Oh Dear... What Can The Matter Be?

Yes, this is she. The baby who says, "fuckin." She's probably thinking, "How am I going to get that fuckin shoe?" This picture has nothing to do with this post, I was just in the mood to see this cuteness every time I visit my blog page tomorrow.

Seems a fascination abounds regarding my nombre of choice... whore. I have to say that I get a negative response much of the time when I refer to myself thus. I suppose in the days of Shakespeare, if you said you were a player in the theater... the arts, if you will... you were also thought of in a negative light. It was just not done among the rightly minded people.

And why is it so shocking for a woman who calls herself "Cathouse Teri" to say she's a whore?

I don't much like explaining myself. I prefer to let others figure out what they can about something and then settle on whatever makes them comfortable about it. But, since I'm in a sassy mood, I'll endeavor to shed some small amount of light.

I do not, I repeat ~ do NOT ~ believe I am in any way demeaning or devaluing myself by calling myself a whore. I do it to indulge those lesser spirited creatures who insist upon labels. I could just as well say, "You think I'm a bitch? Okay, call me a fucking bitch if it makes you feel better. I ain't gonna change."

Very sexually free, I am. And free in many ways. I will not be bound by a name or by a thought, or some societal righteous norm. And if I want to fuck a different man every night, I will. And I certainly have done that. If I want to meet a stranger at a hotel room, never even knowing his name, I will. And I dare anyone to tell me that I'm all screwed up because I might do such a thing. I have a perfectly healthy and intact ego. I am much averse to the idea that just because a woman likes sex, even casual and raunchy sex, she hates herself in some way. This is simply not true. It may be true in some cases, may be true in even most cases. I can only attest to the fact that it is not true in mine.

So if, in order to be free to express myself sexually, I have to be called a whore, so be it. In fact, I shall embrace it, thorns and all. I spent a great many years trying to be a "good woman." I found that this brought only bondage and despair. I shan't live under that dark shadow any longer. I had to redefine the good woman. I believe I'm an honest woman. I can't think of anything gooder than that. ;)

About the word Fuck

It's interesting the response that word gets. I'm a mother. I'm a grandmother. I don't cuss around the children. But I have known people who do. I mean people who have a healthy view of things and who explain to their children that they don't get to say those things, any more than they get to have a glass of wine with dinner. It's all very natural. And those children don't wind up running around inappropriately swearing.

But it can be a bit of a problem around little ones. They cannot comprehend that one word is okay to say and another is not. They see their parents passionately express something and they pick up on that because it is passionate. They learn very easily when those words apply. And the reaction they get.

So, here's a story about my granddaughter. She is two and a half. And around the word fuck a lot. She knows exactly how to use it, too. Her daddy (my son) was changing her diaper one day and he was getting frustrated looking around for the baby wipes, which seemed to have disappeared. He said out loud, "Now where are those wipes?" She said, "Where are the fuckin wipes, daddy?" She KNEW he had left out that word! Another time, she wanted her mommy to participate in her game of naming shapes. She was holding up a triangle and saying over and over, "Look mama, a triangle! Look, a triangle!" Mama was tired of that game, having been playing it all day long, so she was no longer responsive to it. Then darling BrynLeigh said, "Look Mama! A fuckin triangle!" (That's my baby!)

At any rate, I've lost the need for feeling repulsed at a word. Every word depends on the tone and the meaning behind the sayer. A person can be entirely demeaning to you without saying a single cuss word. Yet, a friend could say to you, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" or even call you a "motherfucker" and not mean a bit of offense. (And what's wrong with a mother fucker, I might add?)

I once had a conversation with a man who wanted to live alone, and not have a roommate any longer. I asked why and he said he felt uncomfortable bringing women home. I understood. Or so I thought. He went on to explain that he thought it was an inappropriate thing to do in the awareness of others. What the fuck? I said, "So... you mean you think it's like... a sin or something to bring her home and you don't want him to know that you are a sinner?" He said, "Something like that." Then he added that his children are around a mother who brings men home all the time and they call their mother a whore. He felt oh so much more righteous because he takes his fucking to a hotel where he can do it in secret and in the dark. He prefers the message to his children that he is doing something wrong but at least has the decency to conceal it! Now, true, a woman should NOT bring a bunch of men into her home of children. This is bad on many levels. So I'm not advocating that. I'm speaking of hypocrisy here. The kids know he's a hypocrite. They are grown children. When I asked him what he would do if one of them wanted to bring someone home, he said, "I would advise them to do it in a hotel room, like I do." I said, "I tell you what. I have grown kids and I don't teach them that fucking is wrong. Because it's NOT! I mean, I do it! Am I to teach them that I go about doing wrong things?"

I think the thing that is wrong is that we indulge in the "sinful" things and think we're hiding it from them. We are not hiding it. We are just teaching them that it needs to be hidden.

My children absolutely adore and respect me. They wouldn't say a harsh word to me if their lives depended on it. And they don't care about what I do and say. Because what matters to them is that I'm happy.

It's a Morning in May

And I'm running around looking for pieces of April.

So you know when you're lying there, sort of drifting in and out of consciousness, getting ready to fall asleep ~ and random thoughts just pop into your head? Here's the one I had: Why do people refrigerate onions? That just don't make no sense to me!

Continued randomosity:

I heard a line of dialogue in a movie once. I'll see if I can excerpt it for you. Dammit. That's proving to be more trouble than it's worth. Okay, lemme sum up.

Girl asks guy, "Why do you live out of your car? Why don't you just get an apartment or something?" He says (in effect), "Well, I have a key to my car, and if I get an apartment, I'll have another key. And then I'll have to have a job to pay for the apartment, so I'll get another key for work. Then they might give me different keys for varying responsibilities. And I might have a key for storage, because ultimately you do acquire things that may or may not fit into your apartment. And on and on it goes ... but I really like just having the one key."

I can relate. I want to have just one key.

Another favorite movie line:

"I want to stay here only marginally more than I want to die trying to escape."

Mother's (Grand) Day

It's time to share my (grand)babies. Along with poems I wrote for each. Meow.


















Alexa Jade

Precious pearl, such small perfection.
Couldn’t wait, her entrance hied.
Swaddled tight among so many,
Every night, her daddy died.
But now he holds her sleepy head
Brightened by the morning light.
Her eyes, her smile, his heart all warming
Making day’s approach his rite.




BrynLeigh Jade

Sweet light that shines from those bright eyes,
Makes heaven wish for bigger skies.
The sun could warm the darkest place,
Yet still not match that precious face.
And in her orbit, gorgeous moon,
Seeks to make a dim world swoon.
But all her efforts pale in vain
When those small sighs our hearts obtain.

It's Mom's Turn (Inspired by a true story. Or two.)

Disclaimer: I’m not trying to ignore the value of a father here. But in honor of Mother’s Day, I’m going to focus on the woman, if you don’t mind. I am hoping not to be attacked with an onslaught of readers who think I’m dissing the male counterpart. I will write about HIM on Father’s Day. So, have patience, grasshoppers!

It’s been said that “A man works from sun to sun. A woman’s work is never done.” Now, I know men work hard. Some of them work too hard. (And they should get a regular blow job for that, but they too often don’t!) I also know there are lots of lazy women in the world. But that type of woman is not the sort of which I am speaking today.

Too often, when a woman is at home doing the “support work” while the man is out “supporting” the family, she gets overlooked. Yes, strides have been taken to get us all caught up on that. A working mother is a redundant statement. We all know that many mothers work outside the home, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t work in the home. And a woman who does not work outside the home is no less of a worker. That said, regardless of where or who you are, if you are a mother, your work is so all consuming that years go by and you don’t know where they went. You’re not even sure where YOU went. You remember a blur of events. You remember being behind the wheel a lot. You remember a lot of fast food. I think they should design a vehicle where a woman can leave her left leg out on the running board, so she doesn’t have to get entirely in the car before she just has to get out again at the next stop!

So a woman devotes these years, of her own free will, to the care and nurturing of the family. Then one day, she takes a breath. And then another one. She looks around to see if anyone saw that. No one did. A few weeks later, she does a quick twirl in the kitchen. Still no one sees. Wow. Where did that tiny spark of youth and life come from? She takes three breaths! In a row! Soon, she finds whole blocks of time where she has no demands placed upon her and catches herself even fully dancing for MINUTES at a time! From time to time, someone drifts in from another room. “Mom, what’s for dinner?” She replies and moves back into her routine.

One day, she has a whole day with NOTHING on the agenda. Kids are at camp. Dad is out of town. Whatever. Something happens and she’s alone. Does this feel good? She’s not sure. Wait. “I can take a bath with the bathroom door open and when I’m done, I can walk to my room with nothing on. I can even walk all over the house that way, if I like!” Or, “I can put something down and when I come back it will still be right in that same spot!” Wow. She likes that day, but it gets a little long and she gets a little lonely.

Next time a day like that happens, she calls a friend. The friend is alone because her kids are about the same age and her hubby is working late. “Let’s do something!” And so they do. This is fun.

Time passes. Mom has now found some things to do that are her own interests. She doesn’t share them with a single soul! They are all hers! And you know what? She can do them or she can do them not, it’s all up to her! She starts walking or working out. She goes on a diet. Dad comes home and wants to know what’s for dinner. She says, “Whatever you make for yourself. I’m on a diet.” He laughs. He’s a good sport because he knows she’s feeling good. And he likes seeing her feeling good.

On the weekend, big brother comes home from college. He sits down with his soon-to-graduate-from-high-school brother to play video games and they have a grand old time. Big brother goes in to the kitchen to get a snack. He sees a receipt on the counter and reads it aloud to himself, “Water, beer, soda, chicken wings.” Hmmm. Mom comes down the stairs and he says, “Mom, what is this?” She says, “A grocery receipt.” He says, “These are the groceries? Do we live in a dorm now?” Little brother pipes in and says, “Yes we do, and don’t try to do anything about it. Just live with it.” Mom smiles. It’s my turn.

Interview With A Gunfighter

Here are the questions the Gunfighter sent me, along with my answers:

You like to swim every day... has that been a habit throughout your adult life? or is it a new-found favorite form of exercise? Are you a lap swimmer? or do you just have a set amount of time that you spend in the water?

I don’t like to swim, I LOVE to swim! :) When I left my husband, I moved into a guest house on a large property. There was an enclosed swimming pool on the property, as well. It was full of warm, salt water and I can’t possibly describe the soothing wellness this water offered. I would swim at night sometimes, but one day, I decided to swim before I went to work. I found this to be both meditational and exhilarating. Like a supercharge for the day. Letting that warmth envelope me as I stepped in. Beginning the slow, decided movements through the placid water and building up to a full lap swim, releasing those precious endorphins and giving my heart and body the exercise it craved. I used to take aerobic classes every day, and then taught for awhile. One day, my lower back decided it was time to stop. (I attribute this almost entirely to the epidural I had while giving birth to the third child.) The swim proved to be the perfect way to fulfill many needs in my life and still does so. I swim laps, without stopping, for twenty minutes at least four days a week.

During that time, I also fell in love with the moon, because she watched over me and bathed me in her light whenever I was outdoors. And as you know, I was fairly starved for the light. So the water became my sister that warmed me and the moon became my mother that fed me. And my bed became my resting place. People would ask me if it was hard sleeping alone after being married for eighteen years. I answered, “I much prefer sleeping alone to sleeping with someone and being lonely!” I’ve never felt alone since the day I left him. (After all, I now had the water, and the moon, and my bed!)

You mention in your blog that you were a military dependent for 27 years... was that because you were married to a military man? Were one or both of your parents military? Or was it a combination of those things? Where did your military life take you (geographically)?

My father was a pilot in the Air Force. My parents had four girls. I was born third in line in Kansas, moved to Arkansas, Alabama, Oklahoma and South Carolina all before I was four years old. Then we went to Japan for three years. I loved it there. Between the ages of eight and ten, we lived in Oregon, New Mexico and landed in Utah, where my dad retired from the AF. My family continues to live there to this day, all of them living within five miles of one another and seeing each other very often. I talk with one of them at least once a day. I visit every couple of months and spend major holidays there.

The year I turned twenty-one, I got married. Two weeks after the wedding, my new husband left for Navy boot camp. A month and a half after that, I gave birth to my first child. A boy. He was about two months old when we moved to Mission Beach (near San Diego) to join his father. We didn’t live there long before we had to move to Waukegan, Illinois (just North of Chicago). We then went to Bremerton, Washington and on to San Diego. We lived there for a couple of years, where he trained to become a Navy diver and he got his first assignment in the Philippines. By the time we left, I was pregnant with our daughter. She was born in Cubi Point Naval Air Station at Subic Bay. After three years there, the Navy stint was over and we moved back to Utah. I was pregnant with number two son when we arrived. While he was still an infant, we all moved to Sacramento, while daddy was going to the police academy for the CHP. After that, it’s been pretty much Southern California living.

You have three children. Do they live near you? If not, where are they?

My oldest son lives in Utah, near my Mom and Dad. He has a beautiful daughter. She and her beautiful mother live very near them, as well. He is a brilliant (and unemployed) pianist. He goes over and takes care of the little one, while mommy goes to work. My beautiful daughter lives in the L.A. area. She’s a cocktail waitress at a cowboy bar by night, and a part-time nanny by day. My youngest son is a nanny, too. And a new daddy. He and his girlfriend live closer to San Diego. I see my oldest when I visit Utah and I see the other two when I drive to Oceanside every weekend. I am very close to my children and I talk with them almost daily. I am also very close to the mommy of my oldest granddaughter in Utah. I haven’t had the opportunity to get close to the mommy of my youngest son’s daughter, but I see her often and we have a friendly relationship.

Tell us about your relationship with the word "Fuck"

Sometimes, just no other word will do! I like the word fuck and I love to fuck. So it is a purrrrrrrrrrfect word! Meow.

Please tell us why you decided on the name Cathouse Teri... was there some thought of flipping a philosophical finger at the sensitivites of other bloggers? Is there some work experience that you want to share with us? Was it just for laughs?

My nickname is a bit of the “philosophical finger,” to be sure. It would likely turn away those that are too sensitive for some of my subject matter.

There are many reasons for the origin of the nick, but mainly I am trying to convey two things: It always costs something to be with a woman and I want it known up front that I’m a whore (and by that I mean immoral woman) so there are no unreal expectations. I always say I’d rather have you think I’m a whore and find out I’m a saint, than think I’m a saint and find out I’m a whore!

I do have a bit of a fantasy about running a cathouse. I think I’d be really good at it. I would like to have all women know how important it is to give their man a blow job. Because if she doesn’t, someone will, and it will probably be me! ;)

Yes, a man says he wants a lady in public and a whore in bed, until one day he wakes up and says, “Shit! I married a whore!”

Who is Lester?

I have no idea who Lester is! Hehehe. I just randomly came up with it to go along with the play on words. I could have said, “The Road Leslie Traveled,” but then, since I’m a woman, people would think my name is Leslie or something. I love the Frost poem, and I also love the book by M. Scott Peck, where he borrowed the line from the poem as his title. It really is the road less traveled that makes all the difference, in my opinion.

You live in Oceanside, CA., home of CAmp Pendleton. Do you encounter many Marines in your day to day life? In what way? Is most of your contact positive or negative?

No, I don’t really travel ‘round the base. I mean, I guess I see Marines from time to time, but it doesn’t phase me, as I have spent a fair amount of years around military men. (And did a fair amount of drinking with them in the Philippines!)

I have never had a negative encounter with a Marine. I did one time have to rescue one, who had haplessly wandered into a Navy Seal bar.

Also, I don't live in Oceanside anymore. But, for personal reasons, I'd rather not make it too plain where I'm living now.

Do you have any tattoos? If so, where are they?, what are they?, and why did you get what you got?

I have one tattoo (pictured). I got it last summer. It is located on my right ankle and is about 3" x 2". I chose a Maori tribal symbol, in honor of my granddaughter’s heritage. She really is a Maori tribal princess. Having children is a hard thing. Having grandchildren is harder yet. You have even less control over their well-being and the things that will influence their lives. I have written previously that being a mother is like having a steel post driven down through your body and the only way it will kill you is if it’s removed. Being a grandmother is double that. So I almost chose the symbol that means, “sorrow.” Instead, I chose “hope.” At the bottom of the symbol are her initials, “BJ.” (to which my boyfriend said, “well if anyone needs BJ tattooed on their body, it’s you!) And at the top of the tattoo is a butterfly, in honor of her mother, whom I adore.

When my youngest told me his girlfriend was pregnant, my immediate response was, “Shit! Now I have to design another tattoo!” (And he’s gonna hold me to it, too!) It was a good way to break the strain of his having to give me the news. He has never been anything but happy about his child’s birth, even though he is young and unmarried. (I’ve written about that previously, too, but hell, who has time to read all of those old entries?)

In spite of everything I say, I’d rather kiss the face of a baby than do anything else in the world. It is the children that matter.

What I Wish I Would Have Done For My Children

I have great kids. They are the light of my world. I wrote that on a card for each of them at Christmas and gave them a candle to go with it. I love light. And I wish I could have given them more of it when they were young.

I'm afraid I chose a man of darkness as a spouse, and parent of my children. That happens a lot. A person of light chooses a person of darkness because they think they can bring them out of it. It's stupid. It's a concept that is validated by movies like, "Sound of Music." You know the drill. Asshole man meets good woman and asshole man turns into perfect and kindly man.

So, we gave birth to three little lights. Still, not enough light to bring him out. I could never figure out why. But now I know. He loves his darkness. You can't take someone out of something they love.

The children are fine. They are beautiful human beings. I've written a lot about them here. And it's their light that saved me. But I wish I hadn't made them live so long in the darkness. I wish that when they looked back they saw more happiness and less misery. I wish I could have been the free mother I am now, back then.

Ah well. You know the old saying. If wishes were horses...

The MeMe Generation

Obesity in children. No one can figure out how it happened or how to solve it. Everywhere I turn, I run into some new "healthy snack" idea. Little packaged apples, little packaged carrots, little packaged cheese cubes. (Gee whiz, I wonder what we did before those little packaged snacks? Oh I know! We handed them an apple!) And sure, a lot of kids will eat those things. And when they're done, they are still hungry for a more substantial and tasty snack!

I don't think the problem is really rooted in the snack choices we offer our children. I think it's that the Me Generation is raising a MeMe Generation.

I'm gonna blame public schools. (The blame goes way back before that, but we'll start here, because public schools is an easy target.) I'm afraid that parents learned early on that the schools would raise their children. That's why parents are so choosy about the schools in an area where they live. Because that's to be their child's newly adopted parent! It's all planned out. From the minute they are born, we are looking forward to getting them out of the house. I wish it were uncommon to hear a parent say (right in front of the child) "Oh! He goes to kindergarten next year! I can't wait to have the break!" And then we are so excited when they are in first grade, because they'll be in school ALL DAY! Even the most involved and loving parents are caught in this trap of looking forward to the break, because most likely they have been paying a babysitter or a nanny and now they get a financial break. And if that weren't enough, we started putting them in pre-school (for their own good, of course) at age two!

So then, they are in school, and we whine about their vacations when they will be home all day long. And how we can't wait for them to go back to school. We can't wait until they graduate and turn 18 so they can move out and we can get on with our lives that we've put on hold for them.

We've learned to put our children away from us. We figured out that if we put them in front of a tv or a computer, they will shut up and we can have some quiet and think. We've had people talking to us all day. We've had traffic and phones and deadlines all day. And now we come home and we have to help with homework! Good God! If a parent is lucky, they will have maybe an hour to themselves. Maybe. And all of this is done in a fragmented way. We can't stop to eat with the family. Everyone is grabbing something and running out the door. Soccer, football, ballet, music, yoga, whatever! Whatever we can do to essentially fill up every minute of every day with productive shit!

And we feed them. We feed them to shut them up. We feed them first at events or family gatherings. At home, we let them eat an entire bag of chips, because we can't be bothered with spending time training them to put some in a bowl and stop at that. Every once in awhile, we awaken from our coma and say, "Oh my! You can't eat just chips! Here! Have some carrots! They're good for you!" So they learn that, not only do they take precedence, but they need to be fed! And they need to leave us alone to do grown up things!

So what we've done is we've raised a generation of people who are entirely gluttonous. We neglect them, so we appease them. Then neglect and appease. They wind up with too many clothes, too many toys, too many gadgets and too much food! I thank God for parents who don't have the means to appease them in such a way! Single parents have become the best parents because they just can't fucking afford it!

So it's not really obesity that is the problem. It's that we, of the self-absorbed lot, have taught them to be like us. Even anorexic children are consumed with self. It's all rooted in this and there is no solution.

But we can start by having dinner with our children every night. At least they can learn some table manners.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

First the Good ~

I just ate an amazing cheeseburger! I was at Albertson's, and decided I needed a burger. I'm staying in a hotel, so I couldn't just buy raw meat and cook it. So I stopped a young woman and asked her where I could get the best hamburger in town. She said, "Oh I dont' know. I don't eat hamburgers." I said, "oky doky..." and moved on. Not much later, I was in line to check out and she came up to me and said, "My boyfriend tells me that the best hamburgers are at Nation's." I thought that was so sweet that she looked into it and sought me out to tell me! :) At any rate, he was right. Superb burger. It was a little joint with a very small menu, and homemade pies. Lots of people stopping by to pick up pies. It was like an old diner. The layout was so genuinely nostalgic, that everyone there was nice. And by everyone, I mean even the customers! Every one of us was talking like we were afraid of putting the workers out by having them serve us! Now remember, I'm in California! It was such a breath of fresh air. I brought my order home, along with a piece of peaches and cream pie which I have yet to eat, and proceeded to eat that sloppy, perfect burger!

Now for the Bad ~
A List, if you will. (And even if you won't.)

Things that piss me off

Number One Thing:
Receiving forwards in my email box. I know, I know, they are so funny or touching or interesting or beautiful or whatever! And you just want to SHARE that with me. Because you just love me so much! But … well, let’s pretend that I have a wealth of information at my fingertips. I can look up any interesting/beautiful/funny/touching thing I want at any given time! So if you simply can’t stop yourself from sending them to me, then please try to follow two simple rules:
1. Make it a very rare thing.
2. Make sure it’s not a waste of my fucking time! (And by "fucking time" I mean, literally, FUCKING time!)

Number Two Thing:
Guys who know what pisses you off and then do those very things just to get under your skin. Strangely, they think of this as a good wooing tactic. I have no idea where they learned that. Maybe from their fathers? Summer camp? Idiot classes? I used to date a man who I think liked me quite a bit. He was older than me. I don’t usually date older men or even men my own age, because they can’t keep up with me! At like nine or ten p.m. they want to go to bed (and I mean to sleep). I just can’t hang with that sort of inactivity. Hehehe …

ANYWAY, he happened to be online once while I was online and he playfully (or so he thought) started hammering me with email forwards. I’m a good sport. I let him have his fun for the first one or two, but after that (and I mean there were about twenty-five after that) I sent him a message and said, “So, when I tell you something bothers me, you think it’s cool to do that thing?” He replied, “Oh I’m just having some fun.” I said, “And if I tell you something I love, will you begin a plan of withholding that from me? Will that be fun, too?” What a dork. As you can tell by my phrasing of “I USED to date a man…” he’s gone.

Number Three Thing:
When people give you a smartass answer when you ask a perfectly reasonable question. Like, when you work in an office and you ask someone if they’ve seen so and so. I mean really, it is highly likely that they’ve seen them, if it’s a small office. And they say, “I don’t know, it’s not my turn to watch him.” I need someone to give me a good reply to that. Something like, “Oh, I’m sorry for asking… fucker!”

Number Four Thing:
When people ask me to go look at their online photo album and it has 683 pictures in it! I mean, I don’t even like to look at 683 of pictures of my own damn life! These people have begun to be interested in photography and they even think a certain angle of the corner of the desk is worth sharing! My friend’s response to that is, “Don’t you have any pictures of just the ground?”

I have a niece who is into photography. I love her pictures. They are creative and pleasing to view. But she doesn’t hand me triple digits of them!

Is it beginning to sound like maybe I should just settle down with a man (a younger man, who’s not been to that idiot class) in an isolated cabin somewhere?

Yeah, I think so.

And now for the ugly ~
The ugly, ugly truth that I both love and hate humankind. Although the pie might be ugly too, since it was just on a little plate and was tossed about in a bag between there and here. But no doubt it will still be tasty! :)

Dear John... er... I mean, M. Night

Dear M. Night Shyamalan,

I think you are a brilliant man! I think your character development is deeply amazing and superb! And the actors chosen to play the characters are unbelievably perfect for the parts! You are clearly a man who knows about life. You present the real struggles of people in the throes of battle, not only in the terrestrial and the heavenly things, but all those that lie between. It is truly a pleasure to be thrilled by your thoughts! To have my senses tingled and teased by your implications! You bring me to the point of… oh my… titillation… the point of… well… the point of… anti-fucking-climax! What the hell happened? You’re like a seer! Like a prophet! A man with eyes open to the universe, open to hell, open to inner and outer beings! Did you stop searching just short of finding? Every single time you tell a story, you draw me in. You make me be there with you. You drive me along the path you’ve trodden. I can’t wait for the next step. And bam! Brick wall! Every single fucking time! Stop that! Please. I beg of you. Stop telling stories until you really know how to follow through with something that is really going to mean something. Don’t show me meat, if it’s going to just disappear as I reach for it, mouth a-watering. If all you have to offer is straw, then just tell me up front. I can’t take the disappointment any longer!

I’ll be waiting right here to hear from you when you have finished with some things that have some finishings.

Your devoted servant,
Cathouse Teri

I'm Not Impressed with Jessica Alba

I just read about twenty quotes of hers. She's almost empty headed. Very sweet girl, though. And I'm sure she's tons of fun. PLUS, she's hotter than fuckin hot. (God, I hate that term hot.) So I read some things about her at imdb.com. I always segue to different actors in there. I was originally looking to see who that guy is starring with Bruce in the new Die Hard movie. Then I followed to his next movie and she was in it, etcetera. I think she's a real beauty. Just yum yum yummy. Loved watching her in "Honey." Not a great actress. In fact, less than not great. But I appreciate her anyway. I mean, showbiz ain't easy. But I'm still not impressed. (Well clearly she's made some impression on me, for me to spend this many words on her.. ya know, I'm just thinking out loud.)

But you know what's dumb? How in her list of accomplishments, there is a plethora of which number of hottest/sexiest/baberooest she is on this list or that list or whatever the fuck list. How is that an accomplishment? Oh wait. I know. Because even as a girl, she shunned her family's meal offerings because she didn't want to be fat. I guess they were a bunch of fatties. She was anorexic for a bit. All that makes for a girl who is suited for the camera! Yay for the shallow beauties of the world!

All kidding aside, I am positive that she is the sweetest thing in the universe. Her smile lights up the entire screen. You can't help but stare at her. It is my hope that somehow she will find some depth. I have no idea how, in the biz that she's in. If she becomes friends with Salma, maybe. Yeah.. that's it.. Salma can make Jack's movie and Jessica can star in it! She'd be a changed woman after that.

Wait till you hear what I have to say about M. Night Shay... oh hell, I gotta look that up now... Shyamalan!

More about MeMe... Meow?

So I was thinking about the whole thing where you are in a relationship, but you decide to give one another the privilege of being allowed to sleep with one of three famous people (if you ever happen to come by one ~ pun intended). My son and his girlfriend gave me their lists over breakfast yesterday. I began to think. Hmm… I just drove 450 miles one way to be with the man of my dreams. Why would I ever want to be with anyone else, famous or otherwise? (I’m not kidding, he’s that good.) But, just for the sake of brevity, on a day like today when there is really nothing good on the news, I’ll give you my three.

1. Morgan Freeman. There is rarely a man I meet or see (on or off screen) that makes me think, “Oh man! I’d love to fuck him!” But once, while watching MF dance (wow, I just realized what cool initials he has… I’ll bet Samuel L. Jackson is sooooo jealous!) at the end of the movie “Moll Flanders,” I observed that he would probably be a most excellent lover. So there you go. Ever since then, I’ve wanted to know him, in the biblical sense. ;)

2. Augustus McRae. Sure, he’s a fictional character, but one helluva fictional character! Once, I met a man at Temecula Western Days who was a Robert Duvall lookalike. I had stopped by an outdoor wine and beer garden with a friend and she said, “Teri… look over here.” And there she stood, chatting with Gus McRae. I had never experienced the feeling of being so entirely and deeply in love with a stranger upon meeting. Now I’m not talking about love at first sight. Everyone has felt that. But that is a shallow feeling, albeit a HUGE one. (Let’s just call it wide, but not deep! Horizontal, if you will… hehe) But I’m not talking about that sort of feeling. I mean when I looked up and virtually saw the greatest man that ever lived standing there in front of me (remember, it’s Gus I’m in love with, not Duvall, although I like him plenty) the deepest rush of emotion washed over me… and joy. My friend exclaimed to me, “Teri! Stop standing there with your mouth agape! It’s Gus!” I smiled. He said, “Well, actually, I’m not Gus today, I’m Boss Spearman, the man Duvall played in Open Range.” I gave him as sassy a look as I could muster and said, “You want a poke?” He said, “Yes!” I said, “Well then you’d better be Gus!”

3. Salma Hayek. There’s just something about that woman that makes me want to spend a night in bed with her.

Mi Mi Mi... Miao!

So Vixen tagged me. With a meme about goals. I'm uposta list mine.
And here goes:

I’ve never been a goal oriented person. I’m not sure if that was born or bred in me. For the first 27 years of my life, I was a military dependent. My life was not at all my own. I just went where the orders took me. I realize this doesn’t mean you have to have NO goals. I mean, there is such a thing as personal goals. But I’ve just never consciously set any.

Just for fun (and for the lovely Vixen), I will do my best to feebly present something akin to a rendering of my goals.

I remember deciding early on not to let fear and anxiety be the boss of me. This intent was challenged in a big way(no pun intended)when I became pregnant with my first child. I was suddenly FILLED with fear. I had a little life inside of me that I may not be able to protect. I had always felt confident about protecting myself, but knew I had little ability to protect my loved ones. It’s been a long and constant journey overcoming that fear and not letting it rule my choices and actions. I have never been comfortable in new situations, but the course of my life was set to present me with consistently new things, on a rather large scale. Always moving to a new place. Spending much of my time just getting my bearings. Planting roots, just to have them pulled up and broken to pieces. So I learned that the roots are not in the places. They are in the heart. And in the family. I have poured my entire being into those things. Then I married a military man who plucked me up again, only this time, he wanted to alienate me from the family wherein my roots lie. He loved the fact that I was a nurturing, lively thing, but he wanted to plant me in the middle of his living room and tell me to grow. Unfortunately, for him, the old roots he despised were too strong and he couldn’t break them. He wanted me to learn to be independent and it worked! I stopped needing him!

So here I am today. Many years later and again, living in a new place (only this time, all the choices are MINE.)

Several years ago, I started swimming every morning. I happened to live in a situation which allowed me the luxury of swimming in a private, heated, saltwater pool every day. I fell in love with the warmth and energy and tranquility that this provided. I vowed to swim every day as long as I live (well not EVERY day, but pretty much). Of course, I’ve moved around a lot and had to find a new place to swim, and since the swimming pools are not on my doorstep (as that first one was), I’ve gone through some dry spells. My body and spirit do not like these dry spells, but c’est la vie! Can’t be helped. Again, anxiety wants to take hold of me and keep me from trying a new health club. Today, I had to overcome it again. But once I was surrounded by the loving water, anxiety melted away. (As we all know, it’s the first time that is the hardest.) So you could say that a goal of mine is to be healthy, in mind, body and spirit. In fact, that is THE goal of mine. And I spend as much time as I can in helping others to follow the same path. I would say “help others to accomplish it,” but I feel it is not something to be accomplished but more something to live in.

Honestly, I just go where the wind blows me. But not just any wind. The one that has my name on it.

Oh, and my other goal is to never get married again. :)

Nothin Ain't Worth Nothin...

... but it's free.

So does anyone else think that Imus looks like those rotten apple doll heads we used to make in school? (Who thought of that, anyway? What an asinine thing to have children do.) At any rate, I'd rather be a nappy-headed-anything-at-all than his clearly-superior-to-everyone-else highness. (I'll have to settle for being just a plain ol' ho.)

Enough about him, let's talk about me. And what I think about GRINDHOUSE! Oh my, sen-fucking-sational! Rose McGowan can't be beat for sexy. She surpasses even (dare I say it?) Jessica Alba! And the rebellious style in which the films (and trailers) were made is just tasty, to say the least.

One more thing. Why the hell do the drive thru people ALWAYS overfill your drinks? Don't they fuckin know that we are driving a fuckin car???? Is it a mystery that I'm pulling up in a vehicle? Is it only vaguely implied that imminently, said vehicle will be moving?? I'm just fuckin befuddled by this simple little thing.

Now you know.. how easily befuddled I am.

Oh, and today, I decided that either everyone in California is insane, or I am. Which do you think is more likely? All of them? Or me?

And another one more thing, if you drop your buttered bread, sure as fuckin hell, it will land on the buttered side. I love that. I forget who the important person was who figured that out, because I've apparently lost my memory. Either was Murphy or someone Murphy was copying. Fuck. Now I gotta look that up again.

Out of the Mouths of (Hot) Babes

Hi, lots to tell! Having spent the week in the DC area, a small share of it at a reception in the Senate side of the Capitol Building. The larger share with my , good friend of many years. And then adding more friends from days gone by. Much, much fun. But for now, I just want to inspire you with these words of wisdom I discovered from a fellow blogger. I just thought it would HAVE to be shared. (Susie can link it so you can visit the wondrous hotties blog world, because I'm retarded about that.) Meet Leslee, who expounds on one of the great riddles (by actually creating another one... hee hee):

Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself: "Mankind". Basically, it's made up of two separate words - "mank" and "ind". What do these words mean ? It's a mystery, and that's why so is mankind.