Naked Head

Let's start by saying that the title Naked Head sounds sexual. Moving on.

I cut all my hair off.

It's gone.... Granted, it wasn't too long to begin with. It was to my collar bone. Now it's to.... Nothing.

Seriously. It's fucking short.

I don't know if I can handle this. I thought I could, but I can't. I have disappointed myself.

I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I've thought about chopping it off before, but always had the sense to NOT do it. Something came over me yesterday. And then all of a sudden, I was in the salon, watching as the stylist massacred my hair and threw it on the tiled floor.

It was horrific, and violent.

I am just very very happy that hair grows back. Because otherwise, I would look like a manly woman/lesbian forever. Which would suck, considering I'm neither of those things.

Now please excuse me while I cry.

Desperate Facebookers

"I just want someone to cuddle me."

"I just want a guy/girl who treats me right."

"I just want someone who loves me for who I am."

"I play video games, OMG I need a boyfriend who will play with me."

"I'll treat a girl good."

Fucking. Stop.

I cannot tell you how many times I have seen posts like these on Facebook lately, and to those who are posting them, here is a news flash. You look fucking desperate.

Stop.

You want someone to come cuddle you or be your boyfriend? How about you go out and meet someone, instead of hoping and praying that they'll see your status and come running in their shining armor?

Yes, everyone wants certain things, and has standards for what they want in a relationship, but posting that on Facebook is not how you find someone who is going to have the qualities you're looking for. Like I said, it only makes you look desperate.

Speaking from my own personal view, when I was single and saw boys posts things like that, it made them seem desperate and clingy. I want someone who is independent, who is ok being single, but wouldn't mind meeting someone if they did. They aren't advertising the fact that they can't handle being alone. They are living their own life, and they are happy about that, regardless of whether they're single or not.

Those are the guys that caught my attention.

And ladies, I've talked to more than one guy that said the same thing. Stop looking for a relationship, and be happy being independent. That is when you'll find someone.

And you know what? The same goes for all those stupid fucking pictures people post. "I just want a relationship where we're happy" over an ocean background. What? Stop. Posting pictures on fucking Facebook isn't gonna get you there, honey. How about you try going out and meeting people?

I don't mean to be rude, and I know how hard it is to find someone worth while in the times we live in. But I can tell you now it's gonna be a hell of a lot easier if you start looking outside of your group of Facebook friends.

Pepsi of the Gods

Have you ever been struck with fear so horrific that you couldn't move? You just had to stand there, watching your fate unfold before your eyes, while you were helpless to stop it?

That just happened to me. And now, it's story time.

I was sitting at my desk at work, reading a book, answering calls, and just going about my normal day when I was consumed with a thirst so bad, that I had no choice but to get up to go get a drink.

So I did.

I walked across the sea of cubicles and around a scary corner to the break room. We have vending machines with snacks and such, but I had my eyes on a special prize... Pepsi.

I was so thirsty. I patted my pockets, making sure I'd remembered my money. No worries, I had. I took out $1.25, which, in my opinion at the moment, was a perfectly reasonable price, considering the fact I felt like someone had blow-dried my mouth. With a blow dryer. Let's not be dirty.

So I put my money in the machine and pressed the button. B5 was my selection. So the little lever that was holding the drink in place pulled back and.... It didn't move. The entire fucking row of Pepsi just say there, as if to say, "Nah we're cool in our little row here. Move along."

But I couldn't just move along. I had given the machine my money. I had paid for this drink, and dammit I was going to get it.

So I knocked on the glass.

I didn't know what else to do. I don't have the strength to wiggle the entire machine because I'm still crippled from my surgery. So I just sat there, knocking on the glass as if the doors of heaven would just open up, and the Pepsi would come floating down on a cloud.

Obviously, this didn't happen. What the fuck.

At this point I'm desperate. I just want my fucking drink! So I slowly turned around to face the cubicles that some fucktard had decided should be set up in the lunch room. Who does that? Really though, I shouldn't complain, considering the fucktard in charge of this practically saved my life.

So I called over to the cubicles. "Has anyone gotten their drink stuck in the machine before?"

Immediately, 3 of the guys that work there pop their heads up, and walk over.

Once they got there, they evaluated the situation. There was a chance that, after shaking the machine, it would release a different drink, or, god forbid, push the Pepsi back into the machine, where it would be lost forever. Please no...

I took my chances, and told them to shake it.

Slowly, they tipped the machine, and then aggressively they shook it. I watched, anxious, as they attempted to save my from a life of dehydration.

The Pepsi dropped.

I may or may not have screamed, because I was so excited.

As I walked away, I heard one of them say, "the soda machine bows to me."

I couldn't agree more.

Here Comes Adulthood

The air is heating up. Everyone is turning on the A/C and pulling their shorts out from the bottom of the Pants Pile. Do you know what this means?

Graduation season.



I'm still young enough that I have friends, and the siblings of friends, who are graduating from high school this year. Everyone is so excited, posting things on Facebook like "OMG only 7 days until freedom!" Who can blame them? Who doesn't remember counting down the days until you were free of high school? We were all so excited, anticipating the best for our lives, thinking we would go somewhere and do something important. But to those of you who are graduating, do not let these emotions fool you.

We were so cute..





This blog is a warning.

DO NOT GRADUATE HIGH SCHOOL.

You think it's going to be all fun and games. Some of you will go off to college, some of you will be getting your first job. While everyone offers you well wishes and congratulations, I only say that I am sorry.

Adulthood fucking sucks.



Now, I'm sure it's not so bad for those of you who will stay at home for as long as you can, but eventually, it will catch up to you.

You go from eating moms chicken every night, to wondering how many dimes you'll have to scrounge up to buy a box of Ramen from your local Wal-Mart.



You think the drama ends? Think again. It only gets worse. It changes. It goes from hating the girl who 'stole' your boyfriend, to hating the girl who stole your job. Instead of deciding on which boy to say 'Yes' to for the prom, you're stuck deciding which dating site to use where you're just so positive that no one you know will be on there. Until all the nerdy guys you went to school with start chatting you up and asking you to drinks, and you start to wonder if you're really that desperate.

You stalk the Facebook pages of all your former classmates, and wonder how they did so well for themselves, while you're stuck in a black hole of despair, loneliness and poverty.

You gain weight. Yes, my friends, your metabolism really does slow down. Your diet of Ramen doesn't help, nor does the fact that you're too fucking poor to afford a gym pass. What happened to those size 2 jeans, and where did this ass come from?

Eventually, things look up. After an exhausting semester (or eight) of college, you find out that, once again, you're graduating. This, my friends, is when the fun starts.

Unfortunately it takes a while to get there. You get stuck. You're too poor for a semester, so you have to delay your schooling, unless you can get that scholorship that 7000 other students applied for. This, my friends, is where I am at.

It has been 2 years since I graduated, and I have yet to step foot on the campus of college. Do not delay you're schooling, you will figure it out. Otherwise, you will end up like me, stalking the pages of former classmates, who are now graduating college, getting married and having babies.

Fuck.

In the meantime, I highly suggest garlic salt in your Ramen. Spices things up a bit.

H as in Homosexual

I have a good job.

I make good money, and I am guaranteed 40 hour weeks.

I have full benefits.

But the customers I have to deal with on a daily basis drive me bat-shit insane to the point that I have considered quitting while having a fit of rage. Of course I don't, because I'm not fucking stupid, and I have bills to pay and that, despite the customers, I love my job. Anyways.

For your reading pleasure, I'm going to tell you about the things that annoy me the most.

1. When someone calls without the correct informations, and then says "I knew I was going to need that, but I didn't grab it." Then, they put me on hold and make me wait for them, instead of just having all the things they're going to need to fucking start with. Really?
2. Getting mad at me for having the wrong phone number in the system.
3. When people call, and I answer the phone and am on hold immediately. I'm sorry, but if you can't even wait until I answer to put me on hold, then we are done here.
4. When they call, and are having a conversation with someone else instead of giving you their full attention. What the fuck? If you don't want to talk to me then DON'T FUCKING CALL. Your other conversation can wait until we are done here.
5. The other day, I had some guy yell at me because I didn't know his phone number. He insisted that it was the same as everyone else on file for his company, when, in reality, everyone had a different fucking phone number. He then called me a liar and hung up.
6. When they act like I'm stupid. For example, I ask what their name is, and they say something like, "John Smith. It's kind of hard, so let me spell that. J as in Jaguar. O as in Octopus. H as in Homosexual. N as in Necrophilia." Um. I'm pretty sure I know how to spell "John."
7. I start with "HP this is Shaye" when I answer the phone. I am obviously a girl, with a very high-pitched voice. Yet people insist on calling me 'sir', saying "Oh how funny I have a son named Shaye" or calling me Chase or Shayne. Stop it. I am a fucking lady.
8. Someone will call in a request, and call back 15 minutes later demanding to know why our technician isn't there yet. Because you aren't a fucking princess, and you aren't the only customer. So shut the fuck up and be patient.

Please, I beg of you, do not do these when you call into any kind of customer service representative. Or anyone, for that matter. Don't be a fucking asshole. Ok? Please. I am begging you.

Also, when I was spelling out the name John, homosexual and necrophilia were the first words I thought of with those letters. No, I am not a pervert. Today has just been a weird day. Don't judge me.

Baby Maker

Readers, I have been dying to write about this since Friday, but it's been a very emotional weekend for me. There were so many emotions and thoughts going through my head that I thought it best I wait until I could (sort of) sort them out.

Now, get ready, because this news is going to blow your fucking mind.

A while ago, I posted a blog about my infertility. I've been told from the time I was fifteen that I would never be able to get pregnant and have kids. It made sense. I have PCOS. Instead of releasing an egg, my ovary forms a cyst, which grows and grows, until it finally ruptures and bleeds out. It's a very painful process, and one which caused me to not be able to have kids.

When I was told this, I was devastated, and the older I got, the more it hurt. Everyone was getting pregnant and having kids, and they had no idea how grateful they should be for the opportunity. I was jealous and envious and angry. Why not me?

About a month ago, I wound up in the E.R. with yet another cyst, only this one was bleeding internally, and growing very rapidly. So, of course, when I went to see my OB/GYN, he scheduled me for surgery, which was a little over two weeks ago. He removed the cyst, and some endometriosis, and took some biopsies. The results were in on Friday.

I went into my follow-up now knowing what to expect. I was nervous and excited and scared. The doctor comes in. First off, the biopsies showed no cancer cells. Woo! Also, considering the amount of cysts I've had in the last 5 years, there was, of course, a lot of scar tissue on my ovary. However, the doctor removed the cyst wall, which will cause my ovary to start behaving as it should.

Which means no cysts.

Which means that I potentially could become pregnant.

I cannot tell you the amount of tears I shed over this news. Happy tears, and confused tears. I am still having a hard time grasping the news. There are, of course, stipulations. It will be harder for me to get pregnant than other people, and I have a smaller age gap. He told me that I probably shouldn't plan on going to college before having kids.

This has been... difficult. I am 20 years old, and as much as I want-and need- to have children, I just don't know if I'm ready. I'm not even old enough to go to a bar yet. But the other half of me is saying go for it. You're mature, you have a decent job, and, if I were to become pregnant, Andrew and I would make things work. But what about Andrew? He can't be forced into fatherhood.

There are so many decisions to be made now, and timelines to be discussed. But guess what?

I'm gonna be a mom. Not right now. But I will. And I am so fucking excited for everything that the future holds.

Welcome to Our Home, Bitch

For a few months, Andrew and I have lived together. I want to discuss moving in with your boyfriend/girlfriend/spouse, because this is something that no one can every truly be prepared for. It is also the greatest experience a couple can have.

There are no secrets. If you want a relationship to work, you have to be honest about everything, especially if you're going to live together. Do not lie to them about your financial status or any other aspect of your life. Even if you don't live with them, they will eventually find out.

Privacy can be a hard thing to maintain when you move into a small place, especially if you have a roommate. You almost never get alone time, so prepare for that. If you need your space, set some boundaries! Otherwise you're going to go fucking crazy. Also, boys, girls poop. And if you want to keep thinking that they don't, then you should probably never ever live with one. Ever. Because we DO poop. Probably just as much as you do.

Ladies, do not ever yell at a man for leaving the seat up. He doesn't yell at you for leaving it down, so yelling at him for leaving it up is fucking hypocritical and a bitch move. You are perfectly capable of putting it down yourself, so stop being a bitch and do something for yourself for once, you spoiled little bitch. Moving on.

Everyone seems to think that moving in together makes a couples sex life go wayyyy up. In one sense, it does, because you're given many more opportunities to do the deed than you were before. But don't expect miracles. If you didn't have a good sexual relationship before, moving in together is not going to help your problem. Talk it out and figure out what's wrong.

Fighting with each other constantly over petty things, such as "You hung the towel wrong!" is going to destroy your relationship. If you cannot handle small changed in your living space, you shouldn't live with someone. You should live alone until you stop being an OCD bitch and learn that everyone has different standards of cleanliness. Talk about your expectations and work something out. If something bugs you, tell them, don't yell at them. And if you can't do that, then say goodbye to your relationship.

Understand that if one of you is sick, it is the other persons responsibility to take care of them, as well as the house work, until they are better. I had surgery a little less than two weeks ago, and I cannot tell you how fucking grateful I am to be living with someone who understood that, and didn't mutter a single complaint. You have to understand that it is your responsibility to take care of them, in sickness and in health. This applies whether you are married or not! If you are committed, you are committed one-hundred percent.

If one of you has pets or children, establish some guidelines. Andrew and I decided that we would split the pet deposit, but I cover the pet rent every month. Tito is my dog, yes, but Andrew and I are a team, and he feels that Tito is just as much his dog as mine, and I agree. We have made a life together, and compromise has gotten us a long ways in our journey, as well as communication and patience.

Don't think that everything will go perfect from the start, because it won't. Be patient, and know that there will be many serious and minor things that you have to work through together. If you love them, then it will be worth it in the end. Good luck.

After Operation and the New Kitty

Holy fuck. It has been too long, readers. I am so sorry.

First off, surgery went well!! I am feeling so much better than I have in weeks... And I don't even have my stitches out yet.

Getting back to my normal lifestyle has been hard. Walking through Walmart is exhausting, my stomach is so swollen I still cannot button my pants, and I may or may not still be fucked up on pain meds. But I am still doing better now than I was before surgery. Woopity fucking doo.

Since the last time I posted, the cat came home. Holy shit. This has been a hard transition.

The devil lives inside of TomPaco.

Now, this is a cat who may or may not be a boy. We thought he was a boy, but upon careful observation... Well.... He has a vagina. Fuck. Whatever. Its name is still TomPaco.

He growls like a dog.

He will climb up your leg using his claws, whether you have pants on or not.

He likes water.

He also likes the crawl on your chest, and back up until his butthole is touching your face. Ew.

He's kinda cute, and him and Tito get along really well, which wasn't the case at first. Luckily they transitioned well, and did it fast. First they were biting and clawing each other , and now they cuddle and play.

So, he may be the devil, but I think we'll keep him.

My Mom

I know it's been a long time since a blog has been posted. I have been really sick and am having surgery tomorrow. I know, what a bummer. But hopefully they will get everything figured out and I will be all healthy and beautiful again. So, due to my illness, I have been on pain meds. A lot of them. And holy shit. Remember that blog I wrote, "I am High"? Ya. That's me 100% of the time. Thus why there has been no blogging for me. My apologies.

Yesterday when I got off work, my mom took me to my doctor and then out to get a hamburger and a rainbow to make me feel better. (For those of you who don't know what a rainbow is, it's a slush puppy with vanilla ice cream. Best thing ever.) As I was spending the day with her, I came to the realization more and more that this is my mom.

To keep you in the loop, my biological mother and I had a falling out recently. She has been abandoned by all of her family, including her other three children. I stuck by her side for years, because I was the only one who had faith that she would turn her life around and start acting like an adult. For a while there, she did. Until the other day, when she took it upon herself to drive to Washington, take my grandma out of her care facility and run. And then she had the audacity to tell me off for being a backstabbing daughter.

Needless to say, we are no longer in contact with each other.

This took a hit on me. Why the fuck would she tell me off, when I was the one that stood by her all these years? I felt like, at the age of 20 years old, my mother had told me that I was no longer wanted, and that she was putting me up for adoption. It took a few days to come to terms with the fact that the reason was this: She is not my mom.

Luckily, I have a mom. She is married to my dad, and has been since I was three years old. As I've been going through all of these issues with my health, she has been there, holding my hand, talking to the doctors, and driving me to my appointments.

We have had our ups and downs, and there were times when we didn't even talk to each other for months on end. We disagree on things, and we fight, but every mother/daughter relationship is like that.

I am so glad that I have her in my life right now, helping me to fight through my emotional and physical battles that I've been facing. She has held my hand and walked with me through all of this. Her and my dad were by the side of my hospital bed when I was taken to the E.R. and she has not hesitated to leave work, so that she could be with me at every doctor appointment.

She is my mom. And I love her.