Try Your Damndest

Dear everybody,

If you read my blog often, you can probably tell that there is not much of a theme on here other than keeping things in the “TMI” category.  You may have noticed the last two posts (Bisquick Light Bulb, and Baby Sex) were a little different than my usual ranting though, that’s because I wrote them about 5 years ago for a “book”.  I wanted to self publish a book back then that was a collection of short stories I wrote about my childhood, and I called it “Try Your Damndest” titled after a saying my Mom repeated almost daily.  I posted some of the stories on Myspace, because myspace was in vogue back then, and I had a pretty supportive fan base in the city I lived in at the time, Little Rock, AR.  Well, as most of my projects turn out, I ran out of steam for it once I realized how expensive it would be to follow through with the publishing,  I kinda forgot about it.  So since I have this blog, and a considerable amount of readers, I decided to give up the book angle and just post them on here.  Basically any story you read that is about my years growing up is one that is from the imaginary book I wrote.  Just wanted to explain that to you, in case you were wondering why I switched gears a bit.

Also, an update on that email I sent to Vice, someone actually got back with me within hours of my sending it.  He was pretty pissed off and had a “Who do you think you are, you asshole?” tone to the email.  To answer that question, I think I am a hormonal young Mom who is struggling to start her own business with no money and a shit fuck ton of challenges and road blocks, and I get damn tired of people suggesting I throw in the entrepreneur towel and work for the Man again.  So when I wrote that email, I was lashing out at him for all the people in my life that keep giving me great ideas for employment.  As loving as it is, I just want people to accept my crazy, impossible plans for world domination with my own brand rather than representing someone else’s.  I know it will work out, just wish everyone around me could have a little more faith despite the fact that I am living in Poverty right now.  Hundreds of successful people stood exactly where I am right now, and they got through it without giving up and switching careers. I can’t wait until I don’t have to make a case for what I am doing anymore and I can just stuff money in people’s mouths that bug me.  Well, I won’t do that, but you know what I mean.

Alright, that’s it for now.  I could use a margarita. : )

– Faux Ma


Baby Sex

In a horribly loud voice my mother says, “Okay, we will be over in 10 minutes!” to my friend’s mother on the phone, which really meant a half an hour. My mom and I were heading over to my “friend” Heidi’s house so I could play with her. I didn’t think that meant I literally had to play with her body. Heidi had a whole other agenda in mind; she invited a boy over to play with us named Steven. We went down to the basement to play; which I thought was odd, because it wasn’t a fun carpeted basement, just a smelly, damp, dusty one.

Steven was mean to me, so was Heidi, they spent the first 10 minutes of our hangout teasing me, and my side-ponytail. Then they segued into a wild porno-fest that made Jenna Jameson look innocent. It was this weird baby humping sex that went on. Steven lied down on a brown box full of photo albums, and Heidi straddled him. He whipped out his baby penis and rubbed it on her baby vagina. It was sick, but fascinating. I had no idea what they were doing. The strangest part about it was Heidi kept turning around in between her strange piggy squeals and moans, and she gave me these looks that burnt a hole thru me. She was hypnotizing me with these strange pornographic gazes, I thought I was becoming a lesbian by eye-lasers. I don’t remember the ride home from Heidi’s that day, I was probably too freaked out.

Bisquick Light Bulb

Let me try to think back to the first time I binged and purged…ah yes, it was at the ripe age of 11. You know, all that pressure from the media to look thin, it got to me too.

On Christmas morning, 1995, after all the presents were open, and our bellies were full of Dad’s famous pancakes, I retreated to the upstairs bathroom for my usual routine. I threw up everything as fast as I could to get that buzzy head rush that I just adored. When I flushed, the toilet started to overflow…no problem, the handy plunger was right there, so I began to plunge. This time it wasn’t going to work, the toilet completely overflowed filling the bathroom floor with pancake-water. I tried my best to sop it up with toilet paper and paper towels, and it seemed the worst was behind me, but oh no, it was just beginning. I heard a scream from the downstairs from my mom. She screamed my name so I ran to the kitchen. She was standing there with a scowl on her face, while my brothers and my father were on a ladder at the ceiling lamp recovering the massive amounts of pancake-water-throw-up that was pouring out from the ceiling. It was disgusting, and my entire fault.

I will never forget the look on my mother’s face, and when she said, “But Tara, It’s Christmas!”


Things I don’t understand:

Why the skinny teenage boy I am looking at right now is wearing a short sleeve shirt in freezing, wet weather, standing outside shivering his teeny little dick off.

Why people glare at me after I held a door open for them. Are they mad because they felt rushed? Do they just not smile?  Did their Mother just die?  Do I look like someone they hate?

Why I am in Texas, when I have always hated Texas.

Why I get a overdue notice for a bill on the same day that I get my period

Why most Stay at home Mom’s lose all sense of their own identity and become Stepford Wives suddenly.  It is not helping their kids, it never helps anyone to be something you are not.

Why people tweet me sometimes telling me they think I am a bad Mom.  Why?  Because I write about the things that are on my mind?  I don’t talk about that shit with my toddler and my infant, you fucktard. I hate you.

Why I have never found a pair of earbuds or headphones that fit my ears comfortably.  The opening of my ear canal must be much smaller than the average person, because after I wear an earbud for a while, my inner ears burn and feel like they are dying.

Why some bussers and waiters who clean tables with windex, spray it unreasonably far away from the table, causing the poison to become airborne, and travel into my mouth and all over my food that I am about to pay for.

Why my Husband is the best cook on the planet, but takes 3 hours to make a meal and he is incapable of serving a plate that is not covered in his hair.  It is like he thinks of his strands of hair as shredded parmesan.

Why every time I call my Mom she is busy and pissed off that you are bugging her, when she is unemployed and has been for 35 years, and has nothing better to do but to organize her house and go out to eat.

Why the person in front of me who has way over 10 items is not letting me ahead of them when I only have one item.

Why even though I know how lame and hypocritical it makes me, I cannot help but to tell my Sister how to live her life because she is younger than me and I don’t want her to repeat mistakes I made.

Why I am old fashioned, and believe you cannot be close friends with the opposite sex without it becoming sexual, but everyone else seems to think this makes me unrealistic and possessive, but then they get a divorce so I don’t take anything they say to heart, and I am left permanently confused about this topic.

Why I assume everyone will hate me and my blog posts or tweets, but I continue to do it, and become surprised that anyone enjoys this shit.

Why I am fulfilled only by things that don’t make money.

Why my Grandma was so mean to me and force fed me runny egg yolk when I was a kid, even though I told her I hated it.

Why I have never been in jail.

Why I got my period later than everyone else, and why I couldn’t stop bragging about my period for months even though it was stupid to brag, because all my friends had theirs for like 5 years already.

Why people can like a blog post and be moved to tears or laughs by it, but neglect to leave a comment notifying an attention-obsessed person like myself that they felt this way.

Why I date and marry Men that are absolutely horrendous at doing the basic things that most guys do easily, like provide $ support of some kind, try to be faithful, act normal. But who excel at the things that most Men suck at, being good in bed, giving massages, doing the dishes, being great to talk to.

Why I can write and write and write and never get bored.

Why I write about my personal life on here, and don’t feel scared about it, only scared that I don’t feel scared about it.

Why I assume everyone from Brooklyn is a horrible human being, even though I lived there and it is not the case. (always)

How my in-laws look human but are clearly aliens.  this one really burns.

Why I can’t remember when I lost my virginity or who it was with.

Why I am still seeing people wearing short sleeves outside, and it is freezing out.

Why I was deathly afraid of going out with a nice guy in high school and turned him down, but was totally comfortable dating the guys that everyone said were horrible, cheating, lying bastards with no money.

Why someone like me has no use in the world as of yet to contribute my creative talents in any way to society so that could help make money for my family.

Why I am not on a reality show yet.

Kim Kardashian.

Why I am still writing this list.

I’m Soo Charming

I wrote an email to Vice Magazine today that I was so proud of, I thought I should share it with all of my Faux Ma fans. Check it out.

Hi There. I have no business emailing you important hipsters today, but a friend of mine has been riding my ass to contact ya’ll, so here I go. I realize this will probably not get read, but I am writing this with the same blind hope that I had on my Wedding day.

Some things you should know about me:

1.) I made the dean’s list every quarter in College and now I am a 29 year old broke wife on welfare with two kids.

2.) I used to be homeless. I had to bathe in Walmart restrooms, and everyone assumed I was a prostitute.

3.) I am a borderline-alcoholic nymphomaniac with anger issues, but I like to counsel troubled children as charitable work to feel better about myself.

4.) My Husband shits his pants a lot and writes music about it.

5. ) My Mom would have done a much better job than Faye Dunaway at playing Joan Crawford for “Mommie Dearest”.

6.) I like to write on a blog and tweet my little heart out.!/Faux_Ma

Here are a few blog posts that you will not click on and read, because you are too busy and important to worry about gaining good Karma.

Scandinavian Kiss

Horrifying Cleavage

Shit Baby

If you have read this email long enough to get to this sentence, God help you, and you should probably be fired. Since you are here, I will mention that my friend thought Vice could use my style of writing. She even proposed that you start a Parenting section of Vice, and allow me to rant in it. HILARIOUS, right?

Well, we all know you have plenty of important tasks to get back to, like sexually harassing interns or taking an enormous coffee-induced dump.

Contact me if you have any use for a person like me to help you make more money to send the kids you will never have to a nice College. Or do what I assume you will, and never read, answer, or reply to this, you selfish prick. J/K. BFF?



I’ve Gone and Done it Again

If you are an avid reader of my blog, you know that I hate authority and I would rather be homeless than to work in a career that I hate.  My stubborn nature has caused me to live out of a car, shower in Walmart restrooms, live off of one can of beans a week, and basically never the leave the house to avoid spending money.  People may assume this makes me an idiot, but I know I have been making the right choices.  The entire time I have been devising master plans to become self-sufficient by the income of one of my creative entrepreneurial ventures.  None of them have come even close to helping me survive, they mostly have just paid for a few soy lattes a week. But I refuse to throw in the towel and go back to a stuffy office with a lame boss watching the clock tick my life away.  So I have gone, and done it again, people!

I have been working on creating a handmade natural skincare line for over a year, and I decided to start a blog for it as well as an online store.  Now you make be thinking I am selling out to be posting this here, well if selling out means to use whatever audience I have to expose them to my new project for support, then yes, I am a big old sellout.  I have only one post on the site so far, but I’m going to add a bunch of photo’s of the development of the brand and whatnot.

I don’t know if this is going to be a super successful venture I have gotten myself into, I just found making these cleansers, lotions, serums, lip balms, toners, masks, scrubs, etc. turned out to be a lot of fun, and very addictive for me.  And since I am a perfectionist and bored most of the time, I went out of my way to make the products really effective and totally safe and yummy smelling.  I also had a lot of fun with naming the products, you will understand that more when I add more to the blog.  The Etsy store is not up and running yet, I think (hope) I have that ready by early 2012.  So anyways, check out the blog and stay tuned to it. I will give special discounts and stuff to the blog readers.

Okay, I will get back to blogging about hormone imbalances, sex, motherhood, anger, and marriage on Faux Ma Blog ASAP. : )




It has been brought to my attention that maybe I divulge too much information on my blog & on Twitter.  I am guessing people are telling me that because of a few reasons.

1.) It could negatively affect future employment/professional opportunities if someone google searched me.

2.) I am telling things that cast me in an embarrassing and depressing light, which could make enemies I may have feel validated in their own lives.

3.) I could get stalkers, killers, kidnappers, etc.

4.) It is best to be private, because everyone needs a healthy amount of privacy.

Well, I don’t care about any of these reasons.  I don’t want a corporate job, and I never want to work for or with someone who would find this blog offensive.  That may lower my options, but I. don’t. care.

If my enemies find my life tragic, embarrassing, and gossip about it, then I am actually just doing some nice community service. Because I am giving them a confidence boost that they clearly need, if they are pathetic enough to believe their lives are any less fucked.

I may get a stalker, killer, or kidnapper, that would suck. But I could also get hit by a car, struck by lightening, poisoned by my in-laws, heart attack, stroke, cancer, etc.  But I am not going to stop going outside, riding in cars, eating food, eating bacon, or going sans sunscreen.

A healthy amount of privacy for me translates into alone time with my Husband, my kids, my friends (the ones that are left), and my dog and cat.  I don’t think I need to keep quiet about what is going on in my life, and keep it top secret, because all the people I know who do that are horrible, dreadful, lying, cheating bastards.  So I guess my blunt honesty can be owed to people like that, because I never want to be like them.

Besides, not a lot of people read this blog anyhow. : )

How Tara Got Her Groove Back

I went through a crazy transformation in the past few weeks.  I have been harboring a ton of resentment towards my Husband for years for shit he did when we first got together, and some other stuff he did over the years involving other women.  I am a jealous, possessive person, so other chicks are not cool with me.  I’m not like so bad that he can’t have gals as friends, but he can under no circumstances hang out with them alone like for lunch, drinks, etc.  I think that is pretty normal.  And its the same for him with me.  A few years ago I got close to one of my Husband’s acquaintances, and we started doing some photography & art together, and we got together for dinner and drinks occasionally when Nathan would be working late.  Sounds pretty messed up, right?  Well, I was kinda trying to get back at Nathan for doing that same kind of stuff. I thought, if he thinks it is so normal for him to hang out with chicks, lets see how he likes it when I hang out with guys.  Well, of course, because I am a nympho, I really can’t be close friends with a guy without flirting and tons of sexual innuendo flying around.  It was just totally inappropriate for us to be flirting at bars together, me being married and all.

I really took the “get back at Nathan” thing way too far.  It got to the point where people thought Nathan and I split up and that I was with this new guy.  I had a few spies, some of Nathan’s co-workers and buddies that would give me dirty looks and shake their head at me when they saw me out with him.  I knew it was wrong. I was actually really enjoying being “wrong”, though.  I had been going through such a possessive “stay away from my man!!” stage for the first 3 years of our marriage, so this was me kinda saying Fuck you to Nathan and all those other girls for taking so much of my energy. I knew I was being an asshole, and it was fun.  But playing with fire always ends badly.  I was beginning to lose touch with Nathan, and I started actually having this other guy be my real priority.  When the other guy started seeing how deep it was getting, he just told me we couldn’t hang out anymore because he didn’t want to be “that” guy to his friend.  Plus, Nathan found some emails we wrote to eachother that were all flirty, and he got fucking pissed off.  I stopped talking to him very abruptly, and always worried about running into him around town.  Nathan hates his guts now, naturally.  I haven’t spoken to him since 2008, and its like it never happened or something, because Nathan gets over shit.  I have been so jealous of him for being so good about moving past painful events in his life.  I guess because of a mixture of being a Woman, Irish, and from a hot-headed family, I don’t get over stuff easily.  I get really really obsessive when someone hurts my feelings, betrays me, lies to me, cheats, etc.

The normal thing would have been for me to lose all of my feelings of jealousy about Nathan’s side chicks after I put him through that.  That was my objective, but I failed.  I guess I got a little bit of satisfaction about hurting him the same way he hurt me, but I feel like the biggest loser in the picture.  Because I broke up a friendship, and made the other guy totally hated by Nathan.  Plus, it honestly was a blow to my ego when the other guy kinda chastised me for getting in too deep with him. It made me feel so stupid that he was looking out for Nathan more than I was.  So sad, really.  I was like an empty bucket using an outsider to fill me up, while manipulating my Husband’s emotions.  Luckily nothing ever got physical.  That would have made things so much more pathetic on my end.

So instead of gaining an even ground with Nathan, I just felt more guilty and stupid.  The whole thing should have never happened.  And in some sick way, I have been literally holding a grudge against him since the first chick incident went down 7 years ago, up until about a week ago.  Its like everything just made perfect sense for me.  I suddenly understand what forgiveness means, and how when you hold a grudge you are really just hurting yourself (and everyone around you).  I felt a lifting of my resentment, and a cracking opening of my shell this past week.  I had no idea how bad it was making me.  I snap at Nathan a lot for no reason, randomly throughout the week.  I thought it was stress from being a Mom, but it wasn’t.  Its really just this bullshit that I have been holding on to against him.  My firm grasp around my heart was keeping it from pumping properly for him.  I guess I was trying to protect myself, but all it has done is waste precious time that I could have been loving, laughing, licking, fucking, and playing with my Husband.  I mean, its not like we’ve been totally miserable, we made two babies and have had tons of awesome times but that pesky attitude problem of mine towards him started after that girl, got worse with the second, horribly horrible with the third, etc.  My anger has been eating me and him alive.  I realized today that what really contributed to my anger the most was all the blows to my ego I went through with these other girls taking away my spotlight.  I just felt so inferior to them, and ugly, and dumb, etc. no matter how much he would tell me otherwise.  It has been a huge problem for our sex life.  I think because I had all this anger always eating away at me, I just wasn’t very approachable.  So for years, I have been pissed off at him for not making moves on me more often.  But now that I finally let it go, I can see why he didn’t feel welcome into my personal space.  He kind of let the ball stay in my court most of the time, and I really don’t blame him.  When I approached him for sex, he always got very excited and looked relieved that I invited him into me.

It almost feels like I have been pregnant with pain for 6 years, just busting at the seams. I gave birth to this giant resentment baby this morning actually.  It has been trying to be born for so long, I guess it couldn’t take it anymore.  I felt all of the anger towards him lift off of me and fly away.  Then I proceeded to fuck him all day long.  It felt like we just met.  I am still all giddy about it.  I can’t believe I have been keeping myself away from this man I am madly in love with for this long.  He has been in the dog house sooo long, so he is just so fucking happy that I let him out.  What an asshole I’ve been, Jesus.  Today was the first day I had sex with him in years that I wasn’t fighting feelings of anger towards him as I was cumming.  Do you know what a relief that is?  OH. MI. GOD.  Such a fucking relief. The craziest part about all of this, is I think Twitter is to thank for the shedding of my resentment layers.  I have been gaining such a sense of self confidence from the awesome, funny folks on there and fans I have been gaining, I think it just helped me get back what I thought I had lost when those girls came in and knocked me off my pedestal.  Twitter is reminding me that I am smart, funny, and beautiful, mainly because people tell me those three things all day long in messages and @ replies.  Maybe a shrink would think getting cocky because of fans is not a healthy way to feel better about yourself, but I don’t really give a fuck.  I have felt so down on myself for so long, I will take praises and reminders that I am cool from where ever I want.  I know I should know those things about myself on my own, and I used to, but I lost touch with reality along the way because of heartbreak and jealousy.  Feels good to get it back.  So. So. Good.

Roller Coasters Are Only Fun At The Park

The changes that have been going on in my body, my mind, my emotions, and my hormones in the past 3 years is incredible.  Your body goes through so much when you are pregnant, and it seems as if it never ends when you breastfeed.  I went from being pregnant to nursing my son for a year and  a half, to becoming pregnant again and now nursing again with no breaks.  I am not complaining, I love all of it.  Well, yeah, I am complaining, but I love being a Mom, and I think it is awesome and fascinating to be a walking, talking beverage that is keeping a baby alive.  It is still kinda insane to think about how much a woman’s body can go through, and its no wonder so many Moms go fucking crazy after they pop out a few kids.  I am fairly certain I would have been a much less bearable person to be around the past few months if it wasn’t for this blog, and twitter to pour out all my thoughts into.  I am SHOCKED my husband didn’t leave me because of how I acted at times.  I was a horrid, horrid woman.

Sexual changes can be good and bad.  Like, when I was pregnant, my orgasms were so insanely strong that it made sex better than it has ever been.  My nipples were way too sensitive though, it just hurt to get them touched.  But then, after the birth, and when you start wanting to have sex again, you have the extremely sucky experience of the first few orgasms postpartum.  They are so lackluster, they cannot even compare to the giant pregnant lady orgasms, it is enough to make you cry for days.  All the pressure and fluids from the baby pressing down on your vag, cause all the blood to kind of pool down there, so your body is pretty much ready to go for sex 24/7.  My clit was permanently aroused for the entire last trimester.  It was distracting, and sometimes felt so good it hurt.  I miss it so bad, but one must move on despite these painful circumstances.  Pregnancy orgasms vs. postpartum orgasms is a lot like the difference between ecstasy sex vs. sober sex. Or like diet coke to diet pepsi.  Or Mcdonald’s croutons to Outback steakhouse croutons.  Or Natural Ice to Blue Moon.  Or $4 bottle of wine to a $100 bottle of wine.  Can you tell I could do this for days?  You get the point.  It just can’t compare, and you are stuck with it. You have to make the most of it.  Eventually you get used to it, and start appreciating it for what it is.

I just started getting to that point postpartum where I feel like the old me, I feel good about my body,  I enjoy and want sex, I am having fun with my husband again all the time, and my kids aren’t overwhelming me to the point that I have to run in the backyard and scream.  I finally feel relaxed.  It is so nice to get over that hump.  I think the entire 9 months of pregnancy have nothing on the first 3 months postpartum in terms of difficulty and pain.  Jesus.  I am getting chills just thinking about what a nightmare it was.  Seriously, a total nightmare.  You have this beautiful new baby, but all you wanna do is cry, plan your escape to Mexico, and contemplate starting an addiction to heroin.  I am very proud of myself for turning to comedy during this phase, because laughing is really the only effective way I have found to handling bullshit.

Fond of Wax

I am really jealous of people with lots of ear wax.  My whole life, I have hardly produced any wax.  I would ask my Brothers to let me see their Q-Tips after they were done using them so I could admire the giant yellow, orange, red, and brown sludge slime all over the cotton tip.  When I use a Q-Tip, it comes out completely white.  The only thing it collects is moisture from the shower I just had.  It enrages me that I was not blessed with wax.  To compensate for my lack of wax, I must have subconsciously searched for waxy people.  Boys and Men seem to produce more wax then Women, but I have some guy friends that had less than impressive wax.  All of my relationships have been with heavy wax producers.  My Husband has by far the most wax of anyone I have ever met, I guess this is what they mean when the say “The One”.  His Q-Tips look like a moldy pineapple exploded all over them.

About once every 3 months his ear canal gets really clogged and he has to pull out the bulb syringe, because a simple old cotton stick can’t handle wax this big.  I get a front row seat…but I make sure to not stand too close for fear of some of the dirty, smelly wax water spraying on me.  That is the thing, while I love looking at it, I don’t want it to touch me, I don’t want to smell it, and I can’t look at it for longer than 30 seconds or I start to feel ill.  When he pumps bursts of water into the canal with his head tilted over the sink, giant clods of hardened wax scatter around the sink.  It looks like his ear is having a miscarriage; a miscarried wax baby.  I am always shocked blood doesn’t start spewing from his ear, because the visuals of this wax baby flowing from his ear seem as if they must be painful and abrasive.  I even wonder if it is particles of his brain breaking off, because the wax is so dark and sometimes red.  And brains are red, right?  This would explain so much about him, since he has so many mental illnesses.

I get mad at him if he betrays me and cleans his ears out when I am not at home or sleeping.  How could he?  He knows how much this means to me.  Luckily I have more people in my life nowadays to rely on for ear wax shows.  My Husband passed on his gift to our kids.  My almost 3 year old and 3.5 month old both have waxy ear canals.  Except theirs is extra soft and sticky, and honestly not up to my standards as far as satisfying wax.  When I clean their ears in the bath, because it is so soft, it usually just cleans all the way out just with water.  And when I try to clean their ears out with Q-Tips dry, the wax is so sticky that the cotton just gets pulled and stretched and the whole experience is messy and undesirable for both parties.  Hopefully they will grow up to produce harder wax.

Meanwhile, I will keep cleaning my ears out anxiously awaiting the day that my wax production is no longer incompetent.

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