Hey There, Wait a Minute Mr. Postman...

This letter is to Tom, my mailman.

Dearest Tom,
It has become painfully clear to me that you take more than the usual amount of interest in the personal lives of those you serve on your route. In order to keep you from any more sleepless nights, im giving you the inside scoop on the Mills family. My hope is that our family's comings and goings will no longer be a mystery to you and all the time you spend milking my good friend for information can now be put to better use sorting and delivering the mail. (You know, the job which you are actually compensated for.)

I got knocked up in high school. For a while I was a bitter, hateful bitch that would rather tell someone to go die in a fire than to say 'hi'. (I know the looks you get when you pull up to my box would lead you to believe not much has changed, but rest assured, I am alot nicer nowdays. Just not to you. ) At 19 I met my husband Chad and he made an honest(ish) woman of me. He's a good man with no strange fetishes or garrish secrets in his past, but you already know that, don't ya, Tom? If his lack of receiving porn through the mail leads you to believe he must be an 'internet' man, I'd like to cordially invite you over some Sunday for dinner and a 'browser history check' as a show of good faith. Im pretty sure the Postal Service's motto is, "Leave no stone unturned in the personal lives of those on your route", and I just want to help you help yourself... to a big ol' helping of my personal life.

Chad and I love each other and for the past 10 years have made a life together, most of which has been spent in WF. Our marriage is good but far from storybook. We've lost jobs, gone through a bankruptcy, suffered the loss of beloved family members under tragic circumstances, and struggled with the day to day stresses of being married with three kids. We argue. Not violently and never for long, but sometimes I wake up pissy or Chad has a crappy day at work and we get into it. No guns or knives are drawn so i consider us 'normal' in that department. Our sex life is great. We enjoy 3-5 romps a week, kids and schedules permitting. I still think he's cute and he still whistles and slaps my butt when he see's me naked. I think that's nice, don't you, Tom?

Our sons are good kids. We try to raise them right but who knows. I guess we'll find out about our kids like everyone else does. Do our best, wait for them to grow up and hope to God that they are kind and caring or at least smart enough to hide the bodies well. I sure hope they have been respectful to you in the past.

Now me, on the other hand, I don't like you. I think you need to mind your own damn business and start acting more like a middle aged man and less like a 15 yr old girl sniffing around for a fresh bit for the schools gossip column. Next time you have a question about me or my family, do me a favor. Place my mail in the box, drive straight into town and get a fucking life of your own.


Sincerely,
Misty Mills

Cadillacs and Donkey Shows

Once a month I go a wee bit crazy and all the emotions Ive denied having for the past 28 days suddenly come pouring out in strange and unusual ways. Some months it comes and goes without causing much of a problem in my home life and others result in my husband sleeping on the couch of a fat, balding man who works at the grilled cheese shop off the square. This is one of those months...

Chad works from home. The vertically challenged sociopaths I harbor are out of school due to the blizzard and I am cycling like a mofo. Yes, the subject of divorce has been broached however no one is buried in a frosty, shallow grave out back, so Im considering this week a 'win'.

Today, a salesman from Windstream came to my door and Im pretty sure he's at home still hugging his wife after what he saw.

Whenever someone knocks on the door, our little inbred Pomeranian mistake starts to yap uncontrollably. I yell for Andrew to take the damn dog into Alex's room and shut the door. Then I open the front door. Im pissed because it's cold outside and this doucher looks 'slow'. Im wearing gray and green thermal socks, leggings, an oversized tshirt, a lime green robe and I have a large greasy wad on the top of my head. I can only guess that the look on my face was off putting or I smelled. Both are possible. Hell, it could have been a combination of the two. I dont really care. So he begins his pitch about the services they offer and what great deals they are...I just closed the door. But our door is kind of messed up and sometimes it doesnt 'catch' when you shut it. The only way to make sure it's shut is to reopen it and slam it super hard. So not only is this dude forced to go door to door in a damn blizzard, but he got the door slammed in his face twice by possibly the skankiest woman he's ever laid eyes on. (I cant say for sure, but Im crossing my fingers that he's worked in Madison County before and he's seen alot worse.)

Does this happen to anyone else?! Am I the weird chick on the commercial with the gray and fuzzy sad face while all her super hot, skinny friends are drinking colorful cocktails and laughing?! I dont wanna be that girl!

I'd like to go to the doctor and maybe get a pill for this but I'm legitimately worried she's gonna tell me there is no hope aside from electric shock therapy and some sort of 12 step program for assholes.

Here's what I think I need: A really strong drink, a hysterectomy and a time machine that propells me back to the day after Ryan Reynolds broke up with Alanis Morissette... cuz Im sure he was vulnerable and AINT NO WAY im crazier than that bitch! Problem solved. =)

Joyce 'Crazy Ass' Meyers

Seriously, this lady is bonkers.

I was given a book titled, 'Help Me, Im Married' and since I'd never read anything of hers, I didnt know until I cracked it open that it was the bible bangers guide to marital bliss. From the jacket cover, I was expecting funny yet poignant stories of the trials and tribulations of marriage. What I got was a one way ticket to Crazy Town.

Exhibit A: 'There were many times when I let my husband make love to me simply out of obedience to God, and though Dave didnt know it, tears were running down my face....Once in a while Dave would catch me crying and ask me, 'what's wrong?'. I would tell him I was just trying to obey God but was having a hard time doing so. Dave respected my willingness to do whatever i needed to to be free...'

PSSST! Dave's an ass! Who continues to bang their sobbing wife who's jabbering on about Jesus forcing her to diddle you???! If I looked down and saw Chad's tear streaked face, I'd assume I hadn't heard the safe word and immediately stop to make sure he was ok and not seriously injured...You know, because I CARE!

Exhibit B: 'Take good care of your children but do not put them above God or your spouse.'

Um, Sorry, but my husband is a grown ass man and can take care of himself.. Im pretty sure God can handle his own business, too. My kids are numero uno, comprende, Joyce?

Apparently she also speaks a special 'prayer language' that only she and God know and prompts you to check out the appendix at the back of the book to learn how to speak in tongues and learn your very own top secret prayer language. Hey Joyce, if I learn the secret prayer language and send you the upc code from this shitty book, can I get a super awesome decoder ring?!

Hit me back -

Mills out.

The Holidays: An In Depth Look at Depression.

First of all, I'd like to send a shout out to my peep Laura Leigh in NC. She mentioned that some co-workers of hers kept up with my blog and I'd like to thank them for finding my ridiculous ramblings amusing. Keep doing the Lords work, folks. (See, that's funny because they work for R.J. Reynolds tobacco company. Get it now? No? Then you're dumb.)

Ok, now on to serious matters. My family is effin crazy. I mean bat shit crazy. Both mine and my husbands are certifiable. I dont even know how to write this without one of them finding out about it and telling all the rest. Im pretty sure I have at least 3 literate relatives but that isnt the main problem. My fear is that they'll call to confront me instead of just expecting me to be a no show at this years festivities. Best case scenario, I'll be uninvited, but im not gonna hold my breath. (I'll save my breath holding for when we inevitably break down and go because every person in my family chain smokes and refuses to go outside or even crack a window. Approximately 30 mins after arriving, it looks like Gettysburg after the big battle. Smoke hanging in the air, kids strewn about the floor, pale faced and gasping...*shudder*)

Moving on. The food. You know going into it that you're playing Roulette with your intestines and some years are worse than others. (Think National Lampoon's Vegas Vacation.. "I'll take some of the yella..") Some questions Ive asked myself over the past few years:

"How do you burn no-bake cheesecake?"

"Why would anyone make a salad out of pineapple, mayonnaise and rice?"

"How old do you have to be to understand sprinkling sage over dry cornbread does not make stuffing?!"

"Did ***** make this? You know she likes to let her cats help her cook.."

So after filling your belly with what could quite possibly be ticking time bombs, you have to carry on a conversation with a person you have absolutely no desire to speak to. Here are a couple choice snip its from this years bonanza:

'Oh, so he's back in jail? That's too bad. How many DUI's does that make now? 8. wow.'

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'Well, actually, you only have one liver, so if the doctor says yours is damaged you are really in quite a bit of trouble...Yes, I'm positive we only have one.'

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'No, im good, but you go ahead. I dont really smoke pot...in church...'

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'Yeah, im still married and I still dont have any sisters..'

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This is just the tip of the iceberg, guys. Some of the convo's are so ridiculous that it would take 3 pages of backstory and a vin diagram to fully explain. Im just hoping I can get the smoke shampooed out of my hair and this migraine to go away before it's time to do it all over again at Christmas. =/

Oh yeah, I said it...

If tomorrow a genie came along and granted me three wishes, with nothing being impossible, I would undoubtedly choose these 3 things:

1. A sit down talk with God. I fancy myself quite the interviewer and Id love nothing more than the opportunity to go all Geraldo on the Almighty. Ive been working on my St Peter impersonation and to see God shoot milk out his nose has always been a personal dream of mine.

2. A Parenting Manual. Children would literally be born with them. The days of trial and error are over. This way every parent in the world goes to bed each night and SLEEPS instead of worrying if they have said or done the wrong thing, created a serial killer or just messed their kid up enough to be on the next season of Jersey Shore instead of going to college...

3. All the women in the world would be blessed with the confidence of a Biker Babe. Everyone wakes up in the morning looking exactly the same as they did the day before, only now, no matter what they look like, they believe they are officially the HAWTEST thing on the planet.

Now, I know that the first two things could NEVER happen, that's why I want to focus on #3. I have never in my life seen a more confident group of people than the Biker Babe community. It would never cross my mind at age 28 to shred a pair of jeans into a thong with pockets, strap on my leather bustier that appears to be from the wardrobe of Stripperella and go out in public. But that is precisely what these women do. And they do it at age 36, 47 and 59. If they werent wearing see-thru mesh leggings, Id say they had balls...

Im also convinced that there is a 'Wheel O Tatts' you have to spin before you are inducted fully into this society. It contains only hearts, roses, names, family portraits and cartoon characters. This is simply a backup way of identifying fellow members. If you happen to miss the fact that they are wearing leather chaps, (with nothing on under them), and a denim vest that was clearly purchased in 1976, any question about their involvement in the Sisterhood of the Oh Geez Please Put On Some Pants can be quickly resolved.

It's not for the faint of heart, folks, but if you can commit to ridiculous tattoos and everything in your closet being too small and made of denim or leather, I think the perks are plentiful. While other women are putting on their size 10 mom jeans, you will be squeezing into your size 3 dukes and your combat boots, rockin' a bustier and in your mind, lookin' damn good while you do it.

Who couldn't benefit from a touch of that mentality? Give yourself a break from the self criticism this weekend. Head on over to BBBQ, watch some ladies of the night owning their muffin tops, camel toes, horrible tattoos and outdated hairstyles, and then cut yourself some slack. I know that's what I'll be doing.

If Violence Isn't The Answer, You're Not Asking The Right Question.

Dear Skinny Bitches:

Let me start by letting you know this rant is nothing personal. I've just been feeling really crappy about myself lately and my laziness coupled with my residence in a college town is creating nothing shy of an innate urge go Mel Gibson on SB's. Again, it's not you, Skinny Bitches, it's me.

Hear me out though, because I feel there may be middle ground for us to converge on.

I get it. You're skinny and firm and young and life is good. Really, I do understand. I was there myself just a few years back. But there is one small difference between us and I feel this issue needs to be ironed out before someone gets their SB neck snapped and I end up doing hard time.

Please stop rubbing it in my face. Im gonna have to respectfully request that you not frequent malls or grocery stores between the hours of 8am and 9pm.

Lay off the booty shorts! I mean, those cute little muffins barely covered by the thinest layer of cotton imaginable are nice and all, but it's not truly an ass until it can smother a small dog and/or has doubled in width due to childbirth.

Stop staring at my mom jeans. If they are good enough for Jessica Simpson, they're good enough for me.

Dont try to talk to me and tell me my kids are cute. Each one of them stole a piece of my soul and paid me back by adding a pant size. They are terrorists but you dont find that out until they are too old to drop off at the firehouse. Complimenting them does not win you brownie pts, so keep walking.

Stop saying you can eat anything you want and never have to work out. Stop it or I will stop it for you.

Brush your hair. I know that you are easy on the eyes and that most guys dont pay much attention to your hair, but do me a solid and rake a comb through it before you leave the house. Whatever it is you're doing with it in that ponytail holder is a no-go. I mean, a ponytail is one thing, but ive never seen a pony with such a ridiculously matted ball of bleached fuzz propped up that high on it's ass. uh-uh, nope.

As you can see, SB's..Im not asking too much. I just want some peace. I want to go to the store, buy groceries and not have to see 15 'ghosts of metabolism past' prancing around. One of these days you'll understand. Until then, by all means, pig out and prance like the dickens. Just do it out of my line of sight unless you want it to be your last prance...

All of my love,

-Misty Mills

25 Things

These are things I want you to know about me.

1. I hate odd numbers. (with the exception of the # 3)

2. Obviously, there are no absolutes in my world.

3. I was voted, 'Most Likely To Be Hunted Down And Brutally Murdered By A Former Classmate'

(No worries though because I keep a close eye on the two guys that were voted Most Likely To Hunt Down A Former Classmate and Brutally Murder Them)

4. I'm kind of a jack ass

5. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people don't capitalize God.

6. I have a favorite #, letter, planet, color and time of day, but I dont have a favorite song.

7. I love Astrology. I'm a Pisces and I REALLY DO LOVE LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH!

8. I dont believe in divorce after the 10th year of marriage. You either have to stick it out or kill the other person for wasting more than a decade of your life.. it's like Sudden Death overtime.

9. Anything to do with kids being mistreated makes me cry instantly.. Any one else being mistreated makes me laugh. See #4

10. I love beer/liquor breath.

11. Im horrible at math but I secretly love doing it.. Sex I mean, not math. That's dumb

12. I was lying on 11. I really do love math, I just have to keep up my cool persona. Everyone kinda see's me as a bad ass, ya know, so there's alot of pressure.. *sigh*

13. When people brag about something, it automatically makes me want to pick on them. Instantly.. I dont know why. Apparently I hate self confidence. See # 4 again

14. I am an honest complimenter. I feel that's a good quality to have in a friend.

15. Im ridiculously high strung.

16. Im about to start making stuff up because my interesting quirks dont roll 25 deep.

17. I dont judge my family and friends but outside of that circle, you're screwed. I become the epitomy of the B in the glass house throwing boulders! It's not my favorite thing about myself, but currently no steps are being taken to change it. =/

18. Im addicted to self help books. I'm naive and eagerly eat that shit up.

19. Contrary to what EVERYONE seems to think about me, I do not like rough sex. There, I said it! I dont know why i give off that, 'beat me, bite me' vibe, but i do and it bugs me.

20. Chad hates it that I talk about things like #19 to strangers. I think it's funny and i do what i want.

21. Chad is the boss of me. Please ignore # 19 & 20.

22. I torture Chad by singing everything instead of talking when we argue. "Well, Chad, lalalalalala, maybe you should stop being a dick for five seconds so I dont have to kill you in your sleep, lalala..I already apologized for hurting your feeeeeeelings but if you are going to continue being a girl about it, im gonna have to go to the stoooooore and get you some tampons and you know im not dressed for that so give it a REEEEEEEST.....weeeeeeeee.

23. The only thing im consistent with is being inconsistent.

24. I think shaming people into doing better is the only way. You dressed like that today on purpose and now im obviously photographing you in WM to show my friends. You suck at life, go home and fix it.

25. If only the good die young, I am poised for a long and healthy life. =)