the look in my bloodshot eyes, bloated face, and hair I brushed with a hand mixer, grabs the list for the store and makes a run for the door. I no longer want to send Hannibal Lector for his ass, but sigh deeply and hope his taxi driver is drunk. But only on the way home, and close to the house, so I can still get the bags of stuff from the car. Love is, after all, about what I can guilt #3 into doing for me. And that is the blessing in disguise of PMS. As if you didn't already know.
Milk that baby for all it's worth. My Mommy taught me from when I was just a little 'ho. But now I'm a big 'Ho, and she was right. That, and watch out for the jackalope. I think she may have been wrong on that one. She was a flower child, you know. Weren't they all back then?
Words of Twaddle for the day-"Medellin is God's rehab." Genius, huh? He never seizes to amaze.
Be well, or don't.
Actually, mine isn't that bad. I just sit behind my computer, sitting up in bed, and give the back of #3's head the stink eye, just like I am now. He has no idea how many times I have asked the Almighty why children are starving to death in Ethiopia but he gets to continue breathing in the good air meant for non-sociopath people. That is the extent of my PMS, with the exception of the pillow-soaking tears from regret, shame, and a lack of Adderal. Thankfully the selection of drugs here is bountiful and I just double up. It's the American Way here in Colombia.
So, with my subtle hints to #3, he hears it's a coming. He sees the look in my bloodshot eyes, bloated face, and hair I brushed with a hand mixer, grabs the list for the store and makes a run for the door. I no longer want to send Hannibal Lector for his ass, but sigh deeply and hope his taxi driver is drunk. But only on the way home, and close to the house, so I can still get the bags of stuff from the car. Love is, after all, about what I can guilt #3 into doing for me. And that is the blessing in disguise of PMS. As if you didn't already know.
Milk that baby for all it's worth. My Mommy taught me from when I was just a little 'ho. But now I'm a big 'Ho, and she was right. That, and watch out for the jackalope. I think she may have been wrong on that one. She was a flower child, you know. Weren't they all back then?
Words of Twaddle for the day-"Medellin is God's rehab." Genius, huh? He never seizes to amaze.
Be well, or don't.
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Back from the (wish I was) Dead
Being without a computer is about the loneliest I have ever given someone permission to make me feel. Because I like money over loneliness, I reluctantly loaned my computer so he could continue to under produce and over exaggerate to his desperate email marketing clients. It only took him 91 days to make enough cheddar to buy a $450 Acer laptop. What a catch he is. Am I right?
Today, his partner in crime, the Boy Wonder, dropped off clothes for my beloved and dear spouse that Boy Wonder had worn maybe once before another burrito dog shrunk them. This is the same man who says that he is NOT having sex again because testosterone speeds up the aging process, and as we all know, more men like him need to live forever. If he does, we should all Scarface it right now-get a pile of coke and dive in, before it's too late. I told my husband that, by definition, Boy does not even serve a purpose in humanity-he's not even as useful as a whore. And to think, Boy somehow snagged a Colombian doctor. If he wrote a book on how he did, then he will have left a legacy. Other than that, and Goodwill-ing his (not so) skinny clothes that his wife bought, the resources and food this man consumes could feed a tribe in Cameroon (notice I didn't say small tribe?), clothe the entire state of Florida\s homeless, and keep fellow generations from being ear-raped by the incessant shit coming from this man's mouth.
Over the delightful insanity many call the holidays, we were invited 4 times to Boy Wonder and his wife's home, and 4 times, we joyfully declined. Can you believe it took 4 times for them to catch on that we didn't want to be around them ??? The first few were easy as far as excuses. The last one, not so much. The email read a little like this: "We really missed you at the tree lighting. I dropped a package off at your door. Hope you will be able to come for our New Year party." My husband, who is such a bullshitter that his friend had a 'Bullshit Alert' ringer every time he called, could only reply "Thank you Clara." Which brought this female doctor to her breaking point. She wrote us again, but, to our relief, no invitation was included. She asked 'What happened?' So I told her. Isn't that what friends do? As if I would know.
I enlightened her on how her better half Boy had yelled and cursed at me, had accused me of putting a hole in their marble floor, and called me a cunt to my husband. And because he is such a manly stud, did all of these things when she was not around. I have yet to hear back from her, which leads my husband and I to conclude that they are actually perfect for each other, and we won't be getting unsolicited invitations anymore. And then the Boy shows up with clothes. Yea, that makes it all better. Well done.
I apologize from the bottom of my hollow heart to anyone who may have missed me for a fleeting moment. But at least, hopefully, you got new clothes from Santa, or Hannukah Harry, instead of used shirts from the Grinch.
As Clara the eye doc says, "Be Well".
Today, his partner in crime, the Boy Wonder, dropped off clothes for my beloved and dear spouse that Boy Wonder had worn maybe once before another burrito dog shrunk them. This is the same man who says that he is NOT having sex again because testosterone speeds up the aging process, and as we all know, more men like him need to live forever. If he does, we should all Scarface it right now-get a pile of coke and dive in, before it's too late. I told my husband that, by definition, Boy does not even serve a purpose in humanity-he's not even as useful as a whore. And to think, Boy somehow snagged a Colombian doctor. If he wrote a book on how he did, then he will have left a legacy. Other than that, and Goodwill-ing his (not so) skinny clothes that his wife bought, the resources and food this man consumes could feed a tribe in Cameroon (notice I didn't say small tribe?), clothe the entire state of Florida\s homeless, and keep fellow generations from being ear-raped by the incessant shit coming from this man's mouth.
Over the delightful insanity many call the holidays, we were invited 4 times to Boy Wonder and his wife's home, and 4 times, we joyfully declined. Can you believe it took 4 times for them to catch on that we didn't want to be around them ??? The first few were easy as far as excuses. The last one, not so much. The email read a little like this: "We really missed you at the tree lighting. I dropped a package off at your door. Hope you will be able to come for our New Year party." My husband, who is such a bullshitter that his friend had a 'Bullshit Alert' ringer every time he called, could only reply "Thank you Clara." Which brought this female doctor to her breaking point. She wrote us again, but, to our relief, no invitation was included. She asked 'What happened?' So I told her. Isn't that what friends do? As if I would know.
I enlightened her on how her better half Boy had yelled and cursed at me, had accused me of putting a hole in their marble floor, and called me a cunt to my husband. And because he is such a manly stud, did all of these things when she was not around. I have yet to hear back from her, which leads my husband and I to conclude that they are actually perfect for each other, and we won't be getting unsolicited invitations anymore. And then the Boy shows up with clothes. Yea, that makes it all better. Well done.
I apologize from the bottom of my hollow heart to anyone who may have missed me for a fleeting moment. But at least, hopefully, you got new clothes from Santa, or Hannukah Harry, instead of used shirts from the Grinch.
As Clara the eye doc says, "Be Well".
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