Category Archives: Tamara Hancock

#SocialChallenge Day 30: List 10 things you would hope to be remembered for…

“She was such a NICE person…”

Tamara Hancock

When I’m gone, I want people to remember me fondly. Which they will, I’m sure… because I’ve never been a tyrant or mass murderer or anything extremely evil like that. Those guys always get a bad rap after death.  Obviously.  But there are many assholes who fly under the radar.  I’ve known a few myself.  You know, those people who are complete assholes, treating people like shit, beating their wives, abandoning their children and generally pissing people off their entire lives… and when they’re dead, people say, “Oh, no!  He’s gone?  Oh, he was a nice guy.”  Uhm.  No, he wasn’t.  He was a prick.  You don’t have to say nice things about him just because he’s dead.  He was an asshole, he treated you like shit and you’ve never had one nice thing to say about him until now!  Let’s be glad he’s dead!  Because, he wasn’t ever NICE!

Luckily, I’m not one of those assholes.  I’ve lived a generally good life and plan to continue doing so until I can’t anymore.  I have made an effort to NOT be an asshole when being one could have been a lot easier.  So, hopefully, when I’m gone, people remember that about me.  And, these things, too:

  1. She believed in “giving back” and helping, mentoring and counseling others.
  2. She was half-blind, but she never let that stop her from seeing the bright side of things!
  3. In a world of idiots, she had a lot of common sense.
  4. She told it like it is and people appreciated her for her frank and open, deep conversations. (I think that’s a song, but whatever.)
  5. She was knowledgeable.  And, what she didn’t know, she simply faked.  That took balls.
  6. Her family was the butt of many jokes and crazy stories, but she loved THEM more than life.
  7. She wasn’t that great of a mother, but she was better than many and she did her best to give her kids a good, fun and memorable life.
  8. No one really knows WHY her husband loved her so much, rumor has it she gave fantastic massages and was a mean pillow-fluffer.
  9. She learned early in life that things were just THINGS… they didn’t define who she was, and living up to society’s ideas of what makes a person seem “successful” was total bullshit.  She minimized her life, reduced stress, shot the proverbial finger at the judgey assholes who mistook her for a failure, and she really lived happily ever after.
  10. She loved beaches and fruity adult beverages more than any other person I know.  Hopefully she passed away at an old age on a beach, in a hammock with a book in one hand and a piña colada in the other.

#SocialChallenge Day 29: What do you think people misunderstand most about you?

Apparently, I’m not mean or fun…

Tamara Hancock

I think that since I’m pretty outspoken in my writing, people mistake me for being mean.  But, Hubber disagrees.

Hubber: People who read your blog, think you live a fun, exciting life.  But really, you’re pretty damn boring.  They don’t think you’re mean.  They think you’re fun.

Me: When do I ever brag about having a bunch of fun and exciting shit going on in my life?  I believe I’m pretty clear about how UN-FUN my shit is!

Hubber: It might be the snark.  You’re snarky in your writing, but in real life, you’re pretty tame.

Me: That’s complete bullshit.  I’m snarky ALL the time.  I just don’t talk to a lot of people on a regular basis… so they have to read about it.  But, that doesn’t make ME un-fun…it just makes the regular, everyday shit I do un-fun.

Hubber: Sure it does.

Me:  Maybe I’m UN-FUN because I’m married to someone who is UN-FUN!  Maybe I shoulda married Terry Crews when I had the chance.  I bet I’d be fun if I were his wife!

Hubber: Oh, because THAT could have actually happened.  He sucked as President Camacho in Idiocracy, by the way.

Me: Everyone sucked in Idiocracy.  Even YOU!

Hubber: You’re dumb.  And, I’m done with this conversation.

So, I’m back to square one, here.  I guess Hubber and I both have a point.  Either people think I’m mean, or they think I’m fun… and they’d be mistaken on both counts.  I’m actually a pretty nice, boring gal.

#SocialChallenge Day 28: What is your love language?

Acts of Service

Tamara Hancock

What is my love language?  Wait.  What is my WHAT?  I don’t even know what this means.  Are you asking me to tell you what sweet nothings I want Hubber to whisper into my ear when we’re in the throes of coitus?  For instance: do I prefer dirty talk to moaning?  Or maybe you want me to tell you which spoken language I find the sexiest… Like, Italian… or Spanish… or French… or (god forbid) Mandarin?

To be safe, I just asked for clarification on this topic before this post turns into some X-Rated short story that earns me millions of dollars.  Hey.  Not a bad idea.  But, I’ll save THAT for MY OWN blog.

Anyway, as it turns out, I’m supposed to do ANOTHER QUIZ.  And, although we all know how well that worked out for me last time, I’m a team player… so I took the quiz.  The result of the quiz is supposed to indicate what you need to be happy/fulfilled in your intimate relationship.

I had to take the quiz three times, actually – because I kept hoping that the results would show that I needed GIFTS to be happy.  Turns out, my love language is “Acts of Service”.

The EXACT words used in my results were:

Acts of Service
Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an “Acts of Service” person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: “Let me do that for you.” Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter. Finding ways to serve speaks volumes to the recipient of these acts.

I guess I can’t argue with it.  I do love to be treated like the royalty I obviously was in my former life.  I like household/family responsibilities to be shared equally; but I wouldn’t complain if Hubber’s load was a little heavier than mine.  Although I LOVE getting gifts of flowers, or perfume, or jewelry, I do enjoy gifts of clean laundry, spotless floors, empty sinks, stain-free toilets, freshly cleaned and gassed-up cars a LOT more.

Hubber already knows this (he’s just a lazy mofo like I am).  But, I have a hard time ramming it into the heads of my children.

Oldest Spawn: Mom, what do you want for Mother’s Day this year?

Me: A spotless kitchen, clean carpets, and sterile bathrooms.

Oldest Spawn: Ugh.  C’mon, Mom.

Me: I could not be more serious.

Littlest Spawn: That’s too hard, Momma… what if I just draw you a picture of me cleaning a toilet?

Oldest Spawn:  That’s dumb.  But seriously, I’d rather just buy you something.

Littlest Spawn: YOU’RE DUMB!

Me: Ok… buy me a MAID SERVICE!  … And, ear plugs…and vodka.

I wonder if THIS guy works for a maid service in my area?

#SocialChallenge Day 27: What is your favorite part of your body and why?

Smells Like Spleen Spirit

Tamara Hancock

My favorite part of my body would have to be my spleen.  In most people, that poor guy is so unappreciated.  Everyone is usually bragging on their shapely legs… or their bright eyes… or their luscious lips… or their voluminous hair.  And, unless you’ve got a ruptured one (or mono), the sweet spleen is often over looked.

But not mine!

I appreciate my spleen for all it does – filtering my blood and whatnot.  If not for my glorious spleen, I’d catch pneumonia regularly.  And, who knows? I might be dead by now without it.  So, THANK YOU, Spleen, my Queen of Clean.

I’m also fond of my left boob.  But, that seemed inappropriate for this blog.

#SocialChallenge Day 26: What popular notion do you think the world has most wrong?

Do Blondes Really Have More Fun?

Tamara Hancock

The notion that blondes have more fun has always rubbed me the wrong way.  And, it’s not just because I’m a brunette.  It’s because I’ve known a lot of blondes in my life, and they don’t seem to have any more fun than the rest of us.  As a matter of fact, most of the wild and crazy gals I’ve known in my life have been brunettes.

Hubber: Maybe the brunettes you’ve known are over compensating for not being blonde.

Me: So, you’re saying blondes DO have more fun and that brunettes try to compete with them by PRETENDING to have more fun?

Hubber: That’s not what I’m saying.  I’m just talking about the ones you know.

Me:  Well, I’m talking about ALL!

Hubber: How can you make an assumption about ALL blondes, or brunettes for that matter, if you don’t actually KNOW them all?  Wouldn’t that mean you’re making up your own uneducated notions?

Me: Are you saying I’m just as wrong for not thinking blondes have more fun than the people who actually think they do have more fun?

Hubber: I’m just saying your opinion is dumb.

Me: What?  Are you calling me dumb?

Hubber: No.  I didn’t say you were blonde!  Although, sometimes, I wonder….

Sometimes I wonder why I ask this guy anything at all.  I also wonder if blonde hair is a result of genetic brain malfunction during conception?  Also.. are blondes genetically predispositioned to have larger boobs and less body hair?

These are the things that keep me up at night.

#SocialChallenge Day 25: If you could have dinner with one person in history, who would it be and what would you eat?

Keats and Yeats are on Your Side, While Wilde is on Mine…

Tamara Hancock

If I had dinner with Gandhi or Mother Teresa, we’d be eating grains of white rice with our hands or toasted crickets – so, I’m definitely gonna pass on those guys.  Then there’s Margaret Thatcher who would most surely have me over for tea and crumpets at high noon.  Needless to say, she’s out, too.  I’m not a proper Englishman with manners and whatnot.  I could consider Elvis – who will serenade me and feed me grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches.  Not bad, but the conversation will not be stimulating enough for me.

So, I guess I’ll settle for Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

Ol’ Oscar will surely provide a feast of all things yummy and delicious.  The spread will include roast beef with all the fixins, baked goods to my heart’s content, along with fruits and berries.  We’ll sip on sweet, iced champagne, his favorite – and now mine!

He’ll tell me all about the Importance of Being Earnest and the Portrait of Dorian Gray.  And we’ll talk smack about the Queen and all the rubbish that goes on within the royal family. We’ll slander the name of the Marques of Queensbury for having been the cause of Oscar’s imprisonment and early death and we’ll make voodoo dolls of all our enemies.   Then, we’ll get serious, and he’ll give me tips on living life without a care in the world and how best to be shameless and daring – his early philosophy of pleasure.

The End.

oscarwildequoteSome of my favorite Oscar Wilde quotes include:

“How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.”

“Women are made to be loved, not understood.”

“Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever then go.”

“I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I’m saying.”

“True friends stab you in the front.”

“Always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them so much.”

“I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.”

“I love talking about nothing.  It is the only thing I know anything about.”

#SocialChallenge Day 24: Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.

Describe your family dynamic of your childhood vs. your family dynamic now.

Tamara Hancock

The Early Days

Growing up I feel like my family barely tolerated one another.  We all kinda lived in our own little worlds….and on occasions when our worlds collided, all hell broke loose.  My parents kinda set the mood for this shit, though… so I blame them for the years of therapy SOME of us have had to endure. (Just kidding, Momma!  Not.)

My Dad was not a loveable guy growing up. To be brutally honest, he was FEARED.  All he had to do was look at us crooked and we peed our pants.  He was “in charge of the boys”, though, which was FINE by me! But, it made my brothers pretty assholey to us girls since they thought we were getting off lightly most of the time.  I tried to fly under the radar, but my sister was a natural born tattle-tailer, so she got the brunt of their bullying.  I saved her when I could, but if saving her meant that I’d get pinned to the ground and farted on, I let her suffer. I guess that made me an accomplice to their torture.

My sister and I had my Mom – she was “in charge of the girls”.  Looking back, I feel bad for my brothers because they didn’t get the “love” we got being under my dad’s rule.  But, at the time, I was selfish and grateful that I was a girl and got to answer to my Mom.

Although my Mom was purely loved, she was also a freaking slave driver.  Back in those days she worked.  And, if it was Summer time, she made a list of chores that had to be done before she got home.  And, these weren’t just easy chores, like “wash the dishes” or “take out the trash”.  We had to scrub baseboards on our hands and knees …empty kitchen cabinets and scrub the walls inside …wash windows (we had 12-ft ceilings) …wash EVERYONE’S clothes …scrub the restroom down …sweep and mop all the floors …etc.  Think Little Orphan Annie in a roach/spider-infested haunted house where the dust never seemed to go away no matter how many times you swiped at it with a dust rag.

Aside from the trauma of my childhood, we did have some good times.  A couple of times a month, out of the blue, Dad would say, “everybody get your shoes on!”  And, we didn’t dare ask where we’re going, we just did as we were told and jumped into the car to see what adventure he would take us on.  Sometimes we’d end up at a State Park …sometimes we’d end up at Malibu Grand Prix (video games, putt-putt and race track) …sometimes we’d go out to eat …sometimes, we’d just drive around all day, munching on beef jerky and sipping on Big Reds.

Current Day

Nowadays, we love and appreciate each other more.  My Dad was replaced with some alien life form that lets small children push him around.  He actually HUGS his grandchildren.  I’m not sure who this man is or where the hell he was when we were kids, but I’ll take him over the drill sergeant we had growing up.  Mom is the same, except now she runs things and makes the big decisions in their household.  She gave up organized religion and is “good without god”, so we don’t get blessed when we sneeze anymore, we don’t give a shit. Those blessings were overrated anyway.  All her grandkids adore her – as do her children.  Us siblings tend to get along a lot better now that we’re adults.  My sister and I are very close and talk regularly.  She’s one of my biggest fans so I like to bash her in my writing any chance I get.  Hey – it’s not my fault her life is what good writing is made of.  Or mediocre writing, as the case may be.  And, the boys?  Well, they are a little distant, but when it comes down to family get-togethers, we’re all there and we all have a great time in each other’s company.  We all outgrew the bullying.  We’re friends and we know we can count on each other when it’s important.  We get together for everyone’s birthday (except Dad’s – because he doesn’t like celebrating), the major holidays, and for many of our children’s milestones and activities.  We’re not perfect, but we’re all that we’ve got so make the best of it.

#SocialChallenge Day 23: List your top 5 hobbies and why you love them.

There’s a Fine Line Between “Hobby” and “Mental Illness”

Tamara Hancock

Ya’ll can’t see me right now, but I am laughing my ass off.  FIVE hobbies?  It’s laughable, really.  And, if you knew me you’d be hic-laughing to near unconsciousness right about now, too.  And, I’m sure Hubber read the subject line of this blog post and immediately thought, “She can’t possibly have shit to say about THIS topic!”

I guess my point here is that I don’t have many “hobbies” in the conventional sense – due to the fact that they require time, nerd-ery, energy and dedication….all qualities in which I am highly lacking.

Over the years, I tried to pick up some hobbies.  I collected hippos for a while.  I learned to sew.  Kinda.  I learned to quilt. Kinda.  I started collecting mounted jackalope heads (still only have the one).  I learned to make jewelry.  I took up photography.  I learned to knit.  Kinda.  I learned to crochet.  Kinda.  I make my own laundry detergent (that counts, right?).  I tried my hand at container gardening.  I learned how to read palms…and tarot cards.  I dabbled in witchery.  I made toilet paper roll art.  I painted.  I drew. I practiced yoga. I dragged the family around geo-caching.

Nothing really stuck, though.

Maybe my hobby is finding hobbies.  Or, maybe my hobby is starting crafty shit and never finishing it.

I’d like to be able to say that my hobbies include ghost hunting, scuba diving, robbing banks and other exhilarating activities.  But, alas… I am one boring-ass mofo.  Suffice it to say, I don’t have any hobbies.  However, here are some things I love to do:

  1. Read. I learned to love reading from an early age.  Growing up, my mom took us to the public library every week. And while my brothers were busy catching up on MAD Magazine and my sister would opt for the picture books and puzzles, I would find a quiet corner and get lost in another world.  When I was about 10 years old, I picked up my mom’s copy of Gone with the Wind and I never stopped reading novels since.
  2. Travel.  Work travel sucks because there’s rarely free time to take in the sights – and when there is a little free time all I want to do is sip on adult beverages or sleep.  But, traveling for pleasure is wonderful!  I love being a tourist… visiting new places and learning local cultures.
  3. Loaf.  As in lounging – not bread. (Although, I do love a nice, fresh loaf of french bread, too.)  I like to veg-out in front of the TV… or in bed with a good book… or on the beach with a piña colada.  You get the gist.
  4. Float. I love feeling weightless.  So, when I’m in a pool, I will float and float and float.  And, I’ll ask Hubber to carry me like a newlywed because I’m so light and dainty!
  5. Eat.  That’s why I’m soft around the edges.  I will try anything once.  Except for insects, dung, dolphins, dogs, cats, rodents, skunks and buzzards. (I reserve the right to add to this list in the future.) Even fat girls have standards, y’all.

Oh, man!  I just thought of a real hobby.  I collect beer bottle caps!  Oh, yeah.  And, actually, I’m smart about it because I employ (without pay, or course) others to collect them for me, too.  I currently have 1,568,265 (or so) in my possession.  Someday, I’m actually going to use them to refinish table tops and make millions of dollars!  Like I planned to do 5 years ago.  It’s a process, people.


#SocialChallenge Day 22: Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?

Tales of a Brain-Dead Mother

Tamara Hancock

Where do I see myself?  In a mirror.  Unless it’s broken or fogged up, in which case I might try to see myself in a reflection of a window or, better yet — in a crystal clear lake on an overcast day.

Seriously, though… the youngest spawn asked me this same question the other day.

Spawn: Hey, Mom, what do YOU want to be when you grow up?

Me: I’m already grown.

Spawn: Well what are you? And don’t say “writer” because you don’t write books.

Me: Not all writers publish books! Duh!

Spawn: Maybe you should be an artist.  You’re a great drawer.

Me: Pffffffffft!

Spawn: I want to be a famous singer.  Since writers and artists don’t make lots of money, you’re going to need me to be rich so that I can take care of you when you’re old!

Me: Right on, sister!

Maybe I should write a book about raising a smart-mouthed, overly confident 3rd grader who drives her mother to insanity at least twice a day.  I’ll call it Tales of a Brain-Dead Mother.

The youngest spawn has such grand aspirations and thinks very highly of herself. It will serve her well when she’s older.  But me, I never really aspired to greatness.  And, now, as an adult, my children have literally sucked the life out of me and have left in their wake, an over-sized, middle-aged, wild-haired, blob whose goal in life is to end up laid out on a beach somewhere with a perpetual piña colada in hand.

That being said…

In 5 years: I see myself traveling around the country with Hubber in the Mini-Winnie on a book tour.  I will have finally published my first book!  There’s no way I’m banking on the youngest spawn’s vocal cords. That girl is tone deaf, I think.  I’ll make it back to Texas from my tour just in time to watch my oldest spawn walk across that university graduation stage.

In 10 years: I see myself getting the youngest spawn situated in her college dorm room.  As soon as she’s all set, Hubber whisks me away on a Mediterranean cruise where we’ll spend a year in Europe, finally able to see the world!  It’s important for us to get the hell outta dodge as quickly as possible so she doesn’t decide she wants to move back home.  We’ll come back to the states after our travels just in time for the oldest spawn’s wedding day!  She’ll marry a professional NFL linebacker who will spoil her rotten so that she doesn’t have to work or beg us for money anymore.

In 15 years: I see myself retiring early, having published at least 3 books. Hubber and I will build a tiny house somewhere in the Florida Keys where Hubber will run a sailing excursion for tourists while I hang back and tend to our tiki bar.  The youngest spawn will be going BACK to college (under penalty of DEATH from her parents) after a failed attempt at “America’s Got Talent.”

#SocialChallenge Day 21: If you could have one superpower, what would it be and what would you do with it first?

The Mutist

Tamara Hancock

If I could have a superpower, it would have to be the power to shut people the hell up.  Remember that 1983 Twilight Zone movie that had 4 short stories?  One of the stories was the one where John Lithgow is on a plane at night and sees someone on the wing of the plane and freaks out.  Remember?  Well, there was another story in that movie where a little kid had powers to “make stuff happen”… and one thing he did was remove his sister’s mouth.  Like so:

I want to have the superpower to do shit like that!  But, I’d be nicer than that little freaky kid.  I’d let people keep their mouths.  I just want to be able to look at them and telekinetically make them STOP talking whenever I feel like it.  Sure it’d be cool to fly… or to see through walls into the dressing rooms of professional football players… or to have super strength… or to be speedy fast.  But, none of that crap compares to getting people to SHUT THE HELL UP on command – and without duct tape.

Their mouths would move, but no sound would come out.  That would make me happy!

The first thing I would do with my superpower is inflict it upon my youngest spawn.  I think you know me well enough now to know that this gal cannot stop yammering to save her life.  She even TALKS IN HER SLEEP.  If we could go an entire day without her asking for shit, or whining about the unfairness that is life, or how the “zombie is creepin’” on her MineCraft character, or how she is “famished” or “parched” or starving to death for the umpteenth time, or how she wants to have a sleepover, or she wants to go here or there or everywhere… well, that would be heavenly.

And, I don’t want this smartass heifer to find a loophole in my superpower.  She can’t learn sign language or use electronic devices or sisters, cousins or friends to do her speaking for her.  My power will be GREATER than that nonsense.  She will have to SHUT UP for as long as I deem sufficient.