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There are two key things people need to keep in mind about the supposed "wealthy:"

1. Having money does not make you immune to being trashy.....

2. Having money does not make you any smarter.....

I live a a nicer newer neighborhood. And, for some silly little reason I thought that would mean a different class of people... WRONG!

A particular neighbor of mine (whom had no interest in meeting myself -may I add- but was super excited to introduce herself to my cop) is trying to sell her home for $270,000. It is a gorgeous house. Apparently she owns her own interior design business. Great! This makes me think it will be staged quite well to be pleasing to buyers even in this economic slump. BUT, and this is where #1 and 2 come in, it is February 10th and she still has a huge Christmas tree at her door with lighted presents and candy canes lining her walkway. Baby, it's time to put the shiz up because buyers are not going to jump on the Christmas in July bandwagon when looking for their next home..... Also, the fact that your water got cut off and you have left the pink slip notice from the water department on your front door for a little too long makes you look like dirty dipstick....I'm not a realtor or the world's biggest genius, but I have a neat little tool called common sense.... stop being a skank for five minutes & let me know if you need more advice to handle your business! ...anything I can do to help you OUT!

::::Rant Completed::::

My hair is always a mess even when I spend half an hour straightening it, I am habitually late, innocently forgetful, I trip over myself-the sidewalk-and anything else in my path, I spill things, and from all of this I have come to terms with the fact that I am a beautiful wreck.

I have coined the phrase "polished" to describe those women that seem to have it all together. They are always on time, dressed to perfection, always accessorised, not a hair out of place. I often despise these women, even more so on particularly spastic days.

It occurred to me the other day though through various conversations I have recently had with good friends and others in passing, that these women I envy for being "polished" often recipricate envy for my seemingly non-chalant attitude. I am not trapped in a mold I have created for myself and the fact that I nearly always throw my hair in a messy bun and show up to work 12 minutes late everyday is seen as my personal freedom.

Another realization: I have noticed on the days that I am not spazzing out and do have it more together than usual I apprear polished to other spastic women and I do not give myself credit for my "polishing!"

These self-acceptance epiphany's are fabulous!

I am an only child, a dancer, and former musical theatre actress. The combination of these leads to one thing- VANITY. I by no means claim to be the prettiest lil' thing, but do try to ensure that I am looking socially acceptable at every chance.


My vanity passes up no opportunity... any mirror is fair game, my car's rear view mirror included. Reflective glass of pictures hung in various homes and businesses. Shiny elevator doors, glass doors and any windows- I am told I never open my car door with out giving my face a once over first....


Though as a little girl I though the word "vain" was a compliment, I just deem myself now as overly resourceful and a little self conscious....

I took a brief brake from blogging to be absolutely baffled by the world and those useless souls that take up precious oxygen within. My fascination of this group will give me feel for blogging in the years to come!

My Blogger page once introduced me as “The Original Desperate [Fire]house Wife.” And that is precisely what I was for three years…now I am the Ex-Desperate [Fire]house Wife out there, independently finding her way.

I am not one to air my dirty laundry. I want no sympathy, and I want no opinions. But when your privacy is breached and you have not personally made the situation well known, the gossip mills are free to turn. The last version I heard is that I was “whoring around which ruined my marriage and my husband left me.” I guess if people do not get their own explanation the pathetic ones need some sort of story to go on. Every marriage ending is tragic. Not every ending is twisted though. It is a shame really, taking someone else’s tragedy and making it seem tragically twisted…..

Rorie’s Story: I met the future firefighter @ church when my family moved to Mississippi. We started dating almost a year after we moved here. I was 14, he was 17. We lived maybe 12 houses away from each other throughout high school. Our parents were youth group leaders together and great friends. We had almost every Thanksgiving, both families all together, for 8 years. The firefighter actually proposed to me on one of those joint Thanksgivings and we were immediately able to share the news with our closets relatives. The famed “high school sweethearts” story. We had a dream wedding that my parents funded without batting an eye and a quaint honeymoon. We returned to a greater lifestyle than a 19 and 21 year old should expect: a house, an SUV, a sports car and a Chihuahua--seemingly perfect.

Everything takes work. We did not have to work terribly hard for the lifestyle we had obtained and that aided in both of us being selfish. We were selfish on so many accounts and didn’t put forth much “work” in building our life together or relationship. We just went with what we had already. Anything that proved to be effort was set aside. The mindset: we will have time to work on it later…

Later. It’s almost funny. I thought it, he thought it. We had all the time in the world to fix it. We would be the perfect married couple sometime in our 30’s maybe. We could be who we were or wanted to be for now.

It was drilled in our head’s that marriage was forever. It is drilled in most Christian’s heads. And I do not argue that. At the same time, I think that is why a lot of Christians get married so young. That is what you are supposed to do to live together and :gasp: have an intimate relationship. And that was what we wanted, so marriage is what we did.

From 14 to 22 and 17 to 24, there is obviously a lot of maturing. And if you do not make sure that you are both maturing towards the same ideals and dreams and growing together then thorns begin to grow in each person’s own garden. We grew to far apart to reach each other once we recognized and acknowledged the problems.

“State the obvious; I didn’t get my perfect fantasy. I realized you loved yourself more than you could ever love me” –Taylor Swift

I do not have to go any further into this because I know and he knows where we are at. And at this time we are both at peace with it.

We will not be bound together by children, or anything really but 8 years of memories. We have both expressed that we want the best for the other and have sucked up the cold hard truth that we are just not that. It is our reality and it is a blessing to get through this process cordially. My naive wish is that in the future we will be able to talk as friends, have better communication then than we did as husband and wife.

I am still not quite sure what part of my husband and I growing apart translated into me “whoring around.” But, in the end at least I am important enough to be the highlight of their conversations! To all of the pathetic people of the world, in dire need of entertainment: Whisper on!

By the many songs of our popular culture, we are instructed on many different ways available to "shake it:"

"Shake it like a Polaroid picture"

"Shake it like a salt shaker"

"Shake a tail-feather"

"Shake it fast, watch yourself"

"Shake what your mama gave you"

Just wondering your particular preference..... how do you "shake it?"

I think I may begin to "shake my moneymaker." I mean, do a little dance and make a little profit...I'm just sayin' is all!

When I look in her eyes
It aint no surprise
Sparks start a flyin like the 4th of July

She gets me so hot, my heart starts a pumpin
When we get to kissin, there aint no stoppin'

When it comes to love
She aint no slacker
My little darlin is a firecracker

When I light the fuse
I gotta get back quick
You gotta be careful with a dynamite stick

Son of a gun she fun to handle
And she packs a punch like a roman candle
She a pack of black cats in a red paper wrapper
My little darlin is a firecracker

We might not ought to take a roll in the hay
Cause we'd burn the barn down one of these days
Were a match made in heaven
And it aint no joke.
But Id sure I hate to see it go up in smoke

We got a good thing going
And it feels so right
Shes a firecracker
Shes the light of my life.

She goes off with a great big BANG
Boys I tell ya its a beautiful thing
She takes off you better hang on tight

Shes a blonde bottle rocket
In the middle of the night

When she makes love shes a Heart attacker
My little darlin is a Firecracker

We got a good thing going
And it feels so right
Shes a firecracker
Shes the light of my life.

Walking in a little frizzy and a little frazzled this morning, I contemplated that coming to work with soaking wet hair could say a variety of things about me:


(1) I woke up a little late

(2) My hair dryer needs to be located

(3) "Ain't nobody dope as me I'm dressed so fresh so clean --So fresh and so clean clean"

(4) I was too drunk or lazy to take a shower last night

(5) I got caught in my own personal rain storm (it could have only rained on ME!)



Now I have plugged my hair straightener in under my desk and am waiting for it to heat to the proper temperature it needs to be to fix this rats nest and save the day!

My fabulous friend and I were winding down from work one afternoon, partaking in a glass of wine and watching a popular talk show.... the topic revolved around what men really think.


Some of the subjects were rather humorous (especially after wine), some were a little insightful/eye opening, some just plain truth, and some made me despise the gender as a whole.


There was one conversation on the show that I have not been able to stop thinking about since though. An expert stated that: "Men see women walking down the street and immediately categorize them in only two categories really- would sleep with or wouldn't sleep with."




(Rorie steps on her super tall soap box)

Ughh. Really? This is one of those things that makes me lump all men into one category: DOG! I do not personally enjoy being eye raped, and do not appreciate the thought of my boy toy eye raping another! I have been told, "Guys are just guys, they do that." Well, out of respect for any women you may or may not be actually sleeping with, how's about you lay off the categorizing or forfeit getting laid at all!


(Rorie hops off of her soapbox)


Just my thoughts.... feeling like a little femi-nazi today. But, seriously guys..... really?

An eye can threaten like a loaded and levelled gun, or it can insult like hissing or kicking; or, in its altered mood, by beams of kindness, it can make the heart dance for joy.... One of the most wonderful things in nature is a glance of the eye; it transcends speech; it is the bodily symbol of identity.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I read somewhere that a girl without freckles is like a night without stars.

When I was younger, I was constantly reminded that freckles are "angel kisses." Even then I knew that is just what adults told you to make you feel better about being different, with all those dern spots all over your face. But, you'd better believe I made all of my friends that were without freckles that the angels visited me more!

Between soaking up the actual sun and obtaining the artificial rays of the tanning bed my spots multiply daily. This is not something I am going to out grow any time soon, so I am going with it......



You know back in the day when Cindy Crawford made the mole a must have? And women used to actually create a sassy little mole above their lip. That is my goal: Freckles are the new mole! So grab your brown eyeliner and go to town Pippi Longstocking style to match me!

I feel about an inch tall half of the time.....I am only 5 feet tall, might as well be an inch!

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama,
you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).

Shel Silverstein

I have a date most mornings in front of the vending machine with Mrs. Freshlys for her infamous Jumbo HoneyBun. My $0.75 morning treat. Heat up for 15 seconds, and it is a gooey goodness that can set your day off right. I get dirty looks as I consume this tasty treat in 2 minutes flat, with little regard for what it may be doing to my insides. I work with doctors; they warn me it is no good….but I ask inquisitively, have you had one lately….. ‘Tis Delish! Ok, so it has 580 calories, 43% of the daily value for total fat (28 grams), and 62% of the daily value for saturated fat. There is also 380 mg of sodium and 39 grams of sugars. I may die of clogged arties, but it brings me a smile. We will all make our own selections in life and I shall delight in my own personal vice- the bun. So Back up, and back off- or its gonna get sticky in here…

Have you ever wondered what the hell is going through the minds of the employees at your local Subway? And ever noticed that they can never manage to cut the loaf of bread in even halves? No, if you order a six inch sandwich, there is always a wimpy half and a clearly larger half. Hmmm. Is there some subconcious reason for this mishap? I think so.......
I have used my keen ability to read these people and have finally determined that there are two different mind sets to these so called "sandwich artists." Please consider these observations:

(1) The smaller half giver is either thinking: "You are a skinny hoe, and probably will not eat this anyway!" -OR- "You really do not need to be eating at all, so this is all you get tubbers!

(2) The larger half giver is either thinking: "Biotch you need to go sit in the corner and eat, so eat this, ALL this!" -OR- "Better not be stingy with this mo fo or they may crawl across this counter and eat ME."

Harsh, huh? I do not know why these sandwich artists are so judgemental, but this prejudice goes on every day at a chain near you so take notice. But, we can solve all of the world's problems by urging loaves be cut in equal halves! Please do your part!

I am at a crossroads. I thought I had finally come to terms with the fact that I am flatter-than-flat-chested. "I have the ballerina body," has always been my justification to myself. Well, I have not been a ballerina in years- so I say: to hell with the "ballerina body!" I am now a 21 year old woman striving to be a 21 woman! I am so over the boyish figure. Is it time for a boob job?
It has really been on my mind lately. I am not sure my husband is super keen on the idea- but I am pretty sure he would be fanatical about the results (men are men after all)! How can he enthusiastically observe these women on TV with their perfect busts and then try to talk me down on the subject? Kind of hypocritical… Not even that I am jealous or that I feel like I need to live up to these women- but you can not appreciate something on them and try to downplay my desire for a similar appearance.
My mother and # 1 fan, wishes I did not feel the need or have the desire for a more bountiful bust. But mommy dearest is also sporting some natural DD’s- so I am thinking her opinion on the matter is pretty much void! However, I continue to discuss the topic with her and when prompted to explain to me what I could physically do to make my self look more my age- she begins to recognize my stance.
I just need to get to a point where I am positive that I am doing this for the right reasons. I want to know it is the right decision for ME- not because I think it will make me more popular or because I want to be the sexiest shopper in the frozen foods aisle at Kroger-! Am I really this shallow to think that bigger boobs will make me happy? I do not want to be another superficial statistic. It seems all about appearance though- it is obviously highly regarding vanity, but can it go deeper than that? Can it be about gaining some revere for one’s self?