Wednesday, March 17, 2010


I’ve been reading blogs all morning. When you can’t write, read instead.

“But why can’t you write, Alyson?”

Do you really want to know, pretend-other-person-that’s-actually-me-because-no-one else-really-cares?

“Yes, I do.” *shifty eyes*

There are so many reasons, but I suppose the one that stands out is that it’s not good enough; my standards have risen higher than my capabilities. Then, I feel as though I’ve written myself into a corner, limited myself to one certain kind of thing. I can’t write about the sex I’m not having. I can't write funny anecdotes because my brain has turned to mush and my ovaries have turned into ripe peaches ...Hey, pay attention!

“What? Oh...peaches, right!”

Technically my ovaries have nothing to do with this. I’m just obsessed with them in a strange way at the moment because my cousin just had a baby and I went to visit them two days in a row. I went back the second time because he was asleep the first day and I didn’t get to hold him. I wanted to hold him badly and when I did it was great. I was all, “look at your tiny face and your tiny hands”, and I totally bogarted the fucker for 20 minutes while all the menopausal bitches glared at me and sharpened their canes into spears to stab through my 24 (almost 25) year old baby making mechanics.

“Heh, Ute-Rus!”

I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. I don’t like children. They smell bad, take over the TV, and ruin your carpet. So basically they’re like men and animals all rolled into one package that won’t leave for 18+ years AND comes out of your vagina. Ugh. Why am I cooing over a baby? Am I going to turn into Octomom? There’s a conspiracy afoot. I’ve been having suburbia daydreams too. Someone or something is putting hormone meds in my food and drink...maybe even in my body lotion.

“Ok, now you’re just being paranoid. Heh...whore moans.”

Seriously. You’re ridiculous. I’m trying to tell you that I can’t write, I’m cuddling babies, and imagining a white colonial with a collie and a Volvo. Maybe my family was right about commitment – the psychotic kind not the relationship kind. Except instead of being treated for anger issues and problems with authority, I’ll be going for Suburbia Syndrome. Just like that movie that Nicole Kidman sucked in. Only I’d have better hair, facial expressions that surpass the range of a blow up doll, and my husband wouldn’t have to point his remote control at me for sex.

“Yeah, you should have more of that now.”

You’re telling me! Do you know I’ve had a handful of opportunities and I’ve passed on them?

“Maybe you are on drugs...”

That’s what I’m telling you! The lack of creative genius, the cooing, the ovary ripening that women who can’t have babies anymore can sense, the weird dreams, the turning down of prime one night stand ass: it all adds up. I’m being poisoned! Sprayed with eau de Fresh Fetus! Brain washed into looking for an ideal mate to MATE with and produce SUBURBAN SPAWN OF SATAN!

“You might want to calm down. Heavy breathing like that is only for orgasms and serial killers. I mean, unless you want to get off at work. I’m totally fine with it...”

Shut up! I’m trying to concentrate. I need to make a list of suspects. Who would stand to gain the most from slipping me...

“A length?”

...personality tranquilizers? *glare*

“ Hmm...Lunch Box Boy? He totally wants to fertilize your Vagunia.”

Idiot. He’s gay.

“Maybe for revenge, then?”

No. It’s not him. It’s got to be someone I see almost every day – like mom, Lee, or The Grandmother.

“My money is on Wrinkles. She’s been after you for years.”

You’re right. I’ve been spending more and more time over there lately. And she’s been way too nice – making me pie, rubbing my hair, not watching me in a creepy stalker fashion while I sleep. My GAWD! It is her!

“So what are you gonna do now, Sherlock Hormones?”

I’m going to confront her!


As soon as I finish cross stitching this blank...I mean...Oh, just get the hell out of here!


Tony said...

I've been having writer's block as well. That's what this post is about, right? Writer's block? But I blame other reasons. I for sure don't want to have kids for at least ten years. Damn buggers.

Mama's Girl Alexis said...

Very Very Interesting.... I really love your blog. I have been following you for awhile. Maybe when you have time, please come over and check my blogs out.
Http:// and

I am currently having writer's block. This sucks really bad....

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

I can't post because I can't think of a damn title for my fucking piece of shit post and I've been back here to comment four times now and my Internet keeps shutting down, and you know what? I bet this comment won't even post. Fuck it. I was gonna ask if I can be your Dr. Twatson. There, that's my comment. Aaand heres where my Internet shuts me down.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

or not.

Anonymous said...

It's funny though, I think I'm honestly deficient in those hormones because I have never once wanted kids. Or felt "broody". Even around babies. Especially around babies. I don't know what it is. Everyone said, "Oh, wait till you're 30 and you'll know what we mean" and winked at me. Then I turned 30 and...nothing. And it shows no signs of changing. No babies. I am not having them. So I allow you to have my share, ok? :)

Writer's block though? I have that in spades.

The mad woman behind the blog said...

Gurrrrrl, you got it bad. (the baby/hormone crap, that is, not the bloggy thing.)

I love how you write and it is good enough. Get off your own ass (that is, stop picking your own shit apart, that's what we're here for...omg, was that a grammar nightmare?)

I should stop now.

Jenny DB said...

if this is your writer's block i'm jealous. good stuff.

Eric said...

Mmmmm... peaches...

Who doesn't love a good juicy peach? And I mean love it tenderly, yet firmly like you are showing the peach who's in charge of loving it.


Anonymous said...

I absolutely love that this is what happens when you "can't write". I want to call you mean names out of jealousy, but with all those whore-mones raging I'm afraid you'd come after me. :)

Gorilla Bananas said...

If your start feeling your hormones, it's time to make your whore moan. Jump on Lunch Box Boy and give him a taste of woman.

The Jules said...

I'm tired.

Miss Welcome said...

To be a great writer you have to have more than one side. Sorry - you can't just be funny and crude. You have to also be funny and introspective. Or just melancholy and not funny at all. And you're a bit of everything. So go ahead and coo at the babies. At least you're multi-faceted and interesting.

Kate said...

I've got to say to you - once you feel like that you've just got to have a damn baby.

Sara said...

I have those stupid baby feelings already, too, and I'm only 21. : /
But Jenna Jameson said she was having baby wanting hormones when she was 15 so I guess we're better off than her?

Anonymous said...

A lot of people you know are "Deeply Interested" in your anatomy!


Just.Kate said...

Ha. *friendly [cyber] pat on the back* I know how it is, what with the "OhmyGoddon'tputthatinyourmouth...Maybe I want another one... WHAT THE FUCK AM I THINKING??!?!?!...But..."

Then comes the part where you become conscious of what's going on in your brain, but you're too embarrassed to admit it out loud.


Not like I can PERSONALLY relate. I just... read about it. Somewhere.

rubbish said...

I hate Nicole Kidman, the only actress who managed to make Tom Cruise look interesting.

Anonymous said...

Wait. Does this make you a mommy blogger? Or not? I'm confused.

JUST ME said...

I actually had those same exact feelings at 24. But now I'm 26, and want to run as far away from that as possible.

Must be an almost quarter-life uterus thing.

Rusty Hoe said...

Volvo? Volvo? That may be the most shocking part of the whole post. Its okay to dream of suburbia and popping out more bawling spit-covered rug rats, but only serial killers lust after Volvos in their day dreams.

I can't stand children yet managed to pop out 2, by 24, which just goes to prove I should be committed. Now they are teenagers and it is obvious I am being punished for my youthful indiscretions. Whatever you do just promise me you wont join the PTA, the childbearing equivalent of Scientology. Those bitches are evil and should be wiped from the face of the earth (okay I may have some baggage in that department, please ignore my hysteria).

miss. chief said...

eau de fresh fetus? Sounds lovely.

But seriously...I have never had that urge. Ever. To have a baby.


mylittlebecky said...

sing it sister... except, i'm all most thirty. and by THEN my ovaries will be dried prunes with nothing left to give. bastards.

erin said...

I'm sooo babied out.

Or so I say in that first sentence of the post. Here's where I break down and start bawling.


Okay, I feel better. Until later tonight when Jeremiah and I are done doing it and I cry again cause I can't have any more babies. It's very sexy.

Living Shallow, Living Well said...

Holding a baby is one thing, but actually being its parent- like, raising it? Ugh, I don't know...I really like to sleep in on weekends.

Great blog, keep up the great work.

Anonymous said...

I know I've been MIA on the comment board for a while - this post, to me doesn't show any signs of writer's block Lovely Aly. Entertaining as usual - I loved this statement "I totally bogarted the fucker for 20 minutes while all the menopausal bitches glared at me and sharpened their canes into spears..." Yeah - no writer's block that I can see from this side of the screen.


Steam Me Up, Kid said...

Your new profile pic makes me want to pull my pants down and bend over for my spanking.

I mean to look lovely.

*buttons pants*

om said...

Damn those lovely cuddly devilspawn.

joeygirl said...

you, my dear, are in big trouble.

Colleen said...

I hope whatever it is, your creative juices begin flowing again soon, because I love your blog.

I've had instances of writer's block in the past weeks, as well. Should I be blaming it on hormones? I thought it might be the weather.

Maryx said...

I second joeygirl...

'you, my dear, are in big trouble.'

GREAT POST though!
(And don't tell anyone but I'm sharing in your hormonal suburbia feelings. Shoot me now.)

Little Ms Blogger said...

1...You got it bad for the baby thing. Watch out because your vagina & uterus will soon be making decisions of who you'll be sleeping with when your hormones are in full rage. You might wake up one morning and think "I only went in 7-11 for a Slurpy and came out as a baby mama."

2...I HAVE TREMENDOUS WRITER'S BLOCK AND am a horrible reader of other blogs. I think I need a blog break.

3..why no out-of-tune competition?

Lash Chronicles said...

I can't believe that throughout all these comments no one touched on you successfully having an entire conversation with yourself! Welcome to schizophrenia! Please pick up your pills at the counter on your way out