Balls, I tell you. Balls.

so yeah…it’s amazing to me how folks can ask you the most inappropriate, most personal questions and they don’t even know your last name.


Years ago, almost twelve to be exact…my sister recalled a story to me about how she had bumped into an ex of mine at a restaurant/bar (ok….a bar) and he asked how I was…this seems to be what was said, if memory serves (it does!)…

The Sister:  Hello Mr. Ex.

Mr. Ex:  Hello, blah, blah, blah….how is your sister?

TS:  She’s great, she’s married, got a beautiful 7 year old daughter and is seven months pregnant with her son.  She’s awesome.

Mr E:  Same father?

TS:  YES!!!!  you *@#&%*!!!!!  she’s not a @(#$$@*(!!!! slut….she’s been married for 9 years you @#@$*(*!!!!

I typically wouldn’t take offense to such questions, but it was my ex and he was a tool…so, well, no…I considered the source.  It corked the sister up for a week! 

I tell you that, simply because it was so not ANY of his business if I had kids with the entire 7th Fleet…I was just amazed that folks were that ballsy…

Until I joined the PTA. 

Yes, those PTA moms…the stay at home not work PTA moms…(cause you always have a few of those working moms that join to be a part of it all…we sit together at a table in the back with half our makeup on and chewing on a saltine at the meetings).  So I joined, because well, I was volunteered and I have a problem with saying “No!”

At first, I sorta fit in…I am one of those moms, the working married mom. 

Then I get divorced. 

Then I get gay.

Imagine being at a meeting with the other new mommies, getting to know each other over punch and butter cookies…and when asked how many and what grade it goes like this…

Pre-divorce, pre-gay…

Stephanie:   “Hello, I am Stephanie, I have a daughter in 7th and a son in kindergarten.”

PTA Moms:  “Hello!  You have your hands full!” [insert PTA laughter]

Post divorce, post gay…

Stephanie:   “Hello, I am Stephanie, I have a daughter in 7th and a son in kindergarten.”

PTA Moms:  “Hello!  You have your hands full!  Do they have the same father?  (or my favorite) Did you use the same donor?”

mmmmkay….for the record…the little tax deductions have the same father and mother (me).    If you must know, there was a miscarriage in between, now don’t you feel so much better?!?!

I am telling you.  Balls.  Folks have them.  And lack common sense and a filter.

Over the years I have been asked many questions that amuse me, rarely shock me and sometimes horrify me.  Simply because I wonder if people think EVER before they speak.

I have become the “poster child” for all breeders that are inquisitive about being gay or traditional (?) roles in a gay relationship.  I didn’t realize that when you “came out of the closet” so did every NUTJOB with a stupid question.

*sigh* not stupid questions, just brazen and ballsy. 

But I gotta hand it to them, if they have the gumption to ask, then I guess I have the duty to answer.

But please, let’s keep the Homo 101 to the broader terms.  Don’t think because I gots a girlfriend that I lost my common decency.  That only happens with a 12 pack of Coors Light (sorry Tanner!)

Because in the place of employ, I have been interrogated not once, not twice, but THREE times, twice by the same person, about who is the guy and who is the girl, if my kids were likely to be gay, did I cut my hair because I became gay, was I born gay?


And as I sat stuptified and amazed, they looked at me *blink!*blink!* waiting for the answer. 


*I am a girl, she is a girl…if there was any desire for a boy anything, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we?

*You would have to ask my kids if they were gay, go ahead, I dare you!

*No, [sigh] I didn’t cut my hair because I “got gay.”  I cut my hair in honor of some folks who lost a battle with cancer.  (now hopefully they feel like turds for this question!)

*No, actually I was born a girl.  The gay thing came later.

In deciding to move to and from a small town in the span of six months, I have been accosted with “What are you doing?”  “Why are you doing it?” “What does the Son or Daughter think?” “What about your deposit?”

hmmmm, very good questions, all of them…and none of them are your business, but here goes:

*I am moving back to Dallas. 

*Simple, my job, my family, my friends…all in Dallas.  That and the fact that we are blowing roughly $1,500 per month on gas and tolls and the fact that I am spending  13 HOURS per week driving.  Always driving.  You figure the rest out.

*The son and daughter get their own bedrooms, their own bathrooms and a pool again…the son was packed a week ago and the daughter finished day before we signed the lease.

*I am breaking my lease so I am losing my deposit, but seeing as I asked you to sell your kidney to get the money, I guess I owe you.

I guess in the end, I am just kinda over the personal invasions.  I really try not to weigh in on other people’s lives and I am REALLY trying to not be the opinionated ass that I have been in the past (note I am trying…) but I don’t believe I have ever, in all my days, asked anyone such personal questions.

Hell, it took me 6 weeks to find out what my girlfriend’s salary was.  And only then, she told me, cause I sure wasn’t asking!!!

Can I get in trouble if I just run around with tape?  So when someone gets the balls up to ask me a stupid question, I can just tape them up?!?!

My choice as to where…

No, really, please tell me how YOU are doing…

ok, so here’s the horoscope for today:

Here is your Today’s Cancer Horoscope:
Someone close needs to hear how things are going with you — and you should open up, even if you’re not totally cool with how things have been going. Your honesty should score major points!
Here’s the irony of this.  No, I really won’t score any major points for my honesty today.  I haven’t scored any points for my honesty in so long, I am afraid that I OWE the Powers That Be any points I may have previously collected.
As much as I want to remain positive.  As much as I want to remain hopeful, I seem to keep getting bogged down in how others feel.  How MY actions are affecting THEIR feelings.  That for some reason every step and breath that I take can/will/has sent someone’s world a-spinnin’ and it’s up to me to fix it.
Well, the repair shop is closed for, well, repairs.
I can’t/won’t/will not be responsible for another adults emotions, lot in life, bank account, illness, housing situation, lack of bom-chicka-wow-wow, WHATEVER it may be.  The sympathy river has runneth dry.  Bone dry.
I understand I have done some truly shitastic things recently.  I understand that you think I didn’t take everyone into consideration when making my decisions.  I get that you think that I am alternately the niceest person or biggest bitch to walk upright.
Most days, you would be right.
Most days, I am probably both.
Here’s where the rubber meets the road.  I am exhausted.  Honesty takes alot out of a person.  Worn the hell out by apologizing over and over for whatever ails you.  Please share in the guilt that I feel for ruining your life, your world, your happiness. 
I have tried to be truthful and honest with folks, some want to hear it, others don’t.  I can’t make you hear what is said.  I can only back up my words with actions.  Honest, loving, words and actions. 
But quit telling me that I need to worry about me.  Quit telling me that I need to put my feelings first.  Quit telling me that I need to do something for myself.  Because if you say it, then you need to mean it.  And you don’t.
Phew!  I need to be me.  I need to be a mommy.  I need to be a daughter.  I need to be a sister.  An aunt.  A girlfriend.  Not in any particular order, but it seems that I am not doing any of this very well.  According to the folks that continue to point out my faults and mistakes to me.  
I want to remind people that you can’t unring a bell. (My FAVORITE motto).  That once you put the words out there in the universe, they can be forgiven, but not forgotten.   If you speak in love, and in that love speak with honesty and concern, then the words won’t hurt.  The words will give encouragement.  They will offer their own sympathy if needed.  Honesty, no matter how brutal, doesn’t have to hurt. 
If you don’t like where you live/what you do/who you are associated with, I can’t only offer to support you.  Give you my opinon/advice if asked.  Don’t think I don’t have one because I am not spouting off….oh….I do.  I always have an opinon.  ON EVERYTHING.  (ask my sister….)
I have learned that offering my opinion un-solicited only gets me in trouble.  Offering said opinion makes me look like a control freak.  And I am doing my level best to taper off my control freak tendencies.
I need a vacation.  I need to not be anywhere else but on a beach…with toes in sand…yep…that is exactly what I need. 
As adults, we have to deal with a certain amount of “poo” in our daily lives.  We all do.  None of us are exempt from the “poo.”  As adults, we need to remember that fellow adults are also dealing with their own “poo” and that it may be much more stinkier than ours and that we should keep our “poo”  to ourselves. 
You know….Mind Your Own Poo.
I am sorry if I didn’t get your requested check processed on your terms, but sweetie, I had 15 other people screaming for something else and well, 11 of them outrank you.  One I report to and the other signs my paycheck.  But keep not speaking and giving me the stink eye….cause that will make me want to help you next time.
I am sorry for the job you didn’t get.  Maybe because you weren’t qualified.  If they are asking for a CPA and you have experience as a check out girl at the local grocery store, chances are you aren’t getting the job.  But I would bet my liver it’s not because you are a woman, old, purple, into your cats or the interviewer has a wig-hate….it just means that wasn’t the job for you.  Try Kroger….
I understand that my moving the remote regions of the Austrailian outback is a hinderance for you.  I understand that it’s a bit of a drive to get anywhere other than Sonic, but it’s just as hard on me and I get to deal with beating myself up with every mile I travel.  So ease up.  I am trying to move back…again, on my terms.
I am sorry if your friends turned out to be douchebags.  I know it hurts now.  It will hurt for a long time.  Give it time, they will learn they are douchebags and that they didn’t deserve you in the first place.  Trust me.  The ones that matter, will remain.  And the space left by said D-bags will be filled with people that will care.  Don’t waste one more tear on that jerk.  They ain’t worth it.
Mr. Postman, you need to deliver my damn mail.  I get that the daughter parked her car on the street, but you can put the damn mail truck in park, open the door and take the 1.7 steps to the mailbox.  Trust me, it won’t hurt.  I do it allllll the time.  You’re a big boy!  You can do it.  If I have to go to the post office this weekend to get my mail….poo for you!  (not really, but it sounds funny!)
I need a week, just one week…with very little drama.  VERY LITTLE…like the dogs peeing on the floor or the dogs getting way too many treats…VERY SMALL DRAMA.
Like Bigfoot or the Lochness Monster, I don’t think it exists…