Why Lie To The Internets?

I did something incredibly stupid today. I Googled someone from my past. Someone whom I'm very happy is in my past instead of my present. Someone who literally made my life a living hell for about a year, the most important year of my life at that, the year I got married. For blogging purposes, let's call her....Tascha. So why did I do it? Why did I Google her? Morbid curiosity about her pathetic life, I guess. She's the kind of chick who creates a culture of pure drama and heart ache and then blames the world for allowing her to constantly be the victim of inappropriate treatment. She lies, she's incredibly manipulative, and she's just not mentally stable. And the sad thing about that, is that she has yet to fully accept how completely insane she is. She honestly thinks that she's the normal one and everyone else in the world is crazy. I think part of the reason why it was so hard for me to end it with her was because of my pity for the poor abandoned stray animal that nobody loves. Turns out, if a stray animal is insane, they put it to sleep.

I was friends with Tascha through my Sis-In-Law and at first she was just a person to call when you were totally bored and no one else was able to meet you at the bar. She was my last resort. I'm fully aware of the fact that this attitude and behavior is just as bad as the shit I hate about Tascha and trust me when I say I severely regret it. I never should have even allowed myself to be friends (even the pretend kind) just to appease my brother and his wife. I just love my SIL so much, I didn't want to make it difficult for her being in the middle of some junior high friendship spat.

In the meantime, I allowed myself to get in way, way too deep. I listened to all of her life sob stories, her fucked up childhood, blah blah blah, and because of that, she sort of latched on to me, as a confidant, someone she trusted. At the time I was fine with that because I never knew she would turn out the way she did. I wish I had that 6th sense that people talk about, it would have saved me a LOT of drama.

St. Pauly Boy and I were engaged when I met Tascha. We had set the date, chosen a wedding party, the whole nine yards. She had a boyfriend, whom I loved and was completely normal, and soon after we met they also got engaged. Next thing I know, Tascha schedules her wedding for 2 weeks before mine. Ok, a little weird, but whatever. My SIL agrees to be her Maid of Honor (she and my bro weren't married at the time), poor thing, she really didn't want to, but the sad thing is, Tascha literally has zero friends. It's hard to say no when someone asks you to stand up for them at their wedding. I outta know, since I couldn't say no when Tascha asked me to be a bridesmaid. I had just met this girl! WTF? She asked me at the bar, around midnight, and quite frankly I was hammered. How unfortunate. God I still regret that moment. I agree to be a fucking bridesmaid for a girl I can't stand who's wedding is 2 weeks before mine?? And the even more fucked up thing about it was that the reason she asked me is that she had been turned down by her fiance's sister. She didn't want to be in the wedding! DAMN I should have taken my cue from her.

Anywho, the drama thickens when suddenly all of Tascha's pre-wedding festivities begun conflicting with everything that was already arranged for ours. Showers, bachelorette party, everything. Not only did the dates conflict, but the actual events were exactly the same. She wanted to have a couple's shower at a bowling alley, which was exactly what my MOH was throwing for us already. She wanted to have her bachlorette party at a Twins game after I had already planned that with my MOH as well. It was sick. And then she had the balls to confront me like I was the one who was being stupid. Um. Yeah.

So I survived the nightmare of her wedding. It was seriously horrible. When I got home, I literally through the ugly bridesmaids dress into the garbage bin in our driveway. It felt like a relief.

There is a lot more drama from my short history with this crazy bitch, but I'm just exhausted from reliving this, so I'm just gonna get to the point. My SIL finally ended her relationship with Tascha. I was thrilled to hear she had finally gotten out. So, when I Google her today and find out that she's posted this long fabricated story on her blog about how horrible SIL treated her and how she wanted to "break-up" with her since her own wedding almost two years ago. Anyone who knows my SIL knows she's too sweet to ever hurt anyone. And anyone who's met Tascha knows she's downright insane. But reading the post brought back all of those horrible negative feelings that she brought to my life. All of the lying and manipulation, just to make sure that no one ever had a reason to blame her for anything. She even lies to the people on the internet, who don't even know her. How sick is that?


Life is too short. We carry a lot of baggage around with us as adults and it's hard enough to just allow yourself to drop the baggage long enough to enjoy a sunny day and a nice glass of iced tea. No one needs this kind of person in their life.

I guess there's one positive aspect of my Google adventure today. I have reaffirmed my belief that the only people you should allow into your life are those who enhance the best side of you. People who make you feel good and bring out all of the positive aspects of your personality. It's such a hard lesson, but I learned it. Just say no to the Tascha's of the world and all of us will be just fine.

P.S. Vegas was awesome awesome awesome. I'll post my Vegas Blogging later.

Vive Las Vegas

The Wonderful World of St. Pauly Girl will be on hiatus this week while she tries her luck at the penny slots in the City of Sin. St. Pauly Boy apparently thinks he's going to be at the high roller tables but what he doesn't know is that SPG already snagged his credit cards, so he's gonna have to think twice about that idea.

We'll say hi to Celine for you.

Have a great week, Internets!

Wintertime Blues

Sorry ya'll, nothing fun to post today. I've got a serious case of crabby happening right now. I shouldn't be allowed to interact with people or animals today, no good can come of it. I already bitch slapped St. Pauly Boy for posing the question "Whatcha doin'?" and every time Pete even makes a sound I promise him I'm sending him to the pound. Right now he's pacing around the couch contemplating whether or not he might prefer the pound over living with a crab like me.

It happens every year in February. It's the proverbial brick wall that I smack up against in the midst of winter that makes me hate everything and everyone in the world. But the good news is, it only lasts for a month or so.

I'm going to go take my Zoloft now. Have a beautiful day, everyone.

Don't Hate Me Because I'm...

...probably going to TIVO the new Dukes of Hazzard series on abc Family. Willie Nelson is playing Uncle Jessie. Willie Fucking Nelson. I have to see this.

Pete Believes In The Children

St. Pauly Boy likes to sing songs while doing things around the house. Lately his favorite has been Space Oddity by David Bowie. It's fun for a minute, until the only thing going through your head is "Ground control to Major Tom", over and over and over and over.

He's also a big fan of including Stinky Pete in his songs. For example this mornings song:

"Pete believes the children are our future..."

Not only is it fun to listen to your husband sing Whitney Houston songs, but imagining Pete believing in the children is simply delicious.

Light The Lamp

Anyone who knows me knows that I love sports, almost as much as any man I know, and more than a few of them. It's a family trait. When St. Pauly Boy and I started dating, he was quickly emerged into the family's fanaticism when after only 1 month of dating he flew to Kansas City from LA to meet myself, my mother, father, and brother for a weekend of Twins v. Royals baseball games and one pre-season Vikes game. And after that weekend, he was hooked. Thank god for that too, I don't know if I could have married a non-sports guy. Seriously, what would we have in common? In our house, the wife is the one who teaches the husband everything there is to know about sports.

We share season tickets for the MN Wild with my folks and my brother and his wife. Every game we go to, SPB learns more about the game of hockey. When he doesn't understand something, I explain it to him. It's fun. I love teaching him about hockey. Hockey is particularly important in my family. We're obsessive about the game. When the North Stars left MN, we mourned for a long time. Thank god for the Gophers because I don't know that we could have recovered from such a loss had there not been an alternative. I remember when the Gophs won the NCAA title for the first time in like 50 years, it was on my birthday. I couldn't have dreamed of a better birthday present, and it didn't cost my parents a dime. I gladly spent that Saturday night in my parents basement watching the game on the big screen instead of at the bar with my friends.

While we were busy perfecting the art of Spectator Hockey, St. Pauly Boy decided he wanted to learn how to skate. Right on! But that's not actually enough. He doesn't just want to learn how to skate, he wants to learner how to play hockey. Like with a stick and everything. That's awesome, honey, seriously. But don't you think you should just get the skating thing down first? Nope. When he does something, he does the HELL out of it.

St. Pauly Boy played his first hockey game ever....at the Xcel Energy Center.

Yep. The X. Where the Wild play. Where we go 3-4 times a month to see our favorite team in action. No, he didn't win some between periods fan challenge. My brother actually rented the goddamn ice and invited his pals for a "pick-up" game on Wednesday. And SPB decided to join, even though he'd never played the game a day in his life. They took the same stroll to the ice that the Wild players take before every period. They sat on the same benches as both the Wild and visiting teams. Wayne Fucking Gretsky has been on that visitors bench. My husband sat on a bench that has touched The Great One. And he had never even skated before.

Can you imagine a better initiation into a sport? Just a leisure pick-up game at your favorite professional sports arena of all time. No biggie.

Instructions On How To Become A Shut-In

Quit your job when it's minus 30 degrees for an extended period of time. At least, that's what works for me. It's deceivingly sunny and bright outside which automatically makes me think it's warm. Oh but it's not. So far I've run 2 quick errands in the last 2 days and both times traumatic. For example, I just got back from Errand #2 (grocery store) and realized that I forgot one key ingredient (wine, because who eats a good London Broil without wine) and now St. Pauly Boy and I are arguing about who has to go on a liquor store run. The pathetic thing is, the liquor store is two blocks away. I just can't do it. I'm freezing. I'll have to trade him for some other mundane task that needs to get done around the house, which I doubt will work considering my husband is an "only child" whose stubbornness could rival c\m/k and anyone who knows that guy understands what kind of scale we're using to measure stubbornness, here.

Thank god for Vegas in 2 weeks from yesterday. I'm going insane.

Super Dull

What is going on with the Super Bowl? When is the last time time you can remember enjoying the experience? It's been years since we've been properly entertained. And I'm not talking about just the football, although yesterdays game had it's moments in the 1st half mainly, all in all it was a blow out, what in the HELL happened to all the great commercials??? I may have laughed out loud twice. TWICE. That is complete crap! I feel cheated. I feel lied to. And I want revenge. Where did all the monkeys go?? There was A commercial with primates and they were talking gorillas, who weren't even funny. The talking lions were funnier and that's not saying a lot. I'm disgusted.

The only redeeming factor of this years Super Bowl experience was the half time show. Normally, half time is a joke. But Prince? He kicked the shit out of half time and that's probably why the rest of the game became the joke. Show me one person who didn't get goose bumps upon hearing the first notes of Purple Rain. Loved it. All of it.

As far as the actual game, it's obvious the right team won (sorry Matt). Rex Grossman is a complete joke. It's hard for me to understand how he even got this far in the league. He's like Joey Harrington's twin brother or something. The Bears had a very exciting first quarter, but that's mainly due to the fact that Rex didn't get to touch the ball more than a couple of times, if any, I can't remember the exact details and truthfully won't waste my time to even read the highlights because that's how uneventful the whole experience was for me.

Another Sunday night, wasted in front of a big screen TV. I guess there was really nothing else better to do here in MN with our blistering -40 degree windchills. At least the beer tasted good.

Darth Potato-Vader

Someone here has a Mr. Potato Head dressed as Darth Vader.

That's just awesome.


UPDATE: His real name is Darth Tater. I was close.

The Tender Age of 30

As I approach my 30th birthday in April, I’ve been thinking a lot about the aging process. For some, we’ll call them Group A, it’s a terrifying and depressing thing to add one more year to your age belt. For others, Group B, it’s not the number on your belt that’s counting, it’s your state of mind and body that counts. Having another birthday is just another reason to celebrate. I’m in Group B.

Now here’s what bothers me. In conversations with those who lean more towards Group A, divulging my thoughts on the aging process is normally returned with, “Of course you think that way now, you’re only 30.” Or the “when you’re my age, you’ll understand”. I totally get that with age comes additional life experience, but being patronized like that just irritates the shit out of me. I’m beginning to feel like I’m never going to be old enough to escape this type of patronization. Which means, not only am I ok with birthdays and turning another year older, that’s what I WANT. I’ve diluted myself in believing that with age comes respect. And in plenty of ways, that’s true. But I think that I deserve plenty of respect, even if I am only 30 years old. 30 feels so young to me.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just because I’m sensitive when it comes to feeling respected. Patronizing behavior really gets under my skin, just as much as passive-aggressiveness. I just can’t tolerate it. The truth of the matter is, deep down I feel like I have a healthy way of viewing age. I’m not scared and I really try not to judge people based on their number of years spent on this earth*.

Do I make any sense at all or is this all just a load of crap?

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*Ok, every once and a while I judge the teenagers. But come one, the teens are by far the worst ages in the whole process, it’s no wonder they’re annoying most of the time. I know I was.