Tomorrow I'm leaving for Florida...

...so today I have to finish packing. Of all the days to sleep late, I had to do it today.

That's OK as long as I don't oversleep tomorrow. I don't know how long I'll be in Florida, I'm just going there to help my father out. But my plan is to go to California for a while sometime this year to spend a while with my daughter. I'd do that first but my father needs help a bit too much right now.

He's been taking care of his lady friend for so long that he's sounding depressed when I speak to him. Also, he doesn't understand Alzheimer's Disease at all. He thinks that the lady is doing things to annoy him. I know it looks like that to him but this woman long ago lost her ability to annoy people purposely.

People who are assholes when they get Alzheimer's usually are still assholes as the disease progresses. People who are nice usually remain nice. This lady was the perfect match for my sarcastic father. They can both be quite caustic with their humor...that's why I enjoyed watching them together, she could come back with a sharp tongue just as easily as he could. But, now that she's gotten so sick, her behavior is mostly annoying and my father thinks that they're still just bickering. They aren't...she couldn't if she wanted to.

Alzheimer's is a weird disease, it leaves enough of your personality there so that some people think you are just being difficult. But this lady isn't trying at all. She just IS difficult. My father makes her 3 decent meals a day and she refuses to eat them. He's lucky if he can get her to eat one decent meal a day. She also refuses to take her breathing treatments which is why she keeps on ending up in the hospital. When she's in the hospital, she listens to the staff so I can get her to listen to me. I'll just take away her cigarettes and give her one after she eats or after she does something she's supposed to do.

She's not going to like me very much, but I'm not in her will so that doesn't matter. I told her and my father that I would stay down there as long as I'm doing her some good. If she won't listen to me or if she fails to thrive while I'm there, I'll have to see to it that she does go into a nursing home. My entire purpose in going down there is to help my father keep her out of one. That's what she wants...so we'll try. But if we can't get her to listen to us, she will go to one and knowing her, it'll be a locked unit when she'll be lucky to get 2 cigarettes a day.

Anyway, I do have the cigarettes to use as currency. She also likes to sit around and drink Scotch. It's been my experience that doctors don't mind if a dying patient has a highball or two...but this woman will drink it until it's gone or she passes out. That won't happen while I'm there. I'll give her one drink, but after that, the liquor will be missing. My father thinks that if she can bitch and bitch until he gives her another glass, that she must be alert enough to make that decision. That's not the case at all.

I'm hoping that shortly after I get there my father will leave on a short vacation. I need to get her attention ans let her see that I mean it when I take the cigarettes away. I can't let her go whining to my father unless he can say no. I'm sure he can, but I think he needs a vacation anyway.

So anyway, I'll be leaving for Tampa tomorrow morning. Damn...my nails need a coat of clear nail polish. I can't believe that these stupid nails aren't finished yet. I may end up at the stupid salon anyway. Shit.

Right now...

...as I type this, I'm eating a bowl of oatmeal. I wanted regular oatmeal...not apples and cinnamon or some such crap. So I made it the old fashioned way. It took 3.5 minutes.

Anyway, I wanted the normal oatmeal because I couldn't find any cream of wheat. I looked for it the other day and I didn't have any. But...because of my grandchildren, I have grits.

Now, I've never eaten a grit in my life. Until last week.

Yes people, I have done it...I've eaten a grit. Actually, I ate a bunch of grits. They were cheese flavored grits so they weren't all that great. I prefer the regular flavors. Anyway, all I had was cheese grits tonight so I just made regular oatmeal.

Oatmeal is good for you. It lowers your cholesterol. That is...if you don't drown the oatmeal in better and salt.

Man, I'm tired. I'm gonna take my oatmeal and go to bed. I'll be back in the morning...have a good night!

:)

This brought back memories...

"...He's still in that "fog". It's funny how in court, he's unable to look at me straight in the face. Either he feels some type of inner long repressed guilt that he's afraid to let out, or he's just being arrogant - although I've never known him to be arrogant while he and I were married. The website Surviving Infidelity mentions how when a cheater is under "the Fog" they tend to rationalize the affair to level out the feelings of guilt. The fog by the way, is a sort of brainwash where the cheater tries to justify his affair, and the longer he is with the person whom he's having the affair with, the more justified his girlfriend will "rationalize" the affair with him..."

That "fog" reminded me of what I went through with Rick. Ands it is amazing how universal the "fog" is, as well as the behavior that the cheaters exhibit whilst they're cheating. That's why we all relate so well, we've all pretty much been through the same thing. This email was sent to me a long, long time ago:

Meg,

"...it's amazing how common human behavior is. I used to ask my husband if he loved me, and he used to tell me, "of course I love you, and I love spending weekends together with you".
All of a sudden when I found out about the affair, I became the most disgusting thing to him. Where the hell do they get all that sudden anger from?? Why are they so angry, we weren't the ones who did the bad deed - thye were!..."

It comes from their guilt. They need to see you as evil so that they can convince themselves that you deserve to be treated like dirt. After all, if it isn't your fault, that leaves him. And he's not gonna admit he's wrong becuase if he does, he can't screw his wopig without guilt.

Their stupid pea brains will tell them anything that they need to hear to justify what they're doing. I didn't stay with Rick because he was a jerk...most of the time he adored me and acted like it. When I was nothing but a road block to the new road he wanted to take, I became the object of his contempt and that meant that I deserved to be dumped on. So, dump he did.

And he didn't just dump on me, he promised that if I was "good", he would act like he loved me again. After all, everything was my fault anyway, remember? But, nothing I did was good enough, he just kept raising the hoops higher and higher and like an idiot, I kept trying to jump through them. The main hoop was that I couldn't say anything about my suspicions of the affair. That was a deal breaker. Basically, I was supposed to sit back and quietly accept his bimbo. What a jerk I was. I did try, but I couldn't do it...the signs were too obvious and in my face.

Oh well, if you're going through this now, remember, karma is a bitch and you need to celibrate losing such a cowardly, sadistic, asshole.

Meg

Since I bitched...

...about doing my nails in the last post, I've had to do the stupid things over AGAIN. I had my heating pad on my tummy and I wanted to thin the nail polish a bit so I wrapped it in the heating pad.

Apparently, although I don't remember doing it, I opened the bottle before I rolled it up in the heating pad. So, when I took the nail polish out, it was all over my hand, the heating pad and the bottle itself. That was a fun mess to clean up. Of course, it involved taking my nail polish off and painting my nails again...but what the hell. I had to be doing something.

At this point, I just wish I had paid the nail salon o do my feet and my hands. Remember, I still only have one foot painted. The other foot has old polish on from the salon and it seems as though I need to sandblast that stuff off. I gave up after I did one foot...obviously I didn't think that one through all the way. I don't know how to get the left foot nail polish off without screwing up my fingernails again. And I don't think that the salon will do half a pedicure unless you literally had half as many feet. I'm sure they'd paint one foot...I just doubt that they'd half the price unless I was down a foot.

Uh oh...I just made a big boo-boo. The phone rang and it was for my sister. I didn't know who the guy was and just by hearing his name...my sister didn't know who it was either. I rarely take calls unless I know who happens to be calling (like the emails I get from JQ and his 'anonymous' group...I see the first word and I zap them quickly). And since I hate phone surprises, I usually wouldn't just say yes to an unknown person who called to speak to someone else. So, the bottom line is my sister is now stuck speaking to someone that she didn't want to speak to. Oops...my bad.

I think I'm going to primp...whether I leave the house or not...I'd like to keep my options open.

:)

Hi!

I'm trying to decide whether or not to eat first or just get to work getting ready to go to Florida. I'm not really hungry but then again, I rarely am. I just eat when I start shaking or if I smell something really good.

Ooh, I jut had an idea...BRB.

OK, I tried to sneak a video of my sister cleaning the kitchen but she figured it out.

Anyway...here she is...cleaning the stuff that I didn't get to yesterday:

Hmm. Maybe I should go rent a carpet cleaner while she's being so industrious.Last night I tried to paint my nails...toes and fingers. I started by taking the old nail polish off of my toes. I did the right foot and quit because the nail polish was so damned hard to get off. The nail salon put it on, I guess I need their remover to get it off.

Anyway, I painted the toes on the one foot and then I started with my hands. I screwed up one nail or the other and had to start over so now I have 8 red nails and two with the bottom coat, ready for red. I can't believe that I'm having so much trouble with this stuff.

I used to do my nails every night when I was a kid. I chose what I was going to wear the next day and then I picked out a matching nail polish color and painted my nails. Nowadays, I'm lucky if I can find time to go get someone else to do it. I'm determined to do my own nails this time...I know I can do it. It's silly to pay someone else to do your own nails. But they make it just cheap enough to where you don't mind paying them occasionally, but I wouldn't want to go every time I changed colors.

You know, with all the shit I have to do to get ready to leave for Florida, I shouldn't be worrying bout my fingernails. I've gotten myself into a pickle, though. I do still have those two nails with the base coat on them.

I've always had really hard nails that rarely break. They grow quite long if I let them. Years and years ago, people knew they were real nails because fake nails didn't look so natural. Now people just assume that my nails are fake. The nicer they look, the faker they look. Isn't that a shame? I don't get credit for my fingernails anymore.

I have to take a shower and get ready to act like I'm going someplace. I'll be back after I get dressed. I'd only show you my sister first thing in the morning...not me.

:)

Hello there!!!

Earlier today I said that I was going to leave the kitchen mess alone and let my sister clean it up when she crawled out of bed. I didn't realize that she wasn't in her bed. She didn't come home until later in the afternoon so I had to do it my damn self.

I waited a while before it occurred to me that she wasn't in her room. When I figured it out, I started cleaning up myself and I sort of got into it. I pretty much cleaned all day...stopping only to go shopping for stupid stuff like Febreeze. I still need to go get a new mic for this thing, but it's no longer imperative because my son hooked his daughter's toy mic up to the computer. It's a toy...but it works. I guess I should put it to use soon. I will, I promise. Even if I have to mask myself with one of those wild "avatars" or whatever they're called.

I bought a few new fish today, mainly because I needed an algae eater and a friend for the one lonely dude in the freshwater aquarium. Tomorrow I'm going to get my first fish for my salt water tank. I thought that the rocks would grow more but it looks like I have to have a fish in there to shit out something to feed the rocks. I don't know what the heck's supposed to happen, I just know I need to go back to the pet store.

I took Payton with me because I usually take him wherever I go and when I know I'm going to the pet store, I take his leash because they let you bring your leashed dog into the store.

Payton came across another leashed dog...one of those tiny rat dogs. But they liked each other. I think they did, they took turns smelling asses and I think that's a good thing in dog society.

Damn...this stupid chair that I'm sitting on has been dropping lately and it is absolutely dropping with more frequency as time goes by. Now my nose is about 6 inches from the keyboard and I'm desperately trying not to hit my face as I type furiously.

I'm a damned good hunter and pecker. I never learned how to type properly so I just hunted and pecked for years and years until I got really good at that. The photographer dude that came over with the reporter lady has some shots of my typing improperly. That should be interesting to watch. People who don't know me will wonder why I'm typing so damned wrong! Oh well, it's too late to change anything now.

Tonight I blew my early to bed streak. Cleaning, shopping and cooking has seen to it that I didn't get to bed early. But, I do want to wake up early as my goal is to leave for Florida tomorrow, that is if I can find a rental car. Anyway, I should go and pretend that it's bedtime.

Good night!

:)

Guten Tag!!!

It's been a busy week and it shows no signs of slowing. I still need to pack and get my ass to Florida.I also need to buy a new mic before I go because I have to make a video of me sneezing...don't ask. Then, I need to get a digital camera...I think mine was broken not too long ago. Then, I can take pretty pictures in Florida. My father's condo is on water, sort of like a street for boats so everyone can have a slip and a small pier.

The water fowl are all over there and the foliage is beautiful so I could take a lot of cool pictures. Oh, and they have lizards...all over. I even swept up a frog once in the kitchen. That's not what a Midwestern woman wants to see in the morning. We don't usually sweep up carcasses in Illinois, unless they're in the actual city of Chicago.

I spoke to a friend of mine in California this morning. He told me that last night, he had a Marijuana Party...sort of like a Tupperware Party only instead of free kitchenware, you sample the weed.

My friend holds these parties every few months. He charges $225 to get in...$175 goes to the doctor and $50 goes to the marijuana store for the samples. Then, everyone who comes gets a "prescription". It's not like a prescription for 20 joints...it's more of a ticket to get into the pot store. Then, you just go shopping. I haven't had the pleasure but maybe someday I'll get there.

Today Payton has a play date with another boxer. The two of them met briefly last week, long enough to figure out that they wouldn't freak out and now we're going to put them together some more to see if they'd be able to go to the Battlefield together eventually. Luckily, they're both nice dogs so they should be good together. Damn! Now I wish I had that stupid digital camera!

I hate camera's with film. I still have some from October that I have to have developed. I never remember to grab those suckers on my way out. I'll try again today when I go to the pet store for aquarium filters...but I can't promise anything.

I may need a list now. Let's see, I need filters, film developing, a mic for the computer and an ink cartridge. That ought to set me back a hundred bucks easily. Crap.

Well, I just looked around at the kitchen and it's a mess.

There's only one thing to do...go into the living room and wait for my sister to wake up and take care of the mess. She seems to enjoy that.

:):):)

Good morning!!!

Good morning!

It's raining like the heavens opened up and all of the angels are crying. They must be annoyed because they're also thundering mad. I'm waiting to lose power so if I don't finish this, that's why.

This may be one of my last days here for a while. I'm renting a car and driving to Florida. I'll be down there for a while and I'm leaving my animals behind. That's a sad thing do. I've never been away from Payton for long, only when I was in the hospital and when I visited my daughter in LA.

Eventually, I will be going to LA for a while but for now, I have to go help my father. He's 73 years old and he's taking care of a lady that he can't handle. He needs to go on a vacation so I'm headed down there to let him go. I don't have a clue how long I'll be there.

I have to go to the doctor today to be sure it's safe for me to travel. That stupid thing in my head could blow at any time and I don't want to be driving when it happens. I was talking to Rick the other day and mentioned that I had a backache. He suggested that I take aspirin. That's all I need, a blood thinner. I didn't feed him antifreeze, he shouldn't tell to take aspirin.

He's going to Virginia the same week that I am. I'm supposed to stand up in a wedding and the timing is freaky. He offered to take me out for a drink and I may just do that. I'd love to see how gray his ear hairs have gotten over the past few years.

Oh well, it could be fun, who knows?

My computer is making running sounds that I'm not familiar with lately. Obviously, I don't know what the hell I'm doing except for the blog stuff...I took pictures of my monitor when I could have pushed a button to do it. So if anyone knows why a computer would start humming for no reason whatsoever, please let me know.

Tonight is pool night and I have to tell the them that I'll be gone for a while. I hate that. But, if I do it right, I should be able to get cheap round trip tickets from Tampa to Atlanta every so often to come back for a visit.

The lady that my father is taking care of has a daughter who has disowned her. She's a brat who says, "That women is no one to me." She's not happy because the mother drank when the girl was growing up. But she adores her father...the man who left her with the evil mother.

I don't understand how someone could do that. If her father cared about her one bit, he would be unselfish enough to have her go visit her mother before she dies. This chick has to live with her decision for the rest of her life and no one has enough time to make that kind of mistake. It's not the kind of mistake that you can fix...it's a lifetime boneheaded move. I would hate to live with that guilt...and there WILL be guilt, especially when the brat has her own kids.

I think that I may have to pack in the morning so I need to be sure all of my clothes are cleaned today. I won't leave without letting you guys know. I just haven't figuured out when I'll have all of my stuff together so that I can leave. Today is the last day that I have things to do and then I just need to leave. I doubt that I'll leave tomorrow...but I might leave the next day.

OK then, now I have to make some coffee and suck on that for a while. I'll be back in a bit.

:)

To my buddies!

There's a shot of my mother in there, she's in the picture that you can barely see of the DuPage Illinois County Board when my mom was a board member.

Here's to mothers...all of them...those still here and those who are waiting to see us again.

I still like this video!

Academy Award rerun...I'm busy copying Lara and Sol...we're nothing but bitter bitches who emulate each other.:)

Well, what a shock...

...Brokeback Mountain swept the Oscar Nominations and it’s already the “clear favorite to win best picture”, according to David Germain from the Associated Press. I could have told you that the film about “doomed love between two gay men” would win something. Every single movie that Hollywood has made over the past 2 decades relating to homosexuality has won something. Not that’s there’s anything wrong with that...just an observation.

Actually, the movie doesn’t HAVE to be about average homosexuality...it could be about any “out of the mainstream” sexual behavior. You could just be a girl trying to dress up as a boy....that’ll do it.

It’s not just the sexually creative of us that are showered with awards when it comes time for such things...any type of gimp will work as well. Look at Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. He played a monotone savant who never was asked to do more than tilt his head to the side...look down and say, “K-mart.” Tom Cruise on the other hand, had to portray a broad range of emotions and his character showed growth in the movie...I’m no actor but I would think that Cruise had the tougher role in that movie. But...he played a healthy white man who is in possession of all of his marbles. And, of course, his healthy white man character was certainly morally challenged....after all, aren’t ALL healthy white men morally challenged? They are if you watch movies or television.

While portraying a gay character won’t automatically garner you a WIN...it more than likely will get you nominated. I’ve seen Heath Ledger act....he’s no Barrymore. They started mentioning his name for the top acting award before the movie was even released...never a good sign.

If I were an actor in search of an acting award, I would tell people to send me every script with a gay, crippled from Viet Nam, blind, radical, transvestite feminist. That type of role would be sure to garner more than one’s fair share of acting awards.

It is with such charm that Renee Zellwiger does her job, it’s a pleasure to see her win an award. She earns them the old fashioned way...she acts. In movie after movie, she blends in perfectly and becomes a piece of a story...not a caricature of a human being. Her ability cannot be dismissed but I wouldn’t want to put it up against Charlize Theiron and Hillary Swank in a remake of Thelma and Louise where two escaped female serial killers who are in love take the show on the road after stabbing the men in their lives who never visited them in the Pen.

Harvey Keitel will chase the duo from Georgia to somewhere in the middle of Alabama where they’re raped and murdered by a group of redneck KKK dudes wearing white robes and drinking Budweiser. The blonde would play the Louise character, only now she's a bi-curious chick from Smyrna Georgia who meets up with the hardened Louise. Louise has been killing men who have abused her in an assembly line fashion for twenty years when she meets and converts the still sweet Thelma into a stiletto wearing bimbo who helps Louise torture her victims after swilling rum for hours on end.

They end up in prison and that’s where the movie starts, as the two of them break out, appearing so masculine that they fool every guard that they pass along the way out the front door. The stupid men never even notice the two women as they head off to their homes, staying one step in front of the cops every step of the way, where they blow away their husbands with giant guns that they stole from the guards as they strolled through the room with the guns. (I’m sorry that I can’t be more specific with the gun talk...but you see....I’m a girl.)

Anyway, that’s when the action really starts and this time...it doesn’t stop. Yeah, that’d win something.

As I sipped my coffee...

...this morning I watched a show about the black soldiers who fought in WWI. I was blown away by what I saw. I knew that the army segregated blacks from whites, but I didn't know that they had the blacks fighting in French uniforms, under French command.

Amazing isn't it? Apparently even the Germans were afraid of the black soldiers and the French, who had no prejudices such as ours, respected them and fought along side of them willingly.

One man in particular, Henry Johnson, saw one of his fellow black soldiers shot and grabbed by the Germans. Johnson jumped up and shot into the German platoon until his ammo was gone and then he pulled out his bolo knife and ran into the German crowd. He and the man who the Germans had shot were both carried back to their men with hideous wounds. What did Johnson receive for his bravery? A French medal.

There's nothing wrong with French medals...but wouldn't it have been nice if the American Army had recognized his heroism? That man died a pauper and was buried in an unmarked grave.

These men were from the 369th Regiment, lead at the time by a man named James Reese. The 369th was a band when not fighting. Reese wanted his band to have a good woodwind section and he thought that Peurto Rico had the best woodwind players so he recruited them. Can you imagine? A Puerto Rican American, now from New York and speaking Spanish, fighting in a French Uniform.

The Germans respected the blacks enough to give them the nickname "Hellfighter's". It seems as though everyone except the Americans thought that the blacks were a formidable force and they proved it over and over again on the battlefield.

A soldier named James Joyce was being discharged and the guy discharging him asked what battles he had been in. When Joyce began listing his war record, the guy didn't believe him. Joyce was told, "No blacks fought on the front." So, on the back of his discharge papers, where the battles should have been listed, it said, "None". What a disgrace.

In WWII, the 369th outflew the Luftwaffe. They eventually had the very first star awarded to a black general...a man named Davis. During the Gulf War, they fought as a National Guard Unit. Since president Truman remembered the bravery of the black soldiers from his own experience in WWI, he desegregated the Army and today blacks have the exact same right to die on the battlefield as a white person does.

We seem to be able to make our army bigger, stronger and much more efficient. It would be nice if we could find a way to avoid the need for one.

Somehow I've gotten myself...

...into a pattern of earlier and earlier bedtimes. Of course, that means that I'm waking up earlier and earlier every morning. Today I woke up before 4 and tried to go back to sleep for a while until it became obvious that I wasn't going to fall back to sleep. Then, Leave it to Beaver came on so I just got up.

I will probably be in Florida by the end of the week to help my father out for a while. He's still trying to take care of his ex who has health problems. Wouldn't it be sad if I was the first person to go to bed in a house full of old people? Oh well, maybe in a month my bedtime will roll back to night-time.

I heard that the Mega Millions was won by one person...the whole thing. I still haven't checked my tickets. I'd be rather annoyed if I went shopping, cleaned the house and did laundry all weekend when I had a quarter of a billion bucks to pay someone else to do it for me. I'd go check now if I wasn't wearing long johns. The ticket is in my car and I only run outside in my long johns to let the dog in. I don't know why I buy those stupid things, I have a tough enough time picking the winner of a 10 horse race.

I'm sitting in front of a space heater for my morning warm up and I'm eating a popsicle at the same time. I think I should eat a bit faster because the heater is melting my popsicle. I'll be right back...I want to eat this thing.

OK...I'm done.

I'm the only person sleeping and that's a double edged sword. I like the peace and quiet but don't like being the first one up. That means that I have to make the coffee, feed the animals and wash any dishes that were left in the sink after I did my last dish load last night. If my sister wakes up first, she does that stuff. I haven't done any of it yet...maybe I should make some noise and wake her ass up. Then again, it is nice and quiet...maybe I'll just ignore the dishes and go without coffee. The animals can eat when the sun comes up...I don't feel like feeding them in the middle of the night. If I ever do get back to normal sleeping hours they would be wanting to be fed early and those silly animals let me know when they're hungry by getting up on my bed and meowing or whining. The fish doesn't say a word but I know he's waiting for me too.

Oh, a band sent an email to my MySpace page to ask if I would add them and then comment about one of their songs. I have so many musical groups on that thing that now some of them want to be on my page. If I like the music, I add them. This group is called The High Kings and they're from Canada. One of their songs is called, "My Lover is my Wife". It was a good song but it surprised me that anyone would write a song like that. It's nice to see people who love their wives...isn't it? Needless to say, I added them and wrote a nice comment because I was so impressed with the thought of a man who's lover is his wife. What a novel concept.

Crap...I need some coffee. And, I guess I'll feed the animals. I'll be back after the sun comes up.

:)

Oh, by the way, Lara and Sol are still having fun. I need to go Downunder to learn how to do this stuff:

It's only Sunday...

...and really, really early in the morning but it's already been a helluva weekend. The best part of it is that I have a backache that won't go away. That's bugging me now but I'll forget about it as I wake up and remember all the other bullshit going on in my life.

I'm sitting in a cold kitchen because after I got an electric water heater, I stopped paying the gas bill. I only needed it for the heat so I didn't care. It's NOT supposed to be so cold here this time of the year. Well, if you'd like to see it become unseasonably cold...just make it so your heater won't work. Works for me. I can't heat the house, the Weather Gods won't heat Georgia and Global Warming is a myth so I'm cold.

I had a kerosene heater but we bought that in Virginia so that had to be '91 or '92. Rick suggested that I use it but I threw it away after he left...years AFTER it had become a major fire hazard. Thanks Rick....but no. I bought space heaters but I'm afraid of those so I don't use them unless there's frost on my nose.

Then, Friday I got a bill from the gas company. They never turned off the gas. The stupid furnace must be broken and it broke right after I failed to pay the gas bill. I was shocked that they turned it off so fast, I wasn't really behind. I just didn't pay it when it was due so the next day it was cold. When my utilities go off, it's usually because something is broken...not because I didn't pay the bill. So, I'm not sure how long it takes. But, according to the notice I got Friday, I had better pay it soon...or else!

The bill I didn't pay was one month's bill of $200. The bill I got Friday was for $612 and change. Apparently, furnace or not, cold or hot, you have to pay that stupid bill. The last month alone is $118 and the heat stopped working over a month ago. So, now I have to pay that huge bill and call the landlord to tell him that in addition to the new plumbing from the house to the street, the new water heater and the new central air system, there's something wrong that may or may not be causing a gas leak because I have caught whiffs of the stuff on rare occasion.

OK there's that.

And then Friday night, my sister and I went out because I'm probably leaving for Florida very soon and I'll be there for an indefinite period of time. Anyway, we did have fun. We went to a few places and the last place that we went was Faces...a very safe place for me because I know everyone there...including the owner. Even if I got drunk, they would see to it that I got home safely. Or so I thought.

The owner (who's name is also Rick...it's amazing how many of those I meet.) let this guy take my sister and I home who I've known for a long time. He's a guy who I would have trusted if I had been sober. He's older than me, I'm not sure how much older but too much as far as I'm concerned. Certainly old enough to look like a trustworthy soul.

This is where I should have remembered the first lesson that I learned about men after I started dating again...older men haven't lost their nerve, just their hair. I had only been drinking Seabreeze Ices and I had eaten. But the shot of tequila that old man dude bought must have been the two-punch of a Seabreeze/tequila one two. The last thing I knew we were in the drive-thru at Krystal Burger because I had to have some.

This part I know because my sister told me...we went to my house with the burgers and my sister got out of the car. Then, she watched out the door as the guy and I stayed in the car eating those poor excuses for White Castle's. She knew that I wanted to go to bed so when she looked again and the car with me in it was gone, she thought that was odd.

I pick up my memory again here because the next thing I knew, I woke up in the old man's bed. It wouldn't have been bad if he was on his couch...but he wasn't. His old freaky self was behind me. I was quite annoyed to say the least. Partly because I heard old dude PROMISE Rick that he would "get me home safely". He didn't say he would do it right away but I'm quite sure Rick thought that it was implied in the words "home" and "safely". I was mainly concerned about getting my car and going home so I just worried about that at first.

Then, when I got in my car and started using my brain, it woke up. The morning fog lifted and I became much more annoyed. Old dude kept repeating how "nothing happened" and I'm sure he's right. I just don't know his definition of "nothing".

To me, "nothing happened" means just that...nothing. But to a guy, especially an old one who couldn't get much pussy without a phone number from the men's room and $50..."nothing" could mean intercourse. "Yeah girl, I rubbed all over you and humped you a bit but NOTHING happened. By the way, there's something in your hair...I don't know what the hell it is."

So, yesterday...while I should have been getting my household ready for an extended trip to Florida...I laid around the house nursing a hangover. I did the bare necessities of housework, a dish or two. I even fed the animals. But that was pretty much it. As far as the blog is concerned, all I could muster was a false report. Oops.

Sorry about that...and I did THINK about the veracity of the comment. But whomever stuck FoxNews in there got past my ordinarily high bullshit radar and sneaked right past my hungover brain. My bad.

I'll leave it there as a testament to my hangover and the stupidity that gave it to me. I usually have two drinks at the most because of my blood pressure and that big ass thing in my brain. But, at the risk of the motor movement on the left side of my body...I drank too much. That was bright...wasn't it?

So, today I woke up on top of the couch and under 5 blankets with a backache.

You know what? Talking about that other crap didn't help my backache one bit.

By the way...THIS IS FALSE:

PIN NUMBER REVERSAL

If you should ever be forced by a robber to withdraw money From an ATM machine, you can notify the police by entering your Pin # in reverse.

For example if your pin number is 1234 then you would put in 4321. The ATM recognizes that your pin number is backwards from the ATM card you placed in the machine. The machine will still give you the money you requested, but unknown to the robber, the police will be immediately dispatched to help you.

This information was recently broadcast on FOX TV and it states that it is seldom used because people don't know it exists.

As I type this...

...there is a reporter here in my kitchen and a camera man dude getting ready to shoot a shot of me at this computer. I'm not quite sure what to type now so I'll just make it look like I can type really fast.

(This is where I typed gibberish but when they shot me from behind I had to get rid of it.)

The guy is behind me and he's telling me to type but as I said, I don't have anything to say. But, I can keep typing the same thing over and over again.

I hope that people watching this on TV can't read that I'm not really writing anything. They are almost done. I already spoke to the reporter lady and now they're just getting a few shots of me at the computer. I guess I already said that.

Now they're gone. They interviewed me for a special that will air here in Atlanta but not tonight. It's a thing that they're working on for something that isn't a quick thing, it's planned. So, when they let me know when it'll be on, I'll let you know.

Anyway...I think my part is over with unless they need something else but they probably won't...we sat on the couch talking for a long time.

Of course I had to primp for that so I have make-up on and a new outfit so I'm going to put it to work.

:)

I sort of wanted...

...to sit out this war. But my Allies are drawing me in with their creativity. I can't stay out of something that looks like this much fun.

But, I need to clean my house because there will be television reporters here at 3 PM. Damn, I HAVE to clean the living room now.

But, I will be back.

There aren't any good war songs anymore...

JQ...this one's for you...



I wasn't going to go there...but what the hell.

I'll be ba-ack.

:)

Good morning!

Anyway, I think it's morning. Once again it's dark out but 'Fox and Friends' is on so I guess this is morning. And what does everyone need first thing in the morning? A nice optical illusion to get the eyes twirling. A friend sent this to me (along with a bunch of others) and I thought this one was cool (if the writing is too small, just stare at the 4 dots in the middle of the thing for about 30 seconds and then look at the wall.):




Who did you see? I saw Jim Morrison.

Did you guys hear about the lady bus driver who duct taped a couple of kids' hands together? One of the kids was her own so she was certainly fair in her dispensation of discipline. The kids were out of control so she took the little darlings who wouldn't "Keep their hands to themselves..." and taped their own hands to their own little laps...not each others.

Then, after a few minutes, the woman told the kids to, "Undue yourselves and to 'KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELVES!" The two munchkins could have undone themselves at any point. But they didn't. Perhaps they didn't listen to the woman asking, pleading and then finally scolding...but once she did something to get their attention...they kept their hands to themselves when they could have easily continued to disobey the adult in charge.

That woman apologized on national TV today. Isn't that ridiculous?

God bless her. She works with children all day long, 5 days and week at work and EVERY SINGLE DAY at home. Have you met a child? Those little hellions will drive you nuts when they're being good. If they're not...you can get a little batty. If you're trying to keep them alive in one of the largest vehicles on the road...you need to keep control over the kids. I mean you REALLY need to think about driving. You don't have time to be hollering at kids who are acting a fool and ignoring you because you can't do SHIT and they know it.

If the woman had lost control of the bus instead of those 2 kids...we would have found something to charge her with. What the hell was she supposed to do?

I taped my kids once. I had 3 under the age of 7 and they were running around like a bunch of heathens. (I would have said Indians but that would have been politically incorrect.) Anyway, I got some tape, I don't think it was duct tape but it was good tape...and I sat them at the kitchen table. Then, I taped their little mouths shut. I'll never forget the looks on their faces as they sat there with that stupid tape on their mouths. Those were 6 wide eyes staring back at me.

Luckily, even IF that was a crime, the statute of limitations has run out on any child abuse charges that I might have incurred over taping lower lips to upper lips. Those kids were lucky. I wouldn't have disobeyed after the first warning because to have done so was to ensure "severe punishment". As I said, my parents were allowed to hit...and they did. Well.

Anyway, I like to think that I made the punishment fit the crime with my kids.

As annoyed as I was the day that I taped the sweet things, I would have been enraged if it had happened while I was driving. When the kids were older than babies but younger than smart people, they sat in the back seat next to each other. We didn't care about car seats back then. My "car seat" for newborns was a pillow on the front passenger floorboard.

Anyway, if the kids started going nuts in the car as I was driving, I asked no questions and took no prisoners. I was an equal opportunity crazy lady...I would just keep my eye on the road and hit whoever I could safely reach. I didn't care if they were innocent or not. I think I proved more of a point in my little boot camp by having the kids lean on each other a bit to help "teach" the unit a lesson or two.

There was another mother on the news today who went on strike. She has 4 teenaged boys and she couldn't get the authorities to help her so she left. Makes sense to me. I'd have gone back sooner or later but I can envision a point at which I might try leaving a bunch of teenagers alone overnight. But, these were no regular teenagers...they assured themselves a good start on a long road of police encounters.

So, when the mother came back, they arrested HER.

When I think of why I tried to be good when I was good, I think of my father. I knew his rules...he made no secret of them. Occasionally I would make a bad judgement call and get myself in trouble, but usually it was for doing something that I knew I shouldn't have done.

When we got spanked, it wasn't by some out of control maniac, it was worse. It was by a man who knew exactly what he was doing. He sat on his chair reading the paper and his eyes would never look up as he told me to go and get the belt. I'd assume the position and he took a few licks. Then, he'd pick up his newspaper and walk back to his chair.

He would have made a great bus driver.

I'm back...

...and I didn't have to testify because they got a continuance until April so I can forget about that for a while.

While I was sitting in court, two things occurred to me. First of all, there were a LOT of defendants in that courtroom. The judge called 120 of them and then left while the prosecutor made "deals" with willing defendants. The case I was there for was number 164 but we left the courtroom while the first group were making deals.

I had to wonder how much cash it would take to get one of those deals? I'm quite sure that a conviction costs a lot...before you even discuss jail time. Criminal activity is quite the lucrative business, everyone has their hand out when people are trying to avoid so much as one day in jail. But I'm sure that if the "crime" is expensive enough, the prosecutor is happy to plea it out.

The other thing that occurred to me was that the lawyers are getting younger and younger. They look like last week they were the class nerds and this week they're defending the kids who picked on them.

I was just listening to Puff the Magic Dragon. I don't get something. I keep hearing that the song is about smoking weed but I don't see it. Where's the reference to herb there? Jackie Paper went away because he grew up, right? Or did the lad just stop smoking pot altogther and Puff, as Jackie's weed dude, become depressed? I just don't see it. I do feel badly for Puff...the magic dragon, not the dealer. If anyone understand how that song relates to toking...let me know. I've listened to the stupid song straight and I've listened to it high. I just don't see it.

Someone asked how to download the playlist onto his own computer and I don't think you can. I think that's the point of playlist.com . They want you on their site. I don't think you can download much free music anymore at all. I have some on iTunes but I never tried to download it onto a disc. I could...I just didn't. On top of that, I haven't been able to get any songs added to the iTunes list lately. I just stopped trying.

I don't mind listening to the computer so I can just go to the playlist and click below it where it says Launch Standalone Player. I listen to it that way all the time. You can even go and make your own playlists there. It's pretty cool. I stuck them here because I know where they are, I don't have to go anywhere else. Most any day, I was headed for my computer and this blog anyway.

I wonder...if we'd have had computers when I was a kid would they be used as punishment? My bedroom was supposed to be a punishment but it was one that I enjoyed. When I was a kid, I had all my toys in my room and when I was a bit older, I had a TV, radio, record player and a phone. It was all that I could do to withhold my glee when I was sent to my room in place of a real punishment. Of course, being a parent myself, maybe my father didn't care what I was doing as long as I wasn't doing it in front of him. It's entirely possible that he just wanted me out of his face.

I guess that must have been it. If he wanted to punish me, he would threaten "severe" punishment. In my house, being severly punished involved a belt. I even had to go get the belt myself. That was interesting. Suddenly I was Einstein trying to figure out the pain factor based on the surface area on my father's old '60's belts as compared to the larger surface area of his more recent '70's belts. The '70's belts would hit more of me, but the '60's belts had more of a snap effect.

I stood there for a long time trying to solve that problem more than once. My father was nothing if not patient whilst letting me think that one through. I had to come back some time, and I had to have a belt in my hand. And knowing him, he wouldn't have appreciated the humor had I brought him the belt to his terry-cloth robe.

We couldn't call the cops back then. Well, we could have, but it wouldn't have done a bit of good. It just would have added insult to injury. In a small suburb like that, everyone knew everyone and had I called the cops, they would have just watched and ate popcorn. Then, afterwards, when I past them on the street, they would snicker at me for being so foolish as to invite an audience to a spanking.

I was born at the worst time...my parents could knock me around but by the time I had my kids...I couldn't hit anyone. That's just not right. I should have had my spanking rights grandfathered in or something like that. It's not fair that I should be the last one kicked in a very, very long line of kickers.

Oh well. I have to go do something. I haven't figured out what it should be, but I should do it.

See ya.

Damn...

...I slept through the stupid lunar eclipse last night. I was so tired that I went to take a nap around lunchtime and I didn't wake up until about 3 AM. Then, I didn't want to get up but my back hurt so much from laying there for so long that I sat up in the bed and watched TV until the birds came out and started chirping.

I hate sleeping through things like lunar eclipses and other stuff that just happens on rare occasions. I missed my chance to see Haley's Comet as well. I don't know if I slept through it or not...I just know that it came around one day and then it left for another 76 years and I didn't get to see it. With any luck at all, I'll be around for the next lunar eclipse which should be in 2 years. I doubt that Haley and I will be seeing each other in this lifetime.

This morning I have to go to court but I didn't do anything wrong. I may have to testify for someone else and I'm slightly freaked out about that but not terribly so. I don't mind so much except for the getting up and getting dressed part.

I hate having to do my hair and all that stuff unless I'm going out and having fun once I finish. It seems like such a waste of time to get all primped up for stupid stuff like court, work and shopping. I'd like to know who actually started make-up and curling irons. Things like that are so dumb but most of us women get up and deal with them every single day.

If none of us primped like that, we'd all be equal. Even movie stars would look like the rest of us if they didn't have make-up and air brushing. I think we should all just stop wearing make-up and start walking around au naturale. I promise...if the rest of the chicks all stop wearing make-up, I will too. I've offered that solution to our daily, time consuming chore a few times but I can't seem to find one female who will join me in my quest to get rid of make-up.

I even have to take a shower just because a bunch of people decided that body odor is a bad thing. I think maybe the French like it...but I'm in Gogia so I can't smell like B.O., I have to smell either like flowers or grits in these parts. I've never eaten a grit so I guess I'll have to bathe and smell like flowers or some other such pleasant odor.

It's not summer so I don't think that we should have to shower daily...but since you never know when someone will be wandering around your body with their nose, I have to. I can't stand getting out of a shower and stepping into a cold bathroom so I stick a small heater in there to warm the room up. That's such a waste of energy but I have to do it.

Not only is it a waste of energy to warm that room up, it's a waste of water and I live in a drought stricken state. This stupid shower is bad for a bunch of reasons but I have to do it. It's not as though I really exerted myself since my last shower...but I still have to get in there and do it again. THIS IS BULLSHIT!

OK then...I have to go take that shower. I almost talked myself out of it but then I remembered the last time I tried to talk myself out of taking a shower. I was sitting on my couch with a guy and he put his hands around my ankle. I asked if he was checking for hairy legs. He said that he wasn't...but who knows? I was quite pleased that I had taken a shower and shaved my legs that day. So...here I go again. Just in case...my pits and my legs will be bare.

But...that's as far as I'm going with the razor so don't even ask. MAYBE in the summer I'll trim other stuff...but only if I know that I'll be putting on a bathing suit.

Well, that's my plan for this morning...I'll be back after court.

:)

I wanted to...

...listen to my dad's playlist so I put earphones on. My son gave me those after he heard 'Loving You' by Minnie Riperton. Anyway, they plug into my computer speakers and then I'm the only one who can hear the music.

So I put the tiny earphone thingies in my ears. Then I stuck the other end in the hole in my speaker. I heard music and I was as pleased as I could be. After about 5 minutes, people started asking me if the earphones were broken because they could all hear the music too. I never plugged them in far enough. I was sitting here wearing the dumb earphones and listening to Mack the Knife.

Anyway, I'm back to where I alone can hear the music but now I can't sing to it because nobody else would hear any music to drown out my singing. Oh well. I could lip sync...how hard can that be? All the kids are doing it.

Oh, someone emailed me and mentioned that 'Downtown' by Petula Clark is in German on my father's playlist. My bad. I'll fix it sometime...I'm sure it sounds fine in German. I would have preferred French...but I got German. I doubt Daddy will mind. I should call him today...he checks out of the hotel he had to check into so that they could tent his condo for termites. He had his Alzheimer's buddy with him so I'm sure it was fun for him.

I was driving down the interstate earlier today and somehow I got behind cows. There was one of those huge cow trucks in front of me. I thought that I saw a couple of cows lying down further up in the truck but I didn't know if that was normal or not. But...I did see something on the news the other day about a beef recall over sick cows going to market.

So, I followed them for a while just to watch and see what happened. The one way in the back was having a hard time standing up but that could have been from the movement of the truck. Then, I saw the cow fall. He never got back up even though he tried a couple of times. Then, he just laid his head down. I don't know if any of that's normal behavior for cows in trucks but it was enough to get me off steak for a while. If those cows were sick, they're somewhere around me or they're heading a long, long way which would only give them time to get sicker...if indeed they were sick. Of course, maybe they were going to the cow hospital, how do I know?

Anyway, I'm freaking out lately. I seem to have taken on a bit more than I can chew as far as responsibilities are concerned and I'm not doing the best of jobs handling them all. That's so annoying because I keep thinking that I CAN handle things and then it doesn't work out that way. But, one way or another...I'm still here.

On top of all that...the lottery thing isn't working out.

Damn.

Now I'm hearing Minnie Riperton in the earphones and that's not good. It gave me brain freeze.

OK, this is cute:

A man robs a bank and takes hostages. He asks the first hostage, "Did you see me rob the bank?". The hostage answers "yes". The robber, promptly, shoots him in the head. Then he asks the second hostage if he saw him rob the bank. The hostage answers, "No, but my wife did".

I just got home...

...and I have to go to bed and get up in well under 4 hours so I have to run. I will be back tomorrow but later in the day.

I lost my pool match again tonight but I did it well. I can't feel too badly when the guys who beat me tell me how good I am. And if I give a good accounting of myself, it doesn't sting so much when I do lose. I won one but needed to win two.

A few weeks ago, I played a 7...and I beat him two out of three games. Before he left he told me that, "The streak is over." I figured he meant that he had won every night that week. It turns out that the guy hadn't been beaten by anyone in the past 6 years and he plays on 6 leagues a week. I had no idea that his streak was over 6 years old. The guys we were playing against realized it was me who had broken the streak before I even knew about the stupid streak.

I felt pretty damn good for a while. And then I lost.

Good night.

LOLOLOLOL...

...I can be so silly.

"...If you know a person in their 70's who might like old people music with a touch of youth in it...let them listen to that playlist..."

I said that there was a touch of "youth" in that playlist. It just occurred to me that the "touch of youth" in the playlist was MY youth and that might not be considered too young by everyone.

I was just appointed the driver for a small errand so I have to go act like I have to go somewhere. I have my pool league tonight so I may not be back for a while.

See ya!

Meg

By the way...

...I created a playlist for my father and stuck it under mine at the bottom of this thing. If you know a person in their 70's who might like old people music with a touch of youth in it...let them listen to that playlist.

:):):)

PS I'd like to send the playlist to my father in as easy a way for him to play it as possible. Does this link work for you guys?

http://www.playlist.com/standalone/26480007

I don't know if it works only from my computer or if anyone can get to it. If you wouldn't mind, could you let me know in the comments?

Thanks!

Vi said...

"I hope you have a FUN adventure, whatever you do!"

Well, I did!

First I decided to take Payton (my dog) out to the Kennesaw Battlefield and let him run around. That was fun. But not fun enough. So, we went and climbed Kennesaw Mountain.

That mountain will fool you. Just when you think you've gotten to the top of the stupid thing, you realize that there is a swinging wood bridge that you have to walk across to get to the second pinnacle. There's a small one AND a large one. I finally did get to the top of that mountain with Payton and we sat there for a while. I was thinking, "I wish there was a tram that could take me down this fucker." I don't know what Payton was thinking, he just stared out into the distance like the captain of a ship.

I met a couple of real mountain climbers on that mountain...guys who climb the highest peaks in the world. When they haven't got time to travel, they climb the small mountains around here. I didn't even realize that Kennesaw Mountain was big enough to be any sort of challenge to a man who's clmbed Mt. Everest. But apparently it is and I climbed it yesterday!

Anyway, Payton and I eventually did have to go down the mountain that we had clmibed up. The mountain sort of has trails, but you don't always have to follow them. If you would rather grab a small tree and pull yourself up a different way, you can. I did that a lot because that stupid mountain isn't as easy to climb as it looks.

Anyway, since you don't have to stay on the beaten path, you climb around places that no one's been down (or up) in a while. As I was doing that, I found what I can only call a bullet from the Civil War. Anytime I'm anywhere near the battlefield, I keep an eye out for those things. In all of the years I've lived on this old battlefield, that's the first bullet that I've found.

They're building this area up quite a bit and relatively often, they turn up a tract of land. When they do, I wander through the freshly turned red clay and look for Civil War stuff. A lot of people whom I've met have done that with metal detectors. Then they changed the law so you can't just take a metal detector out there and detect anywhere you want to detect. I don't have one anyway so I just carry Payton's leash (without Payton) in case the cops stop me for trespassing. If they do, I can say that I'm looking for my dog. My father is so smart...he came up with that idea.

Oh, I shall purposely digress here because I know what I'm here to say today.

Right after my mother's funeral, we went back to her house to meet my father. Then, he followed us to the after funeral bar-b-que and as we were getting onto a highway, Rick stopped to watch for oncoming traffic instead of just accelerating and entering traffic. That wasn't his fault, some old man stopped in front of him. Anyway, as I said, Rick likes to drive forward while he's looking backwards so he hit the old man who STILL hadn't moved. I was sitting in the passenger seat as Rick got out to talk to the old man.

Almost immediately after Rick got out of the car, my father got out of his car. He had been following us and of course, had seen Rick hit the old man. He walked passed me as he was approaching Rick and the old man. I heard my father say to the old man, "Why were you going backwards on the entrance ramp?" I laughed so hard that I had almost forgotten that this was my mother's funeral.

Anyway, Rick told the guy that they both had equal damage and that they should just take care of their own stuff. For some reason, that old man agreed and we continued on to the bar-b-que. When we got there, my son got out of the car and kicked the rubber bumper back into shape so that you would never have known that the car had just been in an accident. I don't know what ever happened to the old man.

So...back to yesterday. I eventually took Payton home and rested for a bit because the mountain wore me out. After a while, I got my second wind and I decided to go out and shoot pool at some place that my sister said had free pool tables. When I got there, I saw that they didn't. I guess they recently changed it.

So, I was back in the pool area shooting pool by myself when 2 harmless looking guys came in and played at a table next to me. I prefer to play with an opponent, I shoot better with competition. So, eventually I asked if I could play the winner of their game.

They agreed. So, I watched them until it was my turn. When it was, I played a few games with them.

One of them had to have been at least six foot three and the other one was maybe 5 feet tall. The tall guy was from Pittsburg and the short one was from Gogia. They were an entirely harmless couple of guys...the kind who wouldn't bother hitting on a woman because they're so used to getting shot down.

But, they were men. So, they just took turns trying to impress me in hopes that I would pick one and make a move myself. That wasn't going to happen but I didn't mind playing pool with them. The tall one used his sense of humor to impress me and the short one used the fact that he knew the words to every song that I sang along to. The place DID have free music. At least I didn't have to pump money into a juke box. But...I did have to listen as the guy sang louder and louder as he drank more and more.

At one point, my sister (who had dropped me off because I was going to drink and didn't want to drive) ran into the place and freaked me out by saying that she hadn't been able to get my son to answer his cell and that there was an awful wreck down the street with body bags. I grabbed her cell phone and called 911 to find out anything that I could about the accident.

The 911 lady wanted more information about the wreck and my sister said, "It was a few hours ago right down Powder Springs Road." That's when I let the cop lady go because I had just spoken to my son less than one hour ago and he was with his girlfriend so I realized that he was fine and I went back to enjoying myself.

As I said, I was drinking last night. I wasn't drunk, but I did have a nice buzz going on. Those two dudes offered to drive me home and I let them rather than calling my sister. They came in for a few minutes...or so I thought. They didn't seem to want to leave.

One of them fell asleep in my recliner and the other was still singing. I turned around on my couch so that my head was hanging off the couch and my legs were up the wall. That was comfortable for a while. As I sat like that, I came up with a plan.

I decided to just go to bed.

So I did. I left one guy sleeping in the chair and the other chatting with my sister. They thought that I was going to the bathroom. I just cuddled up in my bed and went to sleep.

That was the extent of my adventure. I climbed a mountain, played some pool and listened to a short dude sing annoyingly loud. Oh, and I called the cops when I thought that my son had been in an accident.

I've left my sisters with men that creeped me out before. One day in the 80's, my sisters and their boyfriends and I were playing spades at my mother's kitchen table. We were taking turns telling each other stories about stupid things we had done when we were young.

In the middle of the story telling, there was a knock on the door. It was warm so we only had the screen door shut. The knocker could see us so we had to let him in. It was a guy who I had dated a couple of times but I didn't really care much about. I was drinking a lot back then and dated a couple really creepy guys. This one was about the creepiest. His name was Bob. He said that it stood for "Bud Outuva Bottle."

He had a few Buds before he knocked on that screen door. As much as I didn't want him there, my sister let him in and there wasn't much I could do.

At first, Bob just listened to the stories we were telling. Then he told his own little story.

His story was peppered with his own giggles, as were our stories. But his story had something that the other stories didn't have...a dead cat as a punch line.

"When I was a kid I used to bury cats up to their neck in dirt and mow their heads off with a lawnmower. Hahahahahaha!"

That stopped the party. Everyone sat there, jaws dropped and eyes wide.

I made plan.

I said that I had to go to Ralph's market (a little store around the corner.) and I left. I never went back.

Invite people into my presence at your own peril. I travel light and I could potentially bolt at any given moment.

:)

If you read this today...

...the Quote of the Day is:

"The most effective way to do it, is to do it.
Amelia Earhart

That sounds like so much common sense but as they say, common sense isn't all that common. I had heard the phrase, "Keep your eye on the ball." a million times but I didn't APPLY that knowledge until the 90's when my son said it during a tennis match. I was out there flailing wildly in the general direction of the ball. My main purpose was to avoid getting hit.

I had gotten hit in the head with a softball as I ran to first base after hitting the ball. I was about 8 and I never tried to hit the ball again...I just tried to avoid it. I could stop the ball...if it dropped in front of me and rolled to a stop...but I pretty much couldn't catch it unless it fell into my bent elbow as I was guarding my head.

But when I started keeping my eye on the ball, I realized that I could have been a great tennis player...I coulda been a contender. Damn it...why didn't someone tell me how IMPORTANT it was to keep your eye on the ball? If I malleable enough to be so afraid of the ball, I could have been moulded into someone who wasn't afraid of the ball. Remember that when you watch your kids doing stuff.

Those little ones are literally putty in your hands. You can do whatever you want with them. It's pretty neat to watch as it works...of course it takes a long time to see your plan come into fruition but one way or another...the kids do what you tell them to. Some of them will fool you. Some really good kids went to Viet Nam and came back all fucked up so you never know but for the most part...you make them what they are.

Anyway, I have hit a mental brick wall. I'm all man again.

Let me try something...this will be an ongoing post. I'll come back when I have stuff to say. Let's see what happens. As Bilbo Baggins said:

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

I plan on having an adventure today. It may be good and it may suck. I don't know what it will be but I want to have fun and as Amelia said, "The most effective way to do it, is to do it."

I'll be back.

More Celebrity Porn

I'm ticking myself...

...I do that often. The Northerners and Aussies think that I'm literally "tickling" myself, physically taking my fingers and wiggling them in my armpits or some other such ticklish spot. But that's not what I mean. In these parts to tickle simply means to make one laugh.

And often I simply tickle myself sitting here all alone. Thank God I don't wait for someone else to tickle me. I would never so much as smile if I depended on people around me for laughter.

Now I forgot why I tickled myself. Shit. I was gonna write about that. I have got to learn to take notes and to stop digressing. I may start out to tell you about a sore toe and end up discussing gerbils up the ass.

I was speaking to this dude earlier who said that the gerbil up the ass story is a total fabrication and that no one ever really did stick a gerbil up his ass. (Or her ass...sorry.)

I retorted, "Maybe not up Richard Gere's ass...but someone, at some time surely DID shove a gerbil up an ass...even if it was just some drunk redneck in West Virginia who heard the rumor and thought it might be fun. I've met drunk rednecks. There's nothing they won't try.

See how I can end up on gerbils up the ass? I wasn't thinking about gerbils or asses when I started this post.

Anyway...forget about the gerbils. In the last post I mentioned how I didn't really like country music and I was told:

"...That's not your fault, that's the doing of the Nashville Music Industrial Complex. First I'll address what isn't country music. The countryfied pop of the 1970s on is not country. Never mind what Nashville tells us this is not country. Nashville, appearantly ashamed of its roots and determined to erase all traces of what built the fanbase began to add strings in the 1970s to add a trace of class in their eyes. Seeing that their listeners bought it they then countrified pop music and thus this is what a generation has been fed as country. Real country has several recurring themes. Broken hearts, adultery, substance abuse, violence, murder, unrequited love, desperation these are the things that make real country music..."

Well, I do understand what the man was saying...but I must defend my roots. I have indeed heard real country music...my grandparents not only listened to it, my grandmother played it on her guitar. Her sister (my great Aunt Virginia) was a country singer back in the 30's. She and her band were on the road traveling somewhere up in the mountains of Virginia and they got a flat tire.They pulled over to the side of the road and while they were fixing the tire, a bigger vehicle came around a curve and hit them. My great aunt was killed. Family legend says that she wrote the song, "You are my Sunshine" and sold it for next to nothing.

I looked that up on the computer once and I found something that said Hoyt Axton wrote it so I immediately stopped looking any further. I just assumed the legend was false. Then one day, quite by accident, I found another site that said that someone else wrote it. I forget the name but it wasn't Hoyt Axton. Then I looked further and found another claim. So, now I'm back to believing the legend. I have one more great aunt from that family and I had better call her before she isn't here to ask. I hope I get some sort of answer to that. I'll let you know if I do.

Anyway, I don't mean to steal this line but...I was raised on country music. But when I was 11, I fell in love with Donny Osmond. Shortly after that I got this hormonal surge and I never went back to country music. Those guys were all icky looking and even Rod Stewart looked good to me. I couldn't work up a healthy lust for Frank Zappa, but I could certainly get a woody when Jim Morrison took the stage.

And I've even been around people who took me to flatfoot bar-b-ques. I've flatfooted a few times but only after drinking massive quantities of moonshine. That's what it takes to flatfoot.

Flatfooting is a good dance for drunk people. You keep a better center of gravity.

Oddly enough, the first time I flatfooted was in a bar outside of Fort Drum in WAAAAYYYYY upstate New York. It was like Canada north. I think it was Jell-O shots that time. The bartender knew the chick that I was with and he let us eat the fucked up Jell-O shots before the crowd came in. He gave us each a can of whipped cream and a bunch of bent Jell-O shots and we just chowed down on those suckers. I was quite drunk when the opportunity to flatfoot popped up.

It was a "What the hell!" moment and further evidence in support of my claim that somewhere, some one, at some time, shoved a gerbil up their ass.

See? Ass gerbils CAN find their way into the conversation quite a little bit.

Anyway, it is my contention that hormones killed country music a very long time ago. They took all the ugly people out of the picture and now all you have is Faith Hill and...some good looking country music dude. I don't know any off the top of my head but I'm sure they're out there.

I think the reason that I liked Townes Van Zandt is that while he does sing about sad songs...he sings more about the feelings than he does the actual incidents themselves. I may know how he feels but I don't know the name of his Lucille. And I don't know what the hell Lucille did to Townes, but I know exactly how he felt when she did it.

Bruce is sort of like that too. Although he can get specific. But when he does, he does it with such fitting music that I get into it. I don't know. I just know what I like as well as what I don't like.

Damn...the phone is ringing and it's a really cute guy so I have to go now.

OK...that was fun.

Hi there...

...I've had an interesting weekend. Interesting in that I've been thinking a lot. You know, that deep thinking shit that you don't share with anyone, even if the laughter is out of the line of audiation. And in case you're wondering...yes, I just made that word up. It sounded better than 'hearing' or 'sound'.

I like to make up words. I can be good at it. Sort of like a better educated Flavor Flav or whatever the heck that guy's name is.

I made up 'garbigify'. To "garbigify" something is to toss it in the trash. I prefer it. It rolls off the tongue better than does, "to toss it in the trash". You're welcome to use my words. I'd like to personally add some words to the English language that are not technology related.

Technology related words tend to get outmoded and dropped from common useage. But my words will be around forever. They were garbigifying crap 5 thousand years ago and they'll be garbigifying crap in another 5 thousand years. And as long as we keep on having kids there will be a lot of audiation.

On the other hand...how often do you mention Pong? I pretty much only use it in this sentence, "Yeah, I remember Pong."

After that, the Pong conversation is usually over unless I have to explain what it is to some young whipper snapper. That just annoys me and those of us who remember Pong are dying off so I try to avoid saying Pong all together. This was, obviously, an exception to my Pong rule.

There was a word from the show Family Ties that never seems to have caught on despite my own personal attempts at propagating it's usage. That word is "toquo". It means: to towel off.

Alex P. Keaton used it in a game of Scrabble. When challenged to "Use it in a sentence.", Alex said, "After I shower, I toquo."

I'm going to continue my efforts because I don't think that one obscure episode of one television show out of millions is getting the job done. So...from now on, when you discuss your after-shower activities, preface the topic by saying, "Well, first I toquoed..."

Thanks.

A friend of mine sent me 2 CD's...one was Paul Simon and the other was Townes Van Zandt. I always liked Paul Simon but I had never heard the other one. My friend listened to that playlist at the bottom of this thing and he saw that I liked Springsteen. He said he thought if I liked one dark, gloomy songwriter/singer, I would like the other. Well, he was right...I did. I guess that's as close as I get to country music. It's not quite the same thing but it is depressing so I guess that's good enough.

Damn, I'm playing my iTunes playlist and the Super Bowl Shuffle is on now. I can't believe those guys went all "Apollo Creed" like that. Damn again, they just used a whistle instead of using the word "ass" in this song.

"Bring on Atlanta, Bring on Dallas. This is for Mike and Papa Bear Halas..."

What a bunch of cocky little boys those '85 Bears were. But damn yet again, they WERE good. And it was a fun season to be a football fan in Chicago. Thank God I had the sense to break up with Rick THAT time anyway. I went back to Chicago from sometime in '84 til '87. I can't believe that I was stupid enough to go back. Oh well, the Eighties were a crazy decade and I did drink whenever I could.

There were storms around here earlier...bad storms with possible "tornadic" activity. (By the way, I think some weather dude made THAT word up sometime in the nineties!) When the lightning was striking and the rain was at it's worst, nothing happened. But later when it was just raining, the TV and cable went out. If I had a Comcast phone, that sucker would have been out too.

THAT'S why I DON'T have Comcast's Triple Advantage Plan. If the wind blows, you get triple fucked. I hate being without something I paid for...I don't care if it IS caused by an act of God. I want my contact with the outside world. I even have a rotary phone so a power outage won't affect my ability to call PaPa Johns. I refuse to go quietly into that good night of a world without instant communication.

Anyway, I was already at the computer so I as I was waiting for it to come back on, I played music with Windows Media Players. That wild psychodelic thing gave me flashbacks and I've never even dropped acid. You know, if they'd have had Windows Media Player back when they had that first batch of really, really good L.S.D, I believe that we would have TOTALLY missed the 70's.

Anyway...I need to go to bed now because it's Monday and I woke up on Sunday. You guys have a good night...day...whatever.

Ciao.

YEEEESH! I can't make the space thingie work!

I'll be home later today...

...so I'll have time to pay more attention to you guys. I feel as though I've been neglecting you. I haven't had a chance to read the blogs that I keep up with so when I finally do, I'll be reading for hours. I CANNOT wait to get to Limerick Gal's blog and see how her surprise went!

I'm lucky that I have time to do this!

I wanted to say something about this comment:

"...I was really under the impression that he really loved me, (hey - he had tatooed my name on his arm! "Solaris forever" to be exact)..."

I didn't even think of that! NO wonder Coco won't leave you alone! Not only is your husband holding up the divorce so that he doesn't have to marry her...she has to look at your name everytime she bangs his ass! She's almost pitiful...you could feel sorry for a person like that...if she weren't such trash.

Oh well, la di da, la di da!

My grandaughter is at my house so I can't wait to get back to see her. I'll probably be home around lunchtime. Since I don't have time to write anything now...I thought that I would stick an old post up here for you:

Well, "Meg", you might ask...

...."Just how long was Rick supposed to stay with you?"Well, let me put it this way: If you asked me where I saw myself in about a hundred years, my answer would have been something like this:

Yes, I actually foresaw a time when we would spend eternity near each other rotting in our graves. Isn't that romantic? You don't often find someone with whom you are prepared to rot.

Alas.

Well, I guess I'll have to rot alone. Do you ever wonder about graves and what's in them? I do. I've been to some pretty cool cemeteries. I went to Arlington of course and Gettysburg and they have one here in Marietta that was started in the Civil War.

Last week I found one in Roswell that had people from the early 1800's. It was pretty cool.

Once when I was a kid, 14 I think, I was playing in an old cemetery down the street from my house. I lived on Church Road, named after the ten churches on the two mile road, some of them were old German churches that had old cemeteries full of the early settlers of the town, Bensenville.

Scary places for sure, and we had to go to them on Halloween. 14 year old girls like to scare each other. I had one friend that loved to be scared so I scared her, and I was pretty creative. Later I found out that she went into a psychiatric hospital and that I hadn't helped matters one bit. Who knew? I just thought she was a normal 14 year old. But, I guess normal is relative.

So, she was in the cemetery that night when I laid down in a grave with a huge oak leaf in my hands, clasped over my chest. One of my friends screamed and pointed at the headstone above me and then they all did the same. I jumped up and saw the name "Margaret" on the headstone. Nothing else, just the name, "Margaret". Of course, we ran home screaming. We did a lot of that.

Don't you think we should come uo with a better idea than cemeteries? I think at the very least we should just have big gardens of flowers that grow well with people dirt. Then, you could just keep adding a bunch more people as the years went by. If your husband was a drunk, you could pick a flower that grows well in the presence of alcohol.

I don't like the thought that cemeteries are only kept nice for a relatively short time before they fall into disrepair. I saw a few headstones in a corner formed by fences at an entrance ramp to a highway. These people were rarely even noticed by the thousands of commuters that drove past them in the course of a day. The rest of the cemetery had obviously been purchased and moved...I imagined one family that wouldn't give in and left their parents in traffic.

Anyway, I would rather be a garden, wouldn't you? Things change pretty fast, especially if you hang around long enough and see enough places. The house that my great-grandfather grew up in back in the days of blacksmiths and horses, was now on a large corner at a very busy intersection in Roanoke, Virginia. The house had enough land in front of it to end up at that large intersection. My great grandfather, Papaw, as we called him, had been a blacksmith at one time.

Imagine his surprise when they invented cars. He didn't form a union and bitch, he became a carpenter instead.

I was lucky enough to know a few of my great grandparents and they never got divorces. But, my great grandmother, widowed by her first husband, had always been married to Grandpa Frank as far as I knew.

But when Granny died and her funeral card (whatever they call those things) had a different name than Frank's and I had always known her to use his name. I mentioned it to my mother who told me that, for tax purposes or social security, I forget, they couldn't afford to get married. They were just a couple of old people who lived together, back in the 60's when most old people were whining about the numbers of people who lived together in sin. I asked my mom, "So, they were living in sin?" And she responded, "Well...I don't know how much "sin" they were capable of, but yeah, I guess they were."

Mom had to answer in a way that neither made her grandmother look bad nor did it make living together look good. I guess she did alright. I was pretty much afraid of her until I realized that I had 6 inches on her and could have snapped her like a twig. I think she and I both realized it at the same time. She was yelling at me and came so close to me that the height difference was exaggerated. I backed up onto one step of the flight of stairs that led to my bedroom and the difference was exaggerated even more. We were eye to eye and I was pretty sure that we were on the same page. But...I knew better than to push it and to be honest, when she lost it, she was pretty frightening. She chased me through a bowling alley one night and I made the mistake of running into the Girl's Room. She cornered me there and somehow refrained from doing a Rodney King on me...just long enough to get me home anyway.

When she got me home that night, in the privacy of the living room save the only witnesses, younger siblings. I was to be a made an example of so they weren't about to talk. Then, she sent me upstairs to my father and he got a go at me too. I remember thinking that it was dreadfully unfair to be spanked twice for the same offense. How much worse could it get? I might as well have robbed a bank, kids didn't get arrested back then. The cops just took you home where your parents beat the crap out of you. No muss, no fuss.

Good morning!

Today I saw the anchors on the NBC morning show say, "Stay tuned, after the commercial, we'll tell you how to break up with someone properly!" I just did that so I wanted to see what they had to say...maybe I had done it wrong.

When the commercial was over, I watched as they said what NOT to do after a break up instead of how TO break up with someone. That's no good...those are 2 totally different things. The rules for breaking up with someone are nothing at all like the rules for being broken up with. I was rather disappointed.

All they had to say was a bunch of crap about what not to do after someone has dumped you. They never said a word about how to dump a person respectfully...they basically just said, "Suck it up and take it like a man." OK...how does that do anyone any good?

The way a person reacts is totally dependent upon how they've been treated. If some yahoo cheated on his or her spouse, I would think that the rules would be totally different than if they had sat their spouse down and told them that they weren't happy and that they had to go. If some idiot doesn't have the balls to break up with someone face to face, prefering instead to find a chicken shit alternative...then the reaction is not required to be a classy one.

I don't know why anyone would think that they have the authority to preach to another person regarding break up behavior if they haven't asked any questions about how the other person had been treated during the break up in the first place.

Like the shitheads who thought that perhaps I reacted poorly to my ex and his affair...the NBC people totally took the onus off of the breaker upper and dumped it all on the breaker uppee. They didn't say, "This is how you react when you're dumped by a coward who cheated on you while you had cancer and this is how you react if you're dumped by a person with enough class to do it in a less painful manner." I refuse to believe or accept that my reaction as a dumpee is expected to be the same no matter how I've been dumped.

My ex knew me. He had known me for well over 20 years. If he had a brain, he would have acted like a man, a smart man...and refrained from fucking another woman until he had moved out of my house. Instead...he chose to screw a trailor dwelling bimbo IN my house while I was in Chicago visiting my daughter for what I thought could have been the last time I would ever see her. Then, when the Atlanta Journal Constitution contacted him for a comment about this blog...all he could come up with was, "She can be vindictive." Duh. That was nothing new...and it implied that I had a reason to be annoyed. (It was that kind of stupid comment that always let me know when he was lying...he wasn't quite bright enough to see that he gave himself away everytime that he said something like that.)

It didn't matter how well he knew me, he couldn't keep his dick in his pants for any length of time when he encountered a female who was just tacky and sleazy enough to want any man...married or not. Sol and I somehow found the same type of men.

I was a bit luckier than Sol though...the wopig that my ex banged pretty much shut up, crawled back into her trailor and hid. Sol, on the other hand...is delaing with a hoe that WILL NOT GO AWAY!

I don't think that Sol and I need to react the same way...I can't bitch as much as she can. I could, but it would be wrong of me. With all due respect to NBC, I have my own idea of how to react when you're dumped.

If you're dumped by a person with class...you sort of have to react the same way. Say a guy comes over to your house and sits down on the couch with you and puts his arm around you as he says something to the effect of, "I've truly enjoyed our time together but (for whatever reason) I think that it's time that we parted ways and I care enough about you to hope that we remain freinds." You should respond with a hug and a "I'm sad but I accept what you've decided and yes, I certainly hope that we can remain friends."

If you're dumped by a person who either:

A. Sends you an e-mail
B. Leaves you a post-it note
C. Tells you that he or she needs a few days to think and then hopes that you just go away
D. Calls you on the phone every few days and begs you off for another few days

...you have every right to demand a reason and return the favor with more e-mails, phone calls or post-it notes until you get a decent answer. Of course, after a couple of attempts...you should just give it up and be grateful that you weren't cheated upon, beaten up or left for dead.

If you're cheated upon, all bets are off. I didn't make up the phrase, "All's fair in love and war."...but I certainly do ascribe to it. Do whatever you want to do...you have nothing much left to lose.

If someone beats you up...make sure that there's plenty of evidence of the violence and then use it as your defense in your murder trial.

If someone beats you up, cheats on you AND lies about it all...start a blog. Just be sure that you keep the IP's of the nit wit that screwed your spouse so that you can take it to court when you need it to prove that they are obsessed with you. Oh, and don't give up all your secrets...just enough to annoy them so that when you DO get to court...you have a few surprises for the nimrod and any unethical attorneys like LoLo Coyle-Koppel!

OK then. All of that bitching has made me hungry.

Ciao!

Good morning!

I'm away from home for a few days and I'll go back over the weekend. When I do, I'll try to video "coy". I do it well, perhaps not so well if it's forced, but I can try. I'm much better at it when I'm doing it naturally.:)

I received an e-mail that asked me why I was so "pro-war". I'm not. I am pro-life though. And I think that anyone has the right to protect themselves. If a billion people on the other side of the world want you dead, I think that you could safely kill the mother-fuckers and not feel too badly about it. Our government HAS to protect us...that's their job.

I'm not anti any one group of people but I can pretty safely say that the only people who can stop the crazy Muslims are the "normal" Muslims themselves. If they won't do it...they need to get out of the way because like it or not...the one thing that no governmental representative is going to tell you is that we're going to be at war for 20 years or more. I don't think that people think about that fact...we ARE at war.

This morning I saw that some nutty Muslims dude was FINALLY blown up. Some whacked out Muslim "leader" said that, "The day he was killed, the clock started ticking on Isreal." I guess he thought that he was scaring someone. Those psychopaths haven't stopped trying to kill Isreal since 1948.

Isreal took a tiny piece of desert and created a country with cities and toilets. In all of that time, the Palestinians who were "forced" into the Gaza Strip when Isreal was created are still living in tents.

I say, "Them who takes care of it and grows on it has dibs while them who sits in the sand and whines for decades and decades can pound sand."

There are far too many Muslims in the world for us to sit around and try to make peace with them. And they don't care if one of them dies as long as they died killing us. So the only way we can protect ourselves is to kill at least a thousand of them for every one of us that they kill. They might feel that a bit.

Anyway, it IS early in the morning and I'm not quite myself yet.

Oh...this is cool...I found something that I wrote to that husband stealing skank who keeps writing to me (but of course I ignore her) on Sol's blog. (http://iron-gal.blogspot.com/) The skank is the wopig who slept with Sol's hubby. I re-read the stuff that I wrote and I must say...I was pleased with it. And since the stupid hoe can't seem to just go away, I thought that I'd repeat myself. I know she's here so I shall say it again:

"You're a shameful semi-female slug who couldn't send a short email without lying. But...I guess it must be hard to keep them all straight for you and other depraved assholes like you who live life satisfying every base urge that they have...never ONCE stopping to think how their contemptable behavior affects innocent human beings who actually live decent, productive lives.

Like a terrorist in the night...you and other low-lifes like you steal lives, topple mountains of dreams and cause more pain that any bullet could possibly cause. I guess it would be stupid to bother trying to tell you what a low-life you are...you're years away from realizing what trash you are today. There you sit, seeking out poor saps who are going through a rough patch in life...and then, when you find them, what do you do? You fuck them, suck them, buy them cars and do whatever you can do to find a way to harm his wife and look totally innocent doing it. Why? LOLOLOLOL...because you can't fight the urge to fart...much less fuck. After all, you've done it so damned many times...this asshole is putty in your filthy little hands.

You're nothing but a low, wicked, repugnant, abhorrent, odius, detestable, obnoxious, hideous, repulsive, foul, gross, revolting, gruesome, frightful, grisly, unpleasant, atrocious, inexcusable, abysmal waste of space, air and Whopper's."

And the bitch sat back and looked and what she had done and she said, "Uh...do you think I was a tad reserved?"

Anyway, for the normal people who may not know about Colleen Lombardi, she is a wopig (looks like a woman but is actually more swine) who steals hubbies. Stealing Sol's hubby wasn't good enough...she has to keep berating Sol because she realizes that the semi-man that she stole doesn't really want a divorce, he just wants a toilet for his sperm. Coco head is that toilet and she won't shut up so every once in a while, I have to jiggle her handle.

OK...I have to go now but I should be home tonight. Over the weekend I shall have more time and creativity. For now I must go...you guys all have a loverly day and I'll be back when I have the time.

Oh...and Coco head...most women your age are enjoying their golden years...why don't you just go have fun and leave Sol and me alone? I don't care that you harrass me...I find you to be quite the joke. But if you had half a brain, you would pretned that we didn't exist. Then we would assume that you are happily fucking a married man. Now we know you're nothing but miserable...but as long as you do keep coming back...you give me fodder for my blog. This weekend I shall address your latest group of emails.

OK normal folks...see ya later!

Meg