caughtintheXfire

Hey...

How's everybody? This has been a looong assed however-many-hours-it's-been-since-I-was-here-last.
Eric is doing good. Swellings down, he's got an appointment to see a dentist Friday and either get the offending tooth yanked then, or Monday. Either way...he's okay, so far, so great. Thank you, God.
The kittens are also fine. She only had two. They're both white with gray spots here and there. They kinda look like lil tiny gray-spotted Holsteins or Appaloosas.
I know...I can hear ya's....."PICTURES!!!!!" I'm gonna try. Be really helpful if'n I had a camera and the set up for this stuff...BUT. I've got a load of other pictures to send to Paul, so...I can always take more and send them, too. THAT kinda camera I do have. So...it may take a bit, but I can do this. I'll also just go on and take pictures of everything around here...EXCEPT ME...and send them, too. (Most of the pictures already being sent are me, so hush...lol)

The biggest reason I haven't said much, besides being a little busy, has been because of how that 'being busy' shit has made me feel. It involved a judgemental female, ya see. Sooo...I'm feeling like total shit, a bit.

One way or another, I'm gonna figure some shit out here. I do need input from you guys, though. First, let's do it this way....And, if I don't get comments from anybody on this, I WILL make it an email and mass mail it to some of ya's, sooo...
I really need to know these things. I have to define myself, for my own sanity and I want the truth, because it can't possibly hurt me more than I do.

Ready?

Define "white trash". You can include "trailer trash", too. What is that? WHO is that? What makes a person "trash", white, trailer or other kinds?

And...if a person IS 'trash', is it permanant? Is it like a reverse 'birthright' or is it something you can change?

And...whose opinions matter to you guys about yourselves? Who do you guys hope you don't look like 'trash' to, if you do sometimes feel like that?

Yeah, this is a big one. But, I feel like if I can chop, cut, hack and burn my way through this, I may come out better than ever on the 'other side' of this depression. Maybe.
Hell...can't be worse, cause 'worse' is dead and dead ain't even scary anymore.

Hello babies!!!

Lamar is having her kittens!!!! I knew she was wantin' something earlier, so I set her up a clothes basket with a big ol' towel in it and put it under this desk. She's been in it all day and I just heard a baby squeak. Grabbed a flashlight and sure enough...number one is here!

I'll keep ya's posted...

(Oh yeah...and I cruised right on through post number 666, too. It was that last one...) (Except, now that I think about it, my period got here AND that fossil-fucker, Joe, called today, too, so see? There is TOO evil in that number...lol)

I'mina go finish becoming a Grammy again.
I'll be back...
Peace

Update @ 1:11am...Number two just showed up...

Still here...

Just remembered this....

1. Pitbull::great dogs, moron owners.
2. TD::friggin' stupid football, unless, of course, Dallas is playing.
3. Carter::Poor dumb bass-tid...then, of course 'liver pills'.
4. Japan::John Lennon/his Japanieces
5. 50::good golf score, bad number of cops to find at your door.
6. Streak::Ray Stevens and Ethel.
7. Rifle::through paperwork, immediately followed by: the sound of a round being chambered and me yelling "Hey, Hunter!!! RUN!!!!" then taking aim (while deer giggle)*
8. Trap::legholds/animals or children/men...either way, they suck.
9. Easter::Barry White-sounding bunny in the Cadbury Egg commercials.
10. Mitt::Big hands.

http://subliminal.lunanina.com

*The opinions expressed right now do not necessarily reflect the managements usual opinions....much. PMS RULE IS IN EFFECT. (And, I'm still hoping Dax KNOWS I do not mean him...lol)

Well hell...

Again...I is a dork. I didn't bother noting where I found either of these tests when I saved 'em last night....sigh.

So...if ya recognize it from your site, let me know and I'll do the linkage.

I taste a bit like Almonds. Mmm, the taste of almonds - anathema to many with nut allergies, and a bad sign for many more, as my taste is not unlike that of cyanide. Am I good or am I poison? A risky thing to guess about. What Flavour Are You?

Cheese Test: What type of cheese are you?

Heh. Hadda go snag my own picture of American cheese for that one. I used their code, which was supposed to have the cheese included, but...it didn't, so I did it myself.

Well...we're still alive...(so far)...

He's feeling better, the swelling is down quite a bit. Now, or as soon as it's down a bit more, he's gotta get an appointment and get a tooth pulled. Lawd, I hate that shit....ugh.
In the meantime, it's getting to be Ibuprofen time for me, too. (He was told to take it if he had a fever...) Wish that was what I needed it for, but nooooo...course not.
Stupid cramps. Stupider hormonal attitude. Stupidest idea ever, even having these things...especially me. Ain't had a kid, ain't GUNNA have a kid, therefore, need no uterus, cramps or other associated horseshit.
I did laugh my ass of at this, however.
So, neither of us is 100%, but we are both fine. Thank you, Lord.

In other news...I think my next prego cat is getting ready to drop her load. She's been stuck to me and meowing at me, when everything she could possibly ever need from food, to a clean potty, to $3000 worth of cat toys is all available.
Soooo....we'll see.

Alright, this is gonna make me sound nuts, I suppose, but...I'm watching the second Brady movie and the fake Mr. Brady just got done tripping from the 'shrooms Alice used in his spaghetti sause. Well...not only am I fucked up for even having taped this movie (and admitting it), I also love that "Good Morning, Starshine" song that plays while he trips. Whoever sang that has one hell of a voice.
Forgive THIS heretical opinion, but...we need more songs like that again these days, as opposed to the purile garbage that passes for music. Most of it is just shit compared to that song and the eternally classic rock from the 70's. There's just no comparison. Plus, I'm convinced that if people (young people too) would just LISTEN to it, the great 70's guitar rock, they'd LOVE IT and turn away from this horrible excuse for music we're stuck with these days.
(Great. Now, I'm not only 'a woman who is pissy because of her impending period'...I'm an OLD woman, blah blah blah. Siiiigh.)

Aaaanyway...

I've got a few tests in draft mode, so I'm gonna post them, then probably go.....be crampy elsewhere for a while, I guess. I dunno.
One thing's fer damn sure...between the cake, the cookies and the pudding, there's enough chocolate in this house to get through just about anything...lol.

I shall return.

Peace.

I'm back...

Actually, I have been for about two hours. (Three now, after typing all this...)
After it was all said and done this morning, I think I went to bed around 7, 7:30. Got up around 2:00pm and...

Eric is at the hospital right now.

Less than 15 minutes after I got up George and the boys took him over there. I didn't go. I was no where near awake enough to handle any of this, plus there's some stuff here that I'm doing that's actually useful (for a change), plus I'm a tremendous huge wuss about teeth shit, dentists....ach. Nope. I'd rather just drop dead, thanks. It'd be lots easier and probably much more pleasant.

Instead of being there, nauseated, I'm here having face-to-face conversationS with Bill and being reeeeally nice. The kittens needed to be fed, the dogs all wanna go out, the horse needs his stuff done...and, when they get back, if they haven't stopped on the way home, we hafta run to the store. I forgot three things yesterday. Well, only two, really...the Manwich and teabags. But, at this point, it'll be easier to just grab hamburger there, than go through thawing out what's here. Maybe while that's doin', I'll get the two kids into doing the eggs. We'll see.

Okay...anything else I can use to delay having to type the dreaded words describing what's being done to Eric? Hmmmm....poop. Can't think of anything.

Okay...here goes...and be advised I may just pass out trying to hafta spell this out. I feel dizzy enough verbalizing it quickly, let alone this drug out way....
*Deep breath*
They're....draining...his...tooooottthhh....

*Fanning self rapidly while eyelids flutter*

(I swear...between this shit and what Antisocial is going through, I'm gonna frow up, I thwear...)

God.
But, yes...they are doing...that. To him. Now.

*Swallowing hard*

I am remaining calm.
See?

Ahem.

Anyway...this is what's going on and this is what I'm doing. Well, typing is what I'm doing, but it's all a part of it. Believe me. Anything to keep my mind occupied. 'Cause see, if I don't, then I'm gonna take a little walk out into the woods, chew down a tree with my bare teeth (teeth again) and then freak...meaning cry my ass off. I sooo hate it when this shit happens to him. It's never anything little, either. He's had a swelling involving teeth before...he had an ear infection last summer that required multiple trips to the clinic and last winter (not THIS one...last year) he had to have hernia surgery.
I have a hard enough time with this 'fixable', spaced out stuff. I can't even begin to imagine trying to have to handle his riding bulls every friggin' week. Even if he lived, unlike Lane Frost, he could still bleed and get hurt. Crippled, even. Hearing about his wrecks, or even just dismounts from successful rides, has a worse effect on me than fingernails drug across a blackboard. I writhe in my seat (and SOUL!) hearing about the blood and the point of contact between him and the bulls hooves or horns. It kills me.
And, people (including me) thought I had a death wish?
Pffft.
Not like that, I didn't.
Not that I blame him. Believe me, death WAS better than what he was doin' when he wasn't trying to die strapped to a ton of pissed off steak.

Aaaanyway...*another deeep breath*.....I hafta go remain calm (heh) while feeding the horse and other assorted 'busy work', so I won't have a stroke.

I'll letcha's know what I find out, when I find it out.
Oh...and I already told Bill to expect him to be off tomorrow, too. I asked if he needed a Doctor's note, which Eric oughta be getting anyway, or was this (I made a 'bulging' motion at the side of my neck) enough?

*Beep, bepp!!*
(Nextel radio...hang on a sec...)

Okay, they've just started...AN I.V.!!!! and when that's done, they'll be coming home and I'mina go fall out someplace now...*shudder*
An I.V.??? Jeez, man.

*Death-grip on arms of chair to help maintain equalibrium during ensuing headrush*
(This is MUCH better when chemically induced, lem'me tell ya...)

Holy shit.

That poor Baby. I can't even believe this shit. Why does shit always happen to him? He is such a sweet man. He does NOT deserve this...this painful kinda crap. Why can't it ever be a simple puke-fest or something? gawd....

Anyway, Bill said if he didn't feel good, of course he didn't hafta (or shouldn't is what he said) work, but his eyes were lookin' like he'd like to have the note, but didn't have the cajones to look me in the eye and say so.
Good.
I reminded George to get one anyway.
I'm weird that way. If he had said "Yes, please do", I'd have hated him for it. But, since he restrained himself and used (semi-) common sense, NOW I'll go on and make sure he does get it.
I'm not sure what to call that aspect of me, but I'm like that A LOT about things...especially things that relate to Eric.
If anybody has any theories about it, I'd loooove to hear 'em. Brutal hontesy is welcomed. Simple brutality is not.

In related news, George and I decided to hell with going to the store. None of the above mentioned items are necessary enough to delay Eric's getting back here and making his 'nest', so, the kids can just have some more spagettsa..ya know? Second-day spaghetti is the best spaghetti, anyhoo. Plus, there's still cake and the cookies, so they'll be fine.
They gotta start getting ready to go to be home by 7:30, 8:00pm, so....
You know.

Okay...I'm gonna go for now.
As always...
I shall return.

Peace.
(And, a little for Eric, too, if I may request it of ya, God. Thanks.)

Update @ 6:05p...I just finished out the living room. Now, whenever he does get here, he can get his shit, his remote and whatever else he wants and get all nestled into the big lounge chair and just veg.
I'm getting ready to go take care of Storm, shortly.
They're not quite done yet. Last word was: still waiting for the IV to finish AND...the xray to come back. Now, THAT can't be good.
Betcha the xray was easier, though. I hate that at the dentist's office. "Here. I want you to take this CREDIT CARD and JAM IT INTO YER ALREADY SORE TEETH AND GUMS, then stay that way, while I run screaming from the radiation, til I decide to mosey on back in here, sometime NEXTWEEK. Oh...and...don't gag! Cheerio!!"
Bastards.

Additional update: Heaven help us all...JON just radio-ed me to see if I wanted him to get Eric anything at the store! And, I WAS NICE AGAIN!!! WOW!! (Who am I?) lol...
He's gonna get him an industrial sized can of chocolate pudding. (lmao...)
I realize that may sound a little twisted, but, first of all, we're thinking 'invalid food' and, second, at late as this morning, swelling notwithstanding, Eric was eating those cookies. The boy loves his chocolate. What can I say?
I already have fake mashed potatos here and I suppose we can go get him some 'cream of' soups, once we figure out which ones he wants, but this is...*gulp*...sweet of Jon to do.

(I AM in a parallel universe, right? I must be. I just told John "Thank you" because he just told me he's getting Eric the ton-sized can of pudding AND jello....wow...lol.)

Okay...so...the living room is ready, invalid food is being obtained and they could be on their way back, altho, I think George'll call and let me know that, too. He's been really cool about keeping me up with what's going on.

I'm not sure if I wanna hear what the doctor said or not. I have this feeling it's gonna start with "It's a DAMNED good thing you didn't wait any longer to get here...." and get worse from there.

This poor guy.
Such a sweetie to have such awful shit happen to him. (But...ya know what? In all honesty, yes, it really could be worse, eh, David? *grin* He knows what I'm talkin' about. This is 'fixable'-even if it was too friggin' close for comfort on getting started fixing it-. Ex-wife shit often isn't...at all. So...... ya know?)

I'm outta here again.
I'll be back again, too.
New post, ext time, though.

Peace.

Runnin' on empty...

Tea's made, wash is 95% done, cake is iced and in the frig and I have the last batch on cookies on deck, while the next-to-the-last ones get done.
I can't wait to lay down.
Much more of this, I'mina need an ambulance to drive me to bed.

Talk to y'all later...
Peace

Oh hey...wanna know which, out of the dozens of tollhouse cookies I make each time, is my favorite one?
The last one...but not because I'm tired.
The last cookie is my favorite one because it's the one comprised of the scrapings of the bowl and is therefore a little bigger and usually chipless.
I love that one.

Hokay...

Let's see if I can remember all this...
First of all, I am currently cruising into my 26th hour of wakefulness, without any chemical assisstance at all. Not even that "Ephedra Free" shit. Just caffeine, nicotine and Lord only knows what the rest is...just this energy and progress.

Yes. I have made lotsa progress.

Now...can I remember it?
Let's see...

Fell asleep from about 7:30pm til midnight Friday night. Got up, came out here and screwed around, reading my blogroll, til around 7:15am. That's when a friend of mine called and said they'd be stopping by in a bit.
Alrighty, then...Best git my ass in gear, huh? In about an hour, I did the dishes, straightened up the kitchen, dining room and bathroom, took out the trash (alll the way out to the dumpster, too), cleaned, fluffed and deodorized the catboxes...what else? I dunno.
All I do know is that when they got here, they never even made it into the house, because E & G were working on the 'Bird. Yeah, the 'new one'. (It's acting all gaggy and sputtery and shit....sigh.) Anyhoot, everybody stayed outside.
When I got back in here, I got back ON here. A little while later, I'm informed that Bill, the guy who usually drives me nuts, has volunteered his pickup to go get the kids for the weekend. George was supposed to have gotten them Friday night, but, thanks to the Birds new neurosis, he didn't. So, since the kids are coming (again) now, now I have more shit I need to get done. (Besides the shit I already had...like making damned sure the insurance payment was mailed and postmarked with the right date and all...)
After George and I got done running to the P.O., he left for Joisey and I got busy on the house again.
By the time they got back here (4:30/5:00 or so), I had everything (standard cleaning-wise, not "spring" cleaning-wise) done, except all the wash done and some stuff in the living room.
I even rotated my onions. (Meaning I finally threw out all the old ones with bad attitudes and kept the good ones, of course.)
So, I did do some detail crud, but mostly, I managed to get it back to the point from which knocking out 'spring-cleaning' one room a day or so, isn't such a monstrous proposition anymore.
When they all got back, G & I went to the pharmacy to get Eric some Oragel Max. Poor sweetheart has a toothache-thing going on that leaves him glassy-eyed-in-pain lookin'. I swear, I've seen that look in the eyes of cows who either wished they could be, or in fact were, dead in the not too distant future.
Why, fer the love of Gawd...WHY do these things hafta start up 15 minutes after the last dentists office has closed for the weekend? Only was it'd be worse is if it were a looong weekend. Actually, I'm sure it IS one, to him.
When we got back from doing that, George laid down to get rid of a headache he had developed earlier. I kept cleaning. So, around 7:00-ish, we went to the grocery store and spent just under $100. Got home, I made spagetts widda meat ballssss and garlic bread.
Cleaned up the kitchen from that and baked a cake. Oh, yeah...I also boiled 16 eggs for 'the boys' (all 3 of them) so they can color eggs today, in case the boy boys aren't here for actual Easter. If they are, I figure we'll get 'em some 'outdoor toy' kinda stuff in lieu of candy. Today, it'll be colored eggs and the cake and I think I'm still gonna make toll house cookies here, in a few. That oughta be good.

Okay...so where I am now is: House is 95% there, standard-cleaning-wise...(still need to vacuum the living room.) Mopping is done, dishes are done, catboxes are done, wash is getting done, cake is cooling, my pot of tea is ready to be made and I gots cookies to do.

Oh...have I mentioned I have my kitchen windows open right now? I keep catching these breezes...Man, I'll tell ya. Just a lil while ago, I was feeling like Fido's ass (grinning to Rob). All I could think was "Sleep. Lay down. Body HURTS." Then, I came back out here and felt that breeze...aaaahhhh....
Now, if I could just hear some tree-peepers and crickets....that'd be like a shot of pure adreneline (or however da hell it's spelled. I'm too numb to lift the dictionary and too tired to care...lol).
By the way...what was with those smart-assed teachers in school? You'd ask how to spell something and the first they'd say is "Look it up."
YO! DICKWEED!!! If I could "look it up", I'd be able to SPELL it, so wouldn't have wasted yer precious time in the first place...m'kay? Pin headed punk-asses.)

Aaaaayway...I guess I oughta go make the tea, rotate the wash loads, ice the cake and bake the cookies.
THEN, maybe, I'll go to sleep. Be nice to get there by around 5, 5:30, sleep til noon, then go play outside. Then, later on in the night, after all the daily crap is done, it'd be cool to be able to get my shit organized like I want and start the link-fest stuff and ping storms.

Then, Monday, I could start the one-room-a-day "spring-cleaning" shit.

Yeah...I could divide my blogroll into six sections. Then, every day...I clean a room and link a section...clean a room, link a section. Maybe some day, I'll even get to where I can start doing those 'Symphonies"-kinda things....yeah...

Well, I ain't gonna be able to do nunna that, if I don't get up and do what's waiting to be done now, I suppose, so....

I'm outta here.
Peace

P.S. We've just gone into hour number 27, by the way...

Note to self:

I have no idea what she's talking about-or whom-buuuut:
DO NOT PISS OFF JETT.

What I reeeeally wanna know is this: Who was the thievin' assnugget and how is it humanly, remotely possible that this is something they needed to be told?
I mean, Jeez, if you can read well enough to be able to find her and know that she writes wonderfully, beautifully more-than-well enough to wanna steal her shit, how the FUCK to you not know that to do so is inherantly suicidal and STOO-PID?
Probably the same way people pass driving tests and get licenses, yet have no earthly idea how to DRIVE.
Hmmmm...

Tell ya what....even her (self-described) 'manifesto' post is an entertaining, enriching, creative, informative, intelligent, well said and hilarious (a coupla times) thing of beauty.

You go, Girl.
(For the record, every time I think of you, I think of one of your posts about your ex and his "Little Miss, Little Miss, Little Miss can't be wrong" routine...lol. Your description of yourself that day is my mental "Jett photo"...and it's perfect.)

GAK!!!

I'm only 9 (8 now) posts away from that dreaded number....
You remember...the one I wouldn't let my old Boss adorn any cows with.
The number between 665 and 667.

Think it may be time to find a really gorgeous Jesus picture, now.
Or a crucifix.
Something.

Hey...is there a way to manipulate the post numbers and just not have that number at all?

Frankly, I'm surprised I wasn't born on June 6th.
In 1966.

(Actually...that mighta been kinda cool. I'd be three years younger AND I wouldn't be turning another year older quite so soon.)

Three seconds later...

(On second thought...nevermind. That woulda made me a Gemininny, which my retarded Mother was, Dad's current wife is (in fact those two wives of his have the same exact birthdate) and I'm schitzo enough now. Twins? Me?
God Forbid!!!)

But of course!!

Leave it to me to wind up with a duck with HORNS!!!

Found at David's place.
(Thanks Hon!!)

Ya know...

After having had an IM convo or two about the situation that lead to my two previous posts, it has been decided (by me) that it's a reeeeally good thing that I'm not the head nitwit what be in charge with anything of importance.
I'd just fuck it up.
I'm too reactionary.

Now...I'm not apologizing to that troll, who is such an obvious bottom-feeder, but...Jeezus. I need to just calm the hell down some, I do believe. I mean, fer Chrissakes...the man is a LAWYER. If he can't subpeona records or handle this bitch legally, what the hell am I gonna be able to do? Hell, I need a lawyer to spring to my (Sweetie's) defense, not to be trying to 'save' one, myself.

Siiiigh.

Plus, it just goes against my grain to aid and abet someone as cool as Tig to become a persecutor. I hate persecutors. All of 'em, except Vince Bugliosi. He is the ONLY ONE I've ever heard/read say that they have the 'luxury' of dropping charges if they feel they're baseless. The rest of 'em don't seem to care much, one way or the other. Only thing most of 'em worry about is re-election and doing whatever that takes...consequently, the truth is often left mangled and bleeding beside their road to world domination..re-election...however ya wanna say it.

That being said...I'll never just walk away when it looks like to me someone I like is being bullied or attacked. Tig has always been a sweet guy, a gentleman and funny as hell. He did not, does not and I doubt he ever will deserve that kinda horseshit from some chickenshit little asshole.
Politics suck and this shit is why.
Women are thought of quite often as game-playing little back-stabbing whores and this bitch and ones like her are why.
Both, assholes and politics, should be abolished. (Now...why does that sound redundant? Hmmm...)
Won't be, but oughta be, just the same.

Fade out to the opening notes of world class genius John Lennon's "Instant Karma"....

Besides.....(yelled over the ear-splitting volume level of aforementioned song), no matter how bad my life ever seems to get...no matter how shitty of a day I may ever have, at least I have the peace of mind and heart to KNOW I'm not that kinda piece of shit.
Thank you, Lord, for THAT.

And another thing....

This is an email I fired off to Yahoo about that bitch. Here's hoping they actually DO something about it....

To Whom it may Concern,

Thank you very much in advance,
my info

C'mon, bitch...Ya wanna play, we'll play.
My rules, you lose.
Idiot.

Anybody wanna out a self-righteous, malicious, fact-twisting, politically motivated skank-twat?

Here's the info. Go for it. As I find more, I'll post it.

Domain Name hyperusa.com ? (Commercial)
IP Address 64.6.35.# (ARIN)
Language Setting English
Operating System Microsoft Win2000
Browser Internet Explorer 5.01
Mozilla/4.0 (compatible; MSIE 5.01; Windows NT 5.0)
Time of Visit Mar 25 2004 3:53:36 pm
Last Page View Mar 25 2004 4:20:28 pm
Visit Length 26 minutes and 52 seconds
Page Views 2

The reason for wanting to know any and all info about this CUNT (and that is EXACTLY-to the very letter-what this person is) is because they are BEGGING for it by attacking a fellow Munuvian who (for some odd-assed reason) has decided he'd like to be a persecutor...ooops, I mean 'prosecutor'.
I know, I know..."Us? You? Help a prosecutor?!?!?!"
Yes...ONLY because it's Tiger.
Besides, think of the good karma you could bank offa doing a good deed for one of those shits guys.
Especially this one.
This shit-slingin' little cum-dumpster thinks it's SOOO much fun to ferret out info on people offa the Internet, so...let's. Okay?

If ya wanna see for yourself, just go look at the drivel this chickenshit is spewing.

Just be careful if ya have a hair-trigger gag-reflex.

I have a (ridiculous, unrealistic, utterly unattainable) dream....

Theoretically, it's pretty simple, actually.
I just wanna be the Donna Reed of the new century.

By that I mean I want to get this house done, be able to cook cool dinners most every night, be able to enjoy having animals in my house without having to hopscotch my way through a turd and trash laden mine field at least once a week and to be able to blog and do linkfests and ping storms and shit.
I want to get my life organized.
I want a place for everything and everything in it's place.
I want to be able to go ride the horse without wondering what destruction is being wraught by these devil-dogs from hell.
I want the dogs outta here. Outside, another state...whatever.
All the cats, the two guys, the bird, the rabbit and the rat don't make as much of a mess COMBINED as those stoopid dogs do.
I AM SICKOFIT!!!
Every fuckin' time I get my balls up to do this shit, one of these assnuggets has to do something that just kills it for me. April, the outside dog anyway, got her ass banished back outside full-time by being the one who spread a bag of trash all over hell's half-acre the other day.
This morning, George and I ran to the gas station down the road (about...3 miles, maybe) to get milk and bread. We were gone about 15 minutes, tops. BUT...when we got back, I walked into yet another el-destructo friggin' mess, perpetrated by the psychotic bitch known as Daisy. There was no where near as much shit spread around, but she still managed to get in the running for "First Strangled Dog" by chewing her way into the cat food bag.
She got her ass beat for that one.
Fuckin' punk.
It's not like there's not dog food sitting right THERE, with a huge water bowl on either side, fer Christ's sake. This dog is just psycho about food. She acts like she's starving or something and has to shove her face into everything. Believe me...she's not starving. She's gained weight since she's been here. Of course, it wasn't hard to get her to do. I merely did with her the same as I do with all dogs..."There's the bucket. Go for ir. Get it empty, I'll fill it again. Have fun."
I learned that from Pop-pop. He did the same thing with his dogs. Fill a small bucket or a HUGE bowl with dry food and keep it that way. It works really, really well, too. No fighting, no bullshit and dogs who can eat when they're hungry, as opposed to those poor lil fucker's who hafta wait til it's 'time', then only get 16 kernels of food. How utterly stupid that method is. Hell, that's what Daisy's problem stems from...I know it. When she got here, she came equipped with these little tiny like, yogurt cups, or something with which to measure out her food allotments. I took one look at them and used 'em all right. I put a few oats in one, water in the other and set them under the sink for the mice to keep them outta the cats way.
That's right. The dog was being fed using a container to measure her food intake that is better suited to MICE!!! It's no wonder she acts like all food is the last food. Jesus.
Still...she's been here a while and I watch...I know all the dogs get turns at the food bowl and I make sure if there's something extra in there, I divide it up so they all get some, so there's no reason for this behavior on her part.
Except for the asinine way she was taught before and the fact that I'm loathe to smack animals. I hate that. It'd be loads more fun to whack humans. But, she got her butt smacked this morning, yes she did. Trash and the cat food bag? Oh, hell yeah...that's a butt smackin' offense, for damn sure.
She's still not talking to me yet.
I don't give a rat's ass, either.
Pissant.

Anyway...how the hell am I supposed to be all-Donna Reed-y when I can't get even a decent start? Siiiigh.
I want my Ephedra back, Goddamnitall.

In the last 5 days....

Stat Counter has recorded 560 hits.
Site Meter has managed to notice 246 of them.

If you're using Site Meter to (attempt to) keep (remotely) accurate records of what going on with your site...you're wasting your time.

Just thought I'd let ya's know.

Oh...and I broke 13,000 YET AGAIN.

Progress?...Hmmm....

I don't know how much progress I've made, but...I'm still at it.
Stupid dogs decided to "help" by emptying a trashbag all over the kitchen floor, so that was really niiiice.
I even got to make up a few new cuss words, with that one.
Just got back from the store a little bit ago. Got myself more cleaning shit. And Coffeemate.
Gonna need both...I can tell. If conventional methods of using these things doesn't seem to be helping (REAL soon), my plan is to ingest the cleaners and then, in the throes of the spasms that's bound to cause, I can take the lid offa the Coffeemate and fling it all around while giggling madly and singing "It's snooooowing..." over and over.
(Yeah...I'm losin' it. So? I'd like to see any one person try to keep up with this dirt-possessed, cobweb creating house and it's insane inhabitants without killing a few brain cells. It's just that I only had about 8 or 9 to begin with...)

In other news....Ferris Bueller is cute, Ed Rooney is a retard and if this tape doesn't quit 'bouncing', I'mina throw something. I cleaned the heads and it's still doing it.
QUIT IT, YA ASS!!!!

I still cannot believe that, in addition to his BC, Rob has also to deal with the mental defectives that run Kerr-McGee. It keeps hitting me like a....bird turd. Splat! "Ewww...damn."
Altho...being pooped on by a bird is supposed to be good luck.....Hell, it's gotta be an improvement over being shit on by those assholes. That, by the way, is EXACTLY why I got out of law enforcement/EMS shit. Getting shit on is my second least favorite activity (puking is #1) and I figured, if I HAVE to be shit on to be alive-as seems to be the 'rule'-I'd rather it be done by cows, as cow shit rinses right off where 'people (a.k.a. morons) shit' leaves scars.
Ya know?

Let's see...what else is rolling around up there, except the tumbleweeds and bunny turds? Hmmmm....anything I can discuss in mixed company? ('Mixed', of course, meaning 'sane' and 'insane'...)

Okay. Here's something. Maybe if I blog this, it'll get outta my head and I'll never hafta remember it again. I only think of it every freakin' time I do dishes and it always annoys me...
My Dad's brother Jim is a goof. One time, when I was staying overnight there, I was helping Aunt Elizabeth do the dishes after dinner. She was, of course, washing them in water so hot it would melt the skin offa your hands, so I was rinsing them in cooler water. Stiil warm, just not boiling. Well, Mr.Knowitall has to get involved. He feels the water temp and proceeds to inform me that the rinse water must also be hot enough to melt the skin offa yer hands. "Why?", I asked. "My DAD says that cold water kills suds."
"Yeah", he says, "But, hot water kills grease." To which I didn't but shoulda replied "What kinda lame-assed dish detergent do you use, Dude?" I mean, Jesus (Yes, Unca Jim, JESUS!!!!!), if yer still trying to eradicate grease while you're RINSING the dishes, me thinks ya need to wash 'em again. Dork.
Tell me MY Dad's wrong....bite me.
I still do that, too. Til I'm DEAD, I'm gonna ALWAYS use cooler water to rinse my dishes.
So there...ppppbbbttttt.
(Gawd. That's been buggin' me since I was about 10.)
Sanctimonious nerd.
I REFUSE to believe that one of those two aren't adopted and I think it was Jim. My Dad is so...utterly cool. Unca Jim is so utterly....not. He's not like ANY of his siblings. Or Pop-pop. Not one bit. Never has been, never can be. Used to think it was 'beneath' him and now days, it's too late. Shame, too. The world NEEDS more guys like my Dad. Which is yet another reason I wish I was a guy 90% of the time....sigh.

(Lord GAWD am I trying to put off getting back to cleaning, here, or what? I think right now, I'd rather write about just ANYTHING than go back to that 'gonna-be-hard-won-war'...)

Okay...Why do dogs lick their balls?
Two reasons. Number one...because they can and number two (and more important to said dog), they know they're gonna come lick yer face in about 5 seconds.

Two drunks are sittin' on the curb. A dog sits down next to them and begins to lick his balls. One drunk looked at the other and said "Man, I wish I could do that." Second guy says "Maybe you can, but I'd pet him first."

Two hookers are talking on the corner. The younger one asked the older one "You ever been picked up by the fuzz?" The older one thinks a second and says "No, but I've been swung around by the tits a few times..."

I know..."GO CLEAN!!!!", right?

I'm gonna. In a minute.

What do ya call a boomerang that won't come back?
A stick.

Where do ya find a turtle with no legs?
Right where ya left him.

What do Yoko Oh-no and Ethiopeans have in common?
They all live off dead beetles.

Didya hear Evil Knievel, or however the frig ya spell it, is gonna make a comeback? Yeah, for his latest stunt, he's gonna run past Sally Struthers with a sandwich tied to his back.

And.....

Whadda ya get when ya cut 500 bras in half?
1000 beanies with chin straps.

Okay...put DOWN the rotten produce.
I'mina go clean something now.

Too bad it can't be my mind, huh?

Peace.

Oh My God...lmao...

I know...I know...I'm supposed to be cleaning and I swear I'm gonna start as soon as I'm done this, but, had I started when I was supposed to, I'd have missed this...

"Since my massive audience has been waiting, with baited breath, for my opinions on the hot topics of the day, here goes...."

'Baited' breath?
rotflmao...

Lord, what a mental image that conjures up...

It's BATED breath...which I retardedly turn into 'bat breath' occasionally, just because it's funny...but "baited"...lmao. That's even better...

I've said it before and I'll say it again, while I'm on this topic...
It's 'piqued my interest', not 'peaked', too, okay?

But, thanks for the giggles...
(I'm not being condescending, either...I really do love this stuff.)

Love,
The Grammar Fuhrer (screw the two dots...)
(Remember?)

Okay...

Here's the deal.
I hafta reeeeally clean this house.
Top to bottom, side to side and completely.
I keep reading where people are doing spring cleaning and the descriptions of the results are making me crazy. I am getting to the point where I just HAVE TO do this.
However....
I live right smack in the middle of a farm driveway. Dust and dirt are a way of life around here. Nearly everything outside is counter-productive to cleanliness. Dead leaves, dust, dirt, cowshit, components of cow feed (some of which looks like flour), animals, animal hair, mud, the fact that animals don't levitate when they go out, the fact that the four dogs go out, on a rotating basis, at least 492 times a day, hay, straw, heavy equipment rumbling around stirring up shit...ugh...it's endless. Plus, I'm convinced that the very structure we live in is packed with dust and cobwebs inside the walls and ceiling or something, that just magically reappear as soon as you get rid of the originals. It's fuckin' bizarre.
Even when I do get it 'clean', they're there...mocking me.
Every time I think of doing this, I look around and feel my resolve just melt. It's a huge job that I'm skeert will turn into an endless cycle/swirl/hell that'll never REALLY be done. Like...by the time I get it all done the first time, it'll be time to turn around and start all over again, to the exclusion of everything else in life.
Siiigh.
Not to even mention having to keep up with all the regular shit.
Makes me feel beaten (beat up and defeated) before I can even start.
Once I start, I do not wanna stop until I absolutely have to, like in the event of unconsciousness, fire, nuclear war...whatever, cause I know re-starting will be twice as hard.
SO!
If I don't post much, you'll know why. If I do, you'll know I'm screwin' off again, instead of doing what I oughta be doing. As usual.
I swear, I have the self-discipline level of a freakin' rodeo bronc these days.
And, I usedta could do dressage.....

I gotta go...start...this...this...'endeavor'.
Pray for me, please.
I'll need all the help I can get.

I'll be back when I have some progress to report.
*Slams welders helmet shut and gives a 'thumbs up' sign*

Peace.

Sweet Jesus...

Isn't it amazing how one lil tiny, eensy, weensy bit of info can clear up SOOOO much for ya?
Like finding out your insane boss may have a brain tumor...Boom. Everything then makes sense.
Or finding out that, maybe, your ex-wife is and has always been a lesbian. Suddenly, everything becomes clear.

Well, Rob just did that to me. One little bit of information from him and suddenly sooo very much makes sense and becomes clear. Woke me up better than slamming down a whole pot of coffee at once. Better than a cinderblock dropped on my foot...better than ice cold marbles thrown into a water bed...better than...Oh hell. Y'all get my point.

Just go read this....
then you can stop back by here in a while after I do a little research and fact gathering into that horrific company and get it worked into some kinda coherant post. (If I even can...wow.)
If I take too long, or ya just don't get it, watch "Silkwood" while yer waitin'.
All will make sense BEFORE the end of that movie.

And...I'll tell ya something else. For all the pissin' and moaning Rob gets accused of doing, for him to have to deal with that cuntbag ex-wife of his AND these murderin' assholes...I'll betcha he hasn't even scratched the surface of the horror he's been through.

Holy friggin' horseshit.

Update:
Just gonna add a coupla things here.

Karen's story...as told by Frontline.

The result of Kerr-McGee's handiwork:

Yeah...about that bit of the newspaper print...Karen was accused by K-M of purposely contaminating herself just to embarrass the company. Riiiight. That's why SHE was contaminated, her HOUSE was contaminated, but her car was clean. Suuuuure.

Real nice, huh?
I'm not sure if I'm done yet, or not. There is A LOT of information out there.
Gonna go look for more examples of K-M bullshit. Oughta be very easy to find. They get sued in nearly every state they're in.
By the way...with a track record for lying this much and to this extent, why would any court anywhere EVER take K-M's word for ANYTHING?
Rob oughta sue for wrongful termination. Fuck working for the cocksuckers again...just sue for the principle involved. And for a HUGE settlement.
Asshats.

More email silliness...

Bush and Osama decided to settle the war once and for all. They sat down and decided to settle the whole dispute with one dog fight. They would have 5 years to breed the best fighting dog in the world and whichever sides dog won would be entitled to dominate the world.
Osama found the biggest, meanest Doberman and Rottweiler female dogs in the world and bred them with the meanest Siberian wolves. They selected only the biggest and strongest puppy from the litter, and removed his siblings, which gave him all the milk. After 5 years, they came up with the biggest, meanest dog the world had ever seen. It's cage needed steel bars that were 5" thick and nobody could get near it.
When the day came for the dog fight, Bush showed up with a strange looking
animal. It was a 9 foot long Dachshund. Everyone felt sorry for Bush because there was no way that this dog could possibly last 10 seconds with the Afghanistani dog.
When the cages were opened up, the Dachshund came out of it's cage and
slowly waddled over towards Osama's dog. Osama's dog snarled and leaped
out of its cage and charged the American Dachshund---but when it got close
enough to bite, the Dachshund opened its mouth and consumed Osama's dog in
one bite. There was nothing left of his dog at all.
Osama came up to Bush, shaking his head in disbelief, "We don't understand how this could have happened. We had our best people working for 5 years with the meanest Doberman and Rottweiler female dogs in the world and the biggest, meanest Siberian wolves."
"That's nothing,", said Bush. "We had Michael Jackson's plastic surgeons working for 5 years to make that alligator look like a weiner dog."

Ba-dump-bump...ching!

CLASSES FOR MEN

AT OUR LOCAL LEARNING CENTER FOR ADULTS SIGN UP BY MARCH 25TH.
NOTE: DUE TO THE COMPLEXITY AND DIFFICULTY LEVEL OF THEIR CONTENTS, EACH COURSE WILL ACCEPT A MAXIMUM OF 8 PARTICIPANTS EACH.

Topic 1: How to Fill Up the Ice Cube Trays. -- Step by Step with Slide Presentation.

Topic 2: The Toilet Paper Roll. Does it Change Itself? -- Round Table Discussion.

Topic 3: Is It Possible to Urinate Using the Technique of Lifting the Seat
and Avoiding the Floor/Walls/Nearby Bathtub? -- Group Practice.

Topic 4: Fundamental Differences Between the Laundry Hamper and the Floor-- Pictures/Explanatory Graphics.

Topic 5: After Dinner Dishes. Can They Levitate and Fly Into the Kitchen Sink?-- Examples on Video

Topic 6: Loss of Identity - Losing the Remote to Your Significant Other-- Help Line Support and Support Groups

Topic 7: Learning How to Find Things - Starting with Looking in the Right Places Instead of Turning the House Upside Down While screaming-- Open Forum.

Topic 8: Health Watch - Bringing her Flowers is Not Harmful to Your Health-- Graphics and Audio Tapes.

Topic 9: Real Men ask for Directions When Lost. -- Real Life Testimonials.

Topic 10: Is it Genetically Impossible to Sit Quietly While she Parallel Parks?-- Driving Simulations

Topic 11: Learning to Live - Basic Differences Between Mother and Wife. Online Classes and Role-Playing.

Topic 12: How to be the Ideal Shopping Companion. -- Relaxation Exercises,
Meditation and Breathing Techniques.

Topic 13: How to Fight Cerebral Atrophy - Remembering Birthdays,
Anniversaries and Other Important Dates and Calling When You're Going to be
Late. -- Cerebral Shock Therapy Sessions and Full Lobotomies Offered.

Topic 14: The Stove/Oven - What it is and How it is Used. -- Live demonstration.

** Upon completion of the course, diplomas will be issued to the
survivors.**

Fractured fable...

Or...a moral whore story.

The Whorehouse Doors

A fellow passed a house with a little red light burning in front, so he stepped inside. There was nothing in sight and nothing there but an empty bare hallway, with two doors reading, "Over 35" and "Under 35." He decided to be truthful and entered the door that said, "Over 35." He found himself in another empty hallway, this one with two doors that read, "Over 8 inches" and "Under 8 inches." Truthful again, he went through the "Under 8 inches" door and found himself in another empty hall, with two more doors reading, "Once a night" and "Over 4 times a night. Still wanting to be truthful, he entered the door marked "Once a night" and found himself back out on the street.

The moral of this story is:
"Always tell the truth and you'll never get screwed."

More random shit (but, hopefully not as long as last time)...

I'm all about truth, right? (You best be sayin' "Right", right now...*ssel*-which means 'sidelong Sam Elliot look'. It does...I know. I made it up.)
Anyway...I am. Being lied about and to is something I've put up with just about enough of in my life. Lying is not something I do...much. I have to put it that way, because I do exaggerate and engage in hyperbole to get my point across, but, essentially, what I feel or think is what ya get.
I'm not really good with pussyfootin' around or beating around the bush or being very p.c. very often. I say what I'm about to think, usually. Sometimes, even I'm shocked by what comes outta my mouth.
But, even when I'm pointing out inherant stupidity, if you listen, you'll hear me using humor to make sense and whatever it is I'm saying, polite or not, is the TRUTH.
I like hearing the truth, too. Even if I don't like what you're saying, I still appreciate the truth of it. No matter what it is you feel a need to tell me, 10 to 1 I won't go the fuck off if whatever you're saying is the truth. You'll be in less trouble for the original thing, no matter how bad it is, as long as you don't lie. Or, if for some arcane reason you're compelled to lie, you 'fess up in an acceptable amount of time (measured in nano-seconds, by the way), I can even deal with that. But, to just fling lies around like cow chips and leave 'em there, stinkin' up the joint, is....wrong...unacceptable...something I choose not to have to deal with.
That said...wanna know what I'd really say to Liar Guy...if I ever speak to him again (and that I already know would do me no good at all)?
It'd go something like this:
Him: "Why don't you ever talk to me anymore?"
Me: "Siiiigh. Well, ya see Dude, it's like this. I can forgive a lot of shit from people, depending on who they are. BUT...one thing I cannot tolerate from ANYBODY, Jesus Himself included, is lying. Especially constant lying for no discernable reason. You know how you do that? (He does know, too, because he was seeing someone about it...) Well, after that last load you laid on me, I made a decision..."
(At this point, there would be a slightly puzzled look on his face as he tries to figure out which load I'm referring to. Seeing this, I'd tell him....)
"You remember...that Paint horse shit? Yeah...that. You started it a day or so before Gia died, then knew full well that she HAD died and continued with that shit, even going so far as to drag a second non-existant horse into it. What the HELL was that about? Jeezus, Dude. Well, after that, I decided that I'm NOT going to EVER be lied to by you again. IF the only way this can happen, and I'm convinced it is, is that you simply don't talk to me anymore, that's fine. I'd rather do that, than risk you lying to me again, it means THAT much to me. See, if ya lie to me one. more. time. I'll wind up hating you and the only person that'll affect would be Eric and that's not fair of me, so...I decided to head that off, before it even had a chance to happen. Understand? Now...if you decide you still want to try talking to me, without lying to me EVER AGAIN, that is your decision, but...you need to choose wisely and make an informed decision. Be informed that, if you DO keep talking to me and DO lie again...I will be forced to, basically, rip your balls off and then go back to this...my original arrangement of never speaking to you again....
It's up to you. But...I'd stick with my original idea, if I were you."

He wouldn't get it.
(Which is why I don't bother...)

More truth later....
Peace

WTF?

Humorous comment spam? Now, I've seen it all. This shit came through this afternoon. Of course, I've banned the IP.
It was put under my last "I hate Jon (Liar Guy)" post. (Oddly enough, he was on his way here to talk to Eric when I saw this...)

IP Address: 130.88.185.79
Name: god
Email Address: god@hotmail.com
URL:

i hate jon too, im pleased we share this bond would u like to meet up
some time, i don't get out much and would appreciate the company i have
GSOH,hope to see u soon babe, lots of love and hopefully kisses,
the messiah (or jus god to u)

First of all, do ya REEEALLY think God would use HOTmail? Somehow, that just doesn't seem right to me. Second, I honestly think He'd capitalize His own name, ya know? Third...what the hell is GSOH? Fourth...Whadda ya mean 'hope to see u soon'? You know something I ought to? Spill it, Big Dude, if ya do...Jesus.

Other than that...cute.
Banned, but cute.

It's gotta be....

This
has GOT to be that Ga-ne-sha person in Rob's comments.
Go look and see the comments under Rob's "I don't know" post. Read and compare them to this thing.
Seperated at birth?

I think it's a strong possibility.

Yeeeessss!!!

Classic rock! Without you the other genres
wouldn't exist!* You are the raw and original
sound of rock! Other genres may try to imitate
your rawness, but they can never be like you!


What genre of rock are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
(Other genres SHOULDN'T exist, actually.....)

Thank LeeAnn, too.

Fuckin' stupid Site Meter...

Just dropped me back down to 12,780. What the hell?
Jane...thank you ever so much AGAIN for recommending Stat Counter.
I'm tellin' ya...Site Meter fucks up my numbers ONE MORE TIME...it's outta here.
Hell, I hate math and I could do a better job counting than this.
Besides, Stat Counter kicks ASS over Site Meter, anyway. For real.

Oh and just by the way...when Paul fixed the new meter for me, we decided to start it at 13,000, even though retarded-assed Site Meter was at, like...13,046 or some shit (for the second time, I might add...). So, I dropped 46 hits on my own. Me doing it is one thing. Them doing it is....pissin' me off.

In other random news...

I keep getting people coming here by searching for that ugly hag, Janice Dickenson. WHY?!?
I mean, I've never liked her to begin with, because I'm a Gia Carangi fan and it pisses me off to no end that that twat Dickenson refers to herself repeatedly as the 'first supermodel'.
She wasn't.
Gia was.
And, just because Gia is dead and can't defend herself is no reason for Janice to pull this shit. Gia was also the first female celebrity to die of AIDS. I don't see anybody trying to take that title. 'Course, Janice doesn't have AIDS...yet.
She does, however, look like she has some kind of debilitating ugliness disease. Has anyone seen her on that 'Top Model' show? Holy fuck...what happened to her? She looks HORRIBLE. I'd been watching that stupid show for a coupla weeks before I even realized that was her. Ewww. Haggy lookin', lyin' ho.
So, if ya got here looking for that retard, ya came to the wrong place. I can't stand her ugly lying ass and about the only good thing I'll ever say about her is: at least she's not twins. Skank.

Another thing that's kinda freakin' me out is a country a visitor came here from. I was checking out that new meter yesterday morning and when I saw the flag, then the name of the country, I swear, my blood froze for a few seconds, then I felt....very weirded out for a while. Kinda guilty, kinda pissed...kinda like I oughta apologize for something, maybe. You see, the visitor was from Viet Nam. I don't think I like that much at all.
Eric was here when I found it and the first thing he said was "Remember, Honey...the war is over."
First words outta my mouth were "Is it?"
I don't know about that.
I read "Thud Ridge". I read "Code of Honor". I know what those merciless bastards did to our men. I know how many never came home, how many aren't accounted for and never will be. I also have a really good idea how many men are still walking around, totally fucked up by what they went through over there. Not to even mention what the 'citizens' of THIS country did to them when they did make it home and how our fuckin' government has shit all over them since.
I support and respect and honor our Nam Vets, POWS, MIA'S, KIA'S and every one of those brave young men who tried to serve this country honorably in that war...and it was a WAR. My ex-father-in-law was a prisoner in Hanoi for 7 long years. Because of him and Jack Ayars, a very special person in my life who rode with the Shiloh, NJ chapter of the Nam Vets MC club, I pretty much gave my heart to those guys and I really don't think I'm ready yet to be having people from there being here. Not much I can do about it, I know. But, I don't hafta like it and, guys...I don't.
Anyone who's interested in reading how my ex-father-in-law was captured can do so by reading "Thud Ridge." His capture is the basis for the chapter called "The Longest Mission". Briefly, he was shot down and was being tracked by the beeper signal on his chute. He landed safely in enemy territory and, due to weather conditions and mechanical issues, was left there for three or four days. By the time they went back over the area where he was last known to be, they were still getting a weak signal from the beeper. When they made voice contact, the voice that answered back answered in Vietnamese. Then, he was held and hurt and tortured and fucked with for s-e-v-e-n years. His name is Lt. Col. Joseph S. Abbott, USAF, Ret. He's one of the sweetest, gentlest, nicest people I know and what was done to him and every other man stuck over there is an abomination and should NEVER be forgotten. Ever.
I'm not real willing to forgive it yet, either. Maybe when all the Nam Vets do, I will..but until then...no. Until I can watch "Dear America: Letters home from Viet Nam" without crying....no. Until every single one of our guys are accounted for AND HOME....no. Until my heart doesn't break every time I think of the horror our guys got subjected to...no.
So, I doubt it's gonna be any time soon.
And, until then, I guess I'm just gonna hafta be highly uncomfortable when people from there come here.
I do, however, love that when they do show up here, they get treated to the sight of our POW-MIA flag.
Yeah, that's right. I'm one of those flag waving, still pissed off Nam Vet supporters and if ya don't like it...LEAVE AND NEVER RETURN.
Nobody here is gonna miss you, anyway. M'kay?
Good.
(Lord, I do believe that mighta bothered me a little more than I realized.)

And, guess what, after alla that? I'm really not in a bad mood. Matter of fact, I just got done sobbing my way through the Roger Miller special I taped offa TNN a coupla years ago. Roger Miller just IS the essence of my Pop-pop to me. When I hear 90% of his songs, it whisks me back to childhood, to my Pop-pop's house. The sounds, the smell...my Pop-pop being there. (Ah fuck...here I go again.) And, when Dean, Roger's son, sings "Old Toy Trains"...oh, Jesus, my heart. It just shatters all over again. Man, I miss my Pop-pop bad.
Hell, I miss my Dad, too. (Hi, Dad...I love you!) I can still see my Pop-pop sitting at the kitchen table, eating green bell peppers, smiling, laughing, bullshittin'...he was such a great guy, my Pop-pop. I can only ever remember being mad at him once, when he was burning, I think it was gypsy-moth nests outta his trees. I was a little kid and was mad because he was killing the caterpillars I wanted to collect, keep, take home...play with. I was like that. I loved bugs. Still do. Snakes, too. I just didn't understand why he'd be wanting to kill all those cool caterpillars. I got over it.
Another thing I remember is him trying to convince me there's no difference in flavor between a green and red bell pepper. Yeah, there is. I don't like the red ones. He fed me a piece of each with my eyes closed and was surprised when I could tell the difference.
I also remember him standing behind my first pickup with me, in his driveway, talking to me about jobs and how important integrity is when you're working.
I remember finding a draft of a letter Pop-pop was writing to his insurance company because they'd raised the rates. He wrote and said he just wanted to thank them for the improvement his health was about to get. Thanks to them and their high prices, he said, he was certain he was going to be healthier from them forcing him to start riding a bicycle everywhere he went from then on.
Whatta card....lmao. Oh, God, I love that man.
Twenty-two years...and I still wind up in tears. Twenty-two years and the smell of Avon's Wild Country still makes me almost turn around to see where he is. The sound of a baseball game on TV, the smell of Swisher Sweet cigars, hearing a lawn mower or a moped...all these things and more make me hurt like he just died yesterday.
Anything EVER happens to my Dad and y'all better pray for God to give Eric the strength to save me. He'll need it.
I think part of the reason that it still kills me about Pop-pop is that, thanks again to my idiotic mother, I didn't get to spend as much time with him as I'd have liked to. AND, I was forcefully seperated from my Dad for, oh...just about 22 or so years, so....ya know? And, yeeeessss, I know there are people who'd say that it wasn't 'forcefully'. Well, it sure FELT and seemed like it. Sometimes, it still does.
I doubt Kim is aware of every minute that she's gotten to spend with my Dad that I didn't, but I am. Painfully so.
I also kinda think that THAT plays a large part in my 'mental head-shit'. The depression, the feeling like an unworthy piece of shit, feeling fat and ugly and all that. It's not the WHOLE cause, but it is a part of it, I'm sure.
Is it even remotely normal to be almost 41 years old and still cry because ya can't just go get a hug from your Dad? Is it 'normal' to be almost 41 and still need your Dad as much as I do? Owing to the facts of this case-the lost years that I can never get back and the damage I did to myself over it all-can I even ever BE 'normal'?
Twenty-two years and I'm still not over losing Pop-pop. Can you even imagine what it's gonna be like inside of me when Dad is gone from my life again, this time for the rest of forever? I can't.
(Kim, Honey, I wouldn't want your karma for all the money, big houses, huge TV's and hot tubs in the world. The ONLY good thing about that karma is that I don't really hate you anymore because of what you've got coming to you...ooofa. Just enjoy the ever-lovin' hell outta the life you're living right now, because, some day...you're gonna feel exactly like I do right now and have for all these years. Only difference'll be that I'll be able to tell you EXACTLY why you're being 'put through' it, if ya even hafta ask.)

Still not in a bad mood, here, believe it or not. Matter of fact, it seems that two of my cats are on kitty-crank or something, because they're cracking me up, flying around here, running up the back of my chair, across the keyboard and just EVERYWHERE!!! Lunatics.

Well. Whew. I sure sound like I'm not too happy right now, don't I? But...I swear...I'm not in a foul mood at all. Just a little raw, is all. And, that's probably because of the Roger Miller thing, which always leads to Pop-pop, which always leads to Dad, then to 'lack-of-Dad', then to Kim, but this time...to feeling calm and level as opposed to wanting to take her head off, like usual. Not sure exactly why that is, but it is the truth and it's also good. Either this blog really is helping me with this kinda shit, or I'm growing up...or a little of both, maybe. That's not to say I wouldn't move back in with my Dad in a skinny minute if Kim went away, cause I would. I just don't feel a need to hurt her anymore, cause she's gonna get it all back, anyway.
And, boy is THAT gonna be a bitch. I won't need to add a bit to it, either, but I do reserve the right to watch. I reserve it and deserve it.
So there...ppttttbbbb.

Okay, off to the 'library' for a while, then on to cleaning a bit.

Heh. Who'm I trying to kid...I'll probably be back here too.

Huh?! What?
Oh.
I think I hear my Tequila Rose hollerin' for me.
Buuut...I have my doubts as to how well it'd go with the cup of coffee I have sitting here...and the pot I just made, so...we'll see.
In the meantime....
Peace, y'all.

Wow!!!!

Andy's here...how cool is that? I finally got around to getting online a little while ago and when I got here and started to scroll down to the new meter...there he was. Gorgeous as all hell...
Thank you, Paul!!!!

See? What'd I just tell you guys about him?

PAUL ROCKS!!!!

I knew it...

You are BOUND FOR HELL! And probably need
treatment. Whoops!


What Is Your Major Malfunction?
brought to you by Quizilla

Like I said...I knew this, but I just haaaad to take this test because of it's title. Hearing that questione screamed at people by DI Hartman in "Full Metal Jacket"
makes me laugh. My only answer to that is: Got all day?

Found this at my newest find...another cool female.
I just found her about 24 hours ago at Weblogs.com. Seems pretty cool, too.
Check her out.

Hot damn....

Followed Jane's advice and got StatCounter. I installed the code and Paul and Jane both wound up having to move and tweak it....naturally.
Have I mentioned I hate templates almost as much as snow?
*shudder*

I always say that Rob is who got me started blogging. Well, if it wasn't for Paul walking me through one mess after another, I'd probably have quit by now. Not knowing jackshit about templates makes me feel utterly stupid and like I really have no business even doing this, sometimes. I mean, if I can't do such apparently simple stuff like sticking some code in the template...that's like driving a car with no idea at all how to even gas it up. And, yes...I do realize there a lots of people out there driving who're that clueless and worse (they're usually in front of me, matter of fact), but I ain't one of them and don't wanna be here, either.
I like knowing how to maintain my car...oil changes, brake pads and shoes, changing gaskets, spark plugs, tune ups...all that. This not knowing how to do the simplest shit in my templates frustrates me to no end.

Then again, so do moronic weather-dolts who grin like an egg-suckin' dog while discussing snowfall amounts.
And stupid people.
Which is why I spend an inordinate amount of time getting on my own nerves.
Siiigh.

Aaanyhow...StatCounter kicks ass. If yer sick of getting frigged up by Site Meter, give it a shot. If ya can't find it, Jane put the URL in the comments of the previous post.

Okay, now I'm off to try to figure out why blowing up Vet's stadium is something to celebrate and have a special TV show about. Destroying landmarks, memories and all that is a good thing around here, apparently.

And, people call me weird?
Riiiight.

Oh goody...

I just broke 13,000...AGAIN.

I want some of what the hell Site Meter's on.
Must be some reeeally good shit.
Siiiigh.

Site Meter is on crack...

I noticed this early this morning. Stupid Site Meter has dropped about 500 or so hits offa my total and what they're saying is my daily average is wrong, too.
It was about 60-65 a day BEFORE this LGF thing.
I have LOADS of referrals from that, yet Site Meter doesn't seem to care...lol.

Anybody know of a tracking system that can actually count AND be installed by a dope?
I tried that other popular one, the one with the planet/zig-zag thing, but it asked me a question about 'frames' that had four possible answers and none seemed to work. 'Course, I'm not that great with that kinda stuff and my template terrifies me, so...it coulda been me, that time.

Site Meter and that stupid 'referral' thing that was at the bottom of my page are both pissin' me off now.
I'll gladly have both removed from my template if there's something halfway reliable I can use.

Let me know, okay?
Thanks, y'all...

Ummmm...

Okay.
Thanks Quark, even if I'm not sure what this really means...lol.
It sure sounds nice.
(Unless, of course, it's my breath-taking natural airheadedness yer referring to, or something...lmao)

30 seconds later:
Yeah. This really clears it up...NOT.

Another one. Now, I'm thinking it's the name of this blog, Caught in the Crossfire, is what they're talking about. I think....lol.

Do what?

Okay...that's all of 'em. If anybody can clue me as to what da heck it all means, that'd be cool.

Pre-freakin'-cisely....

(More email goodness...this one is dead-on.)

Winter in Pennsylvania

Aug. 12
Moved to our new home in Pennsylvania. It is so beautiful here. The hills are so picturesque. Can hardly wait to see them with snow covering them. God's Country. I love it here!

Oct. 14
Pennsylvania is the most beautiful place on earth. The leaves are turning all different colors. I love the shades of red and orange. Went for a ride through some beautiful hills and spotted some deer. They are so graceful, certainly they are the most peaceful animals on earth. This must be Paradise.I love it here!

Nov. 11
Deer season will start soon. I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill such an elegant creature. The very symbol of peace and tranquility. Hope it will snow soon. I love it here!

Dec 2
It snowed last night. Woke up to find everything blanketed in white. It looks like a postcard. We went outside and cleaned the snow off the steps and shoveled the driveway. We had a snowball fight (I won) and when the snowplow came by, we had to shovel the driveway again. What a beautiful place. Mother nature in perfect harmony. I love Pennsylvania!

Dec 12
More snow last night. I love it. The snowplow did his trick again (that rascal). A winter wonderland.I love it here!

Dec 19
More snow last night.Couldn't get out of the driveway to get to work this time! I'm exhausted from shoveling. That damn snowplow!

Dec 22
More of that white shit fell last night. I've got blisters on my hands from shoveling. I think the snowplow man hides around the corner and waits until I'm done shoveling this driveway. Asshole!

Dec 25
"White Christmas" my busted ass! More friggen snow. If I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch who drives that snowplow, I swear I'll castrate the dumb bastard. Don't know why they don't use more salt on the roads to melt this friggen ICE!

Dec 28
More white shit last night. Been inside since Christmas Day except for shoveling out the driveway every time "Snowplow Harry" comes by. Can't go anywhere, cars buried in a mountain of white shit. The weatherman says to expect another 10" of the shit tonight. Do you know how many shovels full of snow 10" is?

Jan. 1
Happy Damn New Year, the weatherman was wrong (again). We got 34" of the white shit this time. At this rate it won't melt before the 4th of July. The snowplow got stuck up the road, and the shithead had the balls to come to the door and ask to borrow my shovel. After I told him I've broken 6 shovels already, shoveling all the shit he pushed into the driveway, I broke my last one over his damn head!

Jan. 4
Finally got out of the house today. Went to the store to get food and on the way back, a damn deer ran in front of the car and I hit the bastard. Did about $3,000 worth of damage to the car. Those damn beasts ought to be killed. Wish the hunters had killed them all last November.

May 3
Took the car to the garage in town. Would you believe the thing is rotting out from all that damn salt they keep dumping all over the road? Car looks like a piece of shit!

May 10
Moved to Florida! I can't imagine why anyone in their damn mind would ever want to live in that God forsaken State of Pennsylvania!

(Me either. Have I mentioned that I hate snow?)

God must hate me...

BERKS PA-BUCKS PA-CARBON PA-CHESTER PA-EASTERN MONMOUTH NJ-
HUNTERDON NJ-LEHIGH PA-MERCER NJ-MIDDLESEX NJ-MONROE PA-
MONTGOMERY PA-MORRIS NJ-NORTHAMPTON PA-SOMERSET NJ-SUSSEX NJ-
WARREN NJ-WESTERN MONMOUTH NJ-

...WINTER STORM WARNING HAS BEEN ISSUED FOR TONIGHT INTO FRIDAY
MORNING...

LOW PRESSURE CURRENTLY LOCATED NEAR CHICAGO WILL MOVE QUICKLY TO THE
SOUTHEAST THIS AFTERNOON. IT IS FORECAST TO MOVE OFF THE DELMARVA
PENINSULA LATE TONIGHT OR EARLY FRIDAY MORNING, THEN INTENSIFY
RAPIDLY. THIS STORM WILL BRING AN ACCUMULATING SNOWFALL TO THE
REGION TONIGHT.

THE SNOW SHOULD SPREAD UP FROM THE SOUTHWEST DURING THE EVENING. IT
MAY MIX WITH SOME RAIN AT THE ONSET IN SOUTHEASTERN PENNSYLVANIA AND
CENTRAL NEW JERSEY. THE SNOW IS FORECAST TO BECOME HEAVY AT TIMES,
ESPECIALLY DURING THE HOURS AROUND MIDNIGHT. SNOWFALL RATES OF AN
INCH OR MORE AN HOUR ARE POSSIBLE LATE TONIGHT.

TOTAL SNOW ACCUMULATIONS OF 4 TO 8 INCHES ARE EXPECTED INTO FRIDAY
MORNING. THERE IS THE POSSIBILITY THAT SOME LOCATIONS WILL RECEIVE
SLIGHTLY HIGHER AMOUNTS. THE SNOW IS THEN EXPECTED TO QUICKLY END
FRIDAY MORNING.

Siiiigh.
Ya know what? As long as He loves and protects Eric....I'm happy.
Pissed off about this endless evil also known as snow, but happy.

snowsuckssnowsuckssnowsuckssnowsuckssnowsuckssnowsucks...ya know?

DAD!!!!! Wouldja take a freakin' look at this....

Hooo-lee shit, man. We have GOT to go to Georgia and go fishing. Me, you and Norman.
Pass me the LARGE tub of 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' and my Nature's Seasonings and...look out!!!

Better yet...anybody know where I can get a thousand gallon aquarium? Jesus.

I soooo wanna believe they did NOT kill this awesome booger. (I know, I know...dream on....)

Found this lurkin' here.

This'll work....

Found this death test, again. This time, I found it here. (I'm assuming it's 'safe' to blogroll him, finally....)

Mark your calendar or Palm V. You can expect to die on:
December 6, 2027 at the age of 64 years old.

On that date you will most likely die from:

Cancer (44%)
Heart Attack (14%)
Horrible Accident (6%)
Contagious Disease (5%)
Confusion (5%)

Okay, enough of Hitler now.....

None of these guys are Storm, but they can give you an idea what he looks like. The top two have his colors and kinda his coat pattern. The third one, if he was red roan, would be the closest match. Where this guys legs are dark gray, Storm's are red. That third one also kinda looks like Gia did, color-wise and size wise.
Storm also has a Quarter Horse body. Nice big, muscular ass, wide chest, gorgeous confirmation. He has the typical Appalooosa mane, but his tail is long and full.
He's a hottie, Storm is.
Matter of fact, the only way he looks better is with Eric on his back.
The only way THAT will look better is the horse shed out and Eric on his back with no shirt and his hair loose, not stuck in a ponytail.
I cannot wait.

Yep...Ah shor is....

You are the grammar Fuhrer. All bow to your
authority. You will crush all the inferior
people under the soles of your jackboots, and
any who question your motives will be
eliminated. Your punishment is being the bane
of every other person's existence, because
you're constantly contradicting stupidity.
Everyone will be gunning for you. Your dreams
of a master race of spellers and grammarians
frighten the masses. You must always watch your
back. If only your power could be used for good
instead of evil.


What is your grammar aptitude?
brought to you by Quizilla

I love that I got this result. Cause it is true. When I'm not spelling like I talk, I drive other people nuts correcting shit.
Right, Ricky-poo?

(Although, I must confess, being a closet grammar-nazi does come in handy at times. I can write 'lawyer-level' letters when need be. But, Lord Gawd Almighty would it be an ever-lovin' ass-ache to hafta do it all the time.)

Found this here.

Update @ 5:11am...I was gonna maybe do one more post or something before I go to bed, but each time I've come back here from someplace else and seen Hitler's hair and eyeballs (at first, as it reloads), it's made me giggle and then Eric saw it and said "What the hell is Hitler doing on yer blog?", which made me decide to just leave it up there for the whole "What the fuck? factor of it all. I just wish I could hear everybody's different voices and accents when they say it...lol.
And, just by the way...Morons DO serve a purpose. The ones in Rob's comments make me look and FEEL like a fuckin' genius. Jesus. I mean, hell's bells...if you were a guy being anally-raped in court by a scheming cunt and an incompetent judge, would you be real worried about offending a DA?
Fuck them and get an out-of-state lawyer, Rob. Someone along the lines of that Marvin Mitchellson dude (that hoity-toity divorce lawyer from years ago), or maybe a Racehorse Haynes or someone GOOOOD like that.
I mean, shit man...the lawyer ya have now probably couldn't intimidate the DA if he tried and he's not doing you a whole hell of a lot of good, now is he? No. If you're gonna hafta PAY to defend yourself, ya may as well pay for someone who is worth a shit, right? Riiight.
Boneheads.....(in the comments, not Rob.)

Okay, I'mina go take a Pirin tablet (or 10) now and go to bed. (Whats a Pirin tablet, you ask? Well..."It'sa an aspirin wifa da 'a' anda da 'essa' scrape-ed off...")

Peace, y'all....

Oh. My. Gawd.

This is too cool....

Reminds me of that Steven Wright joke about him having this unmarked button on his wall. He kept pushing it all the time.
Then, he got a postcard from a lady in Germany saying "Cut it out."

Y'all have GOT to see this.
Friggin' light bulbs have never been so much fun....lmao.

Brought to my attention by the fabulous Mikey, ovah heah...

Eeeeenough....

So....
I cleaned the whole house, did all the dishes, including the ones fermenting in the frig, did all the wash, baked a cake...I was trying to be a good kid. Just trying to maybe be able to whistle my way past this particular graveyard.
It didn't work.
Damn it all.

I go to bed...around 5:30 or so and when I wake up, it's pretty bright in there. Maybe it's not...maybe it didn't...maybe God changed his mind....
No. Fuckin' NOOOOOO!

It happened.
It's STILL happening.
And, just to be as irritating as possible I'm certain, this shit can be HEARD. It's not good enough to just show up and perpetrate this evil in silence. Oh HELL no. If all it was doing was falling and sticking, thereby obliterating any hope of spring...that'd be vile enough, but at least having the shades drawn could block it out. As usual.
But, THIS shit...noooo...this shit is AUDIBLE.
And...
My hatred is palpable.
I'm filled with it.
It's almost amazing.

I've been awake, and HEARING this horseshit for...what?...only 5 or 6 hours, so far...yet, so far, I have imagined and yes, even WISHED, a horrible, bloody death on two people and told God where to stick it. Not to even mention, barely restrained myself from fanning my hand back and forth very quickly at about shoulder level and telling Eric to stick his face in there, please. (Siiigh...)

I am just a mean, nasty, crumudgeonly, sick-of-mother-fuckin'-snow BITCH.

This dumb shit has a way of....weighing me down, depressing me, killing my spirit and just making me want to cease to exist...especially since what I REEEALLY wanna do-stomp and beat this shit into oblivion-isn't a viable option. Before I die, I swear I'm gonna move to a state where this ugly, ignorant shit is a once-a-decade, 15 minute novelty.

Hell, EVEN HELL WOULD BE AN IMPROVEMENT.

Which is why I have decided it is in EVERYBODY'S best interest that I just go back to bed. And, woe be unto the dork, me included, who wakes me up before this shit is long gone, like, say...April 29th. (Wouldn't wanna miss turning 4-freakin'-1 the next day, now would I?)
Siiiiigh.

(Several minutes later...)
Whew...man.
Now that I got THAT out...

Let me also state that somewhere, deep inside me, I am aware that I am positively BLESSED that this is the worst thing I have to deal with. I just wish it didn't get such a grip on me....ugh. It FEELS so much worse than it really is.
I know what 'worse' is and can be.
Not long after I got lippy with God, I had occasion to also say "There, but for the Grace of God go I..." and mean it.
Soooo...while I'm right here anyway and even though I didn't get mouthy with God here, let me say AGAIN here, that, yes God, I am sorry I got shitty with You, but, You do understand, don'tcha? You ought to. You made me.

On that note....I'm gonna go read for a while in the antithesis of a snowstorm...my nice, huge, warm waterbed. Maybe I'll even hum "We're Having a Heatwave".

In the meantime...
Snow, snow...go away
And, don't you DARE come back any other day...
FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, EVER!!! DO YOU HEAR ME??? I"M SERIOUS...GET OUT, LEAVE, BE GONE, SCREW OFF AND DIE SOMEPLACE, WHY DON'TCHA? I MEAN, NOBODY REALLY LIKES YOU ANYWAY AND....

Huh? What?
Oh. Shit.
Sorry.

Um...yeah.
Peace.

I'm gettin' there...

I've got 90% of the house done. Including re-bedding the bun-bun with new hay. It's always fun to watch him play in it.
I also lugged about a half a ton of trash to the dumpster. Then, I climbed fences inside a barn about 7 times to feed, hay and water Storm. Nothing I'd rather do that try to lift a 5 or 6 gallon bucket full of water through or over chest high fences that are doubled up with the seperate boards of each fence not lining up. I did the oats first. They were easy and they gave him something to do. Then I killed myself with the water. Then I did it all again with the hay. THEN, he needed another half bucket of water.
It was after all that, that I made dinner and got to cleaning...
I feel like I've been hit by a bus.
I'm about to get a shower and wash my hair...while the spice cake bakes.
Then, by the time I dry the cake and ice my hair (or something like that), the last load of clothes oughta be in the dryer, so I'll be going to bed.

By the way...
This stupid snow that we're supposed to get?
If it's not the LAST snow of this year....I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS FOR AN AS YET UNKNOWN PERIOD OF TIME.

That is all.
Peace.

I have had exactly enough of this shit (said very calmly through very clenched teeth)...

BUCKS PA-CHESTER PA-MERCER NJ-MIDDLESEX NJ-MONTGOMERY PA-
1120 AM EST MON MAR 15 2004

...TWO TO FOUR INCHES OF SNOW POSSIBLE TUESDAY...

SNOW IS EXPECTED TO SPREAD INTO THE AREA AFTER MIDNIGHT TONIGHT,
THEN MIX WITH AND CHANGE TO SLEET DURING THE DAY TUESDAY OVER THE
NORTH AND WEST SECTIONS AND POSSIBLY TO SLEET AND RAIN SOUTH AND
EAST. SNOWFALL ACCUMULATIONS MAY REACH TWO TO FOUR INCHES WITH THE
HIGHEST AMOUNTS TO THE NORTH AND WEST. THE SNOW WILL LIKELY CONTINUE
INTO THE EVENING HOURS TUESDAY, WITH A CHANCE OF SNOW AFTER MIDNIGHT
WITH SOME ADDITIONAL LIGHT ACCUMULATION.

AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Just found this....

Reader's Digest, December 1981-

Personal Glimpses

After their father's stroke in 1961, Jack and Bobby Kennedy's presence stimulated the independant old man to try walking without a brace. He stood erect for a moment, then began staggering. In a lightening move, Bobby grabbed his father. Joe Kennedy tried to struggle loose and began swatting at his son with his cane. Bobby laughed, eased his fist-shaking father into a chair and kissed him. Then he said "Dad, if you want to get up, give me your arm and I'll hold you until you get your balance. You've done that for me all my life, so why can't I do the same for you now?"

Exactly.

Okay, but....

Your wings are BROKEN and tattered. You are
an angelic spirit who has fallen from grace for
one reason or another - possibly, you made one
tragic mistake that cost you everything. Or
maybe you were blamed for a crime you didn't
commit. In any case, you are faithless and
joyless. You find no happiness, love, or
acceptance in your love or in yourself. Most
days are a burden and you wonder when the
hurting will end. Sweet, beautiful and
sorrowful, you paint a tragic and touching
picture. You are the one that few understand.
Those that do know you are likely to love you
deeply and wish that they could do something to
ease your pain. You are constantly living in
memories of better times and a better world.
You are hard on yourself and self-critical or
self-loathing. Feeling rejected and unloved,
you are sensitive, caring, deep, and despite
your tainted nature, your soul is
breathtakingly beautiful.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

...I'm gathering new feathers to make repairs.

Stay tuned.
Peace.

Sorry Mike, buuut...John was right.

People say I'm crazy doing what I'm doing.
Well, they give me all kinds of warnings to save me from ruin.
When I say that I'm O.K., they look at me kind of strange.
"Surely you're not happy now you no longer play the game."

I just had tooooo
Let it go.

This man wrote my LIFE.
Wish he'd found the answers, before....

Politics 101....

A little boy wanted $100.00 very badly and prayed for weeks, but nothing happened. Then he decided to write God a letter requesting the $100.00. When the postal authorities received the letter to God, USA, they decided to send it to the President. The president was so amused that he instructed his secretary to send the little boy a $5.00 bill. The president thought this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy.
The little boy was delighted with the $5.00 bill and sat down to write a thank-you note to God, which read:

Dear God: Thank you very much for sending the money. However, I noticed that for some reason you sent it through Washington, DC., and those assholes deducted $95.00 in taxes.

More email silliness...

1. Ever wonder about those people who spend $2.00 apiece on those little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards: NAIVE

2. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
(No...being covered in smoke is actually vaaaastly different than being covered in PISS...)

3. OK.... so if the Jacksonville Jaguars are known as the "Jags" and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are known as the "Bucs," what does that make the Tennessee Titans?

4. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea...does that mean that one enjoys it?

5. There are three religious truths:
a. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah.
b. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as the leader of the Christian faith.
c. Baptists do not recognize each other in the liquor store or at Hooters.

6. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland called Holes?

7. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?

8. If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?

9. Why do croutons come in airtight packages? Aren't they just stale bread to begin with?

10. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a racecar is not called a racist?

11. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety one?

12. If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged*, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
(*Oh, HELL yes...)

13. If Fed Ex and UPS were to merge, would they call it Fed UP?

14. Do Lipton Tea employees take coffee breaks?

15. What hair color do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?

16. I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older; then it dawned on me....they're cramming for their final exam.

17. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks, so I wondered what do Chinese mothers use? Toothpicks?

18. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so the mailmen can look for them while they deliver the mail?

19. If it's true that we are here to help others, then what exactly are the others here for?

20. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.

21. Ever wonder what the speed of lightning would be if it didn't zigzag?

22. If a cow laughed, would milk come out of her nose?

23. Whatever happened to Preparations A through G?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" CATHOLIC FEMALE PARROTS"
A lady goes to her priest one day and tells him, "Father, I have problem. I have two female parrots, but they only know how to say one thing."
"What do they say?" the priest inquired.
"They say, "Hi, we're hookers! Do you want to have some fun?" "
"That's obscene!" the priest exclaimed, then he thought for a moment. "You know," he said, "I may have a solution to your problem. I have two male talking parrots, which I have taught to pray and read the Bible. Bring your two parrots over to my house, and we'll put them in the cage with Francis and Peter. My parrots can teach your parrots to praise and worship, and your parrots are sure to stop saying that phrase in no time."
"Thank you," the woman responded, "this may very well be the solution."
The next day, she brought her female parrots to the priest's house. As he ushered her in, she saw that his two male parrots were inside their cage
holding rosary beads and praying. Impressed, she walked over and placed her
parrots in with them.
After a few minutes, the female parrots cried out in unison: "Hi, we're hookers! Do you want to have some fun?" There was stunned silence. Shocked, one male parrot looked over at the other male parrot and exclaimed, "Put the beads away, Frank. Our prayers have been answered".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEEKLY WORKOUT!!

The Doctor told me, that I should start an exercise program. Not wanting to harm this old body,....I've devised the following program:

Monday:
Beat around the bush.
Jump to conclusions.
Climb the walls.
Wade through the morning paper.
Tuesday:
Drag my heels.
Push my luck.
Make mountains out of mole hills.
Hit the nail on the head.
Wednesday:
Bend over backwards.
Jump on the Band Wagon.
Run around in circles.
THURSDAY:
Advise the President on how to run the country.
Toot my own horn.
Pull out all the stops.
Add fuel to the fire.
FRIDAY:
Open a can of worms.
Put my foot in my mouth.
Start the ball rolling.
Go over the edge.
SATURDAY:
Pick up the pieces
SUNDAY:
Kneel in prayer,
Bow my head in Thanksgiving,
Uplift my hands in praise,
Hug someone and encourage them.

WHEW!!!!! What a workout!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Subject: Kids and Toys..........
There was this couple that had been married for 20 years. Every time they
made love the husband always insisted on shutting off the lights.
Well, after 20 years the wife felt this was ridiculous. She figured shewould break him of this crazy habit.
So one night, while they were in the middle of a wild, screaming, romantic session, she turned on the lights.
She looked down ... and saw her husband was holding a battery operated pleasure device ... a vibrator, soft, wonderful and larger than a real one.
She goes completely ballistic. "You impotent fake," she screamed at him, "how could you be lying to me all of these years? You better explain yourself!"
The husband looks her square in the eyes and says calmly: "I'll explain the toy ... if you explain the kids."

Ba-dump-bump.

Peace.

Two quick things...

First of all, Prince Charles needs either a smack upside the head or a swift kick in the arse. Whichever.
Second...I had a baseball game on earlier today...no idea who was playing...doing that, having a ball game playing in the background on TV, reminds me of when my Pop-pop was alive. He used to watch baseball all the time. What I want to know is how in the HELL is it the same dude announcing the games as it was when he watched 'em? I mean, jeez, Pop-pop's been gone for 22 years. But, I swear...it's the SAME ANNOUNCER GUY. The voice is identical.
I love it, because it completes the illusion, but how is it possible? If it IS the same guy, he's got to be a hundred years old by now.

Okay, back to the Princess Diana shit I'm watching now.
Prince Charles needs to be smacked...really, really hard.
If for no other reason (and there are MANY), for thinkin' Camilla was worth hurting Diana for. I mean, not that being replaced with a supermodel woulda made Diana feel any better, but daaamn, man. Camilla looks like the south end of a northbound bulldog.
Charles must be blind, as well as completely retarded.
And I used to like him.
The dork.

You, computer, are a magnet...

And, I must be steel, because I cannot get the hell AWAY from you to get my shit done, damn it.
Two days, now, I've had a plan. A plan that's been shot to hell by you and your mystic glowing screen.
Yesterday, I had two emails I wanted to get out. I did that. Got 'em both done and then TRIED to do the dishes. But, nooooo. You can't leave me alone for 5 minutes, can ya?
"I need maintenence...RIGHT NOW! Or, I'm gonna keep popping up that stupid 'scan disk' shit all by myself."
Or...."How about if I just fall off-line for no apparent reason, especially if yer waiting for an IM?"
You, Mr. Pooter, are a pain right in my ass, sometimes.

Now...I NEED to get this house cleaned and dinner done and be ready for when David is ready, okay? Do ya THINK you can just sit here and DO NOTHING, no scan disking, no disconnecting, no dumb shit of any kind for a while? Hmmm?

Try it. Ya might like it, ya freakin' Pinhead.

If not...YOU can clean the damned house and I'll sit here with my thumb up my ass....Oh wait. I've BEEN doing that, haven't I? Well...you can either behave or clean while I watch, but you have to choose. One or the other. Because I can't be in two places at once and if you sooo do not want me washing dishes and cleaning and making dinner....
Ya know?

Now...un-mindmeld me and let me get my shit done, damn it.

This is cool...

Found this at Random Fate. The homepage for it is here.

1. Dogma::Catholic church
2. Spirit::wild horses
3. Voodoo::chicken bones
4. Demon::The Exorcist
5. Digital::cellphone (Nextel)
6. Ceremony::wedding
7. Research::weed
8. Career::weed
9. Penis::where?
10. Film::camera

Yeah...I can see me doing this every week.
Dis is fuuuun.

Y'all will never guess who my favorite person in the world is right now...

A female insurance agent named Julie.
The woman is an angel.

Okay...back in yer chair now?
I know.
A female insurance agent....

But, she really is the best. With all the car juggling horsepoop we've been through lately, we managed to get cancelled for missing a payment. Plus, we have the added attraction of an out-of-state licensed driver on the records (an absolute necessity to even have 'records' in the first place for us right now).
Julie was not only very sweet and helpful with it all, she even got us re-instated for less than the insurance company started out wanting.

Yay Julie!!!

I've dealt with her before and ever since I got the stupid notice from the insurance company outta the mailbox last night, I've been begging God to let it be her who answered when I called and it was...
Thank you yet again, Lord.
(Now, about Rob....)

It wasn't all bad at the mailbox, either. Jason did indeed mail that glamour shot and it's now in the folder with the rest of the pictures to be sent to Paul.
Jeez. I guess I am kinda cute...with professional hair and make up people and the right lighting...lol.

In other news....the cat can now go a whole 15 minutes without looking to make sure she can still see me.
And, I think Petey the Parakeet is pissed at me because I won't take him outside. He got out there a few days last week because it was so nice and he can't understand why he can't keep doing it. (Yet.)
He loooves being out there, hanging in the carport. He chirps his lil butt off at the other birds and has a great time. I feel so bad when it's nasty or too cold out and he can't go. Poor little shit.

Okay...I can't not say something here...I'm (yes, AGAIN) watching my Monkees tapes and I swear, one of the best songs they did was "You Just May be The One". I'm gonna go grab up the lyrics and post 'em, I like what it says sooo much. Hang on a sec....

You Just May be The One
(By Michael Nesmith)

All men must have someone, have someone
Who would never take advantage
Of a love bright as the sun.
Someone to understand them,
And you just may be the one.

All men must have someone, have someone
Who would never take advantage
Of the love bright as the sun.
Someone to stand beside them
And you just may be the one.
Someone to understand them,
And you just may be the one.

Lord, I love singing that with Mike. "Sweet Young Thing", too.
(Aw, hell...I've never heard a Monkee's song I didn't like.)

I also believe that song. All men SHOULD have someone like that...(and deserve 'em). Unfortunately, I know of more guys who DO deserve someone like that and either are alone or have someone who is basically the opposite of that. That's a sad way to run things, too.

Anyway...I really should get cleaning. The house is starting to get away from me a bit and there's a cake waiting to be made....and I'll bet Eric would like some surprise tollhouse cookies. It'd be a surprise, too, cause I just made some when the kids were here and I haven't even mentioned making 'em again.
Think I will.
Think I'm gonna jack up some good rock-n-roll and get some shit done.
Then, if I can, I'll sneak outside later, too. If Miss Mommy Cat falls asleep or something, I guess...lol.

Oh yeah...and, most very important...thank you to both people who have commented on 'Okay, let's try this again...'
Frankly, I was hoping it would come across correctly and be taken the way I felt it and it seems it has been....so far. (*keeping fingers crossed*) The first person, I emailed back and the second prompted this, so...again...Thank you both for recieving it the way it was intended.

Peace.

The rabbit test...

you are the "I hate you so bad" happy
bunny. You hate everyone and eveything and your
not ashamed of it.


which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Thank you again, Dear.

Okay lets try this again...

I tried several times yesterday to get something posted, but...it wasn't happening.
I'm still bugged by what's going on with Rob, but everytime I tried to get it out, something froze. Either the stupid computer or my brain. I kept wandering off into explanations that made it too long and diluted the point.
Then, Erica had her kitten. Yep. Just one. That's fine. Everybody is doing great and I still have two to go in the prego-cat category. Somehow, I doubt I'll get off this light the next two times...but we can hope. I love kittens. I just don't really need 90 of 'em.
I remember the last time there were two females pregnant at the same time. It was years ago, but how do ya forget going to bed with 9 cats and waking up with 17? They both went off the same night. One load upstairs in a closet and the other in the downstairs bathroom sink.
Erica, on the other hand, has been glued to me since the night before last, meowing at me constantly. Then, when she got ready to give birth, she rather loudly requested my presence and has not let me out of her sight since. I consider myself lucky that she had the baby in a huge basket with a handle. It makes it lots easier to take her with me everywhere I go...lol. 'Course, I am getting kinda tired of the 'Little Red Riding Hood' remarks. "Wanna kitten-sit?" usually stops that crap...lmao.
All I need to do now is convince Erica that I will too come back if I go out to see the horse. The way she's been about being in every room with me, I haven't tried actually leaving the house, yet. Hell, it hasn't been 24 hours. I suppose she may still be a little freaked out. But, I really can't take her out there...I don't care what she thinks...lol. And, I do hafta get out there today. Well...maybe not HAVE TO...but I want to really bad.
Another reason I didn't get out there yesterday was the stupid freakin' white shit falling out of the sky. I mean...c'mon already. Enough wit dat shit, ya know? Not to even mention the fact that the ground is pretty much soaked and the poor boy (Storm) sinks up to his fetlocks every step he takes. Last thing we need is more precipitation...of any kind.
The ground needs to be able to dry out a little before it can handle any more water. If this seemingly endless deluge doesn't stop soon, it could cause flash floods and get completely out of control. It could even get ugly.
Same kinda thing can happen to people, too. I know it does to me. Too many not good things in too short a time can change a person. Whether the change is good or bad depends on a few factors...like, what kind of bad shit it is that's happening, how badly it 'gets' you, how you were taught to respond in the first place and maybe, whether or not there seems to be a point in surviving at all. Maybe it also depends on how you want to come out of it.
Whether or not this change is permanant also depends on a coupla things. Mostly, it depends on the strength of character of the person being shit on. Then, it goes to what kind of people are with them...around them. Whether these people are helping, or further hurting, the dumpee.
It's being able to tell the difference between those two types of people that always fucks me up. That and the fact that if it weren't for low self-esteem, I'd have no self-esteem at all.
I've often wondered for my own self, exactly how much shit is one person supposed to take before they catch a freakin' break? Now, I'm wondering it about a few other people, too. (I consider that to be an improvement, by the way. I've progressed from thinking all the bullshit in the universe is reserved for me...lol)
Anyway, one of the people I'd like to see get a break for once-even more than myself-is Rob.
And I don't even mean a big break, like people excusing him for having a really bad day, or maybe not judging him (lest they be judged)...I just mean I'd like to see life leave him the hell alone, if it can't be nice, for a year or two. Let him have time to try to recover from one trauma before the next three hit.
My very first and still uppermost thought at seeing the reaction people have had to the use of that word is that if THAT is 'the most disturbing thing' you've seen over there lately, you either haven't been over there or haven't paid one damn bit of attention when ya were.
Now, I've been through some pretty bizarre, sometimes pretty harsh shit in my life, but I guess I've also been at least a little lucky that it's been spread out over so many years. What I'd have been like if it had been compressed into less than three years is something that scares me to think about.
And, I'm fully aware that I "brought a lot/most/all of this shit on (my)yourself"...I ought be. It's been pointed out enough damned times. Ya wanna know something(s) about that? First of all, knowing it doesn't change a thing. It doesn't make the shit hurt less or tell you HOW you're doing it so you can STOP...all it does is reinforce the idea that you're a stupid, worthless ass who, it's plain to see according to everybody else, actually DESERVES what you're getting.
Horseballs.
Another thing about it...it's NOT INTENTIONAL!!!! It's a reactionary thing. It's not planned out and worked toward, the way people seem to think it is. It's just that after so many hits too quickly, you begin to perceive any actions by others as potential threats and don't react 'appropriately'.
Whipped dogs are like that too. And, head-shy horses.
Constant abuse leads to the kind of behavior that can be misunderstood into being the reason for the abuse.
It's a lovely fuckin' way to live, let me tell ya.

People seem to lose all perspective when it comes to Rob. I don't honestly know why that is. Am I the only one who still can see him the way he was when I found him a year ago? I still see that guy, underneath all the bullshit, bluster, scars and bad behavior.
I mean, think about it...try to imagine LIVING this: In less than three years, a person you love, right or wrong, you really love, leaves you and takes your kid away. Pretty fuckin' bad. Then, they do all that and just happen to have a substandard replacement for you waiting in the wings. Meantime, you're finding out that you have friggin' cancer and if it doesn't kill you, it will, at the very least, render your dick inoperable for God knows how long...maybe forever...unless, of course you'd not mind jabbing a needle into it every time you want to make love, or have a huge operation in that area.
Now, both of these things get dumped on ya in about a week, so you feel you have nothing to even try to live for, so you go a little nutso for a minute and it gets blown into (nearly) an international incident and used against you more ways than one. The person who left you now enlists your family members to help have you locked up. While you're tied up, so to speak, dealing with that, the person who threw you a cinder block when you were about to drown then arranges it so that if you do manage to regain your freedom, you have no where left to go.
All this is done in less than month. Waaay less than a month.

Somehow, you find the strength to start to come back from that. You find a place to live and about all you have left is your job. Thank God for that, at least, right?
Well...you've got a house again and still have your job, but, somehow, it's just not enough. It's still killing you. You need a release, before the pressure kills you. So, you write. And write and write and write.
Instead of any of the untold number of other ways people let off steam, like drinking, drugs, beatings, stalking, harassing...you write. And, it helps.
But, it doesn't make the shit stop happening.
If still having your job and getting a place to live was 'sitting up' from having been knocked flat on your back, then this writing is getting you to your knees, so you can soon stand....
Except....the shit doesn't stop. The person who left you continues to dog you. They expect you to play by the rules, while they write their own. That in itself is highly frustrating, let alone also trying deal with what they've already caused and that 'pesky' cancer shit.
Then, after a year or two of this nit-pickin', aggravating, needless shit from this person, you have major surgery. Ow. Thank God it worked.
But then....the person who just can't seem to see you bleed enough uses the one 'safe', non-violent way you have to vent and get over this shit maybe, to get you fired.
Then, they use your reaction to the further pain and frustration they've caused you as a reason to keep your kid from you at all.
And, have a sheriff at your door EVER, let alone multiple times in a week.

(Note: In this next part, 'you' is referring to those who delinked Rob and those who just don't get it and want to kick him to the curb...)
Now...how would YOU feel? How would YOU be acting? How harshly would you want to be judged in that situation? How permanant would you like it to be seen as? Would you want everybody to forget who you really are and proclaim you to be a certain type of person just because of something you said?
I'm sure we'd all like to say "Well, even then, I'd have enough sense not to use that word. Especially ten times..." That's really easy to say now...thinking halfway clearly, but, really...when your mind is that poisoned by life, like it can be by drugs, you just cannot think things out or see them like you used to, like they really are.
When you've been beaten so long and so hard, sooner or later, you will lash out. It's almost never considered 'appropriate', either.
For the record, I didn't really care for the manner Rob chose in which to get his point across. I got his point, too, however. It just coulda been said in many other, nicer ways. But, I don't look to Rob for 'nicer'...I look to Rob for brutal truth. I expect that, so, even if I may be dismayed at the words he chooses sometimes, I still get what I came for...truth.
Believe me, reading about him drooling over eating goat when he went to Jamaica, when my own goat was missing, really hurt me. Pissed me off, even. But, it didn't change who Rob really is. Didn't change the fact that I like the guy. To quote the guys in the movie 'Porky's', when they're explaining Kavanaugh to Brian..."We (I) may not like everything he does, but he's our (my) friend..."
I, for one, ain't giving up just yet.

It kinda seems to me like the people who have delinked him were just looking for an excuse to do so. Maybe they're just really uncomfortable reading a man fall apart (as opposed to 'seeing'). Maybe this was just the excuse they needed to walk away and look superior when they did. Hell, to their way of thinking, it's GOT to be better to be seen as morally superior and therefore 'done with him' than a chickenshit who wants to run just because they can't handle what he's going through and his reactions to it.
I can understand that, too. I've been that chicken-shit myself. I've delinked him a coupla times since he got back from Jamaica, but, not because he pissed me off or because of any one or two (or 10) words he said, but because I felt like hell watching him jitter apart and not be able to reach out to help if he wanted it. But, I felt even worse trying to walk away. (And, for the record, the times I did delink and relink him, I did NOT make a huge deal out of it. Yes, people can say anything they want in their blogs, but they also oughta be able to admit they do that kinda shit FOR HITS. Otherwise, they'd just dump the link, not say a word and go on. Just think about it....)
I just can't leave him, whether he knows or even cares I'm there, or not.
As long as he's breathing or until he tells me personally to fuck off, I'm sticking.
And, he may even have to do that more than once...
Right now, the man is like a lion with his paw in a leghold trap. He feels trapped, is in immense pain and will rip the head offa anybody who gets close, even if they're just wanting to get the trap off. It's not helping at all that there's a crowd of rubberneckers and idiots who wanna throw rocks and poke him with sticks standing around, either. Those would be the assholes, not everybody-just the assholes-in his comments. Hell, he's even slashed a few of the people he is 'used to'. Y'all are expecting him to settle down and be helped with a jeering crowd standing by? Riiiight.
If ya care enough about Rob and the issues surrounding having Rob linked to go into long-winded, self-serving explanations about why you're delinking him, then how come ya don't care enough to look past the bad words to the CAUSE of them? If half of the energy spent 'explaining' had been used to actually help the guy somehow, he'd be light-years ahead of the rest of us on the road to recovery (from the traumas of life, that is...).
If you can't be bothered to try to help, then why not just leave him alone? Is it fun to add to the load of a guy who is already staggering, or something? Just how far 'up' do people need to push themselves offa his already breaking shoulders?
Really what this all boils down to is kicking a guy who is so down, there doesn't even seem to be an 'up' anymore.
Bravo.
That'll really help him heal and not keep saying things in a boneheaded manner. Sure it will.

Another quiz...

Postatem obscuri lateris nescitis.
"You do not know the power of the Dark
Side." There are two possibilities: you
are a Star Wars geek, or you are unreasoningly
scary.


Which Weird Latin Phrase Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I've seen this everywhere, but I swiped it from Mad William.

Hello....

How is everybody? (And, feel free to answer that. That's why God invented 'comments'...)
Us five are fine so far. The kids, both of 'em, got there Friday night and hung out with Big Eric (*weg*) until they all fell asleep. Then, yesterday afternoon, the little guy, Tiger, got his first horseback ride ever and...(get this)...his first sloppy joe's ever. Six years old and hasn't had 'em before. Ya see what I mean about that chick? Gawd...
Anyhow, the kid loves all the cats, dogs and other assorted critters and my littlest cat/kitten plays 'trucks' with him on the kitchen floor. She literally grabs the trucks/cars/tractor and smacks it back. Too cool....
Last night after everybody passed out on me (around 8:00pm), I made tollhouse cookies. Then, this morning, I made one of my huge breakfast deals I like to do. Tonight, for dinner...spagetts and-a meata-ballsssss. (Wonder if watching The Godfather last night has anything do widdat?)
Anyhow, I'm getting ready to go hang with the horse for a bit. I've got about two and a half or so hours til I start dinner and the water is off right now so I can't do the (damned) dishes til the pump gets fixed. Bill's trying to find someone to come fix it now...whole farm is 'dry' til it is, so I hope it's soon.

In the meantime, I have a coupla things rolling around in my head that I wanna get outta there and NO they are not a few rabbit turds and dust balls, although those kinda things are probably in there, too. What I'm talking about is this whole 'delinking Rob' business/bandwagon and Dax Montana in the bathroom, pancakes and why the two are forever linked in my brain. Siiigh.

Can't wait, now, can ya?

Heh.

I'll be back.
Peace

Lord....

Okay...lem'me see if I can get this straight.

I last went to bed about 1:30 Thursday morning. I was up again at around 3:00am til about 5a. Then, I slept from 5a til about 10a. I got up, went and met the horse, came back, went back and got him, got back here with him about 12:30 this morning and since then, I've cleaned the house and been out to visit him a few times.
Not to even mention that, yesterday before we left, Eric shaved off his beard. Jeezus, what a sweet lil face he has. *grinning at the thought*
And, about an hour after we got back this morning my lil friend showed up.
AND...there are gonna be kidS here this weekend....I believe. The same two from the other week, when it got cancelled....remember? Yeah, well...here we go again...lol. House is clean, but not insanely so, there is still kid-food here from last time, so I don't need to get as much of that this time...I'm trying not to get too ready, lest I jinx it or some shit, ya know?
Now...lem'me run this crap by me one more time...house is clean...wash is almost done, dishes are done, catboxes and vacuuming, too...okay.
Good.
Next is a shower. I'm wearing sweats and what feels like about 60 pounds, or so, of hair and it's mine, not Storms. I haven't gotten done everything I want to do yet, but, when George gets home, we have to go to the store, so I have to do the last few things in a stupid order. So, shower, wash the hair...go to the store, get back, do dinner and go groom Storm. I know I'm gonna wind up covered in horsehair and dust again, but hell...it smells soooo good. That kinda 'not exactly clean' is way much better than I feel right this second, lemme tell ya...

And, to top it off....as exhausted and crampy as I am, I've only lost my temper twice. I banished my old vacuum from my sight and this house 'cause it pissed me off. I got tired of screwing with it and unplugged it, grabbed it up and threw it out in the carport with the rest of the trash. Little pissant. I'll just use George's loud as a jet one....Heh?!? Wha??? Need earplugs for that booger, but it does suck up some miscellaneous crud.
The other temper tantrum was to throw a rocking chair across the living room. I was trying to slide it out of my way and the rocker on one side caught the edge of a rug in there and bunched it and everything sitting on it all up so I just lifted it and threw it out to my left and did what I was trying to do. Nothing I'd rather do than hafta fight furniture to be able to clean a friggin cat box. That's kinda like racing to a dentist or gynocologist appointment. I put it back like it belonged when I was done, too.
Anyhow, other than thaaaat...I'm...okay, so far.

Long as I don't drown in the shower....

Peace.

We're back....

All went smoothly. He loaded right up and hauled fine. All those hilly, twisted, curvy roads and not one bang from back there.
Got him here and he hopped right out and led just as nice as ya please through the cows to the barn and into his stall and after we just stared at him for about 15 minutes, we left him to get settled.
Poor Eric has to go out to start milking and shit in about 4 hours, so he's sacking out on the couch (like a nap) instead of in bed (like I'd need dynamite to get his ass up in there), so all I 'hafta' do is hang for a while longer and make sure he gets up. (Like that'll be hard...pfft.)
Think what I might do is go hang with Storm for a while a coupla times between now and 5:00am, while it's quiet around here and just groom him up real good and let him get used to the sound and smell of me.
Maybe then I'll actually be able to go to sleep for a while after Eric goes out.

I guess we shall see.

In the meantime, I'm starving and I need an aspirin or two, so I'm gonna go handle those things and, I'll be back.

Peace.

I am covered in horsehair and dust....

And it is WONDERFUL!!!!

Okay, now I can finally tell ya's...it's official.

We own another horse. He'll be here by midnight, I believe. We're leaving to go get him in a little bit. It is kinda odd to do this so late, but the lady we're getting him from and the guy who is trailering him here for us both had time around 10:00pm to do it, so...whatever works.
Eric (mostly) and I just got done putting his stall together, getting it bedded and all the buckets and the hay rack filled and ready.
He's an Appaloosa, starting to lose his sight a bit, about 15 or so years old, about 15.2 or 16 hands high and gorgeous. He's got a great attitude and personality and....I can hardly believe any of it.

The coincidences are astounding with this horse. First off, he's an App gelding who happens to be visually impaired. My first horse (not pony) was an App gelding and my last horse was an App who was visually impaired. His current mommy and I have the same first name. The guy who is bringing him here for us is named ANDY!!! Even his name is a pisser...Now, it's a known fact that I think snow is evil and should be outlawed, right? Well, his name is Snowstorm and he's called Snow for short. Now, I'm either gonna call him Storm or just think up something completely different, liiiike 'Stunningly gorgeous hunka horse' or something....ooohhhh...how 'bout "Hitman"? Or, Beautiful Roan Exciting Thing...then I can call him Bret, for acronym (as opposed to 'for short')...lol. Hell...it'll come to me.

In the meantime, I'm beginning to wonder who I've turned into...a car that's legal and runs AND this wonderful horse, all in less than a week. This kinda stuff doesn't happen to me. Much. And, the idea that I'm probably gonna get run over by a bus now, hasn't even crossed my mind. Much. (lol)

AND, Jason found the one Glamour Shot photo I really wanted to find so I can put it on here. It's a newer picture, lighter and lots closer up. He said it's in the mail, so when it gets here, it'll join the others and be sent to visit Paul so he can do 'that thing he does' and then I can post 'em.

Okay...question. If you can sing Albert's song that's being rehearsed toward the beginning of 'Birdcage', have ya maybe seen it a few too many times? How about if you can scream with him each time he does it?
Cause I can. I hear that dumb song even when the movie isn't on. I'll be hearing this melody in my head, start humming it and finally catch myself singing the few lyrics he actually gets through. I'm starting to worry me.
I do find it oddly comforting though, that the movies I'm memorizing dialouge from have changed from movies like 'Billy Jack' and 'The Godfather' to 'Birdcage' and 'Clueless'. Not that I've forgotten any of the lines from the old ones, but at least these are less violent and shit. Right? *crickets(laughing out loud)*

Aaanyway...I've gotta get ready to get going, so...
Peace.
P.S. For the millionth time today...
THANK YOU, GOD!!!!!!

I TOLD you guys....

Your Sign Is: Exit Only

There's a 96% chance that you're sporting a penis .. or that you wish you had one
You're down for getting laid - but you're not going to make a fool out of yourself to get some
And wilder things are completely out of the question (except for a night with Jessica Simpson)
So it's no surprise that your sign is "Exit Only" - that's how your ass prefers to stay

What's Your Street Sign?
More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

Swiped from Caterwauling.

Update @ 12:00pm...

EGADS!!!! It completely escaped my attention to mention that this site is NOT work-safe, apparently. I am SOOOO unversed in this aspect of it all...I never even thought about it. Snowball just emailed and said her IT dept. is freaking out over it.
Lord, I'm sorry Snow. I didn't even think of/realize that part. Anybody who can give me a 'shotgun breakdown' of this shit will be loved forever...Do not worry about 'dumbing it down', at all. Here...I'll even title it for ya: How To Recognize and Remember to Warn About "NSFW" Sites For Morons". (Meaning me, of course.)

Again, I really am sorry, Snow. If there is anything I can do, just let me know.

(This, by the way, is EXACTLY why I constantly say I'm a retard, for those of you who wonder such things. See? I am too right. Gawd...*shaking head at self*)

Hey Dad!!

There's somebody else from DuPont reading me! They were here at about quarter of six, last night...after you'd left the lab. Any idea who it is? It better not be that rude dude...if it is, yeah, I still remember you giving me a load of shit that day and no, I haven't forgiven you for it. Fuck you and your bad day. Don't be taking it out on me. Asshole. (Not that it's any of your damned business, but IF I'm calling Dad, you can bet your stupid ass there's a reason for it and the last thing I need is another pile of shit from YOU. Got it? Good.)

Anyway...the reason for this post is to clarify (!) a bit on the last one. (Like it ain't long enough...)
I just read it myself and it struck me that it gives the impression that I don't think any nice, decent people EVER 'make it' in this bullshit. That's not true. I know that every once in a great while, they do 'get there' or at least on the way. I knoooowwww....hmmmm....two? people who are not assholes who, if you define 'success' in the standard manner, are successful. Jason and my Dad. Each of them has had the same job for years, make plenty of money, have kids, have vehicles, houses, cool shit in said houses...they did it. They made it. Two people out of how many?
The odds of a decent person 'succeeding' are staggering. And...that for the ones who understand and can actually play the damned game. I don't understand ANY of it nor do I possess the slightest idea of HOW to do any of this shit, so what are the odds of me getting there? Slim to none, at best.
But...what da fuck. May as well give it shot, right? At least then, people can see me trying it their way and get to say all new shit about it failing, when it does.
Goody.
Whatever.

I just wanted Dad and Jason (and for some damned reason Ken of Ken's Page, too) to quit lookin' at me sideways in my mind, like they're asking "I'm an asshole?" No. Y'all are not assholes. You're miracles.
But, there's Paul and George and Eric and me and 72 bazillion other decent people who get nuthin' but fucked. Can't get ahead no matter WHAT.
It's the difference between you two, Dad and Jason, (and the few others like you two) and the rest of us nice people that I need to figure out, I guess. Neither of you two have a truly evil bone in yer body....but, somehow, you two did it. You managed to, somehow, deal with those assnuggets and actually get ahead. Without being just like them. Amazing.
There have been assloads of books on how 'successful' people did it. Has there ever been one about how 'nice' people do it? I'd like to devour that one, if so.

I need to go walk around in the woods for a while.

My brain hurts.

Okay...back to that 'newsflash'...

Why do I say I'm nuts? Mostly because I am. The question is...why. Why am I nuts? Not 'what caused it'...I know that.
I just want to (maybe need to) figure out why it is that my conclusions and subsequent actions, or lack thereof, is nuts.
Let's examine this, shall we?

Okay...let's just say there's this activity that humans take part in. For the most part, from observation, it seems that there are some maaaajor assholes involved in this activity. People who lie, cheat, steal, kill...all in the name of coming out ahead in this activity, which, in the long run, is pointless...utterly POINTLESS...to begin with. The 'fun' part is that there is to be no 'choice' about participation. You just 'have to' do this. You HAVE TO be involved in an activity you find stupid, for reasons that don't hold for 2 seconds in the face of 'why?' and that has all manner of assholes in it. The assholes are the ones who win every. fuckin'. time. and not being an asshole yerself, you stand not a chance in HELL of breaking even, let alone ever winning, so the INTELLIGENT thing to do in a situation like this is just don't get involved. Right?

Wrong...if yer me.

Why do I HAVE TO do this 'thing' if I can plainly see it's horseshit and I don't have the basic skills to even compete, let alone ever 'win'? To me, it makes about as much sense as throwing Chris Reeves in a wrestling ring with Andre the Giant and expecting him...no...DEMANDING that he win the match. Yeah. The only person with less chance of winning is someone born with just a head and no body.
Or, how about taking a rodeo bronc to the Olypmics? Yeah, let's do that. Let's take a horse that's been taught nothing except to rebel, buck and be left alone and expect him to do dressage. Then, when he has no idea what the fuck yer even talking about or asking for or how to even begin to start doing it, call him a horrifically depressed loser. Tell him how wrong he is for not just jumpin' on in and taking home the trophy. And, let's not forget to 'punish' him for not gettin' it. Even if it's not physical abuse, make sure you keep reminding him how 'defeatist' and 'depressed' amd 'wrong' he is, cuz THAT always helps, right....?
How about if the activity is stabbing yerself in the leg with a fork? You have to do this because everybody else does and you'd...gasp!...be 'wrong' not to do it yourself and the only point is to see who has the most poke marks in the end.
Stupid, right? Not something a sane person would get involved in, right? Right.

Well, WHY THEN, is it sooo bad that I don't get it about life itself? From what I have seen, honest people get fucked. Nice people lose. People who are not mercenary, money grubbin', back stabbing, liar fuckholes don't even register in the win column, usually.

The meek shall inherit the earth. Good things come to those who wait. Bad people will lose in the long run.
Really?
WHEN IS THIS GONNA BE? I don't wanna miss it.

As if. That shit ain't gonna happen. Wanna know what happens to people who cheat, lie and steal to get ahead? Nothing. If they don't get called on it in the stupid aspects of life, how am I suppose to believe they're ever gonna be called on it with the big, important parts?
Vince McMahon, for a retarded example....he's a known steroid user, he screwed Bret that time in Montreal and what happens to him for that? Nothing. He gets away with it and gets even richer. Great.
This guy that Eric works for...he rips Eric off every chance he gets. He gives him a raise and puts conditions on it, then makes Eric chase him down for days on end to actually be handed the cash, for just one tiny example. This idiot lair guy, Jon....what price does he ever get charged for all the bullshit he perpetrates? None. He just goes around, arbitrarily spewing shit all over someones life just because he feels like it and it's so fuckin' okay, that NOBODY EVER calls him on it. "Oh, that's just Jon..."....No. That's just bullshit.
My own mother...she fucked several of my boyfriends, screwed my Dad over and what did she get? A nice house and married to a better person than she deserved. Twice. I never once even cleaned her clock for the shit she did and I really should have. Given the chance right now, I would. I'd beat her back to death for what she did to people whose only 'sin' was to love her or be born to her. (Dad loved her, I was stuck being her offspring....)

Now...hang with me a second here....If you drive drunk and risk hurting other people, you get locked up if you get caught. If you intentionally hurt somebody for any reason, like stab or shoot them because they looked at ya wrong, you go to jail, if ya get caught. If you do bad things and get caught, you get punished. EXCEPT when you're just lying or cheating or fuckin' somebody in the name of 'getting ahead'. Then, it's fine and instead of being 'punished' if yer caught, the rest of the world is just supposed to deal with it. I don't get that. I know that's the way it is, but I. don't. get. that. Never have, never will.
And, that, friends and neighbors, is the point here.

Why do I have to participate in such a corrupt, stilted, stacked-against-ya, low percentage chance of winning, bullshit enterprise? I've been there. I've tried. I quit struggling for a while and just sat back and observed this game and I've decided it's not worth it. The game is life itself. And, no...I'm not thinking about offing myself. I just don't see the point anymore, if I ever was able to.

After talking to my buddy Jason and my Dad yesterday because I thought me and George were headed for a showdown, I came away with more clarity and less enthusiasm than ever.
Briefly, there was no showdown. Both of us were just getting bunged up over miscommunication and outside shit. No biggie. Ever'thing's cool. Except....
me.

Without exception, the one thing everybody seems to agree on is that I am WRONG to choose to not participate in this poorly written, wretchedly executed soap opera called life. Well....WHY? I wouldn't purposely do something I know I'd lose at and get hurt doing, like jumping into a wrestling ring to avenge Bret. Hell, even with a GOOD reason like that, I wouldn't do it. I also wouldn't try to stand down an oncoming train, which is pretty much what getting out there and participating in life seems like.

I mean, Jesus...if ya try something that turns out to be....'unpleasant', you stop doing it and unless yer brain damaged, ya don't keep doing it over and over, right? Right. BUT...when you do something that has been nothing but heartbreak, pain and ultimately pointless to boot, you aren't allowed, suddenly, to call it bullshit and stay out of it. You just have to do it. WHY? Well, dopey little female person that we all love but do not even begin to understand....You do it, you eat shit from assholes everyday, so you can get 'things'.
Oh.
Okay.
So, the obtaining of 'things' is the point? Eating shit is worth it because then you get to have 'things'. Like cars...that cost almost more than they're worth. But, you have to have a car, to have a job, so you can eat shit to get more things. Oh. The deal is, you eat enough shit, to get enough 'things' to make eating shit get easier and be worth it. Riiiight.
Wanna know what 'things' really are? They're things to lose, to be taken from you by whomever for some reason they decide is valid. Even if it's not. The more ya have, the more ya have to lose. Again...what's the fuckin' POINT? I don't wanna amass a great pile of things just for some dillhole to use to fuck with me even more. A car is all fine and good, til ya try to get the damn thing legal. They make that so friggin impossible, it's a joke. Oh, but if I had a car and a job (i.e.-ate shit), I could better afford all my animals...that everybody already fucks with me about. It's STUPID to have so many animals, remember? Okay, then...having a job will make it so you have money for other things. What other things? Which ones are that damned important? The only one I can come up with is getting Eric a lawyer so he can have his goddamned life back, but, fuck man. That, I'd need my Dad's job and seniority to pay for. Ain't ever gonna have THAT. I'm not stupid. Hell, my Dad DOES have that, and he's not that much better off than me with being able to save money. He's usually sorta broke too, just on a much grander scale...oh good. Yes. Let me do THAT. My tiny mess of a life isn't enough...let me do it BIGGER. (siiiigh....)

The biggest part of my resistance to all this is that I don't wanna be like 'them'...'them' being the ones who win big...the liars, the cheaters, the users....I'd rather be broke and keep my personal integrity and dignity than throw it aside and jump in the cesspool. Ya jump in the cesspool, even if yer not a bonafide turd, yer still gonna smell like shit. Yer still gonna get that effulent all over yerself. How in the name of Gawd is that worth it? Because you get to say "Ha ha. By association and due to the fact that I'm covered in shit and stink to high heaven, no one can now see that I'm NOT like you bottom feeding slimes, BUT...that's fine, because now I get to go home and play with my 'things'"...?
Dear God.
Now...these 'things' are supposed to be what makes it worth it. They're to be what recharges you, thereby enabling you to go out again the next day to eat another load of shit from some sexually frustrated, middle management dolt, whose sole purpose in life is to make people miserable because he is.
Fuuuuck that.
But...wait. Not allowed to say that, am I?
I can plainly see it's all shit. There is no amount of material goods on this entire planet that, to me, are worth having to be used, lied to, ripped off, fucked over and shit on for. I am sorry. But, it's just not worth it. To me.
I understand, now, that, worth it or not, I have no choice. It's either participate in this crooked bullshit or do what I've been doing...fucking with no one, no one (or the barest minimum of people) fuckin' with me. I made a deal with the world a few years back. You, world...fuck off and so will I. You leave me alone and I won't fuck with you either.
But...that's wrong.
Knowingly participating in a crooked, bullshit scam isn't wrong. (It's NOT???)
No. Choosing not to is wrong.
That sooo does not make sense. To me.
I mean, hell, if I HAVE to just because everybody else does, then that cop, Serpico, was wrong. Hey...he saw what it was and he rebelled. He shoulda just gone along for the ride. How dare he stand up and shout "This is WROOOOONG!!!" and try to not get drug into it? He fought it and 'won', if you call winning losing everything up to and almost including his life. Wanna know what he managed to get 'changed'? The fact that he was a cop and had a career. That's what he changed. That shit he fought against still goes on.
So, fighting an 'it' that big and firmly entrenched is stupid. Going along is also unacceptable.
What's left?
Existing. Surviving. That's all that's left. And, ya don't need 40 million pounds of 'things' to do that.
Dad said that, basically, about the only thing left is to go live on a mountain and be all alone, live off the land and just be. Yeah...I know that. Don't even fool yerself into thinking I haven't thought of that. Those 'mountain men' people who live in places like Idaho and wherever make more and more sense every time I think about'em...EXCEPT...they don't get left alone, either.
Ruby Ridge, anyone? That name ring a bell?
The only REAL way to get through this is to be as much of a 'non-person' as you can. Lay low, don't attract attention, ask for nothing, get that and go on.
That I can do. Yeah, maybe it is stupid, but, it's MY stupid, not the world's, or the government's, or anybody elses. It's mine.
Not that it's all that much better to be able to say "Yeah, I'm still getting fucked, but at least it's my own dick...", but it is true. Being alive equals getting fucked. End of story. You should at least be able to choose what gets shoved up yer ass. Ya know?

Here's another example...I've been re-reading a book called "Careless Whispers" about three teenagers who were killed in Waco, Texas in the early 80's. The why's and who's don't matter right now...tho, it is a good book. The point is, is that this one cop, Truman Simons, was driven to solve this case, even though it took almost (or maybe a bit more than) a year, because he was enraged that these kids had had their 'futures stolen from them'. Now, I'm not about to try to say that David, the dude who killed them, did them a favor, but...how does Simons know what they're futures were gonna be? They could've been about to get drug down the highway to hell by life, like me. So...to my way of thinking, he (Truman) shoulda let the rage at the senselessness of David's reasons for killing them be the driving force. Not that 'future' shit. Hell, David may have saved them from God-knows-how-many years of heartbreak, pain and frustration. Course, he may also have stupidly killed the person who was gonna find a cure for AIDS, too. Who can know for sure? Who even cares? He killed 'em, now he's dead too. That was at least fair. I just didn't get it how Simons could be so convinced that he robbed them of 'wonderful' futures. Maybe I wonder that because all three kids were troubled to begin with. From broken homes, living in a place called "The Methodist Home" and having other problems. I dunno. It's just that everytime I read that, I think "Well, Truman...I'd not have thought of it that way, but...you go, Dude." I'd have gone after him simply because what he did was WRONG and, godDAMN it, I'm sick of seeing people get away with shit like that.

Shit. I dunno. Sure, I can admit that my way of doing things isn't exactly condusive to obtaining 'things', but that's never been my point. My point, my goal, my fondest desire...is to not ever be fucked with for fun or profit ever again. I have gotten that, as much as is possible being alive. Maybe after a bit more time of this, of being minimally fucked, I'll get to where I start to want those 'things'. It certainly seems like I SHOULD, according to just everybody.
But, if I don't? Does that make me bad? Does that make me a loser? Does that mean that I deserve what I've been handed as a life or that I don't deserve anything good or 'extra' just because I don't wanna be a shit?

Lord.

Now, I hear another buddy in my head saying "Yes, but...if you'd go get that help I keep talking about, get the meds you need to get your head right, it wouldn't all look like this to you." Maybe. But, that requires a leap of faith (in human beings) that I don't have. I coudn't trust my own fuckin' mother to do right by me. How am I supposed to trust some damned doctor who doesn't even know me and is just in it for the money? It's not the people who count, it's the people who can PAY for the help that matter. And that, dang it, smells like bullshit to me, too. Yes, I've tried that, too. Gone to a 'free' clinic place back in Jersey where the first fuckin' question after they find out you don't have money is "Well, who in your life does? We'll go after them for this..." Nope again. I will not ask people who didn't do this to me to pay for it and digging up my rotting mother isn't gonna get them any money, either, soooo...apparently, I'm not worth helping.
Thanks, Health Care Commons, ya mercenary buncha bastards. You did nothing but prove my point to me about myself. I'm not even worth the aggravation to begin with.
Yeah...that helped lots.

So, here I am. Goin' 'round in circles, just hoping it's a drain and that, sooner or later, I'll finally go down it. It (my head) looks like the worlds biggest, baddest, nastiest knot. And, somehow, I'm supposed to WANT to undo it, to begin with, then be able to, period. Again...riiiiight.
It's exactly like this license shit, only huger. See, I don't have my license right now. It got suspended in the first place, because I'm a dork and forgot to pay a ticket. So, I got suspended and didn't know it. Then, I got stopped because my friggin hood wouldn't stay completely closed and SURPRISE!!! "Do you know you're suspended?" Ahhh...no. But I'll take yer word for it, Occifer. So, I go to court and, because the cop wasn't a dick and he was right, I was suspended, I pled guilty and paid the fine. The instant I did that, I got suspended for an additional year, which is over in September. Now...the cute part is I can get my license back RIGHT NOW if I have a job. HOWEVER, it'd be a hell of a lot easier to GET a job WITH my license. Cute, ain't it?
Well, that is my whole entire life in a nutshell. Ya need this to do that, but ya hafta do that to get this.
AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!!

Just leave me alone. (Not you guys...the rest of the world.)

I can't even tell myself I need to go eat shit in the name of Eric, because I simply cannot make enough soon enough, no matter how much shit I eat, to get him a lawyer. Everyday that passes sees him get into the shithole deeper and it's already so huge, it makes my head shit look like a mere rash, or something.
So, in order to kill his dragon, I have to slay my own, on my own, first. And, I barely have the energy or motivation to breathe most days.
Oh yeah....this oughta be fuuuuun.

The one good thing in all this, the one thing that's different now than it's ever been beore is this: This is NOT dragging me back down, this time.
It's pissing me off.
I can feel the beginnings of "Okay, fine. I have to be an asshole, which is the only way to get ahead in this bullshit game? Well, then, I will be. But, I'm gonna be the best, baddest, biggest, bleeding-est asshole y'all ever saw." I don't do anything half-assed to begin with. Why start then? And, God knows I have been subjected to enough lessons on the subject to start out at the Pro level....
And...the first person who bitches about what a wank I am, gets it. Right in the throat and I don't care if I get locked up. Don't sit here telling me I HAVE TO do this shit, but can't do it up right. I HAVE TO? Okay.
I will.
Fuck it. This being nice shit doesn't get ya anywhere, right? Fine.

"My brain swing like a pedulum do....Dipshits in my face, two by two...."

I do rather feel like I'm gonna have another chance at this shit when I get my license back. All I need to do now is get my shit together and be ready when the time comes. Hopefully by then, the majority of the 'pissed-ness' will have abated. Otherwise, I can see where it may not work out again.
I think what I want to do is use the anger now, to get myself ready. Lose the weight, get tough, learn to be mean....learn how to start fucking back.

God only helps those who help themsleves, right?
Well, I hope to hell He forgives them, too.

(Fade out to the sound of the beginning of the original "Rocky" theme.....)

Peace.
(On a quest for it now. I'll keep ya's posted...lol)

Okay...

It's been almost an hour.....
After having swallowed four aspirin, a coupla cups of coffee and brushing my hair, I feel better. I don't know what it is about brushing this hair out, but it do feel fine...Makes me take a big ol' deep breath when I flip it all back over and it settles. It feels like it makes my brain (yes, yes...what little I have left) relax or something.

I also saved a mouse. One of my stupid cats caught him and was running around with 'im in her mouth. I very slowly, very calmly got her to give. it. to. me....and wiped a dot of blood off his cute lil head and put him back under the sink where he belongs. See? I really AM nuts. (Like I give a damn...) It's just not necessary. That cat is a tubba lard and they have dry food available 24/7, so murderin' mice is OUT.

I'd also like to say again, for some reason, that I just adore Bret Hart. (Yeah...another newsflash...so?) I even have him on my desktop, now. I also watched 'Wrestling with Shadows' again. Then, I visited Uncle Vito and saw that he has a history with pro wrestling, so I'll be checking that a bit, see if he brings up my buddy....Already found out that Vince McMahon, in addition to being slime, it also a steroid monkey. I'm sure everybody else already knows this and lots more, but, remember, except for Bret, I choose to ignore wrestling. It's stupid. But, Bret is just gorgeous-er than IT is stupid, so I make an exception for him. I have been in the room when it's been on and I've even tried watching it a bit here lately, but...honestly...all the yellin', hollerin', gruntin' spittin' horseshit these guys spew annoys the hell outta me. Just hearing it makes me mad, let alone actually listening to the incoherant drivel. If ya actually listen to what they're screaming about, it's so friggin' juvenile and poorly articulated, it just turns me right off. My brain goes into 'standby', or something and I hear myself 'arguing' back at them.
The last stupid thing I saw was some big dude droning on endlessly about how he 'attacked' some little dude for 'the good of America' or some such rot. Then, there was this tag team match that Andre the Giants son was in and all he did was beat the crap out of a guy that stood about 2'6" by comparison. I know that big dude finding 'someone his own size' to wrestle would be hard, at best, but the guy he was throwing around like a lawn dart wasn't even as big as the other guys. It. was. just. stupid. And, between Andre the Giants kid and his partner, the little dude never even had a chance to tag his partner. Yeah. That's fair.

Aaaanyway....

Right?

I'll be back.
Peace.
(Know where I can get any?)

Here's a newsflash...

I. am. fuckin'. NUTS.

It's not the rest of the world. Oh, nooooo....
It's allll me.

Got it.

*Banging head on desk...again.*

OMG....

I love this person...
(rotfl....dish towels....)
Plus, I got a new one for the 'roll from her, too. Put down the donut....made me laugh out loud and one post about 'just do it' is dead on. So, it's 'rolled.

Hang in there, Sweetie.
This too shall pass.

Okay...cool.

You are a PHOENIX in your soul and your
wings make a statement. Huge and born of flame,
they burn with light and power and rebirth.
Ashes fall from your wingtips. You are an
amazingly strong person. You survive, even
flourish in adversity and hardship. A firm
believer in the phrase, 'Whatever doesn't kill
you only makes you stronger,' you rarely fear
failure. You know that any mistake you make
will teach you more about yourself and allow
you to 'rise from the ashes' as a still greater
being. Because of this, you rarely make the
same mistake twice, and are not among the most
forgiving people. You're extremely powerful and
wise, and are capable of fierce pride, passion,
and anger. Perhaps you're this way because you
were forced to survive a rough childhood. Or
maybe you just have a strong grasp on reality
and know that life is tough and the world is
cruel, and it takes strength and independence
to survive it. And independence is your
strongest point - you may care for others, and
even depend on them...but when it comes right
down to it, the only one you need is yourself.
Thus you trust your own intuition, and rely on
a mind almost as brilliant as the fire of your
wings to guide you.You are eternal and because
you have a strong sense of who and what you
are, no one can control your heart or mind, or
even really influence your thinking. A symbol
of rebirth and renewal, you tend to be a very
spiritual person with a serious mind - never
acting immature and harboring a superior
disgust of those who do. Likewise, humanity's
stupidity and tendency to want others to solve
their problems for them frustrates you
endlessly. Though you can be stubborn,
outspoken, and haughty, I admire you greatly.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

Thank you, Snowball. (Confidentially, I'd stick it to that bleeding rectum X with whatever weapons he gives you. Even if it's not for 'that' reason, the man is a horrible excuse for a parent. Seems to me HE'S the one who put your son 'in the middle' of the shoe debacle, not you. Quit cutting him so many breaks and USE WHAT YOU KNOW TO TAKE THAT BASTARD DOWN. If he's allowed contact with your son (which your son obviously doesn't care for much), he'll damage him. It's just inevitable. Until X grows up himself, he can't be raising a kid with any degree of success. And...this is coming from a total man-fan. I always side with guys first, but this one's a fuckin' psycho who needs to be shoved back under his rock. Dead, if possible. Jesus.)

Oh what da hell...while I'm at it....I like you a lot, Snow and I keep wanting to say so, but I hesitate to comment much because I'm the
'new female' in my situation. However, I firmly believe that your X and my sweetie's X were seperated at birth. Uggghhh. I'll keep you and B in my soliloquies (speeches, conversations, rants) to God....)

Hang in there, Snow and just remember...all we REALLY hafta do is outlive these assholes.

Horseballs...

Who the hell did they call?

Sure wasn't me.

Might I add...
Oh great.

Yeah, man...cool...(lol)

You are Woodstock!


Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Swiped from Into the Zone.

Okay, Pixy...a can of tuna?

Stevie Feeder Goldfish Agility 9 | Strength 4 | Stamina 7 Battle Rating 20 Origins Stevie was found trapped in a can of tuna Can your fishy beat Stevie ?

I can't wait to hear the stifled giggles this causes.
A can of tuna....sheesh.
(lmao)

Blogger Idol...

This is into week 7 already and I haven't done post one, yet. The topics seem a bit ambiguous and it makes it hard to know where to start. I've decided to list all seven topics in case anybody wants to start, join in, catch up or maybe just needs some ideas.
Here they are:

The 80's
Freedom
A day in the life of...
Oops
Picture this
Movies

and

Play.

The only one I ever had any direction on was "Freedom" and that was because Larry, I think, wanted to know what "The price of Freedom is written on the Wall" means. That one, I'm still kicking around.

This has shown me one thing...Me, Miss Independant, needs parameters to work within. How odd.

Anyhoot...if ya's want, go for it. If ya want to enter them, click on 'Livingroom' in my roll. Dareen is the one who started it all.

Have fun.
Peace

Oookaaayyy.....

Two families move from Pakistan to America. When they arrive, the fathers make each other a bet -- in a year's time, whichever family has become more American will win.

A year later when they meet again, the first guy says, "My son's playing baseball, I had McDonald's for breakfast and I'm on my way to pick up a case of Bud for tonight.
How about you?"

The second guy says, "Fuck you, Towel-Head!"

(Shaking my head, sighing and giggling, all at the same time.)

Investment advice (that actually makes sense)...

If you had bought $1,000.00 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would be worth $49.00 today.
With Enron, you would have $16.50 left of the original $1,000.00.
With Worldcom, you would have less than $5.00 left.
Now, if you had bought $1,000.00 worth of Budweiser (the beer, not the stock) one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the 5-cent deposit, you would have $112.00.
Based on the above, your best investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle.
This retirement program is called the 401-Keg.

Differences...

How to Shower Like a Woman

1. Take off clothing and place it in sectioned laundry hamper
according to lights and darks.
2. Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown. If you see husband; along the way, cover up any exposed areas.
3. Look at your womanly physique in the mirror make mental note to do more sit-ups.
4. Get in the shower. Use face cloth , arm cloth, leg cloth, long
loofah, wide loofah, and pumice stone.
5. Wash your hair once with cucumber and sage shampoo with 43 added vitamins.
6 . Wash your hair again to make sure it's clean.
7. Condition your hair with grapefruit mint conditioner enhanced with
natural avocado oil. Leave on hair on 15 minutes.
8. Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for 10 minutes
until red.
9. Wash entire rest of body with ginger nut and jaffa cake body wash.
10. Rinse conditioner off! hair.
11. Shave armpits and legs.
12. Turn off shower.
13. Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower. Spray mold spots with
Tilex.
14. Get out of shower. Dry with towel the size of a small country. Wrap hair in super absorbent towel.
15. Check entire body for zits, tweeze hairs.
16. Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.
17. If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.

How To Shower Like a Man

1. Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave
them in a pile.
2. Walk naked to the bathroom. If you see wife along the way, shake
wiener at her making the 'woo-woo' sound.
3. Look at your manly physique in the mirror. Admire the size of your
wiener and scratch your ass.
4. Get in the shower.
5. Wash your face
6. Wash your armpits.
7. Blow your nose in your hands and let the water rinse them off.
8. Make fart noises (real or artificial) and laugh at how loud they
sound in the shower.
9. Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area.
10. Wash your butt, leaving those coarse butt hairs stuck on the soap.
11. Shampoo your hair.
12. Make a Shampoo Mohawk.
13. Pee.
14. Rinse off and get out of shower.
15. Partially dry off. Fail to notice water on floor because curtain
was hanging out of tub the whole time.
16. Admire wiener size in mirror again.
17. Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light and fan on.
18. Return to bedroom with towel around your waist. If you pass wife, pull off towel, shake wiener at her and make the 'woo-woo' sound again.
19. Throw wet towel on bed.

And there ya have it.

That Dixie Test....

Here it is.
I'm (at least) 59% Dixie....I knew it.

Singles Ad....

This has got to be one of the best singles ads ever printed. It appeared in The Atlanta Journal :

SINGLE BLACK FEMALE seeks male companionship, ethnicity unimportant.
I'm a very good looking girl who LOVES to play. I love long walks in the woods, riding in your pickup truck, hunting, camping and fishing trips, cozy inter nights lying by the fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. Rub me the right way and watch me respond. I'll be at the front door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me.
Kiss me and I'm yours. Call (404) 875-6420 and ask for Daisy.

Over 15,000 men found themselves talking to the Atlanta Humane Society about an 8-week old black Labrador retriever.

Men are so easy.

(Hope someone took her...)

More Pa. humor....

Three men were sitting together bragging about how they had set their new wives straight on their duties.

The first man had married a woman from Ohio. And bragged that he
had told his wife she was going to do all the dishes and house clean all that needed done at their house. He said that it took a couple days but on the third day he came home to a clean house and the dishes were all washed and put away.

The second man had married a woman from West Virginia. He bragged that he had given his wife orders that she was to do all the cleaning, dishes, and cooking. He told his buddies that the first day he didn't see any results, but the next day it was better. By the third day, his house was clean, the dishes were done, and he had a huge dinner on the table.

The third man had married a Pennsylvania woman. He boasted that he told her his house was to be cleaned, dishes washed, the cooking done and laundry washed. And this was all her responsibility. He said the first day he didn't see anything and the second day he didn't see anything but by the third day some of the swelling had gone down so he could see a little out of his left eye!

Bumper stickers I have seen...

The proctologist called (Mr. Dairy Farmer)...they found your head.

Everyone has a photographic memory...some just don't have any film.

Save your breath...You'll need it to blow up your date.

Your ridiculous little opinion has been noted.

I used to have a handle on life...but it broke off.
(Years ago...)

WANTED: Meaningful overnight relationship.

Heart Attacks...God's revenge for eating His animal friends.
(BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!)

Some people are only alive because it is illegal to shoot them.
(Yeah. No shit.)

Try not to let your mind wander...It is too small and fragile to be out by itself.

Hang up and drive!!
(BITCH!!!)

Welcome to America...now speak English.

More chicks....