An unfunny post. An unfunny year.

2013 was unfunny.

2014 is setting up to be no better.

2013 I did not write. I feel bad about myself when I do not write. Sadie is my identity. Sadie is not a mom, she is not a wife, and she is not an employee. Sadie is… what I was always meant to be.

Sadie can be a mom, wife, and employee too. But she needs to be a writer first.

I got a text from far away that said, “Your blog has expired? I hope you are okay. I just thought you should know.”

Trust me, I knew.

Sadie didn’t have anything to say. My whole purpose has been to find that humor in my day, and to tell you about it. For one year now, I have not felt humor. I have felt mostly sadness and depression.

I am sure there are a myriad of reasons for the depression. The consequences of this depression are thoughts of suicide. So I have not written. I don’t want to be the catalyst for anyone’s ill-advised choices.

Suicide 2

I have thought about writing this for a year. I verbalized this blog several times last year under the guise of humor.

Unspecified person: “What are your plans for the weekend?”

Sadie: “Nothing major. A bottle of wine and some Ambien is all it will take, and I will go the way of Heath Ledger.”

I know it is a bad joke.

After improv practice one night we all went out for appetizers, I started the conversation.

Sadie: I thought about killing myself a lot this year. Umm, just thought you guys should know. You are my best friends.

(shock, amazement, and understanding from the whole group)

Player 1: My parents are sick; it has been a hard year.

Player 2&3: Going through a bad divorce, I thought about it a lot.

Sadie: I find it weird, that we are all friends, see each other all the time and no one EVER once thought to pick up a phone and ask for help?

We pinky swore at the table, if we need each other we promise to reach out.

I tried to reach out once. The text was not returned.

I scared Raynard with my thoughts. He hid all the guns.

I told my BFF’s and they pity me. I can see it in their eyes. They check in on me via text.

I have always wondered, why people don’t ask for help. Here is my thought now; it is fucking hard to ask for help. And you know people will always look at you as weak. I have never been weak… I have been fragile. I have been inconsolable. I have never been weak.

I don’t intend to kill myself. If you are thinking of suicide, I promise there is a better choice; I just need to be honest, especially here.

My life is not all humor. Humor is what I have tried to provide to you. Sometimes humor is hard, real hard.

Information you may need to know, no judgment. I promise.

Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Finding Sadie Wilson

It’s a never-ending struggle for me.

2013 sucked balls.

I won’t bore you with the details. The details were small and ordinary. I didn’t write. I did what I had to do, instead of what I wanted to do. When the “I wanted to” stuff came up, I felt obligated to the “I have to” stuff. Welcome to being a grownup – where they sue you. If you wanna know the back story, schedule a lunch date; just like BFF Calico Shurtz has to do.

I pushed all the adult children out of my house under the guise of… you are an adult. Go do your thing. Go live. I totally understand their disdain and resistance. If I had the choice, I would be living in my parent’s basement, blowing bong hits on a lime green bean bag chair myself. Apparently, I AM A GROWN UP and I can’t do that. Dammit.

Though, there is NO GUILT that the adult children do not live here… I will say I eat more sugar. Coincidence, I am sure.
So, with two adult children out of the house, it left two open rooms in our home. Raynard and I divvied the rooms up. It has taken two weeks to get a semblance of what I had in my head for the room, with a lot of hard work, we are getting closer.

I texted Skudro Bodine:

Me: Dad and I worked on my writing room all weekend.

Skud: How pink is it?

Me: It looks like it was hosed down with Pepto-Bismol.

Skud: That’s pretty pink.

Me: I thought so too. And yes, it IS pretty!

Here is hoping 2014 presents more opportunities to laugh, and less grown up stuff to do.

Failure to launch, without Matthew McConnaughey

I have been in love with Matthew since I first saw him.

Sorta like I was with College Boy.  ‘Cept I loved him before I first knew him.

That is why THIS story is so hard to tell.  And people, well-meaning people, all want to tell me their opinion, of how I should deal with my son that has not moved out.

I have asked on forums, of other bloggers I know, have you had to kick your son out?

No one ever responds.

Here are the facts:  I wrote a blog about how I had a family photo taken… and we all looked like we were carved out of cream cheese.  I hardly recognized us, my family.  We looked perfect.  We looked like your facebook posts.

Like 67 times if you love your husband.

Share if you think you daughter is the greatest.

Send the color of your bra in your status if you think you are the ONE PARENT ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET that is impervious to what lies ahead, and that YOUR child will not fall into the ills of the future.


My bra is black!

I am NOT impervious.

I may just be a fraud and a failure.

My kid did not launch.

He lives in my basement. *SIGH*

He makes real good puppets though.

And…  in an unusual twist…. (there is no font for it, so it is up to you to sense the snark.)

HE BLAMES ME.  For everything.

You’re welcome.

You didn’t pay your cell phone bill?  Good news, it’s probably my fault.

You don’t have a job? Well, I’m in HR.  I probably did not call your references, again, totally my fault.

You are not happy?

Did I not hire the right clown at your 8th birthday?  Yep, that is on me, as well.

Does your butt itch?

Well, I probably bought the wrong toilet paper for you dear.

That is all you can expect of me…  Mommy is here to help protect you from the world.  In my 40’s that is what I know.  Ask me again next decade.  Mommy will know new tricks.

But at 40+, here is what mommy DOES KNOW.

  1. It is not ALL my fault.  I will admit to 50%.
    1. You decide which 50% is yours to take ownership of.
    2. Are you a willing participant in your own life?
      1. Participate.
      2. People try to be supportive of my decision to ask you to leave, but I see their eyes. I see their judgment and yours.
        1. That is fine.  Choose better than I did.  Show me where I was wrong.
        2. Do better.
        3. Succeed more.
        4. Trust me, I am okay with you being more than mommy is.
        5. THE BEST thing mommy ever did was YOU and YOUR BROTHERS.
        6. A very close second; was my husband.  I chose well there too.






The new play

So, I have been cast in a new play.

I have also been recognized for being a lesbian for the last year.

Tell me if you see this as a coincidence? I am often seen as manly.  I get hit on by girls a lot.  This year I hit on a girl (that part is new to me).

BUT, I was cast as three boys.  Three boy gods, just saying. I am Zues, Hades and Hercules.

Should I worry?

Boston Bombing… No photo, on purpose.

Here is what I know.

The images I see from Boston are meant to terrorize me.  That is not to say some terrorist group planned or carried out these attacks.

I have a really vivid imagination.  I have a 9 year old child.

I don’t want visions in my head of the 8 year old that tragically lost his life.

I want the world to be a decent place. I want to see change.

I do not want to *think* that people * believe* they are accepting EQUAL rights.  I want to *know* they are accepting of rights for all people.

I know that I am a dreamer. I’m not the only one.  (To quote John Lennon)

So, because the images of Boston terrorize me, I will not watch. Not because there is no message.  I cannot contribute to the power of terrorists. I cannot make this attack more powerful than Pearl Harbor, 9/11, the Atlanta Bombings, OK City, Columbine, Newtown, or the next thing terrorists plan to haunt me.

I cannot stop believing in people because of what plays on the news.

I will pray for families.

I will remember.

That is all I can promise.

I always try to post a photo (since it is worth a thousand words) but I won’t.  I watched GMA this morning and I wanted to go back to bed.  The images terrorized me, just like they wanted.  Guess what?  No matter who did this, be it a lone sociopath, or a group, they meant to terrorize us.  They meant to have us look at photos, over and over and over.  I refuse to give them that power.

Please, don’t give the terrorist that power.

Please don’t watch.  Please give these families the time they need to grieve. I guarantee, your children don’t need to see it, any more than you do.

Turns out, I’m like that monkey in Outbreak

And that is a good thing for all of you.

Come on, S-T-R-E-T-CH!
Just a little farther.
I know you can do it.

My life has been crazy, I have been trying to make people happy and the world a better place.  I really thought I was going to pull it off too.  Turns out, can’t be done.  Well, maybe it can be done, but we would have to pull together, as a community.  We would have to organize and devote time to this important project.  People aren’t going to do that.

I was talking to Crazy Grandma on the phone tonight and she said the weirdest things:


  • I miss you Sadie.
  • –This felt foreign to hear, usually I get, “Are you still here?”
  • It took me awhile to understand the glitter and Unicorns in your head.
  • –Well, Duh…
  • You taught me so much, I can honestly say I wouldn’t be the person I am today without knowing you.
  • –Evil laughter in my head, yet small tear for her epiphany.

Come on! One hug?
I am totally harmless.

That is when I screamed, “Yeah, no shit.  I am like that monkey in outbreak!  I infected you with that belief the world can be a better place.”

Crazy Grandma said, “No one I work with now sees Unicorns.  They don’t even believe in Munchkins.”



Antibodies CAN be evil.

“It’s not surprising.  I may be as contagious as the monkey in outbreak, but I am only one person. You guys keep building up antibodies.”

But it IS nice to be known as the girl who helps people change how they think, be it a small change, it is STILL change.

Kathleen Madigan performs in Nowhere, WY tonight

I peed a little this morning when I realized it was Friday.  I have been waiting for almost a year for this.  Kathleen was originally announced last year to be performing in May.  She had to reschedule due to a TV appearance.

The universe has totally blessed me this year and I have met AMAZING people, and some celebrities.

She is already in town.  I have been watching her Tweet about our sleepy little town, and the public access TV we have.  I hope I run into her at the liquor store over my lunch hour.  Fingers Crossed!!

I can’t wait to find out what happens tonight.

I have not written. I’m not dead…

Jake is.

I haven’t written lately, as the whole family has been greiving and saying goodbye to so many things.

We said goodbye to summer.

We said goodbye to the College boy.

We said goodbye to childhood homes.

We said goodbye to lifelong friends.

It has been very emotional and a little tense around the Wilson home for some time now.  It will get better this week.  I had a story I so wanted to tell you.  It is mostly written, now I just have to find a way to tell the REAL story.

About two weeks ago I received a FB status update from KT and the Sunshine Band, a family friend that said, “if you have known and loved my Dad, now is the time to come say goodbye.”


I wasn’t ready for this.  

KT’s dad is the man I have spent more than 1/2 of my birthdays with.  I showed up with a birthday cake to celebrate one last birthday. The next day he celebrated his wife’s birthday for the last time, and the next day… Thanksgiving.  A couple days later, he left this world.

It was a full week for his family too.

So this is only about me from the perspective that everything is about me.  They are dealing with a whole lot too. Keep Jake’s family in your prayers.  As we went through this process Jake’s family asked me to do the eulogy.  I got to sit down and be privy to a family I idolized my whole life.  What I learned in the process of writing the eulogy did NOT make me any less envious of the life they had lived.

From outside: idealistic.  Nothing I uncovered would lead me to believe that it was not.

What I did uncover?  A request to save the grieving widow from someone in her family and maybe a leaning towards video piracy.  Nothing scandolous by any means.  Damn!!

I was told I would have full credit for the blog to write what I found out.  THANK BLOG!!

One of Jake’s grandchildren told me he may (or may not) have all of her choir concerts on video.  Video was strictly forbidden, the school wanted you to buy theirs.  But I suspect Jake may have owned all of Abby’s concerts, no matter what the establishment said.

I am on Jake’s side on this argument. I don’t hear well, sometimes I need to tape what I am hearing just to make sure I hear it correctly later. Had I invested in a tape recorder, I may have never spent two years in the  starter kit marraige. C’est La Vive.

The family asked me to write a eulogy and MAKE IT FUNNY.  Umm, when I started writing this, I thought I had to GIVE it in a catholic church.  I am pretty sure I could go DIRECTLY to hell, do not pass GO, go directly to hell for that.  The night before the eulogy they told me no, Brother was doing that.


So here are the two jokes I wrote for the wake… that I did not use, because I am learning… it ain’t all about me.

Jake’s Son told me he joked that between one of his colleague’s father’s and his father 2/3 of the world’s internet bandwith may have been taken up.  So I pondered that fact, (Jake was known to his family as Papa Jake) and realized that would make the perfect Madonna video parody, thank BLOG he didn’t have twitter!  Otherwise it would have been:

Papa’s got tweets –I’m in trouble deep.

Papa’s got tweets, but I have made up my mind –I’m keeping my pen name.

Not to be outdone by the 2nd joke I wrote for the wake.  Jake’s wife had asked me to come and protect her from the one boobed aunt. Until the night before the wake I never met the one boobed aunt, (let me say, that is all I knew, the one boobed aunt.  I have one of those myself.)

to KT and the Sunshine Band….

ME: your mom asked me to protect her from the “one boobed aunt”
that sounds like the plot of the fugitive 2.

ME: Really officer!  It wasn’t me, I saw her briefly!

ME: It wasn’t me, she was here!  In this general AEREOLA! (Note: I did not put photo here AND YA’ll laughed at Chandler Bing’s 3rd nipple.)

Yeah, pretty sure I am going to Hell anyway.

Kathleen Madigan is making the trip to Nowhere, WY

Over the past couple years I have met some very cool celebrities, like:

Paula PoundstoneSophie B. Hawkins and Lewis Black.

I told you the stories about meeting them.  I don’t know if you guessed, but I can get a little star struck in public.  Not creepy stalker, Paula Poundstone restraining order aside, I just am in such awe of these people and their talents.  I love performing, something I never thought I would do.  To have the opportunity to watch people who are truly gifted execute their craft is inspirational to me.

What you need to know for this story to work is: Lewis is really good friends with Kathleen Madigan.  Kathleen Madigan is getting ready to do her show in Nowhere, WY.  When I met Lewis Black, I of course invited him to sleep on my sofa, because why wouldn’t I?  I don’t think he was truly amused or considered it, but right after I published my story on the adventure that was meeting Lewis Black what would show up in my Tweets?

That’s right; Kathleen was looking for a spare room in Nowhere, WY.She promised to behave.Neither her nor Lewis Black responded to my tweets saying I had already made this offer.  I have a dog and she can smoke inside for all I care. What do you think the odds are I will get a chance to meet her too?


I lie to my kids everyday… It’s part of my charm and their therapy later. They need to learn to overcome obstacles.

Turns out, I’m an obstacle.

Originally posted on Daddy Drinks:

Parents lie to their children. That’s a fact of life. Some do it better than others, but we all do it. Could you imagine a world where parents were honest with their kids?

“Actually, Timmy, there’s a really, really good chance that you won’t be an astronaut. Considering your complete inability to understand long division, you’re probably going to sell cars when you grow up. Now let’s talk about Santa Claus.”

So we lie. Mostly about the little things. My parents were great at it. The most famous lie my parents ever told their kids happened during a move from Georgia to Texas. My parents told their kids that it was against the law to transport a dog across state lines.

Brilliant. The dog was a pain in the ass, they didn’t want to take him along. I understand this now, and it serves as inspiration for my own suite…

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