“Why am I dying to live if I’m just living to die?”

A few months before I was born, my father gave a card to my mother on what was to be their last anniversary.

“You always liked cards,” he said as he tossed it to her and continued to leave her, pregnant, and their 5-year-old child alone in their home.

Inside the card he let her know he was leaving her for a girl (she was young) he met bird watching.  Fucking bird watching.

When it was time for my mother to have me, instead of my father it was her brother-in-law (my uncle) supporting her at the hospital.  (It was the 70s, I think a man was required to be there or something!)

As a grown woman, knowing what I know now about the type of person my father was/is…I just can’t accept it. Leaving a pregnant woman for someone else on their anniversary (funny, my husband left me for his pregnant mistress and vacationed with her on OUR anniversary where WE honeymooned)? Telling her he will quit his job and work under the table if she tried to take him to court for child support? What kind of person is that? A fucking terrible one.

And that’s how I came into this world. Negativity. A reminder, really.  A living, breathing entity to remind my mother of all those horrible things about her marriage and her family. As you can imagine, I am not the favorite child. In fact, a doctor once told me, “You had a mother. You didn’t have a mommy.”

I try to explain this feeling to people that I have about life. It’s like, I was invited to a party. Or yet, forced to go. And I don’t want to be there.

I want to leave. But I can’t. I’m stuck.

I’m stuck here.

Why am I even here? How did I get here? Let me go!

People ask me, “Hey are you okay?”  Most of the time I LIE, of course. But sometimes I simply say, “No.” And literally NO ONE knows how to deal with it. “Oh ok, well if you want to talk I’m here.” Uh ok. Thanks? What about now? Try asking me a QUESTION.  “I don’t know how to help you.” Um, ok, would you say that to a cancer patient?  So yeah, I lie. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” And move on.

Because I’m a bitch, people confuse that for sheer craziness.  I’ve been accused of being crazy hundreds, possibly thousands, of times by both people I KNOW and strangers. And recently was told, “You need psychological help.”  I was a huge bitch to that person, but still.

Oh honey, I’ve seen more shrinks, social workers and psycho-pharmacologists than you can imagine.  They all agree: I am not bi-polar (Thank you vm!) nor am I schizophrenic.  One believed, as I do, that I have BPD – Borderline Personality Disorder. Which, sounds REALLY bad. Like, multiple personality disorder. But they aren’t the same. They are in fact very different. And if you read just one paragraph about BPD you may understand where I’m coming from, and how hard it is to change my brain to think.

This post isn’t about BPD, but it does say a lot about who I am and how I perceive things. I tried talking about this with family years ago but they did not seem interested in that, nor the treatment which is very intensive and expensive.  Why is no one interested in me? Oh, cuz I suck and bring everyone down. Right.  I try not to! I swear!

Listen, I know I’m fucked up. Sorry!! At least I’m honest. About everything. And if you ever want to know where I stand or how I feel, people should just ask! No one ever asks me anything, so I get really excited when they do, like I’m famous and being interviewed. Maybe that’s why I went to so many shrinks – they asked me shit and listened to the answer.

I’m a failure at life and I want to leave!!!

Please. Let me go.

I know what you’re thinking, “JMo is suicidal. OMG.”

I’m not. Relax.

I mean, I am. But I won’t do it.

I already tried it once. And honestly, once you think about it, it’s always there. Beckoning to you, like that creepy clown in the sewer.

Not to get into it, but obviously I’m alive! Hello! So it didn’t work. My attempt. But it happened. But IT and IT’s aftermath will stay with me forever. A life experience not many have.

I carry depression with me every minute of every day.  It doesn’t mean I’m sobbing and sad all the time (yay medication!) but it does mean that I’m aware of my feelings and FEEL those emotions very strongly. Just please know what about me: I don’t do feelings half-assed.


I just realized my blog has NOT been funny recently. I do have a fun story about JMo, a bleeding heart liberal and very anti-gun, shooting one of the death machines. So that should be good, right?

Until then, PLEASE remember that I’m a human being. And while you might have NO idea what I do with my days and nights, just know that I’m fighting to be here, even though I want to Lyft the fuck outta life!

Oh and I have anger issues and I’m lonely. So yeah, probably shouldn’t be shooting a gun. But whatever. 😉



And I wonder if they’ll laugh when I’m dead?
Why am I fighting to live if I’m just living to fight?
Why am I trying to see when there ain’t nothing in sight?
Why am I trying to give when no one gives me a try?
Why am I dying to live if I’m just living to die?



I was going to title this post “We Have Some Catching Up To Do” but then I thought “Hmm, ‘Boob-a-Thon’ might get more readers!”

So if you’re a teenaged boy who needs to see boobs but is tired of old Internet Porn Boobage (not sure how THAT could happen, but okay), then do I have the triple play for you (and I know because I lived it.):

Go see Titanic in 3D (ooh, 3D Kate Winslet boobies!)

Then go sneak into American Reunion.

And then go home and watch Game of Thrones. Probably any episode will do but last night was chock full of bountiful boobs. Boobiful, if you will.

Ok, so my friend and I were absolutely GIDDY over seeing Titanic in 3D. Hell, even if it were in good old-fashioned 2D we would’ve been just as giddy.  I don’t know why but I have fond memories of this movie and have seen it many times since. But I honestly cannot remember the last time I saw it. And let me say this:

I don’t remember Titanic being so frigging’ funny.  My friend and I laughed out loud (“LOL”) multiple times. So much so, I thought people were going to shush us.  The actors are SO overdramatic. I guess I didn’t notice this back in 1997. Back then us girls were too busy falling in love with Leo to notice the overacting going on. But having said that, Titanic is a MOVIE! Super entertaining. I still give it thumbs way up and I cannot imagine a better villain than Billy Zane. He is perfect. (And of course, Victor Garber as the Irish Mr. Andrews. He is so handsome. It was because of him that I started watching Alias. Loved that show. Long live Sydney Bristow!)

Couple things: I’m obsessed with whatever lip stick color Rose (Kate Winslet) wore throughout the movie. Holy smokes. All I could do is stare at her lips. They are nice lips too. I am not attracted to women, so don’t get me wrong. But I really appreciate full lips. And she has them.

Speaking of full…her boobs. Ok, before I get into that, the theater slowly filled up and we noticed a youngish couple (30’s maybe) bringing in their two kids. KIDS!! The girl was 6. The boy was probably 9.  Whaaaaaaaa? Besides the fact that boobage happens, and Jack and Rose bang in the car…I dunno, there’s that huge SHIP SINKING THING that scares the bejesus out of a lot of people. Hope you weren’t planning to take them on a cruise anytime soon. I think they’ll skip it. Thanks Mom and Dad for the years of bad dreams!

So you know the scene: Rose wants Jack to draw her like the french whores…..Nekkid!! Ok not completely naked – she’d be wearing that HUGE diamond!! So as Rose comes out in her SHEER robe, I see Mr. Bad Ideas dragging his two kids out of the theater. Too bad they already saw Jack’s drawings of said french whores, titties, hairy armpits and all. Nice job, Parents of the Year.

So there. You get to see a young Kate Winslet’s boobies in 3D on a movie screen. That’s pretty cool, right pre-teen boys?

When the movie finally ended (and I mean ended, like sat through the credits to sing “My Heart Will Go On” ended) we had to head to the ladies room.  Once done there, we noticed a movie near-by was just starting. But we didn’t know what. This crappy popular chain theater is the one where they don’t display the movie title and time outside the door. Pshaw! Do they think they will stop us? Nope. It’s called Flixster. But before I could pull up what was starting at 7:15pm (yes we saw a matinée of Titanic. Shut up!) some kid was walking up and I said in my super cool hipster way, “Hey dude, what movie is this?” He told us “American Reunion” and we were sold. A solid Two-Fer was in Full Effect. (check baby check baby one two three four check baby check baby one)

The problem with the second of the Two-Fer: No snackage. Fuuuuuuck.  Oh well. *sulk*

We settled in for the 19th installment of the American Pie films. You know, the one where Jim stuck his wiener into a “warm apple pie” and dated that girl from (“this one time, at”) band camp.

Look, back then, American Pie was raunchy and funny. But since then we’ve had many films that have upped the ante like Super Bad and most other movies that Seth Rogen has been in. And Jonah Hill. Including “21 Jumpstreet” which was friggin’ hilarious and would so love to see again but no one is interested. Dammit!

So all the sequels to American Pie seem forced and this one was NO exception. You want to talk about bad acting….holy shit. It was terrible. The whole thing. But I do love me some Stifler. He just swears so superbly and I’m completely jealous of that.  Needless to say there was a lot of sex jokes and boobies. Most disturbing about that though: the boobies of Jim’s 18-year-old next door neighbor that he used to “babysit”…yeah right. What teen boys did you know that babysat? I knew ZERO.  Also disturbing…she was passed out drunk while her “clothes” got ripped off. Yeah, it was sort of …. not okay. But if that’s your thing…then go for it.

FINALLY it ended and as we walked out of movie #2….the most disturbing sight of all was had: Runner Up Parents of the Year had brought their 16 (maybe 17?) year old daughter to the movie with them. And these parents were NOT cool hip parents like Justin Bieber’s parents. The father looked like Mario from Super Mario Bros. And the mom…well, looked like a woman you would imagine was married to Luigi’s brother.

Yeah…exactly. There were jokes about rim jobs and blow jobs and gay sex and S&M, nevermind drinking, smoking (WEED) and a slew of other things. Um….don’t remember going to R-rated movies like this with my ‘rents back in the day. I have no idea how all three of them did not run out of the theater screaming with their fingers in their ears.  To make myself feel better about that situation I’m going to pretend she is a Make A Wish Foster Child (makes it sadder) and her last dying wish was to see American Reunion with her foster parents.

Nope. Still don’t feel better.

AND then, after all that I came home and snapped on HBO for the second installment of the second season of Game of Thrones. I have NO idea what is going on half the time, but I know there are a bunch of kings, a bunch of bastard children, incest and boobs. And it usually involves whores getting banged by said “kings” on some sort of war table or something. I dunno. I just can’t help but think of how unclean everyone must have been back then. And hairy. Ick. Oh but that Jon Snow…yummo. Winter is coming all right. And coming, and coming and coming. (And by “winter” I mean, JMo)

Until next time,