Dilemma, or, honesty and skull f*cking

I sit here at my desk, alternating lunges, chatting with Ryan, deer watching and   frequent 

potty breaks due to my massive coffee consumption. What can I say, I have a short attention span.

Before I attempted anything productive today (interpret that any way you want) I felt it was necessary to change my default myspace photo. I vacillated between a picture of my 4 kids in their soccer uniforms and a great X Ray of a skull fuck I found a few weeks ago (that story to be explained later). This was provoked by a desire to impress one of my favorite authors, Jen Lancaster, when I left a comment on her myspace blog. I had taken a few pictures of  stacks of books I have read, aspire to read, and am in the middle of, that I intended to put as my default picture until I realized how boring that was. I got distracted uploading those and decided to add the aforementioned two pics.

Unfortunately the skull fuck picture was not in a format known to myspace, and I was too lazy to reformat it, so I chose the soccer pic. Then it occurred to me how representational this situation is of my writing dilemma. I have yet to decide what persona to expose in my writing. Like the Chelsea Handler book " My Horizontal Life" that is currently my bathroom reading, I can be vulgar, honest, lewd, and mean. I love to tease and mock others behind their backs. No one, including spouse, children, and strangers, are safe. On the other hand, I  am a mom who is terrified my children will read what I write, be ashamed of me, furious because I have published the funny things they do and say ( I asked them both if that would be ok...Skylar said NO and Hayden said, yeah, baby! Typical)

Part of my hesitation to write about my life is wondering if total honesty would be more harmful than fictionalizing my life. I have dirt on people that would cause them not only to alienate me, but possibly put a hit out on me as well. Parents, siblings, exes, and kids- my urge to utilize their lives for my entertainment and hopefully profit seems to be a bad idea as I examine it further. So, my options are these:

 

A)Write a memoir that mostly reveals  only MY OWN personal follies (and Ryan's, he has no shame, naturally, look who he married) with vague references to family and friends. This is the safest approach. However, this would cut out approximately 90% of my funny material. 89% of which  can be attributed to things Hayden says and does.

* I am serious. I could write an entire book of his quotes, dances and songs, including " I am God's brother" and the hit song "Chubby boobs, chubby boobs, I want to ride your chubby boobs". This book would be entitled "Was Your Penis Made in Heaven?"

I do not want to be responsible for  his future institutionalization for which he would undoubtedly blame on me.*

 

B) Fictionalize my life and use aliases, which would fool no one. Everyone would know which character was theirs and hold that against me. 

C) Write a complete work of fiction, using bits and pieces of my life as thinly disguised filler. Readers would  not know what is drawn from my life and what I fabricate. Denial that the work is about the people in my life would be a reasonable defense, like singers that write about cheating and then tell their spouses, " It's just a song!"

So that is what I currently ponder.

Oh, the skull fuck thing...that was pretty awesome. It began after we got notice from our car insurance that Ryan's Camry had been deleted from the policy. WHAT THE FUCK. I called them, and the nice lady on the phone informed me that because he had added his company as additional insured, and answered a few questions like "Do you occasionally carry product in your car, or transport clients?" To which he INCORRECTLY answered "Occasionally" (never admit anything to your insurance company EVER!) he was now told he needed commercial insurance to the tune of 2 grand a year. After going round and round with the lady, her calling Ryan, and him calling HR and telling them thanks a lot for fucking up my car insurance and I'll be goddamned before I pay for commercial insurance, he finally got it straightened out. I wasted 3 hours that morning between Geico and Ryan and we were both enraged and freaked out. I declared that I was going to head over to their office and skull fuck them all. This lead to an internet image  search for skull fuck, which resulted in a rather graphic, albeit doctored photo that greatly entertained me. 

The skull fucking theme was continued in a recent conversation we had about the weasly guy at the fireplace store. The fireplace was installed last week, but the blower and doors were missing. I went to the shop to pay for the fireplace and inquire as to when they would be installed. The weasly guy, let's call him Dick, said to call them when we had done the finish work on the fireplace and then they would come out and install the blower. 

I said, "Since my husband has to hook up the electrical for the blower, and this is located behind the fireplace, don't we need the blower before we enclose and sheet rock the area?"

Dick replied," Well, that way it will be all nice and neat." 

I looked at him with puzzlement and said, "I don't see how that is possible. *Clearly you are an idiot.* Just tell them to install it as soon as they can."

"Ok" said Dick, *looking dazed because I had just bitched slapped him.* 

This is how I relayed the conversation to Ryan, who is a pro at distinguishing what actually happens and what I want to do or say, but don't because I am clearly a lady.

Then Ryan tentatively asked, "Did you skull fuck him?"

To which I laughed my ass off and said "Of course!'

ps. look! I wrote dialogue! One of my obstacles... sorry about the indent even after the dialogue. The blog format won't let me go back to regular spacing. More learning to do...