My Deep, Dark, Dirty Little Secret

The other night as the husband and I were lying in bed watching anime as usual, I asked if I could tell him something I’d never told anyone before. He looked anxious when I started, “Sometimes…

well…MOST times…

after you’ve fallen asleep…

I sneak out of bed…

go downstairs…

and make quesadillas.”

Husband (in a moment of revelation,) “THAT’S what happens to all the cheese!”

Things I Learned at My First Day in Therapy

I was terrified the second I stepped inside the building. As if the mismatched, dumpster-worthy couch and single piece of 8″ x 10″ generic art weren’t bad enough, I watched uncomfortably while the counselor spent several awkward minutes digging around in what looked to be a “snack room” before she was ready to talk to me. I tried to focus instead on another room where a curtain hung precariously on a skinny, crooked spring-rod in place of a door.

Her office was worse. I had my choice between two more thrift store chairs: 1. a tapestry club chair that had lost all of it’s support, and 2. a pale blue corduroy rocker/recliner with a slightly discolored head-flap. Once I got settled in the club chair that sunk halfway to the floor, she opened our discussion with a statement. I waited for her to either elaborate or ask me a question. She stared at me. I stared back at her. This action-and-reaction repeated itself throughout our entire session–

Her: Statement.
Me: Awkward Stare.
Her: Longer Awkward Stare. Sometimes Eventually a Question.
Me: Answer.
Her: Misinterpretation Followed by Derogatory Dismissal of Concern/Argument.

I tried not to think about the way her voice reminded me of Sylvia Brown. I took turns rotating my stares from her lifeless eyes, to her enormous nostrils, to the random Walmart rug that was disproportionately small in comparison with the rest of the room, to the nightmarishly-deformed painting of a seagull that hung on the wall in front of me. I held my tongue when she enlightened me with the following nuggets of wisdom:

Contrary to my life-long belief, I am actually not an introvert.
Introverts do not enjoy the company of others. Ever. I could not be a performer if I was an introvert.

Europe is a “magical fairy-land.”
The countryside is beautiful, and the rebels that I saw take over a McDonald’s in 2003 were a figment of my imagination.

Crime in America is rampant because of guns.
I am not well-traveled because I’ve never been to a US city where people run rampant with machine guns.

I spend too much time with my husband.
I need to find my own hobbies because if I spend any more time with him, he will suck the life out of me.

Something-something about the Convention Center/Chamber of Commerce.
(I have NO idea where she was going with this.)

90% of people on the Earth are NOT dicks.
Most people are not selfish at all. FACT.

I have never wanted to get drunk, cut myself, binge and purge, gamble compulsively, or put out a lit cigarette on my own skin more than I did after the 1-hour 7-minute session I spent with my now ex-therapist. The rest of my evening was spent eating all of my feelings at HuHot, then watching Parks & Rec while loading and re-loading my gun.

Victoria’s Secret: Not Just for Human Stick-Figures!

I hate shopping.

Like most women, who are shaped like women, finding clothes that fit the way they should is a hassle.

My professional career is progressing, and my avoidance of shopping for nice-ish clothes leaves me with maybe two different outfits I feel are appropriate enough to wear during “professional times,” like networking gatherings or meeting with clients.

My Body Breakdown is as follows:

  • I’m 5’4″, which means I’m on the tall end of “petite.”
  • I have long legs for a short girl (32″ inseam.)
  • I have a short torso, meaning there’s only about an inch of space between where my boobs stop and my high hips (muffin tops) begin.
  • I currently weigh in at a fairly fit 145 lbs, and wear anywhere between the SUPER helpful numbers 6 and 10.

I decided to forge ahead with an experiment, spawned by a previously ebbed curiosity regarding the clothing sold online from Victoria’s Secret (when I ran this idea by the husband, he said, “Victoria’s Secret sells clothes?” Apparently he uses x-ray vision on that section of the catalogue.) Don’t red-squiggly-underline my spelling of CATALOGUE,  WordPress! Ha, WordPress gets a red-squiggly too.

I spent a good deal of time considering all of the options (styles, colors, etc.) and picked out a handful of “essentials.” I have a tendency to buy a lot of fun things piece-by-piece without planning actual outfits, so the careful consideration was mandatory in this case.

I purchased the items featured below, and took advantage of a few sweet offers from the cataloGUE (free shipping, pink duffel bag!) Here are my current reviews:

Lace-Inset Legging

  • Arbor Olive, color is accurate to link (at least on MY computer screen…)
  • Leggings sit at my natural waist, like most leggings. Yay for not cutting my muffin tops in half!
  • Legs are looooong. There is quite a bit of scrunched up-ness at my ankles, but I’m not bothered by it.
  • Size M in accordance with size chart (BODY MEASUREMENTS, not other bullshit industry-made-up numbers.)
  • Good fit, good quality, would buy again!

Lace-Trim Cami

  • Torso is long enough to cover the leggings-booty. Awesome.
  • Lace straps are not wide enough, nor do they sit in the right place to cover bra straps. The lace is also very stretchy, which makes the shirt too low cut. Showing cleavage is not a problem in my book, but showing half of my bra is not really the look I’m going for.
  • Size M is in accordance with size chart (measurements.)
  • Colors are accurate.
  • Would not buy again, because I’m too damn busy (or lazy) to alter my own clothes.

Relaxed Blazer

  • White, size M.
  • Completely sheer tri-blend tshirt material. Unacceptable for a $50 blazer! Not even a cute enough style to justify keeping. Good news! All items are refundable IN-STORE. Yay!

Linen Beach Pant

  • Black, size 10.
  • Most draw-string pants have elastic in the back of the waistband to allow for a better fit, but these do not.
  • They are fairly low-rise, the lowest I can wear, really, but the overall fit is great.
  • They are a tad long, and since I will be wearing them with sandals I will need to hem them about an inch.
  • I was worried about sheerness of the linen (which is why I chose black,) but they are much less sheer than that stupid blazer. May buy again should I ever feel brave enough to choose another color.

The items I am keeping have all been washed, and have all held up nicely (no shrinky.)

The hunt continues for an acceptable Liby-style blazer.

Work is Hard

This month has been rough.

I’ve been working with a team of other people in regards to a convention coming up, and the actions/attitude of one these people has turned this whole process into a nightmare.

The ordeal is almost over (I hope,) so long as I can get through this convention without turning green, tearing my clothes off, and smashing anyone to bits. My bullshit-ometer is at capacity. My plan of attack currently consists of: buying a new outfit, drawing on my “cut-a-bitch” eyebrows, and carrying a flask.

I’ve been pressured, manipulated, and lied to–three things I won’t put up with in a personal relationship, so why the hell do I put up with them in a job where I’m my own boss? I left an abusive boyfriend, I’ve quit more than one job under corrupt management, and this blog has proven that I’ll de-friend someone for acting a fool. I can only blame myself for ending up in this situation AGAIN.

Unfortunately for you, I’ll have to leave out most of the details, since I try to keep this blog fairly close to anonymous. I live in a small town and I don’t want everyone knowing what I really think.

If you haven’t figured it out by now: I’m self-employed. I own a small business in let’s say, a genre of arts and crafts, take your pick. In theory, I have my dream job, but it feels less-than-dreamy a lot of the time, and I think I’ve finally (with help) discovered the reason (and the cure.)

Over the last year, I’ve been listening to an audio podcast called “Jay and Silent Bob Get Old,” where Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes regale the audience with tales of their lives-so-far in the movie business, heinous sex-acts, and other interesting things. If you know anything about either of these characters, you know they make a living being as raunchy as possible, and if you knew what I did for a living you might find it ironic that I listen to two dudes talk about blumpkins and intravenous drug-use while…well…doing what I do. If you can get past that, or are devilishly entertained by it as I am, the underlying message is this: Do What You Love. 

It’s not as easy as you think. Fortunately, Mr. Smith elaborates:

Don’t sell out. Don’t do something just because you think it will make money–and what’s more relevant in my case: Don’t do something just because someone else wants you to or thinks you should. If you channel your energy into doing what you want to do because you love it, because doing it is like breathing, because doing it makes your life complete–people will pick up on that, and they will buy whatever it is you’re selling.

I’m tired of people telling me what to do. Even though I’m sure they’re just trying to be helpful, my friends and peers are quick with suggestions for what I should be doing “because it would be so popular!” or “because it would make sooo much money!” The majority of these ideas focus on something that would target such a concentrated, commercial, or specialized audience. What about what I want to do? Isn’t that why I went in to business for myself in the first place? Yes.

I’m calling this my New Year’s resolution. I’m going to focus on doing all of the things I’ve put off for years because I’ve always been too busy working on something for somebody else. What’s the point of being an artist if I can’t express my creativity?

I hope you aren’t too distracted by the vagueness of my field, and that you can find pertinence in this message for your own work.

Do. What. You. Love. and

Hug it! Chug it! Football!

Lady Business

In addition to curling, synchronized ice dancing, and ancient astronaut theory, I’ve added another sport to my list of favorites: arguing with strangers on the internet.

Generically speaking, this could mean one’s participation in this particular sport might involve trolling the web for controversial articles, political news stories, cat videos, or whathaveyou. 

Now I firmly believe that adding to the already exhorbinant amount of time I waste online would be highly detrimental. I tend to focus on the rare occassion when after reading a post by a fellow Facebooker, I just. cant. leave it be.

Let me set the stage:

This Facebook friend is a trainer at a gym. This Facebook friend is also female. This Facebook friend is someone I am very close to, and therefore, very protective of.

We will call her K, because yes, her name begins with a K, and I really don’t feel like getting that creativegetoffmyback. Other names have been changed, and “likes” may have been augmented at times, and by “may have” I mean definitely have, but it’s entirely obvious. 

Oh, and sidenote–My political standing on women’s issues is roughly this:
No Vagina = NO VOTE. **There are rare exceptions**

Back to our story…

K has just returned to her beloved gym after a long recovery from a serious injury. This is the post that followed–

Why are people so creepy? Good to be back so I can be productive but seriously people here are such creeps!

Random Girl #1:
Stay away from the creepers!
· Like · 1

Everywhere I go! I would like to go ONE place where I don’t get hit on for crying out loud.

Random Guy: Its cause your cute. And a girl who lifts lol
(stupid, but harmless.)

I dress like a slob and it still happens! I would like to be taken seriously and like I have a brain!
· Likes · 1

Have you seen the episode of HIMYM where Robin goes to the gym? That’s me. And that’s why I don’t get hit on. By men.
· Likes · 2

Bah hahaha yes! Totally me too! HOWEVER there are lot of times where it’s not appropriate for me to dress like that so it’s either be eye fucked or again not be taken seriously because I look homeless.

“Oh woe is me, I’m hot.” Try living a “not attractive in society” life for a while…sheesh. lol.
· Likes · negative 15,000
(vision. blurring. with. rageHULKSMAAASSSSHHHHH…)

It’s not about being “hot.” It’s about not feeling safe during basic daily activities. Try that for awhile. lol.
· Likes · 1
(ha. “lol.” I’m funny.)

I know I shouldn’t complain but it’s degrading. I don’t like the attention. I get pegged as a bitch if I ignore and don’t smile at people or look them in the eyes but it’s the only way to get people to leave me alone. Exactly Liby! I just want to go to the damn grocery store or the bank and just go about my daily life without being ogled and/or followed.
· Likes · 1

Random Girl #2:
‘Shouldn’t complain’? Nah girl, you do what’s right for you. The gym should be YOUR PLACE to make YOUR SELF better. Go in stone cold and let them think you’re icy. Better to be seen as icy than having dudes thinking you’re there for THEIR enjoyment.
· Likes · 2
(we like her. she used “your,” “you’re,” “there,” and “their” correctly.)

The only things I have tried that worked (and I’ve tried a lot of things to get “unnoticed”): 1. dyeing my hair black, 2. having serious bitch-face.
· Like · 1

I fought in the Kosovo War. THAT is not feeling safe during basic daily activities. Yes K, it IS degrading, but the fact of the matter is that you’re attractive, and you’re going to continue to be so. And not JUST to the people you want to be attractive to, but to EVERYONE who finds you attractive. Unfortunately, most people are socially crippled, and as such, would never approach you in a non “creepy” way because of your looks…which is unfortunate because of the awesome person on the other side of the skin.
· Likes · negative 37,582
(oh no you di’int…)

Oh, you’re right, that’s totally an appropriate comparison.
· Likes · 1

Just because I’m not in a war doesn’t mean someone couldn’t do me harm in the middle of the day. I can’t afford a body guard!
· Likes · 3

Psh…you lift…do you even NEED a body guard?
(ok, lighthearted humor. rage blackout narrowly avoided.)

Yes, I lift and I’m strong but I’m not a man. A large dude could easily beat the crap out of me or worse.
· Like · 1

But that has nothing to do with your looks. It has to do with power and control. Someone who would do something like that to you would likely do it to someone else as well. A large dude could easily beat the crap out of me or worse too…which is one reason I never plan on going to prison.
· Likes · negative 91,674
(oh no……..)

I’m talking trying to abduct or rape me.

Random Girl #2:
See DICK, for you it’s an ‘only in prison’ argument. For K, that’s something she has to deal with daily With EVERY dude. And saying ‘it’s degrading, but deal with it, you’re attractive’ is just a really bullshit thing to say.
· Likes · 3

It’s not bullshit…she completely changed the whole scope of the discussion from not liking being ogled to being abducted or raped. Huge difference. I wouldn’t tell someone who’s afraid of being raped when she goes to the gym to “just deal with it.”
(except that you just did…)

Being ogled can lead to it. And I’m not talking just the gym. It’s everywhere.

Me: (hold back, reign it in, dumb it down…)
If you’ve never been a woman, you don’t know what it feels like. To be on edge 24/7 because the “way you look” or the “way you dress” could get you in trouble is super fun-sauce.
· Like · 3

Random Girl #1: (back in the game!)
Women have to be vigilant and aware of their surroundings. That is the reality… oh and DICK, you have no fucking idea what it is like to be a woman. You served in Kosovo….? Try being a woman serving in a war zone…
· Likes · 742,599,653
(PWNED! Hail to the V!)

The End.


How I Met Your Mother, season 3 episode 10

Nerd Alert

Today I bought a dress at one of those cheap, skanky stores at the mall simply because it reminded me of the uniforms from Star Trek, The Next Generation, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it living out the rest of its life in the back of some unappreciative sorostitute’s closet, buried under a pile of UGG boots, tights that aren’t meant to be worn as pants but were anyway, and sheer high-low tank tops (the mullets of the fashion world.) Also purchased: a cropped sweatshirt with GEEK printed on the front and 2 shirts with cat faces on them, none of which will be worn ironically.

Now, if I can just get my hands on a communicator pin…



“Motivational” Posters


When I first saw this poster on Pinterest a few months back, I almost threw up. The statement itself isn’t too terrible (other than the term “fat” clearly being used as a negative,) but slapping it onto a hyper-thin model is, in my opinion, completely detrimental. To me, this woman is NOT the picture of health. Just looking at her makes me hungry.

In only very recent years, I have begun to suffer from crazy-good self-esteem. I imagine this has almost everything to do with the people I surround myself with, people who at least promote loving your body even if it is something that they continue to struggle with. I don’t think I had ever met a woman who even claimed to love her body before.

I focus on my own health and fitness without comparing my goals or results with those of others. I wear clothes that make me feel good about myself rather than pining over an unrealistic size tag. I don’t watch reality tv or celebrity gossip shows, and I don’t look at beauty/fashion magazines. We are surrounded by a ‘standard’ that is anything but, and I refuse to live my life by it.

I made this poster, and I hope that sharing it will genuinely inspire you to do something healthy. Turn off the Kardashians, cancel your subscription to Cosmo, and do whatever it is that you need to do to stop shaming your body and start focusing on YOU.


A Letter for Daniel

I heard that kids are calling you names. I know it hurts your feelings and makes you angry, because you don’t know why anyone would call you those things.

When I was in the 3rd grade, a boy named Jerald called me stupid. I knew that I wasn’t stupid. Jerald was the one who didn’t get good grades. Now I understand that Jerald was feeling stupid, and he picked on me because he was jealous that I was smarter than him. I felt sorry for Jerald after that, and I didn’t let his words bother me anymore.

If someone calls you stupid or weird, it is because they feel stupid or weird.

When I was in the 4th grade, two boys both named Alex threw worms in all the girls’ hair. My friends all screamed and ran, but I only felt bad for the worms. Later, my mom told the boys that if they ever picked on us again, she would hold them down and let the girls kiss them. We wouldn’t really have kissed them, but it was the grossest thing my mom could think of. The boys left us alone for a long time because my mom came to school a lot and they were afraid of her.

Don’t be afraid to tell your mom if people are messing with you. Moms can be pretty scary—in a good way.

When I was in the 5th grade, one of the Alexs was being mean again. One day he threw big rocks at me, and one hit my ankle really hard. I had to walk home from school with a hurt ankle and tell dad what happened. Dad took me to Alex’s house and told his mom what he did. We found out that Alex didn’t have a dad. They lived in a tiny house and didn’t have any nice things.

Some kids are mean because they don’t have good families. Sometimes they get picked on by their brothers and sisters. Sometimes they even get picked on by their parents. 

Everybody gets bullied sometimes. The best part is–You don’t have to put up with it!

If you are being bullied:

1. Walk away. If you can’t get away, protect yourself any way you have to. You won’t get in trouble if you are protecting yourself.

2. Tell an adult what happened. If the bullying doesn’t stop right away, tell LOTS of adults until someone makes it stop.

3. Never stop being yourself. Make friends with the other kids who get picked on. Weirdos are awesome!

Being Married is Fun: Sexting, Part One

Another fun fact about me: I’m awesome at Microsoft Paint. Don’t let the edit-job on the following screen shot convince you otherwise.



Love ≠ Unconditional Bullshit Tolerance

I was in an abusive relationship for almost 4 years.

Eventually I may get into that in greater detail, but for now there is only one message that needs to be shared.

On one hand it feels like a bit of a cop-out to post from another blog or online article, but on the other hand–why spend time writing my own when someone else has already so effectively put this important message into words?

If you don’t want to read the entire piece, let me at least share a few things:

“Unconditional love, in my experience, is what abusive parents try to tell their kids in order to justify the damage they feel like dealing out. We love each other no matter what, they say as they’re insulting and undermining and destroying you, And that’s why we don’t leave one another.

In other words, “Love” becomes twisted into this sense of “You enable my behavior no matter how bad it gets.” (Usually with a healthy dollop of “If you don’t stay with me, then you don’t know how to love and are hence a bad person.”)

And so what you wind up with are people endlessly swallowing huge gouts of abuse they should never put up with, because they’ve tied the concept of “love” directly into “enduring.” For them, unconditional love means that no matter what happens, I’ll be there for you.”

Many of us are bound to end up in an abusive relationship at some point in our lives, due to the poor examples that were set for us growing up, or otherwise. In my experience, most of us don’t even realize that we’re in an abusive relationship until we’re not in it anymore.

Unconditional love should NOT feel like guilt or shame. If your excuse for staying with this person revolves around the idea that he/she puts up with SO MUCH from you, you need a wake-up call. I don’t care if you’re bat-shit crazy–if you’re in a relationship with someone who tells you that you’re weird, or wrong, or even abusive yourself (in other words: manipulative, moody,) or invalidates your feelings–GET OUT. Believe it or not, but there are people out there who will put you on a pedestal for all of your “negative qualities.”

“If you have internalized the idea that “unconditional love” means “unconditional support,” then you become a resource and not a human being. And while there are wonderful people who won’t abuse you, they aren’t the ones who’ll seek you out. An abuser doesn’t care about you, he cares about what you can give him… and so, to an abuser, what you perceive as “love” he perceives as “an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

If your excuse for staying with this person is based on the possible fact that he/she could not make it without you in some sense–maybe he/she’s depressed and you don’t know how they’d handle a breakup. Maybe they hate their job or can’t find work and you feel it’s your responsibility to stick around and be supportive because you’ve convinced yourself that when this one thing is resolved, all of your other relationship problems will just magically disappear…

“Unconditional love trains too many people that it’s somehow wrong to tell our loved ones no. Me? I tell my loved ones “no” all the time. 

No. My love is thoroughly conditional in the sense that if you want to keep my love within an accessible distance, you’ll need to treat me with respect. I may still love you if you treat me badly – but I’ll love you from wayyyy over there, where you can’t get your toxic little mitts on me.

I think that’s sane. I think that’s healthy. And I think that’s the kind of love we should strive to teach as a community.

I think that is, in all ways, the best kind of love.”

Take note. Be present. Get help.

And for everyone’s sake, if you’re unhappy in your relationship, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

RPG on a budget

Prepping for Gen Con

Midlife Crisis Crossover

Worlds live. Worlds die. Worlds get rebooted again and again.

Chick Flicking Reviews

You'll never guess what a real chick flick is. ;)

Finding My Own Way

Hoping to inspire people to do cool things!


An in depth exploration of benign minutia and other big words to bamboozle you while I talk about dead babies.

It's a Liby blog! @helloliby

Losing all of my friends, one blog-post at a time.


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