Ya know, I know I haven't post anything on here for a while that has been even REMOTELY entertaining and about my life.


Cause everyone and their mother (including my own) freaks out at the thought of me sharing my 'thoughts'. 

Worrying about me, so they say.

But when I can't write 'the real me', I feel like I'm a fake.  I feel as if I'm only putting on a fake facade.


Everyone always finds their 2cents to my ears... or through 'whispering'. 

They think I can't hear?  They think I'm oblivious of what's going on?


I love it when they words come out "Oh, but we just want you to be happy, Joey."

"Oh, we're just worried about you, Joey."



The only way I can be happy is by making myself happy.


I started this blog a few months back, with the goal of being me.  Of sharing the truth about my life and 'feeling GOOD about it.'

In the beginning, it was awesome.  Some would say, it was therapy.  I loved the support I got from strangers.  Not to mention - people got to see the real side of me.

I shared the ups and downs of being a new mother... of living in a new world, with a 'family'.... unemployed... with extra poundage.. all the way around... trying to re-find myself.

Then of course people that know me start 'whispering'.  Thinking I'm crazy-and need help-and turning into a drunk.

Nice huh. 

Bet you hadn't heard that yet! 

Or else, bet you already knew.

Because people LOVE to gossip.

They LOVE to meddle into your life when they don't want to deal with their own.

A few sequences of events have happened in the past few weeks, that thankfully for the parties involved, I won't share.

But I will for now on out.

There is no Muzzle on this Momma.

Wanna gossip?  Gossip.

Wanna stick your 2cents in?  Go for it.

But you better be ready to see it here.


This is a place for other new Mom's / SAHM / UNemployed Mom's / real people to relate... and know they aren't alone in life.

That's why I started it.  To find a place and deal with my new life.

As I sit here... within 2 days of turning 32, I cry. 

I cry because I don't want to just 'go out to dinner on my birthday', I want to go dancing or see a killer play, or take a cooking class, or a dance class, or anything FUN and different than the 'usual'.  

I cry cause I'm cussing the dog for eating the babies toys - and cussing the baby for playing in the dog's crate.

In my old life, I would be at the gym, looking hot-getting ready to go out for the evening on a date-or prepping for my Major Market Radio Show... living the 'career oriented - goal living life'.

But time has come to GET OVER the 'old life'. 

I'm the one who couldn't wait till my wedding day.

I'm the one who was so excited to have a home; baby; dog and picket fences.

((Don't have the picket fence-but I'm pretty damn proud of the flowers on my deck! lol))

 Now I got it.  And I am not sure why I was so eager to get here sometimes.

Sometimes... I look and laugh and love it all.  Sometimes... I hate every second of it and look for the outlet that was at one time in my life FUN.

Therefore.. yeah.. I drink.  OR should I say, DRANK. 

Funny.. cause EVERY mom I've ever been around jokes about how 'Mommy needs wine not whine!"

I laugh.. knowing that I'm considered a drunken lunatic if I did that....Especially by people in my life that are addicted to nicotine, bing eating, alcohol themselves, etc. etc.  Gee.. some may even be addicted to sex. 

Not me. 

Just addicted to a drink.

And now, the 'former life of fun and enjoyment' is no longer acceptable. 


So... I'll go out to 'dinner' for my birthday.  I'll get up everyday at 7am and feed the baby, change him, clothe him, wash his clothes, bathe him, wash all the laundry, clean up the kitchen, walk the dog, yell at the dog for eating the babies toys, yell at the baby for eating the dogs food... stay fat... stay unemployed...

And live the dream.


Now I'm giggling.  The baby loves to dance to music.  He just randomly looked up at me and giggled.. and danced.  If you could see how he dances.  So funny.



Oh.. and by the way... this is my blog. 


Wanna bitch, get your own.