Visit from hell

So my MIL dropped in for a visit and was kind enough to bring a bag of cleaning supplies and a steam cleaner with her.  I found it all sitting by my coffee maker.

I dreamed a dream...

So I gots me a car.  My ho friend was so proud of me.  She was listing off my accomplishments of the past couple of years: (in no particular order)

I stopped going to church.  Not even for holidays.  Especially not for Mother's Day!

I took of my garments and bought sexy, black underwear.

I bought a coffee maker and proudly use it in front of the entire family.  I can even make it taste good now!

I got my own health insurance.

I bought a car all on my own.

So, I'm slowly making some progress toward living my own authentic life. And it feels good.  Really good.  I'm not plagued by constant guilt like I was for decades.  I'm thinking for myself.  Doing for myself.  Sometimes I'm scared out of my mind, but I'm not feeling guilt.

But last night I had a dream. In it, I received a phone call from the bishop saying I was being called in for a bishop's court.  There is plenty for me to be excommunicated for.  I happily add to the list all the time and some of those things I don't even blog about, believe it or not.   Yes, there is plenty to hold a "court of love" for.  And having been the victim of one some 30 years ago, it is not something I want to do again.  So in this dream, uncharacteristically enough, I was fairly calm and coherent.  I made it clear I would not attend.  I was resigning effective immediately.  I know they make it more difficult than that to resign but in my dream this was enough. 

So today I am thinking, is this my next step?  It's a big one.  My TBM kids would really have a fit.  But somehow it feels right. Not in a spirichul way but in an intellectual way.  I'VE chosen my path and I'm heading down it.  It feels right.  Authentic. It feels damn good.

Sunday, Slutty Sunday -- or -- Holy F*ck!

Maybe it's the hours days that I've been poring over pictures and descriptions of sex toys.  Maybe it's the fact that I've only had battery power for a while.  But my mind is drifting to the gutter.  Not only drifting but lounging there and reveling in it. 

So while my sheeple family toddle off to church to drink from the fountain of knowledge I shall share my heathenistic and slutty thoughts.

Maybe I'll get this tattoo and make it my company logo.

Either someone has a phallic fascination or I've been looking at too many dildos.  All of them circumcised, strangely enough.

What my lady parts are turning into.

I can't wait to try some of the stuff I've been looking at. 

Maybe I'll just build me a mechanical man and make him sort of a swiss army knife of sex toys. Oh!  Imagine if he had vibrators for fingers!  Various dildo attachments to fit any mood!  I just might be on to something.

I'm really envying that lioness about now... but at least I don't have to put up with a male attitude afterwards.  Oh, and did you know they make various animal penis dildos right here in Utah?!  Goat dildo, anyone? 

And speaking of Easter, have you seen those cool new egg-shaped vibrators?  They come in pretty colors, too.  Some even have remote controls.

And this wouldn't be complete without a picture of boobs.  Or boobies in this case.

All over the whole damn map

So I haven't blogged much recently.  My mind has been a cesspool of emotions and thoughts that flit in and out so fast I can't fasten on them for any length of time.  The other day I hit bottom.  Or what seemed like bottom.

I've had a bad cold and have been running on exhaustion and over-the-counter drugs. I desperately need a car and had applied again for a car loan using just my own little income.  No word and I was getting discouraged.

My daughter is just about to get fired from the job that I've been doing for nine months to support her at school.  I stuck my neck out to get it for her and she doesn't like it. I don't really like the job either but I do it and make the best of it. Her attitude frustrates and angers me.  I cannot and will not continue to support her.

Various other factors were falling on me like the hideous dark rain falling outside and I felt hopeless.  Helpless.  Trapped.  For a few minutes I even thought about committing myself.  A few days or weeks of drugged-out rest in a clean white place sounded quite nice.   I have a friend who did that when life and her kids got the best of her.  But in the end you have to be released and face reality so it's just putting off the inevitable.

So I did the next best thing.  I went out with a friend.  We sat in her car in the pouring rain and I cried.  I raged.  And eventually when the rain and I dried up, we went to the dollar store.  In the morning my head felt clearer.  The bank called and I had finally been approved for enough of a loan to buy the seven year old car another friend is selling.  I thought all day at work until my brain was threatening to explode and then I had an epiphany.  I need to get this divorce and soon.  For my own sanity.  I came up with a plan which I hope will minimize the pain and disruption to all of us.  Here's hoping it works.

Meanwhile, with the help of some wild and witty Facebook friends, I've decided on the name of my business:
Iron Rods and Tender Mercies--Celestial delights at wholesale prices.  Should be a hit with the TBM crowd.

The devil made me do it

A newly divorced friend recently joined ldssingles.com.  She's not active in the church and I couldn't understand why she would go to that forum to look.  What's on there?  A bunch of old, widowed guys looking for another little wifey or maybe closeted gays trying to appease their TBM families?  This blew my little mind.  I simply had to see for myself. But you have to make a profile to even take a peek at the meat.  Damn.  But maybe I could have a little fun with this.  So I found a picture on the internet of an anonymous woman who shares my hair and eye color and wrote me up a little introduction, sticking to 99% fact.  Everything has to be approved before they will publish it to your profile so I didn't want to be too racy but I wanted to see how far I could push the envelope.  You also have to confess how often you attend church (I put never) and whether you are endowed or have served a mission. So here's what was approved and is on my (fake) profile!

"I'm ready to start living my life to the fullest! I'm hoping to find a man who can match my passion and youthful outlook. I love rock and metal music, spontaneity and I have my own business selling adult toys. I'm looking for someone who, like me, is no longer active in the church and understands what living after Mormonism is like. If you're ready for adventure and living larger than life, hit me up!"

Amazingly, men started viewing my profile left and right!  An inactive dildo seller!  Flirts and messages were sent.  One simply said "how resfreshing".  I'm not really sure what he meant by that but I can take a guess.  Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) I cannot view his complete message or send one of my own with paying up and becoming an actual subscriber instead of a looker.  No chance of that.  Meanwhile, let the games begin!  This could be fun. Completely anonymous, no actual contact fun.

WTF Blogger?

Blogger was down most of the day yesterday and now I have entire comments missing.  Anyone else notice the disappearing phenomenon?

It's a big, scary, straight world out there

Did you happen to run across this story this past week?  A violent attack on a transgendered woman in a McDonald's of all places.  For using the women's bathroom.  Only one person tried to intervene and she got socked in the face.  I can't tell you how sick this makes me.  And how nervous.

I got my Mother's Day wish and went dress shopping with my son on Sunday.  Now, I would have thought it would be the perfect day for it.  All the heathens and agnostics shop on Sunday and the goody-goodies are in church.  But there was that very awkward decision of which dressing room to go in?  Take dresses into the men's?  Would they let him?  Could he face the stares-- or worse?

He decided not to try anything on at one busy store.  We went to another store just before closing and found an unmanned dressing room.  We snuck in-- me carrying the dresses-- and he tried them on. Holy hell!  He's a very handsome man.  It's gonna take a whole lotta work to make him a decent looking woman.

He brought up the question of the restroom.  He will be wearing this in Vegas and, being a human, he will be needing to pee at some point.    Will he get flack for using the men's room?  He is still very much a man even when wearing a dress, wig and makeup. I would hope that there is more acceptance in Sin City than in Utah.  Or anywhere else for that matter. But it chills me to know that he will be out in a world with so many people who think nothing of using violence when dealing with things they don't understand.  I'm going to be like the woman who intervened.  We need to watch out for each other's kids.