Friday, August 21, 2009

The Perfect World Club

Occassionally, for reasons unknown, the female species will gather in groups will the sole purpose of tearing other members of their species love handle, squeeky voice, and inappropriate outfit at a time. This unusual gathering can happen at anytime however, most frequently this ritual occurs between the hours of 5-7pm a time often referred to as Happy Hour.

In my circle of female friends and family we refer to this gathering as a meeting of The Perfect World Club. Let me just tell you that no one is safe. Many times the words and phrases ridiculous, give me a break, and who does she think she is can be heard from the mouths of the members. We discuss brown nosing co workers, nosy neighbors, slutty sorta friends, miserable marriages and bratty kids. We forget all of our own imperfections for the length of the meeting and focus on everyone elses.

There is no real explination as to why we feel better at the end of the session, but we always do. Maybe it is that we like to imagine others lives more chaotic, and disfunctional than ours. Maybe the fight we had with our hubby over dishes seems miniscule in comparison to the husband caught at an orgy (actually happened!). For some reason we feel better about the family that seems so perfect when we hear that their teenager is gay or that they haven't had sex in 6 months. Hey, I am not saying that I am proud of feeling comfort in others misfortunes...Im just owning up to it.

Whatever the reason I have to point out that at the end of the day, no one is harmed. Members of the club feel revived and stress free. We feel as if we really are living in The Perfect World....compared to the crazies we are surrounded by anyway! In reality, none of our lives are perfect, and if they were life would be boring and breeze by. So please, forgive the female human species for their natural tendencies to gab and gossip. It could be worse, we could eat our own young or bite the heads off our mates after we are through with them.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Some People Disgust Me

I find jokes about penises hilarious, I laugh uncontrollably when someone farts unexpectedly, and I find humor at others expense. I can bait my own hook and play in the dirt with my son. Wha am getting at is that i am not easily disgusted. Recently, however, I was utterly and undeniably stomach turning disgusted and I wasn't even watching The Biggest Loser. No, I was watching a middle aged married woman sitting at a bar across from the very man that she had had an affair with in the bathroom of said bar. It is not the blow job in the mens room that has me holding back the vomit, it is the fact that this revolting woman is sitting with the mans unsuspecting wife. Not only is she sitting with her, she is chatting to her like old friends. She is sharing her pizza for F's sake.

They are chatting about their kids and how school is starting soon and how summer went by to fast. They even at one point discussed the fact that the Cheating Man and his Unsuspecting Wife are high school sweet hearts...isn't that touching.

I couldn't believe it. Who does this want to be Cougar think she is? It is of no shock to anyone in our small town that this Woman and her husband cheat on eachother more often than Brittney Spears has a melt down, but come on. She could have at least decided when Unus Wife and cheating Hub walked in to leave. She could have stayed, and not beckoned UW to come and sit with her. She could have not made a mockery out of this poor woman, who good wife or bad wife does not deserve to be humiliated by the actions of her unfaithful husband and his pathetically unhappy harlot.

It is none of my business what goes on in peoples marriages. I am not naive to the fact that many marriages don't work, many peope have affairs, and many unsuspecting wives sit next to their husbands drunken hook up in a bar and carry on conversations about kids, and seasons.

When this sort of thing goes on out in public, it becomes everyones business...small town or not. I know what happened, and now I am forced to look at Usus Wife sitting with Town Bicycle and I am suppose to just carry on as if i dont know that weeks earlier Town Bicycle was giving Unsus Wfes Unfaithful husband a rim job mere feet away.

I am pretty sure that Town Bicycle was aware of my disgust as I shookmy head at her any time she looked in my direction, she didn't tip me ( I am the bartender). Well, she did'nt tip me monetarily but she did give me a tip, when an unhappily married middle aged woman is akwardly friendly to you antd offers you a slice of her pizza slap the bitch and call a divorce attorney.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

The Real Me

The whole point of a vacation is to really not accomplish anything for at least 4 days, and I can say with gusto that I aced vacation. Technically, I probably only got a B+ because unbeknownst to me, while lounging on the beach without a care in the world, I actually did accomplish something. I began to daydream about the life that I wish I had, the woman that I want to be...The Real Morgan U. The real me is not a glorified secretary who goes to work because the mortgage payment needs to be paid. No, that is not me at all.

The real me, that I invented and spent endless hours dreaming of wakes up every morning to the smell of fresh brewed coffee (the real me is organised enough to set the coffee maker each evening). I wrap my self in a plush hotel like bathrobe, pour myself a cup of coffee and open my laptop to check for letters from my editor and publicist, and to answer some fan mail. I wake up my child and get him ready for the day. I drop him at daycare and take my beloved laptop (which I do not own), and head for the coffee shop.
For some reason in this ideal world of mine it is always fall, and I am dressed effortlessly elegant in skinny jeans, knee high boots and a chunky cardigan and scarf. My hair is held in a sexy bun by a pencil (never happen), and I have a glow to me because I spend my days doing what I love, therefor the dark circles that have made themselves a lovely home under my eyes are gone.
I spend my days either at the coffee shop, the library, the lake or the comfort of my own home...writing. I write a column in a well known magazine while working on my novel and keeping everyone up to date through my blog, because after all if it weren't for the blog I wouldn't have realised that the real me is a writer.
I pick up my son from daycare, and head home to make a fabulous dinner for myself, my son and my husband (the real me gets proposed to) while listening to Billy Holiday and sipping red wine.
Besides the sexy hair that stays put with a pencil, all of this is possible....I have the wonderful son, the hopes that my pretty much husband will pop the question and make it official, I have a cozy home....I just need to find a way to ditch the dead end job that is slowly sucking my spirit and make a career out of writing. Any thoughts?