I think I like this Barbie better than that one bitch who has everything.

This Barbie is saying, "What'd you say to me, punk? You better watch it 'fore I buss a cap in yo ass."

The other Barbie would have said, "Oh, hee hee, silly me. I must have said something that angered you. I need a brush, does anyone have one? Anyway, I'm so sorry. Would you like to join me for some jazzercise? It's so exhilirating and will help relieve the tension!"

This Barbie once caught Ken in a passionate embrace with Skipper, and pulled him out of the mansion by his hair and proceeded to pistol whip his ass in front of everyone in their exclusive, gated community. While he lay on the perfectly manicured ground, unconscious, she slashed all the tires on his pink Corvette and busted out the windows. Yeah, she might have paid for the car, but he was the one driving the bitch.

This Barbie doesn't care if she notices a few pounds on her impossibly perfect figure. The baggy pants and boxer shorts she wears hides it, anyway. And who cares if her hair isn't perfectly coiffed? She puts it all up in her bandanna, anyway.

This Barbie once spent time in a federal prison for the distribution and manufacturing of crack cocaine. She knows what a hard life is. She met her best friend, Rayanna, in prison. Rayanna's last name is Bratz and Barbie invited Rayanna and the entire Bratz family to live with her. She said she would find them jobs. Now they all live with Barbie in her mansion. She has taught them how to cut the coke quite well. Ken pretends to ignore them, but he knows what's going on.

One day, the Bratz family thought it would be hilarious to hide Ken's tennis racket and cardigan sweater. They found it highly amusing that Ken would go out the tennis courts by himself and smack the ball around. No one else wanted to play. The day they hid his things, Ken stormed around the mansion, yelling, "Where is my cardigan sweater?" This got on Barbie's nerves and she finally said, "Nigga, shut the fuck up, foe I smack yo bitch ass." Ken immediately shut up. Everyone thought he was scared.

In truth, Ken was afraid of Barbie, but he was more afraid of the Bratz family. They knew a terrible secret about him. One time, Rayanna's cousin, Jade Bratz, walked in on him when he was getting ready to take a shower. He turned bright red as she gasped, clapped a hand over her mouth, and then began laughing uncontrollably. She fled the room and told all of her cousins. They all laughed hysterically at what she said. Jade then called her boyfriend, Joe, who was a G.I. in the army, and told him, too. He laughed for five straight minutes and then said, "Well, I may be little but at least I'm anatomically correct."

Every time one of the Bratz saw Ken, they laughed and giggled at pointed at him. He just kept his head down and pretended not to hear them. He didn't want Barbie to know that they had found out that he only had a small, plastic, shapeless lump for a penis. Barbie herself didn't know, thanks to her sweet twin sister's invention. She invented an apparatus that Ken could attach to himself whenever they were intimate and she never knew the difference. Ken secretly loved the good Barbie, and would have been happy to marry her in a heartbeat, but everyone knew she was a lesbian.

One day, after visiting with her parole officer, Barbie stopped by her supplier's house. She tapped out the special knock on the door. The door slowly opened, and Barbie walked into the house. "Yo," she greeted the boss.

Her boss ran a hand through her stringy red hair and said, "You comin to pick up the shit?"

"Sho 'nuff," said Barbie, making herself comfortable next to her boss's brother Andy. "Hey Andy, whassup, yo?" she said as she jostled him. He said nothing, just stared vacantly ahead.

The boss was mumbling to herself as she sifted through some envelopes on the table. "Shit, man, I wish they would stop addressing my mail like this."

"Like what?" Barbie asked, adjusting the pistol in her waistband.

"These motherfuckers," spat the boss, throwing the envelope in her direction. "They keep mixing up my first and last names." Barbie caught it and examined it closely. The name on the envelope was Miss Raggedy Anne. "Ain't that your name, cuz?" Barbie asked.

"Fuck no!" replied Anne. "My name is Anne Raggedy. But they keep on doin that shit to me and Andy." She paused as she tugged on the hem on her gingham skirt. "So anyway, you ready for some good shit, B?"

Well, I have been working on my blog ALL day long. I have learned many things that I didn't know before, like how to insert html codes. It's been interesting.

I added the ads to my blog just to see what happens. I don't get a lot of traffic yet so I doubt I'll make any money. But there is potential. One of my favorite journalers, http://www.dooce.com/ started displaying ads on her journal a few months ago and has reported that she has raked in some cash. But she is a professional, and I am just an amateur hanging on to her coattails. But anyway, one click generates money. It's interesting. I can't wait to see what happens. Perhaps in the future I will have my own domain, which would be great, since I can't even google myself on here. At least, I haven't been able to so far. Reading up on this linking stuff is like reading a foreign language to me.

I also changed my journal name, but not my URL. My URL will not change. It is http://sondrathepearl.blogspot.com/. I don't have any reason for choosing this name other than the fact that Adesense creates links to ads that are relevant to the journal,and I think that if anyone out there reads this that is a little bit tubby, they might benefit from an ad for weight loss or anything else relevant to it. And again, I make money if they do.

So please bear with me, as my page looks a little out of proportion right now. I am still figuring out how to link things. I want to post a real entry, and I may do so tonight. It directly correlates with the "Is this a fat chick thing?" I'm so excited about it I may just explode, but I'll try to wait until I at least write it down first.

Well! I finally figured out how to post my picture with my comments. Thanks, anyway, Santa. All I had to do was read some simple fucking instructions. But that's me, making it harder than it really is.

I also added a counter so I can remind myself how pathetic I am. I am sure that most of the counts you see on there now are mine. It's just a daily reminder that I have no life. That's okay, though.

Today was the last day of the semester and final exam day. Both of my instructors today were nice enough to let everyone know what their final grade would be. I have A's in both classes. Now I sit and wait for a week just to find out what I got in Sociology. That was my most challenging class and the one I had to work the hardest in. As of yesterday, he had not graded two assignments and would not be posting the grades until Tuesday. Most students will usually know what they're going to get at the end of the semester, but I really have no idea. He had so much work, and all of it carried different weights. I know that I got two B's and three A's on our major tests. (worth 65% of our grade.) On our quizzes, of which there are five, I know that 3 are C's. (worth 5% of our grade...the other two he has not yet graded.) I received five extra credit points for doing an extra credit paper. I got six out of a possible ten points for two reaction papers, and 8 points out of a possible 10 points on our third reaction paper. (all worth 20% of our grade.) We were also required to do five current events, of which I think I only did four. So those are worth 10% of our grade. So, as you can see, I have no fucking idea how to calculate this. Anyone comfortable with math out there? Be my guest and throw me a figure. I am seriously obsessing over this. I WANT TO BE ON THE PRESIDENT'S LIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, tomorrow, I will be aimlessly wandering around the house with nothing to do. I mean, I have things to do (like writing) but I doubt I will start on them tomorrow. I have to paint the hallway and I have been saying that for months now, but I really have to. This room also needs painting. I'm sure I'll get around to it while enjoying this month off.....I LIKE to paint, but most people I know don't.....but I also checked out a few good books from the library. As cold as it is, nothing sounds more enticing than a nice hot cup of coffee and a good book right now. I also need to do laundry and some mundane housework. But at least I get to sleep in. YEAH!

I can't stay away from my journal today.

Thanks to everyone, for the comments. It's nice to know I've been read. Especially to you, Santa. I'm still going through your site and I think you're a genius. And I'm going to take you up on your offer to help me with this stupid picture posting thing.

Not to steal any of Santa's ideas, but I have to post these links because they are TOO funny not to. You can see these and a whole lot more funnier ones, at http://www.steakandcheese.com/ You just have to be able to navigate through the porn. So be aware not to look at this site while there are kids around or while you're at work. It's not a porn site but certain porn sites have clips on here and this is a vulgar, trashy place. If you click on the links below, it will take you directly to the clip so you don't have to navigate around the site, but you may notice porn stuff on the side of your screen. Don't worry, if you don't click on it it won't hurt you, but if you prefer not to I understand. And I also thought I should mention that none of these clips are pornographic, although there is some swearing. But they are funny, I promise! (well, one of them isn't that funny but you'll see what I mean.)

Sometimes I feel sorry for that lazy, cocky, murdering ingrate Bush.

What stupid people do with too much time on their hands.

What stupid young college guys do with too much time on their hands.

All I can say about this one is, I would have backed the damn thing up.

And I saved the best for last. The first time I saw this, I laughed so hard and so loud it's a wonder I didn't have an aneurism. Laugh here.


That's it. Enjoy. I'll be back.

Oh, the faces of innocence, righteousness, fairness, and love. NOT.

Let me tell you about this guy. If that's what you want to call him.

I won't reveal his real name, but I have referred to him in previous posts as PWF--panty wearing faggot. LOL. I'll call him Ray today.

What a complicated and stupid story it is. I met him through Lynn, when I first moved down to Kentucky with her. I immediately began chasing him around, absolutely sure that he was "the one" for me. I loved the fact that he was so tall (6'7 1/2") and had long hair. What happened was, I built him up as a person in my mind that he wasn't, which of course, left me bitterly disappointed. He wasn't abusive, but he changed me in a lot of ways, some good and some bad.

He completely destroyed my sense of self by making me feel inadequate. He did this by criticizing my weight constantly. He placed a high value on physical beauty and did not really pay much attention to the inside. Amazing, since he is not the most gorgeous creature to walk the planet himself. Anyway, he made me very aware of my weight and I remain obsessive about it to this day. I had low self esteem when I met him, otherwise I would have never clung to my ideal of him to begin with, but he crushed it even more. What I did not know when we first met was that he had fallen for Lynn in a big way. She didn't know it either, until he began to actively pursue her...in front of me. We were on again, off again for three and a half years. Three and a half long, hard years. Whenever we were off, he would call Lynn and attempt to pursue her, no matter how much she tried to convey to him that she wasn't interested. Then when he tired of her rejection, he would come back to me. And I always took him back, without question. Even though he was trying to be with my best friend.

Of course, the story is more complicated than this, but I do not have the energy to write it all down. It's embarassing to me. I have to ask myself why I let him be a part of my life at all. He didn't deserve me, that's for sure. I tried so hard to be a person that I wasn't, just to please him. He insisted that women should always look their best when they went out, and he hated seeing me wear sweats..even around the house. When he was around, I cooked, cleaned, and primped more than when he wasn't. Thank God we didn't live together at any point in our relationship (he felt he couldn't commit to cohabitation with me, even after three years..but I'll get to that in a minute.) We had a long distance relationship through the last part of our relationship that actually worked out well. (I was in Michigan, he was in Kentucky.)

In the first few days of August 2002, we had made plans for me to go to Kentucky to see him. He had just inherited his grandfather's house and was working on it. We spent hours on the phone discussing the house; the ultimate plan was for me and my daughter to finally move back to Kentucky and move in with him. This, I thought, would be the cement to our relationship. I could not wait. We decided it would be sometime in the summer of 2003. I didn't want to pull my daughter out of school to move, so it seemed like a sensible decision. In the meantime, he consulted me on every little thing, such as drapes and tiles. I was so happy to be included in the decision making process, but yet, I don't really care about things like drapes and tiles. I put on a good front and showed some enthusiasm, which is what he would have wanted me to do. What he didn't realize was, at the time, I would have happily lived in a cardboard box if it meant being with him.

Anyway, come the first weekend of August 2002, he was expecting me to be down there sometime in the early evening. I ended up being able to leave earlier and I called him to tell him that I would be early. This is what happened, verbatim:

Me: Hey, it's me. I just want to let you know that I am going to be able to leave early. I should be there after 1 if I hurry. Will you be home? Or will Kenny (his cousin) have to let me in?

Ray: Uh, well. I meant to call you.

Me: (Used to feeling disappointed...but feeling a good bit of being pissed off coming on.) Oh?

Ray: Yeah. I don't think you should come down here.

Me: What? Why? (I laughed, but I was starting to feel that all too familiar rise of panic that I associated with this relationship.) I'm already packed. What's the deal?

Ray: I just don't think you should.

Me: (no doubt yelling by now) What the fuck is going on? Why don't you want me to come down there?

Ray: Because I don't think it's a good idea.

Me: (surely screaming now) WHY NOT???

Ray: Because I'm sleeping with someone else.

Without hesitation, I slammed the phone down in his ear. I was too shocked to even contemplate what he had said. I just know that the words he used pierced my heart through and through. I sat and stared at the phone for a moment and then picked it up and called him right back. As soon as I heard his voice, I demanded to know what the fuck he was talking about. Did we not have a commitment? Did we not have plans? Three years down the drain, gone?

He explained that he had simply met someone else. And that he had been pretty much staying with her since he met her. Since he met her? We had been together for three and a half years and he wouldn't commit to living with me, but he was willing to be with her within moments of meeting her, practically?

I lost my mind and drove down there anyway. During the four hour drive, I felt desperate and heartsick. TWO DAYS LATER, he finally sat down with me and told me, to my face, that he was through with me. While I cried hysterically, he just sat there looking at his watch...because his "girlfriend" was expecting him. Something inside me snapped, and I suddenly thought to myself, what the fuck am I doing? He doesn't even care about me enough to pretend like he cares. Why am I humiliating myself like this?

On the way home to Michigan, I formulated a plan. I decided that I would move to Florida. Number one, it would put some distance between us, distance that I so desperately needed if I was to ever move on. Two, because I needed a change. And two weeks later, that's exactly what I did. Me, my daughter, my cat, my 1993 Oldsmobile Achieva, and a U-Haul trailer. We made it down there on our own, and moved into our new house in Pensacola. I had friends that lived there, so I wasn't completely alone, and I was also dealing with the death of a very close friend, which I haven't written about yet. At first living in Pensacola seemed so strange. But now, when I look back on it, it was the best decision I had ever made.

Ray called me every now and again. He found out I had landed an awesome job with an awesome company and kept making comments about "being proud" of me. While his praise used to be so important to me, after I moved to Pensacola it only annoyed me. We continued the sporadic phone contact for a few months until I met my husband. When Shawn and I decided to get married, we settled on a date and began making announcements. I must have called Ray to tell him, because he called me up on my birthday, which is, coincidentally, six days before my anniversary, and said, laughingly, "What's this about you getting married on my birthday?" This pissed me off more than words could say. It happened to be a major coincidence, nothing more, yet I was sure he was stroking his ego over it. (His birthday, and my wedding anniversary, is on May 24th. My birthday is May 18th.) So I replied, "You know, Ray, I wasn't even thinking of you, if you believe that. We coordinated our wedding around our work schedules and this is the most convenient time. It has nothing to do with you. And you know what? I don't think you should call me anymore. I really don't want you to." Stunned, he asked, "Is that what you want?" Looking at Shawn sitting next to me, I said, "Yes. That's exactly what I want."

I have not spoken to him since.

I wrote about this because I just wanted it to be in print how stupid I can be. How I will never be that stupid again. "Nobody's Fool" by Cinderella is not one of my favorite songs for nothing. I can't believe I spent all those years with Ray, vying for his attention, when I could have been with someone that appreciated me for me. Ray hated it that I was such a tomboy and tried to change me into some ultrafeminine goddess that I wasn't. The reason for this is clear to people who know him: he's a crossdresser. Yes, he really is. I am not speculating. I know. I knew within the first year of our relationship. He told me to my face and it was the weirdest, most fucked up conversation I ever had. I was only 22 and had very limited knowledge of myself so I thought I could easily handle it. I could not. It was more difficult than you could imagine. The shame and embarassment is only half the story. Since I have to be politically correct here, I will state that his crossdressing was a personal issue for me but I don't think all crossdressers are like him. Also, doesn't it seem pretty obvious? He wanted me to be what he himself could not be--- a feminine girl who uses tons of makeup, perfume, and whose outfit always always included a pair of black pantyhose. And I wanted him to be what he could not be, ever---a real man, in love with me.

I'm going to end this post with a couple of quotes, or sayings, that apply to it. First, as Garth Brooks said, "Thank God for unanswered prayers." Second of all, Semisonic hit the nail right on the head when they said, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

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Well, I figured out how to post links. I don't understand why they look somewhat different, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. Now, if only I could learn how to post my picture to my profile so that when I leave a comment everyone gets to see my face........(any advice would be greatly appreciated!)

Last night, I couldn't sleep, so I came in here to the office to play around on the computer awhile. Thinking about an old friend of mine, who I'll call Jerry, I decided to log onto AOL and see if he was in the chat room he could always be found in...the one he helped create. I haven't spoken to Jerry in a little over a year, but I miss him sometimes. I met him in 2002 and that's a whole other story, but let's just say that yes, I do know him in person. Anyway, it was about 1:00 AM when I logged into AOL. I hardly ever log into AOL anymore. But now I'm getting ahead of myself.

So I go into the chat room and ask if "VOODOO" still comes in there. That's his screen name, it never varies, it's always something with VOODOO in it. Immediately, some girl with the screen name of "peggy dew ldle" or something says, "who are you?" Figuring this to be a reasonable question, since chat room folk are quite protective of their regulars, I immediately reply, "Well, my name is Sondra and I've known him for about three years. He was friends with one of my best friends, Heather, who died." This was sort of a convoluted version of the truth, but close enough. I don't like to reveal too much to chat room people, especially AOL people. She comes back at me IMMEDIATELY with, "Well, Dem is his girlfriend and she really doesn't like people taking her man." Shocked, I scanned the room list and sure enough, there was a screen name with "Dem" in it. Feeling a little angry, I shot back, "Well, I'm just here looking for him because he was once a good friend of mine. But Dem doesn't have to worry--I'm married!" I added an "LOL" to add an air of humor to the statement, hoping that peggy whatsherface would back off. Just then, Dem started talking. At first, I thought she was talking to me, but it turns out she was talking to peggy. I sat there and watched the chat roll up the screen for about five minutes. She completely ignored me, but her and that peggywhatsit got into a five minute conversation about---I kid you not---the logistics of shooting candy, mostly M&M's, out of their butts. Dem made the comment that she "hit him in the eye once." I sat there blinking at my screen. I mean, I'm almost thirty. Is this the way people still talk? I talked like that before adolescence, when I thought it was funny. At thirty, it's not funny, it's stupid. I just sat there watching this when peggy whoseewhatsherface says, "See Sondra, you can't do those kinds of things for Jerry, only Dem can, so you better try to find another man to steal." I said, "LISTEN, YOU DUMB BITCH. I ALREADY TOLD YOU I'M ONLY HERE BECAUSE HE WAS ONCE A FRIEND OF MINE. I AM MARRIED. THAT'S ALL." Then I clicked the send button without realizing a very important thing: These are AOL people I'm talking to.

Believe me, there is a difference. I think the miscreants, deviants, and the borderline retarded members of our society congregate on AOL. I'm not talking about people who use the server for their email or even some people who use AOL for journal writing or other things. (I use it for the AOL radio..very good stuff.) I'm talking about people whose sole purpose in paying for AOL is to be able to interact with other people who need excessive amounts of attention. They sit in chat rooms, put each other down, harass each other, stalk each other, and act as if they know each and every person in the room as an individual. This may be true in some cases, but in most cases they are just lonely, needy slobs sitting in front of a computer who found a way to connect to thousands of other people just like them. And then they gang up on the people who don't follow their little AOL culture, making people's lives absolutely miserable. I have a friend who is profesionally employed, and after getting into an argument with one of the AOL chat room deviants, she found out where he worked, his last name, his office number, his phone number, and other various little pieces of information, which she then passed out to the other members of the room, who then began a month long rally of harassment to my friend. He didn't back down or show fear..he just began slapping them with harassment suits one by one. (One thing they forgot in their little campaign of senseless harassment: he is an attorney.) But he still had to take the time to trace phone numbers and get addresses for these people in order to serve them, not to mention the money it must have cost him to hunt them down, since most of them were not in his state. He called me and I listened to some of the messages they left him...a giggling gaggle of idiots that had nothing of real value to say, just called his machine and giggled and breathed into it. And these are grown people we're talking about, not adolescents or children. GROWN FOLK. Sickening.

So after I sent that message stating my position and realizing it would do no good---peggy is probably the reigning grand dame of that room and avoidance of reality is her specialty---I sent one more message, something about "who has time for this shit? fuck off" and signed off. I half expected to see an email from Jerry today but there wasn't one. Not that he owes me an apology, he doesn't act like that. At least I've never seen him act like that. And I know him in real life. He's a mellow, laid back, "I don't give a damn" kind of guy. But if those are the kinds of girls he's attracted to, then perhaps I'm better off without the stress of dealing with an overzealous, irrationally jealous AOL girlfriend. It's just not worth it.