Being on my own again is wierd. I hate it. Its not that I don't know how to be single, lord knows most of the time that I prefer it. I am just not good at it anymore. I used to enjoy my time to myself. I could sit around the house and wear something old, something borrowed, and something blue without caring what I looked like. I could eat cookie dough and lay on the couch drinking Dr. Pepper right from the bottle. (Sexy picture I know!) I could sleep until 2 in the afternoon on the weekends without some jackhole telling me that I am waisting the day away. My pug could sleep on my neck and snore right in my ear without someone telling me that it was distracting. This fabulous life that I used to know vanished completely on December 8th.

Now I cant sit alone in a room without picking up the phone to call or text someone and it is usually a person of the opposite sex. I am looking for something or someone to replace the gigantic hole in my heart. I know that, I am not stupid. I think what pisses me off the most is that I have become insecure. What the French? That is so lame! I have NEVER been insecure. I have always been oddly confident! These days I cant stand to be alone and I am rarely sleeping on top of that. I think if that if I had to calculate how much sleep I have had in the past two weeks I would average 4 hours per night. Some nights I do not sleep at all.

I thought after my father passed away that I was handling it as well as to be expected but now when I look back at my rapidly deteriorating behavior over the past 3 months I see that it is only a matter of time before the wind is completely knocked out of my sails.

We all know what guys think with most of the time and I think most of us have come to accept that. I know I have. Girls are different though. I would like to think of myself as the kind of girl that doesn't run completely on her emotions but instead manages to slip in some good judgement from time to time. However in the words of Juno, I really don't know what kind of girl I am.

Well it's official, Brett Michael's tour has Finally ended. ( I know some of you are jumping for joy) I woke up yesterday morning and I just could not look at him anymore.

Things started to go down hill rather quickly over the past couple of weeks. We used to spend almost every day together then it went to just every couple of days. Finally this last time he made the long haul from Saginaw to Plano he was there for less than 24 hours. I could not get him out of my house fast enough!

Looking back to when we first met, it amuses me that the things that I once thought were sexy are now some of his most annoying qualities. On our first date I was so enamored with this man that I could barely sit still. I thought he was sex on a stick and I could not stop staring at him. I remember telling my co workers and friends how nervous I was around him. I was fascinated with his mannerisms and the way he spoke. Even the tiny scar under his left eye sent me to places in my imagination that I had not been before. Cut to a little under a year later and almost everything he does makes me want to high five him in the face!

Don't get me wrong, my relationship with Brett had it's purpose. It was not all bad, he was there for me during a time that no one else could be. I needed 24 hour attention after my father passed away and Brett was there to listen and to help in anyway he could. He packed a bag and moved in with me for most of December and all of January. I will always have a special place in my heart for him because of that.

Brett had a good run and he made for some pretty interesting blogs but in the end I knew that if I did not let him go at that very moment that I would soon grow to hate him and he doesn't deserve that. As I say at the end of any relationship that does not work out, he will make someone very happy one day it just isn't going to be me.

So I was sitting there watching TV with Brett Michaels last night when he begins to tell me the most disturbing story I have ever heard. I think I may have even thrown up in my mouth a little bit.

We were watching an episode of Saving Grace when the subject of cremation came up. Grace, the main character, accidentally ashed her cigarette in someones ashes because they were in a beer can. Classy! Any how, I made the comment that this was a little disturbing and that I found it very odd that someone would put another persons ashes in a beer can. His response was shocking to say the very least. He said "We rolled my mom up in a joint and smoked her." My mouth fell open and I could start to feel the vomit rising in my throat. I somehow managed to muster a mere "What?"

He explained to me, with a strait face might I add, that this was his mom's last wishes. I began shooting off question after question somehow trying to make sense of it all. His only response or defense was and I quote "We didn't smoke all of her" as he gave me the what is the big problem eyes. I found myself becoming ill and I could not stop staring at him.

As I was trying to process the information that had just entered my brain I felt myself move away from him a little on the couch. I could tell by his mannerisms and by his tone that he did not think that there was a thing wrong with this. His mother passed away when he was 17. He was young, grieving, and obviously not in his right mind. But how in the french do you smoke your mom???