Declaration of Independence

This week’s post is going to be a little different.  I am going to be extremely raw and open, refraining from berating, belittling or bedazzling anything or anyone I speak of.  Sound impossible for a fun-loving Ms. Cheeviouslike me?  Well, just you wait and see! 

If you are new here, welcome!  I am so glad you stopped by!  Normally these posts are filled with funny musings on life, love and relationships.  Not today.  Read on.

I’ve been living in Los Angeles since May 13th of this year.  I moved here, because I am a city girl, and it feels like home to me.  When I was gone, I missed my home.  It was a declaration of independence of sorts, as well.  I guess I felt I was losing myself and my independence to a place that didn’t feel like home, and I had to put a stop to it - and fast.

Now that I have been here, love it as I may, I am conflicted and sad, and unsure.  I feel as though in moving, I may have torn away some of the threads that make up pieces of who I am.  As if, even though I’ve woven a beautiful quilt made up of several layers and shapes, somehow, some of the very fabric that was a part of me was destroyed in the process.

I am a rational girl.  I know, in my mind, that this is simply not true.  I’ve not torn or destroyed anything.  I am happy, healthy - a world of opportunities open to me now that I am home.  And, isn’t it true that everything happens for a reason?  There are no regrets, only lessons, right?  Didn’t a wise woman once say that? (Well, Jennifer Aniston did - oops - sorry that slipped - hee hee). Mark Twain did say this, “There is no failure, there are no accidents, and there are no mistakes. They are all learning experiences and stepping-stones.”

The thing that makes this whole amalgamation of feelings so difficult is that I cannot come up with an answer.  I don’t have a simple excuse for why this is happening.  You know how sometimes you can say, “Listen girl. You screwed up!  Admit it!”  and the friend in question can admit it and take the appropriate steps to rectify the situation.  Not so, in the here and now. I can’t say that I screwed up - only that I have a deep sense of loss along with the good. I’ve not divined yet whether or not the gains outweigh the losses. And if they do not, I have no idea just what my plan or next step would be.

You know, since we are talking about these things - Independence and such - and it IS Independence Day weekend - let’s hear how our Forefathers imagined what independence was: 

We hold these truths to be sacred & undeniable; that all men are created equal & independant, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent & inalienable, among which are the preservation of life, & liberty, & the pursuit of happiness.

The fact of the matter is that Independence, personal identity, life, liberty, etc. etc, though incredibly important- can trample so many other important things in life, if we are not careful. We must be extremely vigilant to guard those things (loyalty, friendship, respect, and many others) with the same diligence and dogma, if we are to be truly happy, at peace and free. 

I am feeling very introspective today, can you tell? HA HA!  Perhaps it is because my birthday is coming next week.  Yep.  I don’t mind.  I love my life, at any age.  I see it as being just one step closer to earning the respect of all those young whipper-snappers in the world today!  I am a Cancer - a water sign.  Good for living near the water, for sure.  As a matter of fact, all three of my signs (sun, rising and moon) are water signs. 

As I work through my own personal tidal wave of emotions, I will keep each of you in my thoughts.  I’ll leave you with a song for the weekend. It’s a beautiful song, and some of you know it:

 

Have an incredibly peaceful and happy Independence Day.

Love you people!  Mmmmmmphhhhuuhhhhh!

xoxo,
Ms. Cheevious

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Hit Me Bee-otch!

DISCLAIMER:  Today’s blog is NOT for everyone.  It’s full of all manner of debauchery, sexual inuendo and R-rated, if not X-rated content.  If you can handle that, read on.  Otherwise, see you next week!  It was so good to see you, if only for a moment!  Mppphhhuhhh!

As a follow-up to my What Happens in Vegas  post, I just have to tell this funny little tidbit from a friend of mine who just returned from The City That Never Sleeps (Wait.  Is that New York?) 

She’s my hair stylist, and ladies and gentlemen, THIS girl knows how to have fun.  She’s a chick with loads of a little trait I call pizazz.  She’s my “party girl” idol, I tell ya - always going on trips with big groups of girls and tearing things up along the way.  My own sisters and I use to do that, but I can’t get them to commit to it any more, so I live vicariously through Scissor Sister (oh yeah, you better believe that’s her name).

Well, Scissor Sister and a group of her girls were in Vegas for the weekend celebrating her 40th birthday.  They partied like rock stars.  “So much so,” she said, “that we were kicked out of one place.” I was chuckling along with her story, til I heard that. It totally took the wind out of my sails.  In Vegas?  I said out loud, incredulous.  Sin City?   How could it be?  I was losing my faith in the whole system, when I turned to her,  doe-eyed, with that look of desperate hopefulness and anticipation one might expect to see from someone wanting to be enlightened by their own personal guru.

Listen.  Of course I was doe-eyed, looking to be enlightened by Scissor Sister. I’d just returned from a trip to Vegas with my twelve year old son, where of course I didn’t participate in any sort of shenanigans, but I can dream can’t I?  I was trying to LIVE vicariously - not fizzle vicariously.  I needed to hear it was a mistake! If not, I needed to know the WHOLE story.

She elaborated. ”Well, we were having sooooo much fun, you know? One of my girls had so much fun, we had to carry her home.” Hello.  I can relate.  Been there, done that.  New Orleans, 2002.  Not a pretty picture, and the hangover - Oh My God.  But I digress. 

“So, it was pretty cool, the way they did it.  The bouncer was really cool, and said he liked us, but we had to leave.  But we were pretty shocked.  MAYBE it had something to do with us getting really roudy and yelling “HIT ME, BITCH!” to the dealer all night.” She laughed. 

“No Way!” I said.  You got kicked out for saying “Bitch? In VEGAS?” 

“Yeah, right?  Ya think it was a little off?”  she said.  “They let us stay there as long as we were losing, but we started to win! And the dealer was totally cool!  She was laughing and she totally liked dealing to us.  Then they gave us some staunch Asian dude.  It totally sucked.” 

So, I had to ponder it.  How on earth did they get kicked out for saying “Hit me BITCH!” in a city like Vegas where prostitution is basically legal, and you can carry your cocktails from place to place? 

One might state the obvious here, that perhaps the better question is why do I care, and why am I asking?  You have to realize, I was born into a whole family of women that do this.  Don’t ask me why, but whenever faced with a dilemma, quagmire or problem, we MUST solve it.  I hate that I do this, but I do.  So, there it is.  Even if we AGREE with how it all worked out, our genetics don’t allow us to leave the situation alone.  We have to figure it all out.  We are driven by that gene making us unearth the beastly thing and show it to everyone.  Sad, I know.  Even if the “problem” is how some sleazy greasy dude, who likes to get cozy with little boys ended up working at an elementary school!  If you have this gene, you will come up with all manner of excuses in support of the obvious weakest link, like “Well, maybe he was thoroughly rehabilitated, or perhaps he got castrated and they thought it was safe!” Okay.  We don’t really go that far.  Ewe.

So I thought about it.

1)  Maybe it’s because of the strippers.  Strippers get called “bitch” all the time, and it hurts them.  This is Vegas’ way of protecting its own.  What if a stripper hears it and thinks it’s directed toward them? Strippers out their strutting their stuff, crying and blubbering does not look good?! Ya know?

2)  It’s the old people.  They were inadvertently gambling at the Senior’s Center, and the 90 year old lady next to them kept falling out of her chair every time they yelled.  Their insurance wouldn’t allow for that, so it was the 40 year old SAUCY girl and her friends or their license to operate. If you were the bouncer, you’d kick them out too.

3) Misery Loves Company.  They were surrounded by a bunch of lonely, boring people who were jealous that these girls were taking no prisoners while they ravaged the city. 

Okay, I will spare you any more.  It’s an illness. 

So, since my last trip to Vegas was somewhat (more like “very”) mundane by most of your standards - aside from the ever thrilling roller-coaster rides - I decided that “Hit me BITCH!” should be my new THANG.  Don’t get me wrong.  My trip was actually one of my all-time favorite times ever.  Riding those coasters with my son was priceless, and soon enough he won’t want me to do that!  I had a great time with some really great memories, that no one can take away.  But I just got a kick out of that whole “Hit me BITCH!” business.  

And of course, you know I had to solve THAT problem as well:  How does a bouncy, blue-eyed, blonde, blogging babe get away with saying “Hit me BITCH!”??  After pondering, I came up with a few scenarios. I’ll tell you.

1)  I take a lover that likes dirty talk.  If he doesn’t mind being called “bitch” I can say it when I want a little spanky.  hee hee!

2) I reserve it for times when my girls and I get together for drinks at someone’s house.  I have a cocktail, and slurp it down.  When they ask if I want a refill, I say —–  hellowwww? “HIT ME BITCH!”

3) I go to Vegas and Tempt Fate.  I play black-jack, and when they ask if I want to hold, or whatever, I yell it out - then quickly regain my composure, and sweet little ole innocent me bats my eyelashes at the bouncer nearby, and looks with a frown at the frigid girl next to me, as if SHE said it!  (just kidding.  I would never do that.  If I did, that frigid girl probably would take me up on my little phrase and HIT ME!)

Anyhoo - just wanted to fill you all in!  It’s been a fun one this week!  I hope you had as much fun!

Stay tuned for next week’s essay full of big words like “antidisestablishmentarianism.” You’ll be enlightened, and I won’t even ask you for that doe-eyed, innocent look.

Have a FANTASTIC weekend, would you? And wear sunscreen! (That’s the mommy in me).

Love you people!  Mmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!

xoxo,

Ms. Cheevious

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Sir Tab, Dennis Quaid, Face-Offs and Other News

1) I’ve never done a post where I number things.  Everyone else does it. My turn.

2) First and foremost - in the OTHER NEWS category (not to be confused with unimportant):  My boyfriend and I broke up a little over a couple of weeks ago. I suppose it was coming for a long time. Not surprised, are you?  As many of you know, I determined I could not live away from the city for the rest of my life, and my man is or was (as it were) a country boy.  He is very special and we remain friends as well as business partners, and care very much for each other, but in all fairness to him, I had to let go.  He wants and needs a hot outdoorsy chick who can remain by his side in small town America.  The jury is still out on whether it was the smartest decision I’ve ever made.  It was not something that my Barbie GPS  could help me with.  It was all about being true to oneself.  But, I’m sure you’ll hear more from me on this. Stay tuned.

3) On a lighter note: I met someone new that I like!  At first I told RandomEsq (the consummate alias creator) that this guy is British, but reminds me of Tab Hunter - sort of - and if you do not know who Tab Hunter is, I hate you. Random came up with the fantastic alias of Sir Tab, which is very appropriate, even though when I conducted an Internet search on Tab - an actor from the 60’s - there were only cutesy, Beach Blanket Bingo sorts of images.  Tab Hunter had the clean-cut look of one of the Beach Boys in their early days.  If you don’t know what “Beach Blanket Bingo” or who the Beach Boys are, you’d better look them up, because you are WAY out of it, baby.  Everyone should know about these monikers of pop culture. 

4) Once I saw the Tab Hunter images, I embarked on another search for who Sir Tab really reminds me of.  I figured it out: It’s Dennis Quaid.  Sort of.  Sir Tab is actually MUCH cuter - blows Dennis out of the water!  I suppose if Tab Hunter had ever grown his hair out, he may have even looked sort of Quaid-ish.  I considered changing the alias to Sir Quaid, but it sounded too much like QUAALUDE, so I decided against it.  Sir Tab is a hottie, with some incredible lips, I must say.

Here’s a shot of Tab Hunter - the hottie.  But this image is just a little too far off from Sir Tab. Sir Tab has some ruggedness to his looks.  Though it looks like Tab has some luscious lips here - so there are some definite correlations. heh heh

Here’s an idea of what Tab would’ve looked like with more hair. Well, maybe not (okay - I’m not Rembrandt).  He kinda sort of looks like a Chia Pet.  HA!  But, with longer hair, Sir Tab might actually be compared to him.  Ya think?

This better depicts Sir Tab - I think.  Not to say that he doesn’t have his own unique, wonderful look. But based on this, one could surmise that he’s cute, eh?

5) I still haven’t got even a tinge of desire to upload the video footage from my appearance on Entertainment Tonight.  It was an ABOUT FACE sort of thing, any way - if you know what I mean - laser treatment and all.  The footage I have is from an apparent shorter version than what was finally aired after its initial debute.  I hear the full-length version is better, and am waiting to see it.  Once I do, I will get around to uploading it some day, in which case I will include the video footage here for you as well! (SCARY)

So - Welcome to the very first LIST edition of Ms. Cheevious - Enjoying every moment.  If you are new here, welcome. I am so very glad you are here, and honored you chose to stop by. We have a FABULOUS time in here, dahhhhling!

And now, my friends, I am off!  There are soooo many people to do and things to see.  Strike that.  Reverse it. (Anyone remember where that line came from?? First person to recall is guaranteed to never have their personal stories appear in my blog. Hee hee.)

As always, have a fantastic weekend, and enjoy EVERY SINGLE MOMENT!

Love you people! Mmmmmmphhhuuuhhhhh!  xoxo
Ms. Cheevious

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Blog content copyright 2008, LISA JEY DAVIS a.k.a. Ms. Cheevious