The Things I Want…


My life as of late has been one series of misfortuneate events after another.  Just when I thing I’m on point, something comes in and kicks me in the shin.  Considering I’m five feet tall, it’s pretty impressive that life can get low enough to reach my damn shins. I find it catastrophically wrong that I can have such karmic retribution. Yes, I am aware I’m inventing words as I go.

My whole life has been unorthodox.  I was raised by parents too young to have children who battled their own demons. I procreated with two men unable and/or unwilling to assist in the day to day livelihood of their children. Then I overcompensated for their failures, by overindulging my children in the hopes their need for therapy would be lessened.

So far, to show for my disregard for conventional parenting, I’m knees to elbows in angst and disrespect. I just love knowing that each and every day, I’m busting my butt for a life I can barely tolerate. All of the things I want to do, or achieve, will never see the light of day as long as I continue to be a mute bystander in my own life.


So, here are a list of things I want to do before I die.

– I want to learn to play a musical instrument. 
– I want to walk down the aisle in a red wedding dress with red rose petals on the ground.
– I want to go to New Orleans and play tourist.
– I want to take a boat out on the ocean and swim with dolphins.
– I want to spend an entire summer visiting amusement parks every weekend.
– I want to drive a car, on a race track as fast as I can.
– I want to build something sustaining with my owm two hands.
– I want to give a motivational speech in front of a large group of people.
– I want to write every day.
– I want to fall in love without listing their flaws in my mind every time we speak.
– I want someone to love me, and set me as their priority.

One day, I will have a life of my own.

Xoxox Kristy

30 Day Torture Challenge

I read a pinterest thing a moment ago that stated: Nothing feels better than a finished workout. Let me tell you something about that absurd statement. I spent 20 minutes doing sit-ups, crunches, leg lifts, and planking. Want to know how I felt about finishing a workout? Sweaty, breathless, uncoordinated, achy, and fat. If I’m going to have all of those  feelings and emotions, I’d rather be having sex, at least then you get an orgasm out of the deal. If all exercise ended in a mind blowing orgasm, the entire planet would work out hourly. It’s all the build up – but no reward. Now you can tell me that it’s its own reward or some nonsense like that, but I’m here to tell you, to an overweight person, it’s not. exercise

My friend sent me this app for my phone, 30 day fitness challenge. Its easy, user friendly, not too obnoxious. I started this ab challenge. Now mind you, I’m only on day 4, but the fact is, I finished 4 days which is probably a new record for me to exercise four days in a row. I’m going to share an image with you, that you’ll never be able to forget. I’m lying on my back, knees bent, getting ready to do a sit up. Now, I don’t own a sports bra, I’m not sure they make them for boulders. So I’m doing this is a push up bra because I buy my bras based on where they put my girls when I go out. I like them high 😉 This is completely ineffective when you lie down, however. So there I am, trying to do a sit up, my boobs fall right out the bra and into my throat. Is it possible to suffocate yourself from a sit up? Sadly, I’m afraid I’ll find out if I do much more of this.

So, I’m doing these sit ups, unable to breathe because my own body parts are choking me, the dog thinks its hysterical to come over and lick my face. I’m sweaty, red faced, grunting trying to do just one more… then when I finish, I lie on the ground trying to catch my breath. Do I feel good? Um. Heck no, I’m trying to crawl to the shower so I can get ready for work. So, Pinterest lies.

Exercise is torture, bras are the devil, and I am Egor in this body transformation.



Running Into Exes

dickfaceLife is one cosmic collision after another just waiting to startle the next dumb schmuck moving along in its existence. I have a love-hate relationship with the men I’ve dated in my lifetime. One, I will probably never speak to again for a long as my heart still beats. The flip side to that is one, I still speak to daily, love him to pieces. For the most part, my relationship with my exes is pretty normal. I hate running into them, I hate the weird reminders of our time together. Most of all, i hate acknowledging that ‘my God’ I make some ridiculous decisions. I mean, really. I dated him. ON PURPOSE?!?!?

What the frack was I thinking. I think this is where so much of my problems with dating comes in. If I can make THOSE choices, how the hell can I trust myself to find one good, non crazy, man? I have this ‘scared to succeed’ mentality. Went the devastation route in the past, already have the souvenirs, and do NOT want more. I know so many women who just would rather be alone than not bother with all this nonsense. I understand the though, even appreciate it, but unlike them, I’m a glutton for punishment.

badchoicesLast week I ran into an ex. Well, I didn’t speak to him, but my children did. He was working at a fair that we went to. Want to know what an asshole I am? My first thought? Oh so you do know how to get a job, fucker. Then it was complete emptiness. I literally couldn’t give two shits where he was concerned. I’ve ran into a few exes and had that level of nothingness. Did I ever love any of them? I don’t think so. I don’t know that i’ve ever truly been in love. Or even if I believe in love. Ex thoughts make me neurotic.

Ever ran into an ex and it wasn’t awkward? I’d love to hear your story.



Vivian of The Light


Meet Vivian:
One of my favorite characters, Vivian, decided she wanted a little bit of attention today. This woman is a debutante in red leather heels who moonlights as a demon assassin. She falls in love with Uriel, an Archangel. Their union creates Madison, one of the lead characters in The Light. Madison had no idea her mother was anything out of the ordinary, let alone a demon.

Parents these days…

(Madison) “This is disturbing. So who is my father? Radcliff, not Andrew,”

(Vivian) “Oh that fumbling boob! I hired him to be your father because statistics show that human children need both a mother and a father. I could have took you to hell for all the therapy bills it cost to raise you.”

(Madison) “I didn’t go to therapy,” Madison said in confusion.

(Vivian) “Not for you, for me! You were the weirdest thing. A child of light and dark. Insane dreams that manifest reality, so self-contained you didn’t need anyone. I never even got to throw you a coming out party!”

You Had A Job?

“You were hunted by an assassin?” Madison asked, her mind hadn’t gone much further than that.
“And then he married her,” Vivian said as she sauntered in the room with a grin on her face.
“You? You are the assassin? But you freaked out when you broke a fingernail cutting tomatoes!” Madison exclaimed.
“They are poison tipped, I couldn’t have you getting sick,” Vivian said.

Mother Daughter Time… in Hell

“Spill.” Her mother did love to get right to the point.
“You spill first,” Madison retorted.
Vivian laughed and shook her head. “No second rate demon is going to screw with my baby girl. I’ve always wanted to raise some hell with you… figured the best place to do it was here.”
Wow. Well, that actually fit in with her agenda. “Can we raise hell and snatch a certain living human from the clutches of a second rate demon?”

Meet Vivian and the rest of her crazy family in The Light by Kristy Denice Bock.




Falling On My Ass

Success-31I’m a goal oriented woman. I enjoy the chase of success just as much as the recognition it usually brings. Secretly I’m still that four year old singing obnoxiously into her hairbrush waiting for mommy or daddy to tell me what a fantastic job I did. Okay, so maybe that’s not true, I’ve never actually needed accolades, and have no idea how to act when I actually get them. This goes both in my work life and my dating life. It’s just weird when people notice.

I took a step back from dating, hence the lack of blogs about insanity in the making. I did this because it was going well. Not the dating, that was a train wreck. The blogging was going well and for some reason being a successful writer is my Achilles heel. When something starts to show signs of success, I pack my bags and go home because there is no stability in writing. Or so I tell myself, even though I know dozens of writers who are actually successful enough at their trade that they have quit their jobs and focus solely on writing.

Part of me knows I’ll never do that. I need to socialization of where I work. I spent at least five years in my living room being dragged out by my best friend, just to see other life forces at Walmart. Home has always been my security blanket, but it is also my self imposed prison. Even now, with the friends I’ve made, and the great experiences I’ve had, I know that if left to my own devices and I worked from home again, I’d never leave my house.

Computer GenerationEverything is an internal fight with me. I know I would be great if I just put myself out there more. If I actually just wrote. I put myself out there at work, and it didn’t kill me. Stability vs unknown, apparently in my head stability wins.

Here is what I would like to do. 2-3 blogs a week. They don’t have to be about dating, I wouldn’t mind featuring authors again, though not the normal blurb and picture hoopla, that’s boring. Author visits – Kristy style. 1 Literary Goddess show every other Sunday afternoon. A daily writing goal of 500 words toward something I’m actually intent on publishing.

Now i don’t know if I’ll accomplish these goals today, next week, or a year from now, but I am going to try.

Oh and I do plan on resuming dating. I need sex in my life.



Life lesson: How Not To Ask A Woman Out

I know, I know, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve blogged and I’m sorry for that. I fell into a micro depressive state and thought my life was spiraling out of control, but in reality, I just experienced a series of hiccups. Financially I simply can’t seem to stay one step ahead of disaster, but by the Grace of God, Sisters, Best Friends, ex-boyfriends, I manage not to be carted off to some debtors prison or at the very least have my car repo’d. Even when I put a halt on my own dating adventures, the adventures seem to be brought to my doorstep.

racktexteditedThere I was today, minding my own business when out of the blue, I get a random message from a POF member with a particular talent. The remarkable ability to piss me off in moments. I know that cleavage is showing in my picture, but news flash. I AM ALLOWED TO SHOW CLEAVAGE AND STILL BE RESPECTED. So I’m simply not the kind of woman you say I want to go out with you, nice rack. If a person took ten seconds to get to know me, they’d understand that fairly quickly. It would save everyone the trouble, time and wasted typing. Me and POF are no longer friends. 

dateproperTo be fair, though I did kind of get asked out on a date by a nice man. So I thought I’d show the world what it should look like if you actually wanted to go out with me. Contestant #1 said I had a beautiful rack. I’m not  a damn deer. So I shall not be going out with said man who can’t seem to tell the difference between a female and a doe. 

Contestant #2 however, has kept in conversation with me for a few weeks now. We’ve stayed in the ‘getting to know you’ zone. Never once had a sexual conversation, and he’s never once asked me what the size of my chest was. Should timing work out, I would be quite excited to go out with him. 

Now I know that some people view my feminist views as out dated, but it pisses me off that I can’t embrace my body without it turning into something for a man to fodder over. I struggle with the the thought, well, I must have wanted the attention, I did post the picture with cleavage showing. Secretly I must have wanted them to comment on my chest.  Sound familiar? I’m so tuned in to the way society thinks that I’ve forgotten my own rights. I’m a human being, and worthy of respect. I don’t deserve to be degraded, and I get to define what makes me feel that way. 

It would never, ever occur to me to go up to a man and say those jeans are tight, nice package. I want to go out with you so I can jump right on that.

Ugh. This is me signing off with irritation. 



Fate Schmate, I need a Date

So, as some of you may (or may not know) I write books on the side when I’m not knee deep in dating disasters. I’m horrible at promotion because I rarely think to do it. Today, one of the people I work with came up to me and told me how engrossed they are in a book I wrote a few years ago. It geeked me out on so many levels. It’s one thing to have the satisfaction of writing a book and it being published. It’s quite another to have someone tell me how much they enjoyed it. After all, I didn’t write it for myself, I wrote it for someone who wanted to be entertained for a few hours.

Much like these blogs, I write them more for others than I do for myself. While it’s cathartic to vent about the epic failures of my quest for a lasting relationship, I also want to entertain others. I’ve had people tell me that it’s inspired them to want to blog, and others tell me that they have my blog sent right to their email so they don’t miss a single moment. Those are honestly things I live for in my writing career. I want to be someone that makes others laugh.

Someone asked me today why I’ve been quiet on the blog front. I think that I’ve just been licking my wounds. I love meeting people, but it’s lame to meet people that I can’t connect with on any level. I’ve met some decent men, don’t get me wrong, but not ‘for me’ men. Currently I’m talking to a few still but haven’t really done anything or gone anywhere in a while.

Contestant #1- This is an ex-boyfriend. To quote Miranda Lambert, ever have a sore in your mouth that you just have to bite? He’s mine. Love him to pieces, but we’re horrible at the whole relationship thing. I still talk to him a few times a week. I’m not emotionally invested in him, but he’s been in my life so long that it would be like severing a limb.

Contestant #2 – The unhealthy choice. This guy has heartbreak written all over him. He’s frustrating, he’s completely emotionally unavailable. He barely has time to sleep let alone for me, and yet… I keep that door open because he makes me smile. I will never pick this man in a relationship, but eh, I like free coffee.

Contestant #3 – This is a man that hit on me at a bar. Nothing ever came of it, he went his way, I went mine, but every blue moon we connect via text. He introduced me to a world I’d never seen before. Get your mind out of the gutter, dude carried alcohol in his trunk so he didn’t have to buy it at the bar. This amused me because its genius and I never thought to do it. Then my friend and I went out one night and she had a bottle of Kinky for us to make stops at her car. Cracked me the hell up.

Contestant #4 – Talked on the phone with this guy for almost three hours. If you know me at all, you know that’s obscenely unheard of. I hate talking on the phone. He didn’t have a weird voice, his words were clear and engaging. He calls his daughter his side kick which I thought was adorable. All in all he has good guy stamped on his forehead. Good guys make me nervous, hell if I’d know what to do with one.

So my goal is to go out within the next ten days. One date, doesn’t ultimately matter with who. I’m so tired of hearing, stop looking, it will happen. I’m not looking for a pair of shoes, I’m looking for a life partner. Why on earth would I trust fate to know what the heck was good for me? Cause I assure you, me and Fate have some differing opinions on what works and what doesn’t. I’m going to keep searching until I find the one person who I click with.

PS. Go buy my book: The Light, by Kristy Denice Bock. If you like my blog, you’ll love my book.



Push Up Bras and Granny Panties

So I was rummaging through my dresser drawers as I hopped on one leg trying to finish shaving because my best friend reminded me that my legs were starting to look like the rain forest, and I realized a few things. I have some pretty awesome bras, that I bought a few years back, and it’s seriously time to update them. They’ve been through the ringer and look the part of a badly abused victim of the washer. I remember the first time, ever, that someone bought me matching panties and a bra. It was at a Christmas party, and I had never owned such a beautiful set. (While I was wildly embarrassed to get them at Christmas from a cousin, I will always be epically grateful because it started this love affair with undergarments.)

So this year, after I survive back to school and the Holidays, I’m going to reinvest in the addiction that I seem to have neglected. This all started because I had this ridiculously long phone conversation yesterday about being a grandmother. Okay, so that wasn’t what it was about, but it was something discussed. I’m thirty-five, and a grandmother, who is dating, and trying to reintegrate into the society of the dating world, which is mostly made up of with 20 somethings, or creepy old men. I’ve wrote out these adventures for you so you can commiserate in my journey. The end game, as always, was to find someone I connect with on some cosmic level, get married, and ride off into the sunset… or at least a lifetime of good sex. I’d be okay with either because I’m flexible like that.

So I’m going to take my fabulous bras, with the matching panties and continue to explore this crazy phase I’m in, even if I am someone’s grandmother. Brian doesn’t care, pretty sure he doesn’t give two shits if his grandmother dates or not. That being said, I wouldn’t care if *my* grandmother dated. This is not an age thing, it’s a mentality thing. Just like I wouldn’t date that poor 21 year old (see Facebook), I’m not going to let the thought of getting older make me stop chasing what I want.

I would like to share my crazed interaction with “John”. John is a victim of society my friends. He spent at least an hour telling me how awful todays women are. The negative vibes rolled off his messages in waves that made me want to cleanse my soul. If I ever start to sound like I hate men, please God bring me back to reality. I never want to live in a world where everything sucks that badly.



My Love Affair With Lists Continue…

Sometimes, I don’t like myself when I’m talking to someone. I’ll find myself being this whiney little bitch waiting for some crumb of affection or attention. I set myself up for these long agonizing glances at my cell phone to see if he’s messaged me back. I will never understand why I give someone that power over me. I’m a strong, independent woman who is fully capable of spending the rest of my natural life alone. That is not my preference, but I can actually do it. So why would I settle for 1/3 of someone’s attention? It’s not even like there’s some grand love affair going on. I’m disgusted with myself, and that settles that. The day I can’t look at myself in the mirror with pride is the day I stop chasing insanity.

How many of us go through this? You meet a guy, he’s fucking awesome. Everything about the honeymoon stage of meeting someone is new. The first kiss, the first touch, the first time he looks at you with an intensity that makes your toes curl. Those are things that make dating worthwhile. I live for those moments. Then reality creeps in, and you realize that your dream super hero is just a man in Batman footie pajamas. You know what though? I like Batman footie pajamas. I like comfort and familiarity. I just can’t seem to find that someone that doesn’t make me neurotic.

So since I’m a fan of lists, I’ve decided to lay out what I’m looking for, and then you all can tell me if I’m going to spend the rest of eternity with cats and bad hair days.

  1. Higher than average Intelligence. This is my kryptonite. If a man is smarter than I am, it makes me drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
  2. Motivation. I usually equate this with ambition in a work force, but hell motivation at all would work for me these days. Don’t feel settled, in anything.
  3. Don’t be addicted to anything illegal. Don’t *do* anything illegal that garnishes more than a traffic violation. Don’t be addicted to anything that alters your basic state of mind. Basically don’t do drugs, think about drugs, sell drugs, be an alcoholic, etc.
  4. For God’s sake, talk like a grown up. HRU is not sexy. Gurl is cringe worthy. I am not baby girl, thickness, shorty, doll, and seriously, should you call me a snow bunny, I’ll forget you exist. I’m a woman not a child.
  5. Honesty. Real honesty. Don’t tell me you’re not married so I can find Facebook pictures of your wedding day. I’m not the morality police, nor am I all that innocent. I understand life and situations.
  6. Be over your damn exes. That’s it. It’s simple.
  7. Strength. Internal is what I am referring to. (External is hot though, not going to lie.) If I’m dead wrong, tell me. If I’m dead wrong in public, support me, and then when we’re alone tell me.
  8. Be a man. If I wanted to date a woman, I’d just do that.
  9. Don’t bash anything. People full of hate make me ill.
  10. Take care of your shit. If you have kids, support them. If you have bills, pay them.
  11. Take care of your damn self. This includes showers, brushing teeth daily, and dressing age appropriately.
  12. Don’t be a greedy lover. Take the time to find out what I like in bed because I give that courtesy. Nothing will turn me off more than expecting me to do something because you know I will.
  13. Finally… someone who knows the balance between regular conversation, smothering and flat out ignoring. Get to know me enough to know the damn difference.

I really should just make this blog my online dating profile.

I really think I’m looking at an existence of loneliness because my dream man doesn’t exist.



Are You #&%# Kidding Me?

I’ve talked a great deal about respect. It’s important to me, it should be important to everyone, but as a society, we seem to accept that people are not going to respect us, and that’s just okay. Other than the longest run on sentence I’ve made in a while, it really should disturb you that people are so callous towards others. I’ve decided that the only thing a man and a woman (or other variations based on your preference) are capable of talking about is sex.

Sex is an insanely boring conversation. Sure you can find out a few things here and there with words, but actions tend to garnish better results. (Please know I’m referring to discussing before doing. By all means women, be verbal in bed and let him (or her) know exactly what you want so you can finally stop counting ceiling tiles or faking the grand finale.) I got super annoyed last night because the date potential turned into a sexual prowler. He steered the conversation and kept it at sex for quite some time. Then when my answers weren’t what he wanted to hear, he tried to educate me on how I was wrong and subsequently being a tease. I kid you not, he basically said that he knew my responses better than I did, and that I’m pretty much mean for not doing what he thought I should be practically grateful for the opportunity to do.

I cannot even tell you how much it made me want to tell him about himself. The part that annoyed me the most was I was preconditioned to defend myself. Then I realized that I didn’t need some oversexed zealot to validate my choices. If I never want to do something again in my life, so be it. If I never wanted to have sex in my life, again, for as long as I lived, that’s my choice to make. If you know me at all, you know I’m pretty wide open so none of those things would ever happen, but it still pisses me off that I fought the urge to tell him why, to explain, and to make him understand my choices. I don’t do that to anyone, why would I do that to some random ass stranger on the internet.

So no actual dates in a while, it’s getting pretty boring. I have to buy my own coffee and lunch these days. I got hung up for a hot moment on someone that ultimately isn’t a wise decision. I had to remind myself, over and over again, that making good choices was part of being a grown up. I can’t very well hold these men I’ve been talking to the high standard I set for myself, and then act like they do because someone tells me I’m pretty. Being a woman is hard enough, commanding respect is a cycle of perpetual labor, but remaining faithful to who I am as a human… it’s very hard to do that. It’s easy to go with the flow and be like everyone else.

So, love me, or hate me, that’s completely up to you.

Respect is what I deserve because I will give it to you. Always. If a person can’t understand that, I guess I’ll be dateless, husbandless, and life partnerless for the rest of my addiction to oxygen. I will not be less than someone’s first priority.