SELFABSORBED.ME: Children that are not mine

Showing posts with label Children that are not mine. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

CHANGE

Oh how a change is in the air. It might be the election. Or the seasons. Or simply Nick Nolte’s hairpiece. But there is certainly and change and a spark going on in the universe right now.

And it seems as though everyone else around me is changing as well. People I know are divorcing… getting into new relationships…being fired...quitting...being hired...running away to the circus. You name it, I know someone going through it right now.

So what is all this big change, and what is your big change? Maybe we should all change something. Even if it is something small, maybe that one butterfly effect will cause some sort of tsunami in China…or something like that.

CHaNGE

Change your hair color

Change your boyfriend

Change your status on facebook just to watch everyone freak out

Change your accent at work just to watch everyone freak out

Change your birth control method

Change the way you talk to your mom

Change your underwear

Change the channel

Change your sports team

Change the way you love someone

Change the way you hate someone

Change your political stance

Change your body

Change what you read

Change how you drive to work

Change how you walk to work

Change your subway line

Change your nephew’s diaper

Change someone’s flat tire

Change your dollars into change

Change the way you treat your friends

Change the way you look at your life

Change the way you look at someone you love

Change the way you look at someone you hate

Change the gas for water in your ex lover’s car

Change your style of fucking

Change your socks

Change your stupid cell phone ringtone

Change my mind

Change the way I look at you

....Don’t change what blogs you read.

-Kim

Monday, September 8, 2008

Baby Mama Drama

There was a time, not too long ago, before Jamie Lynn Spears, before Massachusetts High Schools and before Miss Palin’s baby mama drama, when kids having kids was reserved for what many considered to be, the less fortunate. There was a time when a 16 year got pregnant that she either went to “boarding school” for nine months and came back childless with huge tits… or came back from another place childless …and I will not refer to this place by name, except to say that it might rhyme with “shmashmorshion”.

But in 2008 it seems as though we have either become devout sinless Christians, or unable to afford shmashmorshions. And in both Jamie Lynn’s and Miss Palin’s case, one would have to question both. (I mean when you name your kid Jamie Lynn, what else do you expect?)

The first time I ever assumed I was pregnant I called my friend Jay immediately...so I could panic of course. I reasoned calling a guy would be better as I had enough estrogen coursing through me to steer a train right into Ovary-Ville, and the less estrogen-induced advice, the better.

I remember asking him what I would do, if I could have a child, if I could even afford a child. And of course, this is when Jay suggested the A-word. “Are girls still doing that?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said. “It’s like cocaine. Everyone is doing it, but no one is talking about it.”

And it’s the truth. I couldn’t name a single friend of mine who had one. But maybe they have had one and I simply do not know about it? Maybe there is some secret society for these women and they are going to underground meetings where they discuss these kind of issues all the time and then watch The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants afterword, while chomping Midol. I could picture them all, sitting around in some basement, the walls covered in Anne Geddes posters and yaffa blocks.

When did pregnancy or the lack thereof become a non-discussable topic? Was Jay right? Was everyone having them, but no one was talking about it?

I did not end up pregnant that year. Nor have I ever ended up pregnant. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t scoured CVS before searching for the every kind of pregnancy test imaginable. The Red test. The Blue test. The ‘Are You Having the Next Jesus Christ’ test. Believe me, I have peed on them all. But I have never had to make that decision.

The hardest decision I normally have to make is whether or not to get whipped cream on my iced coffee in the mornings...because then all the Starbucks people look at you like your crazy for wanting whipped cream on an iced coffee , as well as the people behind you, clearly all now judging you and staring at your ass and thinking to themselves how your ass certainly could do without the whipped cream and then when they yell out your drink order they always forget it on top and you have to try and discreetly them AGAIN for whipped cream, as to which this time they turn to the other fucking Starbucks employees and have some kind of ‘SBucks’ fight wherein there is a whipped cream discussion all directed at me, all the while the other customers waiting for drinks are cursing out me and my stupid un-needed fat assed whip cream request…

But I digress.

Having never had to make that decision, I am not sure where the coin would fall for me. I am not sure any of us could say what we would do if put in a position like that because as they say, you don't know about the hen hole until you are directly in the hen hole...or whatever the fuck that saying is.

Unless of course you happen to be really really attractive... then I say - have the kid and give it to Janice Dickson so she can model the shit outta that baby and turn it into the first ever baby-supermodel complete with implants and tummy tuck.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Love Your Job?...God Doesn't Like Liars...

Four years ago, I have on some Express boot-cut black pants and I am standing on 10th Avenue and 58th Street, staring at this huge garage door, holding a VHS tape. I was supposed to deliver this tape to the address, but the address they gave me lead to a huge warehouse door and there was this doorbell, about 15 feet above me. Presumably only usable by drivers in large trucks. I stood there for a good fifteen minutes just staring at the doorbell, imaging that I need some kind of special bread like Alice in Wonderland to become tall enough to hit that bell. How the hell was I supposed to deliver this tape if I couldn’t even figure out how to go in the door? I had edited a tape that was supposed to be submitted for a News segment airing at 4pm. It was now 1pm and as I stood staring at the garage, I remember thinking I was going to have to quit work right then and there. I thought about just leaving the tape on the ground and not returning to the news station. Just running down 10th street screaming, "I hate work! And I hate the news!" But then I remembered I had left my sandwich at my desk. So that was a no-go.

Every job I ever had, I sat staring at my computer going, “Fuck..there has GOT to be something else better then this…” But truth be told. I am not so sure there is. If you are one of those people who claim to “love” their job, then you are what I like to call, “A Dirty Liar”.

Even people who seemingly have the coolest jobs hate their job. In my last job I hated my boss so much that whenever I would get her coffee I would put three extra Equal packets in it, in the hopes that she would become diabetic.

I wish that was a joke, but unfortunately, it's not.

One of my first internships ever I actually taught at a local junior high. Yes, me a teacher. I know. What was I thinking? I can’t stand children, mainly because they can’t drink and I have a problem with people who are not alcoholics. Regardless, I taught a writing class and in between classes I used to walk to the back lawn and pound my head against a tree hoping it might split open and I wouldn’t have to go back to that dirty Satan hole people called, “a school”.

In college I worked at a well known restaurant in midtown and one afternoon a mouse scurried across the floor and the manager actually yelled at me about the mouse. Yelled at me. “Kim how dare you let that mouse get out!” Let the mouse get out? Like , I was keeping him up fucking skirt or something?

Two years ago I worked editing radio contracts and one day some radio head called me absolutely frantic that the radio contest rules were not edited yet and how were they supposed to give away their, “FREE BEACH BALL IF YOU DON’T FINISH THESE FUCKING RULES BEFORE NOON?!”…Some people work on heart cavities..I make sure beach balls get raffled. Mother fucker.

Even now I find that no one I speak with enjoys their job and mainly those who have a “higher” education, including Law School and a PhD. Something about knowing more about the world makes you want to jump off a building apparently.

Every week I decide that I want to do something different. Write for more magazines. Write for less magazines. When I was 12 I wanted to be a veterinarian, whatever happened to that dream? What if we all had followed our dreams when we were 12? I would be married to Billy Organ, a Horse Veterinarian and I would own 10 unicorns.

This woman looks way too excited to be doing her job and that dog seems quite pissed

at Dr Lady Man-Hands here...

But hey, maybe I would have been happy?

Even if I could ‘Imagine” the perfect job I would probably get tired of it after awhile. I used to tell my dad I was going to quit everything and move to South Beach and become a towel-girl at the The Delano Hotel. My dad would lose it every time, as though I was really going to do it. He used to get so mad and say things like, “I paid for 4 years of college so that you could go hand towels to Puff Daddy?!” And then I would have to correct him about the whole , ‘P-Diddy’ thing and that would lead to a whole OTHER conversation.

Think of the coolest job you can think of. For example, - A sports editor, who gets to travel for free to sports games, he helps plan huge parties for big athletes then gets to go to all the parties and hang with celebrities…well guess what…I know him, I know a guy who does that very job, and he hates it. Yes fucking hates it. I know a girl who is top notch at Michael Kors and travels the world…some days she confesses she would rather have her eyes burned out by a hot poker.
My point is, if you hate your job, or sit at work thinking, “there MUST be something better.” I am here to tell you …there isn’t.

But if you find Billy Organ anywhere and he happens to have a farm with 10 unicorns and an extra vet license..you let me know.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Russian Roulette?

He looks so damn happy doesn't he?

So, liking to think I am a "smart" girl, which is confusing, because I also like to refer to myself as a "beautiful" girl and a "hilarious" girl...so maybe what I am saying is I relate more so to Jesus then most...and that goes without saying considering I did try and help him buy new sandals once at Macy's, but damn that man sure does like himself a good brown leather...wait...I am sorry...I was going somewhere with this before...

Ok, back to topic, so being a "smart" girl blahdiddy blah blah ( I tend to like to make air quotes when I say it) I try and do this thing in my life that I refer to as - "not getting pregnant". Now this is seemingly becoming a more difficult task then originally assumed.

You say Birthcontrol.

I say Potato you say Potato.

I dont know what the hell that rhyme is people but I know it makes sense in my head.

Now this whole "birth control" thing is considering not as effective as once seemed...and by "not effect" I do mean "Not effective when you dont use it". I wish it was just plain old effective just by thinking about it, I mean, no one told me I actually have to use the stuff. Damn MAMA! That is a hell lotta work!

I say this considering I have taken about three baby-tests in the past year alone. And thankfully none of them have come up positive, but I am starting to wonder, how many can you pass before your luck is up?

As I say this, I can think of three or so of my girlfriends who are all on Plan B right now, praying that whatever is in that thing will get rid of any Mike Jr, Danny Jr, Sutton Place Bar Jr... that might possibly be in them. I called my friend up the other day who told me not to worry, I couldn't never be pregnant ever because I - "drink too much, all that alcohol will kill the baby."
I actually reasoned it in my head for a minute.

The point here being, why are we all suddenly being so non-cautious with our bodies? It is like the HIV and AIDs epidemic suddenly creep away and we started saying things like, "Well I don't personally KNOW anyone with AIDS, so therefore it may not exist in my circle and who likes a condom anyway?"

And I will agree with that, a condom is just about the most unromantic thing to ever exist, but also completely necessary. And yet too many of us cannot even be bothered with a simple piece of latex (or sheepskin for your dirty birds out there.) But more importantly after you start seeing someone for three...four...five months (mother of sweet Jesus do people do this?!) ... you start to wonder, is the condom necessary? Clearly after five months they cannot get me pregnant anymore, it's like a rule or something. Who needs condoms?! Who needs birth control that makes you fat and cranky? (Not I!).

I mentioned this to a friend the other day, telling her I think sex during my period must be OK, because I cannot get pregnant then. "Well" She said, "That's a little bit like playing Russian Roulette, dont cha think?"

And GOD DAMN I am a bad card player!

What about the rhythm method?

What about all those damn catholics, I mean it's not like they have more like 1 or 2...or 6 children right?

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

4th of July, A Picture Story

(For those of you who read my blog, but are illiterate).

My 4th of July, A Picture Story:

I am going to a place that sounds this:

Beast...Camp...Ones...

...?

Oh for the love of Jesus people, the EAST HAMPTONS!

They are known for:

And also:

And apparently:

However:

After I leave the Hamptons... the Hamptons will be known for:

As well as:

Maybe a bit of:

And lots of this:

....HAPPY 4TH!

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

SLEEP…AND OTHER THINGS THAT ARE OVERRATED...

So as I laid awake last night, thinking about life, money, taxes, death, if those protesters for Barnum and Baileys really do give a damn about the elephants…I also wondered, “why am I laying here awake? Why can my body not realize it is finally time to rest? How come during those 3pm hours at work when I want to pass out with my highlighter and a post-it glued to my ass cannot I not recall that feeling right at this moment?”

A good friend of mine recently paid full price for a non-healthcare-covered sleep medication so she could finally spend some time with her pillow instead of with her eyes wide open. Another friend of mine had to finally get her boyfriend on sleep medication after he had missed the third happy hour party at McFaddens to get in a good five hour nap, since he was not sleeping at night.

I don’t know many things in life, but I do know one thing… if you are missing DRINKING, so you can sleep, then you need to go see some kind of medical person who carries thermometers immediately.

Why are none of us sleeping? Should our bodies not be programmed to sleep? Did not the Cavemen sleep? Were there restless cavemen in the days of Yore, or the time of Yesteryear? After lifting boulders all day, do you think Caveman #1 would lay awake at night thinking, “What if I can’t pay my dinosaur fees? What if I cannot afford to buy that new dinosaur? Will my Boulder credit go bad? “

Another friend of mine (yes, I know, I make up these “friend” people, really they are just random drunks I find on the street to answer my survey questions) actually takes time to get out of bed and take notes in a journal, which helps him fall back asleep afterwards.

Writing in a journal is the last thing I would do as mine would be more ill-consuming then the friggin Diary of Anne Frank…mainly consisting of scribbling about my Ex Boyfriend’s third nipple and how I am going to get out of my dental bill through magician trickery.

Is there anyone out there actually sleeping? Who is even getting a full eight hours? I hear when you have kids the first year you are lucky if you get four hours straight. Four hours?! Jesus Christ I got four hours under the bar stool last Saturday…what will I do then? I will have to Zoloft my baby up.

My baby’s first two words will be, “Xanax” and “Don’t wake Mommy when she is fucking sleeping”.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

HAPPY MEMORIAL WEEKEND .GO BOOZE IT UP WITH A REDHEADED STEPCHILD

Thursday, May 15, 2008

My Apologies..And A Picture Story

So I apologize my dear readers for being so distant recently...I have been a horrible blogger, waiting almost a week to repost, not commenting on anyone's pages..talking shit about all of you to my Mom....I have just been a bad bad blogger and I deserve a serious spanking...from someone whom is very very hot ...(I am guessing Cajun Boy, you might be up for this challenge?)

But I digress.

There is a reason for this and it is called having a severe, scientific case of, "moppyness". You see I am having what some people might refer to as "problems with the men-folk".

I don't understand what is going on with me recently. There have been many men in the past three months that have come in and out of my life , including a few ex boyfriends as well...and for some reason I cannot get a firm grip on anything. They all keep drifting in and out of my life like the bad service waiters at the Times Square TGIFridays who never bring you back the lemon for your water because all I wanted was a LEMON AND A DAMN SIDE OF HONEY MUSTARD!

Instead of going into some deep long post about my "feelings" and why I have been feeling so "depressed" recently and blahdiddy blah blah..I figured I would do a picture story...because AIN'T THAT SPECIAL...

SO recently I have been a bit of this:

Which has subsequently lead me to much of this:

Now to help myself I have gone with the timeless remedy of lots of this:

And some even more of this:

Which unfortunately ends up making a lot of this happen:

That is normally followed by some of these:

Which actually looks more like some of these:

Which is followed by more of this:

Friday, April 11, 2008

Friday's Deep Thoughts

So I figured on this warm, sunny Friday I would do a special post that is near and dear to my heart...called Things I Hate. I tried to think of a more creative title for that but 'When Snow White Feeds Animals and is Happy Living with Seven Sober Men' didn't fit in the title as well.

So now let us begin:

THINGS I HATE

Nature

I am not oh-so-fond of the whole 'living things' surrounding me. Things that suck

up all my air and steal my water. I am not a fan of the whole "Birds" and "trees"

and things "that are beautiful and green". I enjoy nature right where it should be... in fake soil at the mall's atrium.

CHILDREN

Now I agree with what you are thinking, which is, Kim,this is quite an obvious one! I mean listen, sometimes I just don't need their happy smiling faces on people under the age of 21 trying to "change the world" and other bullshit like that. I prefer my children to be in a gated mall atrium as well.

COUPLES

Somewhere in the bible Jesus is quoted as saying something along the lines of , "People in love will be killed by a thunderbolt!" Now you can go ahead and try and correct me if you think I am wrong, but listen , Jesus and I are tight, and I know that even if he didn't get that quote mentioned in there, I know he was thinking it.

The scene in the Lion King when they sing Circle of Life and present the baby

Now I don't know about you, but this does not make me cry, this doesn't even give me tingles all over my entire body (especially my knees) ...and not only that but it doesn't even give me tingles and make my eyes well up with hot tears when I am staring at simply this picture right now. Damn you LION KING! DAMN YOU!

ahh....Did I mention Children?

BACKYARDS

Want to know what I want to see when I look out my back window? Asphalt. Lots and lots of asphalt. And possibly a homeless person sleeping on it, or some chalk outline bodies...or maybe even trash, how about some good ol' trash? When I look out my window and I see cement and a person frozen to concrete.... I know I am home.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Match.com - The TJ Maxx of Dating

Now if you come to me and tell me you have never tried online dating before (even checking craigslist personals counts) then I only have two words for you, You Are A Liar.

We have all done it. We have all been there. Sitting bored at work, scrolling through JohhnyFierce90210, on some dating sight looking to see if he added more pictures or a possibly an education level, *note to self when left blank, assume elementary school.

The problem with most dating sites, Match included, is you have to sort through all the shit just to find one decent player among the group. This is why Match.com is like shopping at TJMaxx. Do they have some good deals? Yes. But you have to sort through racks of Will Smith track suits just to find your BCBG dress.

Now when you do stumble into the BCBG dress marked half down that trampled down three women in spandex pants for, is it great? Absolutely. But what about those days when you walk in and all you can see is broken handle bags and only left-foot shoes scattered on the floor? This is the majority of the people on Match...broken, left-shoes and Will Smith track suits.

In fact most of the people on there make me thank Sweet Mary Magdalene that I am not attached to any of those losers. But could you find a diamond in the ruff? Of course. Just make sure to not get to discouraged by the studded belts along the way.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Little kids

I have a serious problem with little kids, the problem being, we can’t arrest them.

How come if a little kid throws bread in a supermarket no one arrests him? Why is no one arresting kids? They are disrupting society. I walked onto the subway yesterday and some kid was screaming bloody murder. I bet he would warrant at least two tickets one for public disturbance and the other for some sort of high-pitched noise violation. I bet if you handed him a ticket for 50 bucks and told him Santa wouldn’t visit until the ticket was paid in full he might learn to shut it.

I saw some bitch the other day blocking my view of the magazines in Barnes and Noble. I am guessing she was around five or six. Who did she think she was? She was causing a public disturbance though and someone needed to handcuff her and take her away. I bet if we started throwing some of these toddlers in jail they would learn real quick not to act out. I bet jail food and some hard mopping time would do these four year olds some good!

-ARRESTS TO BE MADE-

PUBLIC DRUNKENNESS

ASSAULT AND A MISDEMEANOR

NOISE VIOLATION AND PUBLIC INDECENCY

PUBLIC NUISANCE AND LOITERING IN TOY AISLE

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

Tuesday Night's Deep Thoughts

I was in Starbucks the other day, writing this column and I started thinking about things I did in my life that made me feel like I have truly contributed to society. Things like, volunteered at a soup kitchen… read to children in a shelter…told a fat women not to buy anything corduroy… Of all the good things I remember though…there is one incident that stands out in my mind. NYCares allowed me to go read bedtime stories to the children at the Ichan Housing Project on the West Side. After reading two short stories some of the other little girls began to crowd around me on the floor. “You’re pretty.” One of them said. “I know.” I said. “But…” The little girl continued. “You have roots..” She then pointed her finger to the top of my scalp where my highlights ended. I looked at her standing in her tattered clothes, her barely full belly protruding, arms mangled and bruised. I stopped reading, softened my eyes and said,. “Well, you’re homeless…and your mama is a hoe….” I then smiled, and felt truly blessed.

Monday, November 5, 2007

When? Where? Why? And Because I Said So!

-When did they decide to let Hillary run for office? Women can’t run for office! They get menstruation! I read somewhere their periods attract bears. Bears can smell the menstruation. And well, that is just great, you hear that? Bears. Now you're putting the White House and presumably the whole country in jeopardy!

-Where did polyester go? What happened to that nice itchy fiber that shirts and some well priced slacks used to be made out of? I want to go to a nightclub, see some Latin person dancing and walk over like I know what I’m doing on the dance-floor because, hey, I am wearing polyester. And maybe this Latin guy doesn’t really want to dance with me just because of this synthetic fiber I am wearing. Maybe he hasn’t answered any of my calls, or respond to any of my letters, or even to the candy-gram…and God only knows what happened to the kitten I got for him…cause he definitely didn't keep it, and I know for sure I am not raising the goddamn thing.

-Why do women want to date guys who have experience? Why aren’t women going after guys who have never had any experience with a woman before, whose closest experience was the one time his dentist leaned so far over her chair that her boob almost knocked him in the face and he went home and told all his friends he got to second base during a root canal? I think all girls should want to have sex with virgins... I think a guy’s first time might be his best time too. You think that too right? Don’t you? Well I knew it… you know what? I knew that you'd react that way and I knew that you would want to lead him through his first sexual encounter will all the compassion and care that someone would give to their soulmate.

-Because I said so! I already mentioned on numerous occasions that I may not be the marrying type! Can't you understand! Do we all have to settle down? I don’t even like the phrase settling down. I don’t want to settle and especially not down. But then here comes all these boys who are wondering what I am doing for the rest of my life. Do you ever wonder how somebody could even like you? The biggest problem in marriage is that he wants me around. And I can't even accept that? I don't think I can accept pure love. Marriage is like a tense, unfunny version of Everybody Loves Raymond… only it doesn't last 22 minutes. It lasts forever.

SELFABSORBED.ME