#14 – Brain Farts Help No One.

Every once in a while I catch myself listening to that voice that I have heard from many people….”You are just too picky.” During those brain farts, I start paying attention to people that I normally would never consider….

  • Oh, he’s gorgeous…..and perhaps he learned from his last drug arrest. Perhaps?
  • Yes, that bare chested picture is making me throw up a little in my mouth….but maybe he is a really good person inside. Maybe?
  • His divorce hasn’t been finalized yet….so he could be ready to date. Right?

NO. No no no and just no!! Fuck no.

Luckily, my brain farts tend to last approximately 30 days, of which, during this time, the Baby Jesus waits patiently for me to regain a clear head and move the fuck on, focused on MY WORTH!!!!

Past a certain age, if you don’t know your own worth, you are fucked, because if you think someone is going to come into your world and show you how amazing you are, you have got another thing coming. That shit don’t happen. It does not happen. And if you think it does, get ready, because eventually, the blanket will be removed to reveal your bare naked ass and you won’t know what the fuck just hit you.

So, the moral here is be picky. Work on yourself.

With age you discover, (and if you don’t shame on you), you are worth having dating standards that expand beyond the fact you are scared shitless to be alone.

Fuck that. Being alone is addicting. It is amazeballs. I get to put my shit anywhere. I can say and do whatever I want, whenever I want to do it.

You may be thinking that I am closing yourself off and you would be right. I am closing myself off to anyone that would not function in my world. Because, I am picky. And by a certain age hopefully, you will truly believe too, that if the right person is out there, he will just fit right in. Easy peasy japoneasy.




#15 – Excuses are worse than allergies.

Chronic lateness is rude.

Chronic lateness is a reflection that a person/s doesn’t care enough to take the measures to show up at an agreed time, that is set aside, to accommodate all parties.

Chronic lateness is a “subtle” message that your time isn’t important.

Chronic lateness is a sign of selfishness which borders on narcissism.

Now don’t get me wrong, I understand things happen and I tend to be annoyingly on time, but after the second or third time being late, that action of lateness speaks volumes to me and I can’t bear to hear another excuse.

If mornings are difficult for you, then don’t schedule appointments for the morning.

If you forgot charge your phone and couldn’t text me, it’s time to grow the fuck up. That shit should be as important as brushing your teeth before going to bed.

If you can never decide on what outfit to wear, here is a word for you – PLANNING – learn it.

If you told someone else to remind you to be on time, aka husband, significant other, roommate…I didn’t realize you still lived with your “mother” and your maturity level is at a first grade level.

I honestly don’t care what the reasons are AGAIN.

Because you are late AGAIN! Repeating the same excuses, or finding new ones, will not develop a deeper amount of compassion for your rudeness within my brain. Excuses always make me internally itchy and really fucking irritated. As you spew your excuses, you are solidifying for me, that I, and the experience we were to have together, wasn’t important enough for you to be on time. So please, just stop yourself, you’ve insulted me and wasted enough of my time that at this point, I truly don’t care. I will just walk away.

And know what? That experience you and I were to have together? That I am continually on time for? Has now become unimportant to me too. So, please, out of the remaining respect for us both, just shut up, say your sorry. Reflect that you realize, if you actually do, how rude your behavior is and you are really going to make a change because you respect our relationship.

If you can’t offer that, then we truly have nothing more to discuss.


#16 – Disassociated BRF saves lives.

So, I’m already feeling very barfy from taking my first of four typhoid pills, when a young couple gets in the elevator with me and proceeds to converse as follows…

“No, I’ve told everyone you were the best at wedding planning….
Yeah, but you were the best at the seating arrangement….
Oh now you have a reputation for being a good planner….
But, you were the best helper at addressing the invitations….”

….and before I could verbally inform this man that he indeed, officially, lost his balls, my brain became detached, and I gently drifted into a disassociated state of bitchy resting face.

imagesUpdate on aforementioned couple : SIGHTED walking two weeks later. As they approached me holding hands, my brain was immediately triggered, and BRF engaged, thus saving millions of vulnerable lives.

#17 – Yes, that would be my ass.

As you gather a few years under your mortal belt, hopefully, you will begin to become more and more knowledgable about which of life events are worthy of being labeled “DEVASTATING”. Of course, when you are going through such calamities, these events inevitably feel overwhelming and quite permanent. But trust me, they usually are not.

So, cool your tits.

Yes, these things totally SUCK ASS, and I also, would rather not have to experience any of them as well, but such is life.

So, stand back and gain some fucking perspective. These moments are no more than mere blemishes on the ass that is your life. There are more serious issues than life zits….like hemorrhoids, herpes and/or warts!

Your healing is essentially up to you.

So, stop fucking picking.

And, just so you know, your ass will also grow, along with your perspective.

So, grow the fuck up, pull up those stretch pants, own that big zitty ass and just get on with it.


#18 – Oh relax, you won’t fucking melt.

I actually had a boyfriend who called female farts “dropping roses.” In the end, I just called him an asshole. In any case, I don’t know what drug his nose was on, but any fart I have and will drop most likely smells like something died in my ass.

No matter who you are dating, the older you get, farting and pooping become less of a traumatic event.

Except for men. For some reason, males tend to think that a female’s digested food is released from our anuses in small, fragrantly wrapped gift boxes, adorned with bows and bright colors. The irony here, is that many men would love to shove their penises up this small exit hole where their lady friend’s shit resides and yet they cannot even think about the idea of a woman taking a dump. Wha?

So let me be clear, because I don’t know about your asshole, but mine does not have corners or a prostate. My personal orifice is not built to accommodate the passage of a pointy box, bow or not. It can however pass:

  • pebble poops
  • long tube poops
  • big banana poops
  • long wet farts
  • gentle silent farts
  • powerful rancid farts

So men be warned, when you act offended by my natural processes….
– I will fart more often and in a closer proximate to you, just to bug the shit out of you…..Pun intended.
– I will leave the door open more while taking a dump, just to get a good laugh at your expense.
– I will talk more about events that occur in and around my ass, regularly, just to make you feel uncomfortable.

Yes, I am that ornery. Anyways, I am 42 years old and if I can’t let one rip without you changing your perception of me as a person then save us both some time and just go fuck yourself?……


Yes, Really.


#19 – Egocentric cock blocking.

Listen, by the time you are 40 you should know what you want out of a partner. If you don’t, then you only have yourself to blame when you end up drained and disappointed. So whether the person comes attached to a penis or a vagina, life is too short to waste your time on people who suck the joy out of you! If a person wants you in their life, they will make room for you. Stop wasting your fabulousness on people who consistently overlook your worth!

Yes – decide, adapt, learn, solve, fall down and try again – EXPERIENCE helps you gain the necessary knowledge to quickly recognize those people that lack the ability to treat you in ways that reflect your worth.

Yes, it ALWAYS sucks when someone is willing to let you go. It is a fucking blow to the ego and I hate having to start from scratch. But remember, if he doesn’t get you, all of you, then they shouldn’t GET you….So fuck ’em! You need to grow a fucking pair and respect yourself. Because trust me, he may have been born with them, but there is absolutely no guarantee he will ball up.

So ladies, put your foot down. Maintain your forward stride. Insist the men of the world acknowledge your importance. And if he doesn’t, block his shit and move the fuck on.


#20 – Natural Selection

For women, one’s 20’s is about coming to terms with societal’s need for all females to accept and master their co-habitating/breeding timeline – aka – marriage before the age of 30. Eggs are fresh, hips are spry, boobs are still perky = it’s time to breed. Feel free to roll your eyes and disagree, but the expectation is still out there, it may be less spoken, but it is an implied pressure that is still alive and well amongst the human race….so don’t bother denying it and waste anymore of my fucking time arguing about it. As you reach your mid-20s, the pressure begins to solidify with the passing of each natural abortion your body puts you through, as each egg drops you are reminded…….your 30th birthday is coming – hurry the fuck up. Single friends start dropping like flies with engagements, parties, weddings, showers and babies. The monumental, wasteful and overly indulging events seem to inevitable feed into the increased amount of mental bullshit you keep talking yourself into enduring.

  • “Oh, he only does coke a few times a month.”
  • “I LOVE his family, so I can handle his insecure, irritating ass.”
  • “Sure, I’ll support him financially, he is working towards a fantastic career.”
  • “He is so close to his mother. I love that! They talk every day, it’s a good sign.”

However, when I hit 30, my bullshit meter officially peaked, and its maturation into a highly tuned tool I now refer to as my “3 month” cut off. Since adaptation can take many forms, I realize now at 42, my selective behaviors allowed me a better perspective to protect and respect myself from committing long term to the idiots and the unworthy, thus saving me from the inevitable divorces and custody battles imploding around me.

Throughout my years of dating and not “settling down” I have had numerous people tell me I am too picky. “Val you are too choosy. You are too difficult. You are judgemental.” But if you think about the actual term – settling – is not something I find myself excited to do, in any area of my life. I am on my 4th career. I have traveled all over the world. I have been so broke I’ve resorted to a diet of mac’n cheese and ramen – But it is all MY choice. It’s all been on my terms.

Sexual selection is a “special case” of natural selection. Sexual selection acts on an organism’s ability to obtain (often by any means necessary!) or successfully copulate with a mate. After all, what female Mormon cricket could resist the gift of a juicy sperm-packet?   Many of the things that impress us most in nature are thought to be adaptations. Behavior can also be shaped by natural selection. Behaviors such as birds’ mating rituals, bees’ wiggle dance, and humans’ capacity to learn language also have genetic components and are subject to natural selection.

To prove my point, take the male blue-footed booby, whose mating ritual is to exaggerate foot movements to attract a female. Really? A high kick? That’s it? That’s all you got? Oh dear little Mr. Booby, it’s gonna take much more than fancy, Michael Jackson-like foot moves to attract this female boob….blue-footed or not.


#21 – You can just leave.

I was an elementary school teacher for almost 10 years. It is a miracle I lasted as long as I did….because let me tell you, most of the people in that profession have a vagina. Many, many, just too many vaginas…..and I don’t do well with too many vaginas. Personally, I think there should be vagina limits. You know, like elevators….do not exceed 10 vaginas. Or perhaps a balancing system, that for every one vagina there needs to be a leveling penis. It is about equilibrium people.

Now you may be thinking, but wait, you, in fact, have a vagina. So why are you saying these things? Let me explain.

  • I am a tom boy at heart.
  • I do not deal well with bullshit and/or caddy behavior.
  • I am irritatingly honest.
  • I am creative and always have ten other things that occupy my time outside of the job that actually pays my bills.
  • I enjoy and cherish quirky, artistic, roadless traveled people.
  • And I don’t require marriage and/or giving birth as a means for establishing my own self worth and/or purpose.

So on the chance that you thinking that I am being a little bitchy here, I humbly require that you to do at least one of the following and then revisit:

  • Attend any wedding single….no date, just you. Hell on Earth.
  • Attend a child’s athletic event. Pretend to be single and/or divorced then try to integrate.
  • Attend lunch in any teacher’s lounge in the entire United States.
  • Attend a function with a group of sorority sisters….No, scratch that, just shoot yourself now.
  • Attend a dinner with a group of married sorority sisters = pull out eyeballs with dinner fork.
  • Go to any bridal and/or baby shower, but you cannot present yourself to be engaged or married.

…..And people wonder why I have so many gay, male friends…gurl please! It is all about balance!!

It's all about balance.

It’s all about balance.

#22 – For fucks sake, it’s not Narnia.

I am sorry, but if you have not mastered your own bean by the time you turn 40, you should be banned from sex…..PERIOD. Or you should be required to partake in some serious psychological therapy because you are missing out on one of THE biggest gifts that comes with your human body. In my eyes, the whole point of becoming an adult is to have the ability to achieve my orgasm – ANYWAY I like! Because if you don’t know how to get yourself off by now, aka be your own vagina expert, NO ONE WILL!!!!!! So masterbate, rub your shit, finger yourself, poke, stroke, grab a mirror and explore that miraculous opening down there….RELAX!…..it’s just your vagina.


#23 – Cleaning

I never realized the level of dirty I was living in until I had to see my condo through the eyes of someone else. In preparation for an out-of-town visitor, and upon closer inspection, I am in clear understanding that all my area rug’s sole purposes are to serve as toilet paper for my two domesticated assholes.

So, heads up….if ever get to come over to my condo, and feel like taking a nap on the floor, that rug your relaxing on has seen a lot of action from my feline’s orifices.

Purposes including and are not limited to:

  • Anal gland skid scratcher.
  • Undigested food vomit catcher.
  • Bile absorber.

And since I am the adult in my domain, I seriously could give two shits. Afterall, no one has paid my ass an allowance for completion of tasks since I was in the 8th grade.