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".
Friday, November 15, 2013
Consider this a public service announcement. Some of you may recall I live in Medellin presently, and have spent the past three years in Colombia, mostly on the Caribbean coast. And I have been known to mention a few of the products and services offered here freely, from time to time. It's my right, as my Ecuadorian father says. He has a masters in engineering, so I consider him a genius although when I ask why he never taught me Spanish, he answers "I don't know."
Yesterday, I spent a few hours at my newfound bestie, my dentist Luis', chair. If you break out in hives and down the entire bottle of valium like I do just thinking the word dentist, fear no more. I swear, this man's hands have been touched by God. Every dentist I've ever went to has said "I am known for pain-free dentistry." Yea, and I am a "Creature unlike any other". Those other dentists are such fucking liars, it must be a course requirement in dental school. So, when Dr. Luis Escobar (how's that for being born with the right name?) didn't say much to make me skeptical, I sucked it up and...didn't feel but the slightest pinch. It was if the heavens opened up, the sun shown brighter, and I was in drilling nirvana. When the numbness wore off, still no pain (ok, had codeine to...help?) and I asked if I could come back tomorrow. Which was yesterday. Yes, I had the same experience. So, I am now on my way to that Jim Carey mouth I've always wanted. Next week, half my teeth will be all white fillings! Can't wait to show them off by laughing like a hyena at things that aren't even funny. Want the best part now? To date, the bill has added up to just over $100.00 and included consultation, impressions, and two molar fillings replaced with new white ones. Hand to God! If you only knew how cheap blow is here, you would get on the next Avianca out of the states. Bring me some Taco Bell, and I'll hook you up. Seriously, medical tourism is just one of the many reasons me and tons of others are leaving in droves. I read this article on the ticker of AOL and confirms what I already knew. Told you I was way ahead of my time!
I am coming back to the U.S. soon, but not until I have the mouth of a porn star, to match the natural blond, trash talking language, lifted eyes and collagen filled lips that are in my near future. If you have questions about medical tourism, feel free to ask. I am a walking billboard, and not here selling policies, I swear. It's just one of the few things I am knowledgeable with, from horrific personal experience and being at the mercy of hospitals and physicians here. I guess alcohol, drugs, and age may take a toll on a person after all. Ok, my PSA is done. The more you know...
Yesterday, I spent a few hours at my newfound bestie, my dentist Luis', chair. If you break out in hives and down the entire bottle of valium like I do just thinking the word dentist, fear no more. I swear, this man's hands have been touched by God. Every dentist I've ever went to has said "I am known for pain-free dentistry." Yea, and I am a "Creature unlike any other". Those other dentists are such fucking liars, it must be a course requirement in dental school. So, when Dr. Luis Escobar (how's that for being born with the right name?) didn't say much to make me skeptical, I sucked it up and...didn't feel but the slightest pinch. It was if the heavens opened up, the sun shown brighter, and I was in drilling nirvana. When the numbness wore off, still no pain (ok, had codeine to...help?) and I asked if I could come back tomorrow. Which was yesterday. Yes, I had the same experience. So, I am now on my way to that Jim Carey mouth I've always wanted. Next week, half my teeth will be all white fillings! Can't wait to show them off by laughing like a hyena at things that aren't even funny. Want the best part now? To date, the bill has added up to just over $100.00 and included consultation, impressions, and two molar fillings replaced with new white ones. Hand to God! If you only knew how cheap blow is here, you would get on the next Avianca out of the states. Bring me some Taco Bell, and I'll hook you up. Seriously, medical tourism is just one of the many reasons me and tons of others are leaving in droves. I read this article on the ticker of AOL and confirms what I already knew. Told you I was way ahead of my time!
I am coming back to the U.S. soon, but not until I have the mouth of a porn star, to match the natural blond, trash talking language, lifted eyes and collagen filled lips that are in my near future. If you have questions about medical tourism, feel free to ask. I am a walking billboard, and not here selling policies, I swear. It's just one of the few things I am knowledgeable with, from horrific personal experience and being at the mercy of hospitals and physicians here. I guess alcohol, drugs, and age may take a toll on a person after all. Ok, my PSA is done. The more you know...
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Dr. Acula and her sidekick, the boy wonder
I didn't sleep much last night. The self proclaimed "Machine" I am married to begged for forgiveness and rewarded me with a full night of long, hard, fast pounding sex. I am sitting on a foam donut, to make sure everyone knows I got the beating I deserved. So all that exercise, which was due to just a little coke, and what happened earlier in the day caused me to stay awake more than usual, also due to a bit more blow. I had an unsettling feeling, after I was accused of putting a hole in the marble floor. Dr. Acula's zero husband, the boy wonder, apparently has it out for me, and although I am the smallest, skinniest, Croc's wearing person in this house, threw accusations that I was the culprit. Makes sense, right?
I call him the boy wonder because he still sucks his thumb, has no job, gossips like a 13 year old girl, and he looks albino (sorry, albinos) just like my favorite white bread. He called me the c-word to my husband. Such a man! He brags to my husband about being with 'practice wife #4', Dr. Acula, that he has at least three others lined up waiting for him, yet he is fat, ugly, mean, won't bang his wife, and makes no money. Stay back, women of the world, this man's taken! What nerve calling me out, I said to my husband. I am at the very least cute, slender, can play golf, cook, and made more money than he has in ten years working as a hairdresser! Is there an equivocal 'c' word for men I can use? I don't think a single word has been created yet to put all the undesirable traits this one person has into just one word. But if you do, or can think of a good one, let me know. I'm dying to come up with something harsher than boy wonder. Because this dick kept me from my beauty sleep last night, and he is sucking up all the good air from the rest of us. He is blatantly delusional, an all-in-one human wasteland, and needs an entire team of Belleview doctors working on him. If I wind up dead, he is the guilty party, your honor.
Dr. Acula is a love-hating backstabber who, with boy wonder, have done their best to split me from my stud (?). But they failed. I win. Thank you God, for my vagina. Bye for now!
I call him the boy wonder because he still sucks his thumb, has no job, gossips like a 13 year old girl, and he looks albino (sorry, albinos) just like my favorite white bread. He called me the c-word to my husband. Such a man! He brags to my husband about being with 'practice wife #4', Dr. Acula, that he has at least three others lined up waiting for him, yet he is fat, ugly, mean, won't bang his wife, and makes no money. Stay back, women of the world, this man's taken! What nerve calling me out, I said to my husband. I am at the very least cute, slender, can play golf, cook, and made more money than he has in ten years working as a hairdresser! Is there an equivocal 'c' word for men I can use? I don't think a single word has been created yet to put all the undesirable traits this one person has into just one word. But if you do, or can think of a good one, let me know. I'm dying to come up with something harsher than boy wonder. Because this dick kept me from my beauty sleep last night, and he is sucking up all the good air from the rest of us. He is blatantly delusional, an all-in-one human wasteland, and needs an entire team of Belleview doctors working on him. If I wind up dead, he is the guilty party, your honor.
Dr. Acula is a love-hating backstabber who, with boy wonder, have done their best to split me from my stud (?). But they failed. I win. Thank you God, for my vagina. Bye for now!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Suck it, cavities!
Damn, my pie hole hurts. Tomorrow it is going to hurt sooo much, I am not above faking pain so the dentist injects me with the legal limit of Novocain. Today was just a cleaning, but since drug addicts tend to put off little things like health and child support, my soon to be x didn't deem it necessary to visit the dentist for, well, since the day we met. Luis, my plaque removing buddy, had to break out the heavy artillery-jackhammer and backhoe-to chisel years of nastiness off my teeth. No one held my hand which is a huge improvement for me; I have been known to scream bloody murder at the top of my asthma filled lungs to the dismay of my previous dentists, since I have had the following medieval procedures since I was a little carpet-biter: Fillings on 16 of my molars, a root canal on one of my top front teeth after a piece of sheet metal knocked it out, 4 teeth pulled (because my orthodontist said my mouth was too small for my teeth. My Mommy couldn't believe it either.), a crown on root canal tooth, four years of orthodontia, and in recent years, an incomplete implant that has given me permanent nerve damage from incorrect placement. Sometimes I drool and have food in the corner of my mouth that I cannot feel and have no clue is there. It makes for great dining out.
Soon I will be getting an actual tooth where the implant hole is. Which will be nice, being able to smile with less of a jack-o-lantern effect. I will be sure to give that shit-eating grin again to everyone I know, and am known for.
It is no secret I live in Colombia, and partake in the local offerings. Lately it has been legally permissive to carry cocaine, and I believed it to be a sign of good things to come. Well, I was right!Here's proof that sniffing stuff is beneficial, and thanks Salon, for the info on Special K! Maybe Ecstasy will make a comeback next, and you'll never hear from me again! Dream on, people, I am a survivor. I've been told so, by a doctor, just yesterday. Ok, an optician, and not a doctor-doctor. Still, she did tell me my best friend Sadie has cataracts. Have a day!
Soon I will be getting an actual tooth where the implant hole is. Which will be nice, being able to smile with less of a jack-o-lantern effect. I will be sure to give that shit-eating grin again to everyone I know, and am known for.
It is no secret I live in Colombia, and partake in the local offerings. Lately it has been legally permissive to carry cocaine, and I believed it to be a sign of good things to come. Well, I was right!Here's proof that sniffing stuff is beneficial, and thanks Salon, for the info on Special K! Maybe Ecstasy will make a comeback next, and you'll never hear from me again! Dream on, people, I am a survivor. I've been told so, by a doctor, just yesterday. Ok, an optician, and not a doctor-doctor. Still, she did tell me my best friend Sadie has cataracts. Have a day!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)