I'm a WEINER!!!!!

          January 6th always sneaks up on me & weird shit happens every year.  It was ten years ago on January 6th that "The one who shall not be named" & I broke up.  You can read about that here.  Shortly after, I met Shamus and we all know how that turned out.  Or should I say is STILL turning out...

STOP SINGING SARAH!!! I can't take it! 

       Rose wanted me to go see Sarah McLachlan last night. As much as I'd love to spend $65.00 on intentionally making myself suicidal, I decided to pass.  I do enjoy Sarah immensely, however, I don't think I'm emotionally stable enough to subject myself to that.  Mostly because of the money thing but also because I can barely handle the SPCA commercial where she sings Angel.  I have to make myself hang up every time.  That shit puts me right over the edge and I about offer up my entire paycheck to save the kitties.  I had a feeling attending a live concert would not be good for anyone involved.  Especially because it was a last minute, game time decision and we would have had to sit 2 rows apart.  Can you fuckin imagine that?!! Yea, I know.    Choooo Chooo. All Aboard the Hot. Mess. Express.




Something good DID happen yesterday though.  I got a BLOG AWARD! Yea. You heard me.  "I'm the weinerrrrr!"  I almost sharted myself because I have literally never won anything. SO big moments happenin for Murphy's Fool! (That's me...Explanation) So thank you, thank you, thank you Jax! You legit made my life! So I guess I have to share my 5 guilty pleasure & pass it on to 3 other super sweet bloggy bff's that make me excited in my pants.  So here goes nothin! 

5. French Fries. Yea guilty as charged.  I LOVE FRIESSSSS!  I cannot resist those little fuckers. I will destroy their greasy goodness even if I'm full.  I hate their shear power over me.  They laugh in the face of my diet and toy with my emotions.  They never make me feel guilty, even though I should. I wub you french fries. Like Celine Dion,  I love you then I hate you then I love you. 


4. Dipping sauce. I am THAT girl who asks for every dipping sauce available at a restaurant without shame or remorse.  You could pretty much fry anything and give me dipping sauce and I'd eat it.  I dip everything.  It's a horrible habit that leaves poor plain food sans sauce left uneaten & discarded.  (Damn I sound like a giant grease eating amazon woman.  I do eat healthy most of the time.) 


3. Self Help Books- Perhaps it's my need for some serious help, or the fact that it makes me feel better that other people were as fucked up as me and decided to write a book, but I LOVE the self help section.  "Will he really leave her for me?"- own it. "Having an Affair? The guide for the OTHER woman."- yep.  "Why Men Love Bitches?"- yesirr.  "I Love a Cop"-absolutely.  "How to Make Any Man Love You"-FUCK yes. I have em all. & the worst part is if I don't like them I totes take them back and return them. hahahaha SCUMBAG? Eh well! ( I do think the one cashier at Barnes & Noble is on to my shenanigans though. He gives me the stink eye when I walk in now.) 


2. Blogging.  This has become a serious addiction.  I love it.  I love "meeting" all of you & getting comments & of course giving comments. I have to admit I enjoy "taking" more than giving. OOPS.  But this whole little secret world is so fascinating to me and I'm already in love with all of you and your stories.  Thank you for letting me share mine.  Loveeee Youuuu. 


1. Shamus. My number one REALLY guilty pleasure is him. I can't help it & I know you saw that one coming but I would be lying to you and myself if I didn't just say it. I love how I feel when I am with him.  I love how he makes me feel sexy even when I'm not, safe & scared, loved & unloved at the same time, and most of all, I love him.  Even though he is a sucky texter and even when he gets in these moods where I can decipher if he is having a bad day or just annoyed with me or feeling guilty about us.  I love him when he least deserves it.  I love him even when I can tell he's upset about something because he gets these two lines on his forehead, but of course would never admit something is wrong.  He's a horrible communicator which is the COMPLETE opposite of me, but I love him anyway.  He's a prick and a miserable fuck some days. He evokes rage in me that is almost scary.  Yet, everytime we are together, even after 10 years, I STILL get that "butterfly-holyfuck-youmakemesmile-youmakemewannascream-Iabsolutelyloveyoufeeling."  I know it's wrong and awful and I should just walk away and never look back. But, guys, I just can't.  I'm not ready yet.  I hate that fucker.  ;)










Ahemmmm. And now for the "swapping of spit"  ...wait whoaaa... I meant  the "Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award".   




Drumroll please. 




1. Sara from Sara Swears A Lot was one of my very first blog girl crushes and I love her.  She is hilarious and you should check out her blog immediately.  If her blog was a man, I'd marry it & bang it at least 7 days a week. 




2. Roxanne & Lorraine from Late to the Party are my second blog girl crushes.  They are fabulous & someday soon we are going to have a "Dick Swap".  Don't ask, just be INSANELY jealous.  




3. Aly from Calling People Names definitely deserves the final award.  She rocks & has one of the best blogs ever.  Check that bitch out.  You won't be disappointed.  


Andddddd I'm spent. 




Ps. Corey, I'd give you this award but I noticed you already have it! What's a girl to do?

It's my blog & I'll cry if I want to!

~My office is what we call a "Safe Place".  It's a place for at risk youth to come in time of crisis no matter what the circumstances are.  We take them in and we do anything & everything possible to help them, whether it is just to talk or if they need immediate placement due to a dangerous situation etc. ~

Come here! I will hug you! 

     I started doing this blog because I needed to speak. I needed my own safe place.   I needed to say things out loud to people that I don't know. Maybe there is comfort in the anonymity of it all.  I needed to get things off my chest and find comfort in the words of strangers.  Some days I feel crazy & I needed to make sense of it all.  I want this to be a place where I can be myself 100% of the time.  Somewhere I don't have to hide anything.  I can say anything that comes to my mind because this is our "safe place". I am constantly being attacked.  We all are. Especially as women.  I have a very public and "high up" position that I have to defend Every.Fucking.Time. I want something done. (apparently having a vagina makes you useless & dumb regardless of your experience and education.)

I REALLY fuckin hope so...

        I think that is the beauty of this bloggy world.  You can be YOU. Do YOU. I can write about my married boyfriend or the fact that the Mayor is a cheating creep who would give me an additional budget if I showed him my tits, or that this horrible awful woman tried so hard to ruin me because SHE got fired & she and her crazy friend devoted 57 comments on a blog about me which made me revert to my bedroom for months.

So please just listen to my story, offer me advice, comment by all means, but please don't judge me.  I get that all day every day. I need you and I hope you need me. I will be a sarcastic hilarious bitch most of the time, but today I just need a safe place.


Thanks.Loveyou.Meanit.

The extent of our conversation was...

as follows via text:

Last night;

Me: What's with the "cold shoulder"?

Him: No cold shoulder been busy

Play your cards right & this could be you too! 

   Insert fit of rage followed by a bottle of wine, a shot of some nasty grape malt bev, and a trip to the bar. Thankfully people had stopped to see my house which saved me from an "accidental overdose" and/or alcohol poisoning.  

Today:

Me: "Busy" is a crappy excuse

Him: No I don't think so your not the only one that I didn't respond to

(Is that seriously supposed to make me feel better? Are you fuckin sniffing glue? Being a part of the "didn't get responded to club" does not make it ok.  I don't give a fuck if you didn't respond to your mother for a week. I'm not your mother & I do not HAVE to forgive you! I am not your wife & I will not keep my mouth shut and bake you a pie. I DO NOT accept that shit.  It takes 2 seconds to call/text.)

First of all that was a blatant homophone homicide, which makes me absolutely crazy! You're= is the contraction of "you are" 

Your= is the second person possessive adjective, used to describe something as belonging to you. 

Perhaps he'd get this one correct?!?

It's really not that difficult Capt. Dickhead! Enough with the omg-i'm-soo-sad-he-doesn't-love-me BULLSHIT! This is just ridiculous. I gotta get ahold of myself. Have some meaningless sex commencing a week long bender. 

Maybe I just need a nap. 

The problem with dating a married man is...

....well for starters....he's married.  

            Let's forget about all the moral and ethical issues surrounding an affair.  Bottom line-  He promised to be faithful and love someone else forever. Someone that is NOT you.   And the fact that he is breaking that vow, even though it's with you, will never stop haunting you.  Somewhere in the back of your mind you will always remember the fact that he promised to be HER husband, to have and to hold HER, from that day forward, for better, for worse(which is you), for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do THEY part. You will always wonder if he is doing this to her, will he do it to you? Hell, will he ever actually leave her?


     Birthdays, Christmas's, & New Years will always be spent alone, while he is playing the doting husband and father.  What the fuck kind of life is that? From experience; it's wonderful torture.  It's a life filled with roller coaster/bi-polar like emotions. When it's good; it's perfect.  When it's bad; you ache in places that you didn't know existed.   It's filled with binge drinking and eating.  Self loathing and Xanax.  Work suffers.  Sleep suffers. You suffer.   You completely fall apart. And just when you are sweeping up all those tiny pieces and beginning to glue them back together, he comes back into your life.  On his own accord.  


How many times am I going to go through this? How many times am I going to feel these same emotions? I can barely function at work today.  He consumes me in ways that are not healthy or reasonable.  If I was friends with me, I'd punch me right in the face.   I can't believe that I have allowed this to go on for this long.  I cannot believe how deep I'm in.  I hate these days.  These are the days I could live without, if I was living at all.  
















Today I spoke to God.  This is what I said:


Dear God, 
I know that I am a super sucky person for even having this conversation with you.  I am well aware of the consequences of my actions, as I was brought up strictly Irish Catholic.  I have pretty much come to the conclusion that I will be going straight to hell. Sadly enough, that seems like minimal torture as long as he's there.   However, if you could just take a moment to listen to me.  I know that you don't make mistakes.  So if I could, I'd like to ask you a few questions.  Along the lines of you being pure perfection, why would you let me meet him if I wasn't supposed to be with him? And if it was some sort of test, when does it end? and How do I pass? I know that you give me challenges to overcome and make me stronger.  I think I have done pretty well at most of the other ones.  I am a good person-aside from this little "glitch". I try so hard to be good.  I really do.  I am truly at a crossroad here. And I need some sort of help.  I don't know who else to turn to, seeing as all of my friends are completely exhausted on this topic.  I am typically not this wimpy and rarely admit defeat and sadness when it comes to anything.  I am very talented at making a joke out of even the worst scenario.  However, today, it hurts when I breathe and when I close my eyes I see him.  I'm not asking for a lightning bolt or an ark or even a flood.  I don't need the end of  the world or anything that dramatic.  Just a little assistance would be super.  


Thanks.LoveYou.Meanit. 


-REALLY FOOLISH Fool

~I'll let you get the best of me 

Because there's nothing else that I do well~

F*@K You BABY!

Rarr! I'm Creepy New Years Baby! I will SHART on your happiness! 

Fuck you New Years! AND your stupid creepy baby. --------------------------->

    Your false expectations about love and change won't fool me this year.  I'm sick of you imparting you stupid happiness and excitement on me only to be left sad and disappointed.  No one ever kisses me at the "3-2-1-Happy New Year!".   I'm always the one in the room that is standing there whiles couples embrace.  Thinking about him. 

     

      Last year, Shamus and I were in a fight but both working. We stood 20 feet apart, each alone, watching the fireworks in our town, both too stubborn to look at the other and admit defeat. My heart ached, as usual on this day, and I wondered if his felt anything at all.  Turns out, this year we are both off.  Which I think is almost worse because I don't get to see him. Mad or not. 

Sorry Fergie. 

   Perhaps I'll just drown myself in vodka.  I cannot sit home! Let's hope I find some poor unsuspecting bartender to entertain me for the evening, in hope that when "I Gotta Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas comes on I don't start screaming "TONIGHT IS NOTTTTT GOING TO BE A GOOD NIGHT!"

Honestly. 

Cheers Bitches! Here's to hoping you all have a SUPERDUPER New Years! 

-Fool.

(I am seriously going to lose 30 pounds by my 30th birthday. So we all have that to look forward to!)

Diamonds & Douche-bags

~The fight for you is all I've ever known~

           My sister got engaged on Christmas Eve in front of our entire family-which is HUGE because apparently everyone in my family likes to fuck.  (so I guess technically it's in my genes and I can't help it.) If you knew my sister, you'd know that she's loves "the show" and wouldn't have wanted it any other way. ( I suggested that he rent dancing ladies and circus midgets to add to the event, but he didn't bite.)

Awww! Aren't they cute! 

      I affectionately call her "the queen".  She is blonde and beautiful and what every man wants and every girl wants to be.  Which really sucks for me because I am brunette and not beautiful.  I am older than her yet envy her in ways I am not proud to admit.  However, as much as I hate to admit it, I am very happy for her.  She got a big fat diamond and I got a big fat heartache.

~~~~

           Thursday night Shamus finally came over to see my new house.  Not that he didn't want to come over, but I blew him off for a few days just to get him going.  I know. I'm horrible. But ya gotta keep them guessing.   I wanted to get everything semi settled before he came to see and I had my family in and out for days.  The last thing I need is for my parents to walk in on me and my married boyfriend going at it.

        So Thursday I had a few bev's (bev's=beverages=vodka) and gave him the "A-OK" to stop. I won't bore you with the explicit details of me answering the door in questionable attire and the events to follow. But-  IT. WAS. WONDERFUL. ( It's not JUST about that guys! Ok well maybe it kinda is.)  But honest and truly, I was so excited to show him my house and especially my bedroom. ;)   We had a great time and I was all happy and warm and fuzzy.  My little crazy thoughts turned to visions of him leaving the bitch and living with me happily ever after.  Ya know, Normal.

The next day was Christmas Eve.  I texted him a couple times and he seemed absolutely miserable. Do you hear that?! That's "En Vogue" singing Back to Life. Back to Reality.  What the fuck did I do?!? Of course the one day of the year that I could use a little reinforcement that I'm not completely insane and risking EVERYTHING for the man I love is not in vain, he wants to be a dick.  Is it guilt? How can we have such a great time not even 12 hours before?

     So here I am again.  Battling the internal debate between what I think this is and what it really is.  I can't remember the last time I actually addressed this with him.  It's so much easier to just go on the way things are than face the possibility that if I ask him to choose he may do just that.  And not choose me.  I don't understand how this could go on for 10 years and not be more than just a piece of ass.  So what the fuck do I do now? I can't remember me without all of this. Who fuck am I anyway?

Note: He wasn't always married.  He has only been married for about 3 years.  We got in a horrible fight one time and within six months he was engaged, etc.  He called me the night before is wedding and gave me all kinds of happy horse shit about "jumping the gun" and "making a mistake" and then proceeded to call me on his wedding day also. 




Fuck me running.

Merry Christmas Bitches!

Hope everyone has a warm and fuzzy holiday!

The only thing warm and fuzzy about me will be induced by large amounts of xanax and vodka! Cheers!