Bret Michaels needs a new weave

I'll admit it. I've watched the Bret Michaels VH-1 Rock of Love for the past month or so. It took me until NOW to realize that this dude has serious issues involving his **formerly** long hair.

What gives? Has he lost all of his hair? Some of it? Because he goes NOWHERE without an ugly old bandanna or cowboy hat. He chills in hot tub in it. He sleeps in it. He somehow has it solidly fastened to his scalp. He may have secret technology that could serve many people in the world. Imagine a hairdo that could withstand a hurricane or tornado.

I'm not a stylist, but one thing is clear: The scarecrow weave/wig/extensions/whatever is hardly better than just DEALING with it. I guess I should feel sorry for him since he's only trying to look younger and "sexier," which is what we women are pressured to do. But I don't, because as a MAN, he's LUCKY and should be grateful he isn't expected to have a full head of hair (like women) or to get his lips packed full of collagen (like women). Next thing you know he'll be getting implants.

While I'm at it, I can't forget to mention those pathetic women who are "continuing to rock" his "world." WTF is wrong with people? Is actually working for a living THAT freaking repulsive?

I guess I just don't understand this whole process of becoming a mindless ho. How does one go about deciding that getting shitfaced on tv and performing sexual favors on an aging has-been scarecrow is a worthwhile activity? What is the drive? Because the few who may have actually listened to his music were long gone before I started watching.

Maybe it has something to do with the entertainment industry, of which I've never been a part. I mean, I'm entertaining enough without trying, and I don't even ask for money. All I have to do is go about my day normally, tripping off escalators, bumping people's favorite plants off their desks, dropping my keys or my pen and what have you. But for crying out loud, I don't make an ass out of myself on PURPOSE.

And I'll be damned if I'd do it for some old scarecrow with collagen and implants.

What is the definition of Masculinity?

Because I do not have have never (purposely) been a consumer of porn, I was astonished to read this article by on AlterNet, responding to Robert Jensen's new book, Getting Off....

Pornography and the End of Masculinity
Don Hazen
September 22, 2007


I can't bring myself to quote some of the more shocking parts of the article. If I thought reading the damn book would make my life any easier, I might buy it. But I think all I can do is what I'm doing right now: refuse to buy porn of any form.

Many have said that people hardly change much. Cruelty and degradation of the weak by the powerful has "always" been around, right?

I would like to examine how our idea of a man has changed over recent time. It used to be that men of integrity, chivalry and responsibility were respected. Not anymore. Now we don't even bother with those trifles. Men are measured by their ability to victimize, and men are measuring themselves by it, if the billion-dollar porn industry is to be given its full due.


But what's the use of complaining about it? The stupid women who allow women to be degraded are still going to show up to the set and the photo shoot and the strip club. The stupid men who "get off" are still going to show the porn industry and the rest of the world how easily their minds can be taken hostage in the name of cash...

"...For Jensen, the most plausible explanation of the popularity of these acts is that women in the world, outside of pornography, don't engage in these acts unless forced. 'Men know that -- and they find it sexually arousing to watch them in part because of that knowledge...'"

"...If I were them, if I were a woman, I wouldn't want to know that. Life is difficult enough without knowing things like that, without having to face that one lives in a society in which no matter who you are -- as an individual, as a person with hopes and dreams, with strengths and weaknesses -- you are something to be fucked and laughed at and left on the side of the road by men. Because you are a woman..."

The only glimmer of hope is that here we have two men writing about the societal negatives associated with the porn industry. Because as we all know, nobody is listening to women.

Vacation all I ever wanted...

Exposing my advanced age yet again with that title.

Yesterday marked my first official day of vacation this time around. It was my intention to have a couple days of "MH" stuff going on before departing for the Great Up North, where I will spend a week with my beloved Grammy. I just needed time to sit around doing my most favorite thing in the world: calculating my budget every which way. It's the most fun ever.

I love it when I get some bright idea in my head like, "Hmmm, wonder how much money I'd have left over at the end of the month if I ONLY ate salad with no dressing?" or "Hmmm, if I bought a condo with a patio or a yard and grew my own salad, THEN how much money would I save?.... Well then I could afford a higher mortgage payment, right? So how much more can I spend on a house if I grow my own salad?" Stuff like that, you know important things.

In between calculations and other serious endeavors, I found the time to convince two different real estate agents to show me some townhomes. One was COMPLETELY out of my price range. Not, mind you, more than I'd been approved for- but one thing I've learned from watching everybody else lose their houses is to buy based on what I know I can pay. Not what some guy TELLS me I can get a loan for. So then I looked at a unit that is about $75,000 cheaper than #1. The only thing I can't stand is that I will have neighbors on EACH side of me. Ugh. I asked the agent if she knew anything about them, and she looked at me like I'd stepped out of one of those Nazi propaganda films. She said, "I'm sure you understand that these types of discussions are not prudent." Well, why not?! It's not like I asked her if they were Irish Catholics. What I REALLY wanted to know was whether or not they had any kids. Specifically TEENAGERS. Because I know exactly what I'd have to deal with if a teenager lived next door. I used to be a teenager. I wouldn't have wanted to live next door to me. So anyway, I didn't get anywhere with her. She referred me to the HOA president, who I'll talk to later if I decide to show up with my tape measure.

I also looked at a new-build. Wasn't impressed, and it must be bad if I'M not impressed. I could probably count on one hand the amount of times I've actually stood in a home that hasn't ever been lived in. But the whole development looked somewhat thrown together. I opened a closet and saw a bunch of boxes and leftover pieces from the furniture that apparently didn't need to be put together all the way. The bedrooms were tiny. What if I wanted to get a king sized bed? Lastly, the REAL hurdle would be the ugly spiral staircase, which leads to the "loft" "master suite." WTF were they thinking? How are we supposed to get our master suites up there? I don't know.

So in the morning, bright and early, I'm off to see my Grammy. She is at the point where she can't be left alone anymore and I volunteered to go up there for a week. I can't wait to see her! She loves to play Scrabble and I might be able to get her to tell me some stories about her "Momma" and "Nana."

When I return, I intend to waste ZERO time in finding a house and getting moved in. Have to keep moving on and up!

I'm OK?

My last session with Marty the therapist was- the last session. He told me that I'm on the right track, and if I should ever need to talk about any issues, he'll always be around.

I'm glad because to be honest I was starting to think Marty gets all of his material from outdated self-help books. I had to read The Power of Now and then he started with I'm Ok You're Ok. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I read that thing eons ago. My mom had bought it but acted guilty every time anyone saw her reading it. By 10, my reading skills were advanced since I'd already been sneaking VC Andrews and Stephen King books for years.

I thought IOYO was some sort of pornographic sex how-to manual that was meant only for
adults so I couldn't WAIT until it ended up in cardboard box underneath the basement stairs so I could get my hands on it. That's where all her Harlequins went, eventually. Then the basement would flood and the hundreds of Harlequins would get ruined, no big loss. Anyway. I found it under the basement stairs and devoured the darned thing before I learned that there was NOTHING interesting about that book. NOTHING. Then I started acting like I was OK but my parents were not OK. I've been acting like the parent ever since. That seems to be my role, I guess. Of course, Harris is a popular subject for a day in sophomore PSYCH class lecutres, and I got to learn how he came up with his goods.

Marty's point the other day was that I'm ALWAYS in the parent role. I told him about X and how he never talked to me like he talks to his new PetName. Marty said, "Well, can you picture someone talking to their mother like that? Because that's what you were. When was the last time you acted like anything other than a parent?" Fine. I get it.

Then I told Marty my good news and how excited it was to finally, maybe be able to have my own house again. I told him how I used to drink my first cup of coffee every morning, walking around my back yard, inspecting all of my flowers and my garden. I told him how I used to make a cake from scratch at least once every week. How I enjoyed cleaning my house, decorating, painting, and taking care of it.

And I have not felt anywhere near such happiness since the day I moved. Three years ago next week. I told Marty that I feel like the old me. Just knowing that I can buy a house if I want to has rejuvenated me. Marty said that there I go again, not thinking about having fun. I'm thinking about getting a house so I can create more work and put more pressure on myself. I want to "mother" a house since I am no longer married.

He really missed the mark there, because he's so wrong. I used that house as a play house almost, because I didn't have a home like that growing up. I created my own world to be a kid in. I don't know what I will do when I settle in a new house. Hopefully I've grown in ways that I didn't expect. But for now, I'm so glad to be able to see. Marty is great, but he just doesn't get it this time. Oh well, can't win 'em all, Marty! You're still ok!

Bigger and... and BETTER things!

For all involved. X wanted - what he wanted, I still don't know what that was, but it certainly wasn't me. Move on, MH.


So I've moved on to what I want. I want a house of my own!

I called a mortgage place yesterday to see how many decades it will be before I will actually be able to buy a home on a FIXED rate. And surprise! When they called me back I was tentatively approved for over TWICE what I thought I would ever be able to spend. This is thanks to all the raises I've been getting lately I guess. Plus my credit hasn't been completely wrecked by the divorce. Wow. Do I deserve a stroke of good luck? Crap, I know I just jinxed myself with that last sentence.

So now the search is on for a new home. I took some time while not being able to sleep last night to write down my must-haves:

• AT LEAST washer/dryer hook-ups. No more coin-op or take-out laundry for MH! Yay!
• Area for a dog to run and play. Grassy area. So I can have a dog. Plus I need at least a container garden.
  
• BIG kitchen (or at least room to enlarge kitchen) because I have three awesome metal cabinets from the forties that NEED to stay in the kitchen.

IF it's a condo or townhouse:

• Lots of storage
• Two bedroom w/ at least 1.75 baths
• Private outside area for my morning coffee
• LOW HOA
• Nice neighborhood to preserve my morning run.

IF it's a house:

• It CANNOT be newer than 1960 (unless I just go with brand new, which I doubt)
• Fence
• Two baths or room to grow
• Original kitchen and maybe baths
• Must not add up to more than I can afford INCLUDING extras

What I will need to buy: I need a couch. I have not had a couch for three years.

I want to buy a Murphy bed for the guest room/space so I can also use it as a sewing room and office. There is an awesome Murphy bed that has a desk top on the outside, which gently floats down when you pull the bed down. It probably costs around $3 grand though. I could frickin' make my own for that kind of money! But that's what I want.

I NEED to get a new bed. The last time I had a brand new bed, it was when my parents bought me a daybed when I moved out. That was, let's see, 17 years ago! I slept on the daybed for 10 years. Then I bought an old full-sized bed from craigslist for $40. It is from the fifties. I don't recommend sleeping on a mattress from the fifties, even if it is from SEARS. When my sister came to visit, I broke out the air mattress for her. It's a queen size! She raved about how comfortable it is "for an air mattress." After she left, I thought it would be fun to try it out and I have been sleeping on it ever since. It's SO much nicer than that crappy old thing. So I need a new bed. I might upgrade to a queen size too. Not sure.

That's really all. Except for appliances if the "new" place doesn't have them. But I sincerely hope it does. I want AUTHENTIC appliances. I want the counter-top RANGE and the WALL oven.

I think I'll copy most of this post to my other blog and try to keep all of this boring house crap over there.

"Pathetic" works on other women as well.

I have had a few hours to process the below information, and I can't figure out if I'm being FOOLED or if it's true.

Fact: I am GETTING emails from X. But they are written "to" someone else.

According to these emails:
X is GETTING laid.
Someone else is actually ENJOYING it. I'm not making this shit up.

Which leads me to the following questions:
a. Is X fucking with me, so to speak? (am I just vain as hell that he could be wasting this much effort on a game?) OR

b. Is X actually getting LAID? ... and PLEASING this person?

Possible answers to:
a: Yes. He is just playing games, he has nothing better to do, you know damn well, MH, that X couldn't score in the first place, that's why he had to find a prude like you who was so afraid of men she wouldn't know she what she was missing.

b: Yes. He actually DID find someone who he is ATTRACTED to, and YES, she is a human female specimen. Not sure what she looks like. Could be an ugly heifer but according to X, the specimen has huge jugs and entertaining nipples.

Why SHOULDN'T I be grossed out?

Either way, I'm annoyed. If he is putting on some show of a back-and-forth email chronology of their newly established sex life, it's a waste of time. But what if I'm just fooling MYSELF? What if (I do suspect that) he IS in a new relationship and both are happily satisfied?

Does that mean there is something wrong with me? It has caused me to take a long look at myself over the past few hours. Is there really something wrong with ME? Or, did X just marry someone he never was really attracted to in the first place? Because he never said any of this crap to me that he says in these emails.

What bothers me the most, and I'm only being honest about the whole thing...

..is that he NEVER ONCE acted like he was attracted to me at ALL. I thought there was something wrong with HIM, and I felt SORRY for him and loved him anyway.
..is that I supported him because he was WEAK and LAZY and I loved him anyway.
..is that I TOLD myself that the only reason he was cheating on me while I was WORKING and he was DINKING around all day at home, was that he had a low self esteem and it was HIS problem.

But wow, here it seems, X is carrying on some sort of relationship with a YOUNGER woman and "they" seem to be very happy and content in every way.

It hurts. I feel so immature and hateful, but it does hurt.

Admittedly, I will probably have a much better future than X. I have always known that I could take care of myself.
I have a career, he doesn't. I can *pay my bills.* He doesn't. I.... have Kitty?

Well. I have assured myself for the past year-and-a-half that I would get my revenge by going on with life and I'd be fulfilled while he would languish in his cesspool of sloth. But I guess I was wrong. I'm the one in the cesspool. He's going on with his life. He has found someone else. Finally.

Why didn't he just leave me alone in the first place?

Old FSA Housing in Chandler. Gone.

Yet another piece of history, vanished. Arizona Part-Time Farms / Chandler Farms
Some background:
The "Dust Bowl Storms" of the thirties produced thousands of migrant workers from the Great Plains who headed west in search of seasonal jobs. Arizona's cotton farming industry was beginning to boom so there were a few Farm Security Administration housing sites built. I found pictures of some of them and really liked the ones from Chandler. They had unique qualities. The design of the windows and the placement of the buildings encouraged air ventilation. Windows would open on both sides of the building, creating a nice breeze. If there was a breeze, that is. Also, and most importantly to me, these buildings were made of Adobe! How many Adobe buildings have YOU seen? Yeah, that's what I thought. American history. Knocked down for no reason at all. It's probably an ostrich farm now.


WHY do we always tear neat stuff down in Arizona? They don't keep the cool old buildings, OH NO, not when you can replace them with crappy strip malls and parking lots. I was hoping that they had turned them into condos! Look at this kitchen! Exactly what I want, right there. Oh well. It's probably a Dairy Queen or something now.