You may remember...

...that I was supposed to be getting one of those "Bundles" from At&T that includes Dish TV or something like that. Whatever they call it, I need a satellite dish installed.

About 10 years ago Rick and I heard on the radio that you could go to this particular gas station here in Atlanta and sign up for satellite TV. It was $99, I remember that. We paid the money and waited for the people to come install our satellite. When they finally came, they weren't able to do anything because of all of the trees around here.

They told me that there isn't a place on our house that would have a clear line of sight to the satellite so that wouldn't be an option for us. They gave us back our money and that was the end of that.

Ever since then, occasionally when I tell that story people respond, "That can't be, we have more trees than anyone and we have a dish." I hear that over and over again. So, when AT&T offered the dish, I really wasn't worried about that problem. Besides, I thought to myself, it's been 10 years, maybe they have some new kind of dish that WOULD work.

So, this past Thursday morning, the Dish dude came over to install the Dish. After walking around my house, he said that the "only possible place to put a dish is on the corner". It's that corner where the stop sign was knocked down in that wreck a couple of weeks ago:

The Dish would be on this corner and the guy would have to wire it to the carport, up the house and over to the OTHER side of the house. The guy who came over couldn't do it, they need to send (Pardon me but this is what it sounded like to me) the "dicksafe" people. What would a dish look like at the end of my driveway? Methinks that it will look rather tacky. Me also thinks that there is a LOT of room for error, what with so many cars driving through my yard.



Oh well, if it really screws up something awful, I can stop it and switch back to Comcast...can't I? There's always at least one of you who can answer my questions so I'm hoping that someone can tell me what I should do in this situation.

OK then...it's Sunday so that means that my family gets a nice breakfast. Payton loves bacon and eggs so I made that for him, served over a lovely mixture of Alpo and Kibbles and Bits...for that surprising yet delightful crunch! This is what we started with:

Payton made quick work of that dish:



And then he came to thank me...I think.



Who could resist those eyes?



I'm having company this afternoon/evening/night. I should be able to tell you about it soon. One of these days I'll get a guy that I can keep but until then, this one does just fine.

I straightened the house pretty much. I just left stuff that I wouldn't want to screw up, like washing the floor. I'll do that today because if I did it yesterday, I would have already spilled Kool-Aid on it.

The last thing I'll do is me. I don't know if men know this or not, but all women do at least this much stuff for a date (there may be an occasional excpetion to the rules, but I doubt that there are many):

1. shower
2. shave arms
3. shave legs
4. scrub body with something special...loofa, washcloth, apricot scrub, etc.
5. wash face with something special
6. wash hair
7. condition hair
8. make sure feet are good and clean
9. apply deodorant
10. apply lotion to etire body
11. powder entire body
12. choose a perfume and put it on
13. choose underwear
14. moisturize face
15. mouse or styling gel in hair
16. brush teeth
17. gargle
18. wipe moisturizer off of face with a cotton ball soaked in an astringent
19. put on make-up
20. blow dry hair
21. style hair
22. put on hair spray
23. choose clothes
24. put clothes on
25. change mind about the clothes
26. put on a different shirt
27. put on a different pair of pants
28. now we have to change the shirt again
29. choose shoes
30. choose jewelry
31. one last puff of perfume on the wrists and neck, but not too much!
32. one last coat of lipstick
33. check your look in the mirror and then go fix whatever you find wrong
34. Choose purse
35. stick liptick, blush, chewing gum, 2 heart pills and one Xanax in the purse

The tough part is maintaining the look you've created for the entire evening. I'm sure the ladies will let me know if I've left a part out. I know I didn't mention nail salons but that's because I've had to...sniff...do my own nails. Keep in mind that before we go to bed, we have another complete routine that we have to go through only to wake up and start over again. Being a woman in America today is a compellingly daunting task, of that you can be sure.

:(:(:(

Rosie

I received this sad, sad, sad...

..email just now:

I talked with a lady at the Emergency Vet this morning. We agreed after her giving me a long description and scenario, that it was Rosie who was brought in last Sunday after being hit by a car. She had bad injuries and was in a lot of pain, so they put her down. The kind lady who brought her in offered to pay whatever it took to fix her, but the docs said it wasn't worth it. So, as sad as it is to write this, we are so thankful to have closure. Thank you, my friends, for all of your encouragement, your prayers, and all your help (and your patience with my pleading for help!).
Much love,
Meghan and family

It never occurred to me that something could have happened to Rosie, I thought that lady who picked her up took her home. I never stopped to think that the blanket might have been a clue. If tings had to turn out this way, at least Rosie wasn't alone. Far too many people would have just driven away.

You know, about 8 years ago I started seeing sympathy cards for pets. My first thought was, "How ridiculous and what a tacky way to make money!"

But after giving it some thought and certainly after having Payton, I realize what an important place that our pets hold in our family. A family's entire dynamic changes when a pet is gone.

Payton is my friend, my shoulder to cry on, my protector and my alarm clock most mornings. I could list a bunch more jobs that Payton performs for me but you get the picture. He's a loyal member of this family, he won't ever change his mind and leave. He would never hurt me and he would never let anyone else hurt me either. He's my buddy, by hiking partner and my Frisbee teammate.

If he were to be taken away, I wouldn't know what to do. How do you fill those roles? It isn't easily done. Meghan's family is adjusting to life without Rosey now and that's as sad as it can be. Someday Rosey will be a pleasant memory, but right now, she is a vital member of the Respess family who will be sorely missed.

Thanks to all of you who tried to help find Rosie. You're kindness is greatly appreciated.

My sister is leaving for Florida...

...this morning. I'm not sure what time her flight leaves but she knows. I know it's before noon. She told me to wake her up at 7. So that I would have time to make coffee and drink a cup, I set my alarms for 6:15 and 6:30. I was already awake when the alarm went off. I didn't know it was 6 o'clock when I woke up...I was looking forward to going back to sleep.

Anyway, I'm sitting here at the computer and it's almost 7:30. My sister is still asleep. I keep trying to wake her up and she keeps saying, "A few more minutes of sleep."

My sister is ALWAYS oversleeping so when I woke her up at 6:30, I said, "You're gonna miss the plane, you've overslept!!!" She jumped into a sitting position and then realized that it was still dark. I got quite a chuckle out of that. I don't get many chances to chuckle, I take them where I can.

This comment was down a few posts and I thought that it should be mentioned so I want to mention it:

"...I meant to comment on the flea stuff too! My cat had a reaction many years ago and I had to call the poison hotline. They told me NEVER use flea stuff from OTC- they get thousands of calls from animals that get sick from them. They're like nerve gas or something..."

Most things that you can buy to kill ANY bugs work on the nervous system, some work by interfering with the reproductive cycle. The amounts of nerve toxin is supposed to be enough to kill a tiny flea, but not enough to hurt an animal. Well, apparently they were wrong.

All I had ever heard about the OTC stuff is that it doesn't work. I had never heard that it was dangerous. If Payton had scratched any other day, I would have driven to the Vet's office to buy some of the stuff they sell. But they're closed on Sunday's and I can't stand to see my animals uncomfortable. And I can't LET Payton get fleas because he gets that Flea Allergy Dermatitis which leads to abrased bald areas that get infected. So, when I saw him scratching, I ran to Kroger to get whatever I could.

Naturally, if I treat one animal for fleas, I have to do them all so I got stuff for the cats as well. The Vet said that there was a flea med for dogs that people use on cats and that THAT causes a LOT of problems. But I didn't do that. I couldn't remember the name of the stuff when I was at the Vet but I found the box...this is what I used on the cats...damn, I lost the box again, but here's the leftover medicine...It's Sergeant's Gold for Cats:

Maybe a government computer can make out the writing on that...but I doubt that you'd be able to see it.

So, I guess the moral of this story is don't buy crap for fleas over the counter. Some vets will sell it to anyone who walks in but they charge a LOT of money. They're good if you need something immediately but if my animals can wait, I just order stuff online. It's the exact same stuff that the vet gives them...like those Capstar pills for which the vet charged $25 a pill. I get 2 boxes when I order them and I pay $17.99 for each box of 6. Of course I pay S&H as well, but it's STILL cheaper than 2 pills from the vet's office.

You have to shop around those sites to find the cheapest ones but that's not tough. Once your vet has treated your animals for fleas, you know what to use. If your animal didn't have a reaction to it and the fleas eventually left, you know it works so just go online and get the right stuff next time.

I had no clue that the OTC stuff could be so dangerous. I've been using it for as long as I've had furry animals. I also go to the vet, but like I did Sunday, first I get whatever I can to start killing the things that are hurting my animals. If I ever feel the need to do that again, I'll just give the animal a bath.

My sister and I bathed McFly the other day. For some reason, The Veterinary Clinic where Elizabeth Walsh offends did not clean the rest of the medicine off of McFly's back. So, that meant it was still being absorbed. Stewie got a bath at the Town and Country Veterinary Clinic ER.

So, my sister held him down while I washed him. I had a brush in there to brush the shampoo into all the hairs and his skin. I was hoping that it felt good for him, that poor thing has never been assaulted with water in his life. Cats do keep themselves pretty clean, the run off water that I squirted on McFly wasn't dirty. You'd think an animal would pick up SOME dirt in 10 years...even if he is an indoor cat. Oh well, it's nice to know that I don't have to bathe him again for another 10 years.

Payton, on the other hand...is going to get a full bath today. I was going to do it yesterday but I got too busy and never got around to it. I did wipe his back the best that I could but he does need a bath anyway. It's not because he's dirty, it's because he's got one of those areas that gets raw from a flea bite. I was out of that Capstar stuff for 2 weeks and Payton got one area about an inch in diameter. If he lets me, I'll take a picture of it.

I've been cleaning it, medicating it and now I think if he soaks it in a warm bath, it would help it heal a LOT. OK, he held still for some pictures:






The big black circle in the top picture is the shadow from the camera. It took me a while to figure out what all of those big circles were. I took about 10 pics to get 2 good ones. He was wagging his tail stump so it was hard to get a clear shot. Anyway, the sores aren't bad at all, and as I said, a bath would probably do the trick. I've got him back on the Capstar so no more of these things will start and I'll just keep this one clean so that it doesn't get infected and he'll be fine.

But in the meantime, it's so sad to see a sore on any of my animals, no matter how small. It makes me feel as though I let them down somehow. I don't know how people deal with it when their animals are half bald from some hideous skin disease. It would drive me insane.

Well, my sister seem to be stirring so I'll go hang out with her for a while.

:)

For the Brits out there

Good Friday to you all!

It's a lovely day here in Gogia and that means that I have no further excuses to ignore the lawn work. I must mow it today. We've had a bit of rain this week from that tropical storm. This area usually does get leftovers from hurricanes or storms that hit anywhere in the Eastern half of the Gulf.

The water went away quickly because we've been having years of drought. The news guy said "There's no run off at all because the ground was so parched it just absorbed all of the water. I think it'll take an actual flood of Biblical proportions to put the lakes around here back where they should be. It's been years since I've seen Lake Alatoona look like it should. Rick was still here when you started being able to see the lake bed. Now, where you pass over the lake on Interstate 75, it looks more like a few large puddles scattered about.

My sister is leaving to go back to Florida tomorrow because she and her boyfriend made up. I'll be back to being alone with no adult females to speak to except my 22 year old roommate who was supposed to move out the first but she said she's broke and she needs to stay longer. That's what this house needs, another broke woman in it. I'm beginning to know how the Chinese feel when they get stuck with a girl. Who's gonna do the yard work if you have a girl?

I will probably stay hidden inside my house this weekend because I was bitten by a spider. On the face. And I think it was a brown recluse...those are some nasty bites. I had one on my ass once. It was actually where my leg turns into my ass. I couldn't sit normally for weeks after that bite. I had to go to the doctor over it.

When he walked into the exam room, he said, "Hi, sit up on the table." I was leaning over the table reading a magazine and I told him, "No, this is the way you'll want me."

So, I pulled my pants down and showed him the tennis ball size swelling on my backside. I ended up on anti-biotics. Those brown recluse bites are pretty nasty and if one of them decides to grow on my face, I need to be at home when it happens.

The bite is actually on my right jawline, a little over halfway to my chin. It's sort of starting to look like a second chin. If there's much more swelling you won't be able to see my real chin at all. You know, this is just perfect. What a great way to end this hideous summer? A broken foot, messed up calcium levels and now a big ass spider bite on my face.

This is where I would say, "What else could go wrong?" but long ago I stopped asking that rhetorical question because I would get actual answers.

Something else will go wrong, that's a given. I'm always just so curious as to what part of my world will blow up next.

Do any of you have this feeling that, no matter how bad things get...that something good is going to happen? Something really, really good? I have that feeling. I've had it for years so I'm not sure if it's valid or not but I'm waiting!

Nothing too good is going to happen today...I have to give Payton a bath. That pretty much means that I get a bath too. I used to do my best to stay dry but after the last time when I fell in, I'm not going to worry about getting myself wet. The entire bathroom gets wet, why not me?

I'll be back shortly, I have to get dressed in case my sister calls me to come and get her. She's spending her last night in Gogia here at my house. At least tonight I'll have someone to talk to!

I started today's post...

...before I wrote the post about Rosie, the lost dog. So, it's where it should be chronologically speaking. Just scroll down and read the post that begins, "At about 2:30 this afternoon..."

Now I have to eat my hot dog.

OH! I haven't been making videos for a few days because the toy microphone that I was using wasn't working. Today I thought that I was creating a silent video but when I went to watch it, the sound was on. I don't know where it came from but I won't ask any questions, I'll just be glad that the stupid thing works and hope that it STILL works when I need it. By the way, the video is a short one and I am about to stick it at the bottom of today's post down below.

But first, my hot dog...

Have you seen this dog???

Over the past few days, I've been noticing that dog's face everywhere in our neighborhood. When I saw another picture earlier today, I remember thinking to myself, "Wow! Someone is really, really trying hard to find that dog!"

Then, this evening while I was walking Payton, I ran into the lady who was putting up the posters. As Payton and I passed her, I said, "You must be frantic!" Naturally, she was.

She started telling me the story about how the dog got lost and I mentioned that I had been seeing her posters all around the neighborhood. Then, a black SUV pulled up. It was her family. The husband and all 3 of her kids were putting up posters too.

Naturally, the kids are upset. The family has had that dog since before some of those kids were born! Those kids don't know a life without Rosie. And the little dog is probably wondering where his family has gone.

The oldest boy in the family has pretty much grown up with Rosie and he's very close to her. There's just something so sad about a boy and his dog being separated, isn't there? In 1974, we lost a dog named Major. He was a beautiful German Shepherd and we adored that dog. To this day, I still get sad when I think of Major and the emptiness in our home after he was gone. I'd hate to think of the young man whose dog is missing remembering his lost dog for 30 years

People who don't have pets may not quite understand how much a pet can truly be a part of the family. The love that a pet has for it's family is intense, loyal and never ending. Rosie may very well be taken care of, but that won't help her heart from breaking as she wonders when she can go home.

The family has a very good reason to think that Rosie is being well cared for. The reason that they can be so sure that Rosie is OK can be found on the poster that the family is putting up all over town:

I am desperately looking for our little female chihuahua, Rosie. She disappeared Sunday afternoon before the storm...that's 8/24/08. Someone saw her being picked up by a lady on Cherokee Street (Marietta) and placed in a car. What a blessing that she wasn't hit by a car, but was rescued instead!! The car was heading north on Cherokee, but we have no idea where she went after that. We think the car was a smaller blue car, but not positive (this info came from a distant neighbor who saw it happen). Please help me get the word out. I don't know if this person is local or not, so i need this email to go primarily to the outskirts of this downtown Marietta area, but I guess she could be in Kennesaw, Acworth, Canton, Woodstock, etc. If you wouldn't mind, please forward this on to ANYONE in the surrounding area. We miss our girl, and pray that she is in the arms of someone who cares enough for her to come looking for her home! She is a precious baby. Thank you for your help!

LOST FEMALE CHIHUAHUA
3-4 pounds
Tan in color with white markings on forehead, chest, and belly (she also has some noticeably black hairs that run through the tan color on her back and tail, as you can see in the photo)
Spayed
NO tag or chip
404-580-2649

REWARD!!!

I sincerely hope that the woman who picked up the dog plans on trying to send her home. There's been no news yet from any of the places that you would ordinarily call to look for a lost dog.

Today I went to pick McFly up from the vet (I'll tell you about THAT crazy experience in the morning) and as I was standing in line waiting for my turn, a woman came in with her kids. I didn't hear their entire conversation but I caught the part where the little girl asked her mother, "Why are we doing this for a dog that isn't ours? What will we get for this?"

Apparently they found a dog and were taking it to the vet for one reason or another. I didn't hear that part of the conversation. But I did hear the mother's wise, kind and decent answer to her daughter's question.

She told her daughter, "We get to return a pet to it's family, and when we do, he and his family will be so happy and the happiness will rub off on us. It's a wonderful feeling to do something good for someone else. When we see the dog and his family reunited, we'll have a gift that you can't buy with money."

Of course, the mother was right. And I hope that the lady who picked up Rosie gets the chance to experience that same wonderful feeling!

If you would like to help in the search for Rosie, send a link to this post to everyone in your address book, even if they don't live in Marietta, Georgia or the United States of America. Maybe they know someone around here! I'm counting on those "Six Degrees of Separation" to help find this dog.

Or, if you live in Georgia, especially within 75 miles of Atlanta, you can post this post on your blog or at least post a link to it. I WANT TO FIND ROSIE!!! But I do need your help...Rosie needs your help.

Here's the link:

http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/2008/08/have-you-seen-this-dog.html

They say that you can accomplish a LOT with the Internet...let's see if we can use it to return an adorable little dog to it's home and family. Wouldn't that be cool?

So, let the search begin...where is Rosie?

At about 2:30 yesterday afternoon...

...I got a phone call from the vet's office. They said that McFly was "ready to come home". I told them that I would be there as soon as I could get there.

The reason that I didn't leave right away is that I didn't have the money to pay the vet and I needed to see if I could figure something out. I couldn't. So, I just called the vet's office and asked to speak to the person in charge of bookkeeping or accounts. The chick who answered the phone said that she could help me.

I explained the situation and a more obnoxious, rude and unprofessional person, I have not met in a very, very long time. She mentioned the "estimate" that I was given the day I brought McFly in. No one said to me, "You have to pay this all when you pick the cat up.", but I knew that already. I've been going to that vet for years and I've always paid when I took the animals in. When they gave me the estimate, I said, "I can give you $50 today but that's all I have."

At the time, the lady who gave me the estimate said, "Oh, you don't have to give us anything today!" I wasn't too worried because they said that McFly would have to be there for 4 days and I was hoping that with 4 days to work on it, I could get the money together one way or another. Then, they called me the very next day to have me come pick McFly up. Needless to say, after spending the night at the emergency room with Stewie, I hadn't had the time to do anything about getting the money together.

My entire purpose for calling was to ask what I should do. I could have given them a post-dated check, signed a promissory note, given them my ID...whatever it took to take care of the situation. I hated to have to even ask, but I didn't know what else to do. And I can't believe that this situation has NEVER come up before...they have to have some procedure to follow. After I explained the situation to the person who answered the phone, I asked her what my options were. That's when she started to get ignorant. She just kept repeating that when they show a client the estimate, a promise is made at that point. They don't have to tell you that you just agreed to it, you don't have to sign anything and even if you tell them THEN that you don't have the money to pay for it and they STILL treat your animal...there's NO OTHER OPTION...I must now shit out a bunch of cash.

This is pretty much how the conversation went...over and over again:

"Usually people pay when they come in."

"I understand that, I always have, I'm just in a really bad situation financially right now and I just don't have the money. What can I do? You tell me."

"Well, how much can you give me?"

At that point I went online to check my checking account and the balances on my credit cards. I was trying to see how much I could pay her using whatever balances I had on different methods of payment. I wiped out 2 credit cards and left myself 12 bucks in my checking account and still, I could only come up with $80 out of a $213 bill. I told her that I would have the rest in a couple of weeks if not sooner. The 30 bucks that I gave her out of my checking account was for food and gas. It's a good thing I did get those damn Ramen Noodles...I'll be eating a LOT of them.

She responded, "When they gave you the estimate, you should have known then that we expected payment today." We had already been through that conversation and we went over it a few more times, the chick just wouldn't give it up. She sarcastically said, "You DO know what an estimate is, don't you?"

I wonder if she knows. It's an ESTIMATE...not a contract.

She pretty much just repeated the same things over and over again with a very nasty tone in that calm voice, even after I told her that there was no reason for her to be rude. And, rude she was. She said, "If you don't pay us the entire balance today, you can't bring ANY of your animals here until you pay the entire bill. I just hope that your animals don't get sick while you're trying to 'get your money together'" The implication was that if anything happened to any of my animals, it would be my fault. And the ENTIRE implication of her attitude was that I am a bum who doesn't pay my bills. The years that I've been doing business there be damned.

After about 10 minutes of her unprofessional attitude, I realized that the conversation wasn't going anywhere. She was repeating herself and I was trying to explain something to her that she just wasn't grasping. The last time I tried to get her to understand what I was saying, she said, "Now you're changing your story!" She was flat out accusing me of lying. As she started to go into her "people pay at the time of service" speech AGAIN...I just hung up on her and left to pick up McFly.

McFly looking at me instead of the camera when he got home yesterday.

McFly's favorite thing besides eating, having his neck scratched.

She was what I refer to as a "velvet hammer". She has this sugary sweet and happy voice and then the nastiest things come out of her mouth. And, as my luck usually goes, she was at the front desk when I walked in. I recognized her voice immediately. She was talking to someone back in the office as I was standing there at the window. She was chatting about personal stuff and ignoring me. She didn't even know who I was at that point. When she figured it out, she became downright rude. Every time I said a WORD...she looked at the other CUSTOMERS in the waiting room and rolled her eyes. She may not be the least professional person that I've ever met but she's certainly in the top two.

She said condescendingly, "I'll be with you in a minute, have a seat." I backed up to look at the pet stuff they had for sale but didn't I sit down. I didn't want to. When I'm nervous, I pace and I can't sit still. I've been nervous about so many things lately that I called my doctor and asked him if I could take 4 Xanax a day occasionally. He said that would be OK so if I need to, I can always take an extra pill.

The wench left me standing there for at least 10 minutes and then she called the person who came in AFTER me. I couldn't be nice anymore. I said, "You know I was here first and you're purposely taking someone in who came in 10 minutes after I did." Her response was something about me not sitting down when she asked me to.

Like I was a 2 year old, she said, "Are you ready to communicate with me now?" She was actually punishing me in the waiting room for some perceived transgression. She seemed overwhelmed with the power she wielded from behind her little wall window.

I walked up to the desk and handed her the credit cards. She never said another word. She ran the cards through and gave me the things to sign. I asked her if she wanted the originals and without saying a word, she grabbed them out of my hand. Then, a normal person brought McFly out. The wench chick was typing away and I assumed she was typing something for me. She let me stand right in front of her for 5 minutes without saying a word. Then, I finally asked if I was done.

She said, "You were done 5 minutes ago." That's when I asked her name so that I could write about her on my blog...her name is Elizabeth Walsh. She was behaving so smugly that she said she would be "happy" to give me her name and said that she "couldn't wait to read what I had to write" about her. Then, as I walked out the door I heard her chuckling loudly. So, here it is Miss Walsh, I hope you're still chuckling.

While I was standing there waiting like an idiot, I was reading the instructions that the normal lady had given me. I had a question that I wanted to ask about McFly. I wanted to know when he had gotten the last dose of Robaxin. Her answer shocked me. She said, "That's a question for the doctor." Then, she went back to typing and didn't ask for a doctor, the tech or even the chart so that she could answer my question.

So, I left the office owing $133. All that BS for a measly $133.

I can't possibly be the first person to have a bad experience with this nut. Either the office is aware of her behavior already or she hasn't been there long enough for it to happen yet, I just had the luck of being the first.

Then, within an hour or so of getting home, McFly started foaming at the mouth and twitching again. Miss Walsh had told me that I couldn't bring the animals back in so I didn't know what to do. My sister was over here so she called them to ask what could be done. No one said a word about the money that I owed, they just said to bring the cat back for another shot of Robaxin. My sister mentioned the financial concerns and they said that they would only be charging $15 for the shot. My sister had that much on her so she paid for it.

McFly an hour later, foaming at the mouth and starting to go into seizures again.

That clinic has been there for well over 40 years if not longer. One of the vets is the third or fourth generation of doctors to be in that building. I doubt that any vet (or any person at all for that matter) would be very pleased to hear one of his or her employees treating clients so poorly. When people spend more then 40 years building a reputation as a compassionate professional, the last thing they need is some obnoxious teenager treating the clients like dirt and refusing to answer medical questions about the patients who keep them in business.

What a stark contrast to the hospital that I took Stewie to the night before! They went out of their way to take care of Stewie knowing that I didn't have any money. The doctor at Town and Country Veterinary Clinic was the very picture of compassion. Unfortunately, the docs at The Veterinary Clinic may very well be as compassionate. But you'd never know it if you walked in and saw Elizabeth Walsh sitting at the front desk.

Miss Walsh, you said that you were "looking forward" to reading what I wrote. I hope that you didn't have to wait too long.

While my sister and I were busy taking care of McFly, Stewie and Payton relaxed and watched.

Remember this?

To my wonderful children,

I watched you as you walked out of the Alzheimer’s Unit today and I know you thought that I didn’t remember you. I saw your tears and I wanted to make them go away but I didn’t know how. Even though you tried to hide it, you seemed so sad. I wanted to make the sadness go away but, once again, I didn’t know how. I heard the doctor tell you that I didn’t know who you were. I had to let you know that nothing could be further from the truth.

There’s a very special place deep inside of me where I dwell along with my memories of you and of all that you have ever meant to me. In that special place, I know who you are. You are my child. For as long as my heart beats, you will be inside of it…and I never go anywhere without my heart.

When you were a tiny baby, I would hold you in my arms and stare into your eyes. I watched you stare back at me with such a look of awe…I wondered what was in your mind. You couldn’t tell me then and I can’t tell you what’s in my mind now. But trust me, just as you were behind the eyes that I stared into back then…I am behind my eyes today. Maybe people can’t see me, but I’m there. And, in my special place, I have you with me.

I get frustrated sometimes and things get a little confusing for me. I try to tell you that I love you and instead, I take off my shoe and stick it in the sink. I want to cook dinner for you and instead I throw food on the floor. My heart wants to hug you but my hands just make circles in the air. I don’t know why these things happen any more than you do. But please don’t think that I have forgotten you. You’re right here, inside my special place.

And please remember that I’m still your mother and that I want what’s best for you. If it means that you have to take care of your own family, please know that it just serves to make me proud of you. All I ever wanted was for you to have a life and a family of your own. Please don’t feel as though you're neglecting me. You’re ALWAYS right here with me, deep inside my special place.I don’t want you to think that I’m sad, I have so much here inside of me. So many things are here in my mind. I remember them so clearly. There’s no rhyme or reason to my thoughts, but I know them all. They’re thoughts that I’ve had before…but they come in so randomly that I can’t really make heads or tails of them. But I DO know them all, and you’re a huge part of my thoughts. That’s because instead of coming to me in real time, my thoughts are coming from my special place.

I have so many things in here with me, recipes, phone numbers, the ice cream man who came to our neighborhood when I was a child. I have school dances, tree houses and my purple bicycle. With me are memories of being in love, holiday dinners and driving through the mountains. And of all the things that I have in my special place, you are by far the most precious.

I may have lost the ability to know how to put on a pair of shoes…but I remember putting yours on when you were 4. I may not know what to do with a telephone but I remember when you called to tell me that you had just gotten engaged to be married. I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what to do with a spoon, but I remember feeding you with one. I can’t find my way to my bedroom but I remember tucking you into bed with a kiss at night. It may not seem like I know much at all, but here in my special place, I have a wealth of knowledge…and I earned most of it from raising you.

So, don’t be too sad. Instead, look at your life, your children and your happiness. If you can take care of all that you have and all that you are, then you’ve done all that I’ve ever wanted you to do. Your life makes mine worth all that I have, all that I know and all that I’ve ever done.

And remember, you’re with me always, always. I keep you deep down in the core of my soul with all that I am. It may be hard for you to understand…but in my special place, the essence of you exists in a way that I can recognize. I know exactly who you are, you’re my child.

Mom

My dog just farted...

...Jeez, I hate that. I thought that all the nasty farting left with my ex. Oh well, at least I KNOW the dog doesn’t have enough sense to go into the restroom for such things.

There has always been a farting man in my life. When I was a little girl, my grandfather, a very successful businessman, would read the paper in his recliner at night and literally lift his leg and fart with no shame or “Excuse Me.”

Of course, when I got a little older, my brothers got a thrill out of farting. I left home and got married so I immediately had a farter of my own. Then, without missing a beat, I married again and had another farter. I swear to God, I had that one convinced that women just don’t fart.

Next, I was single for a few years but I was working as a nurse so I saw a lot of stuff much worse than farts. Then, I met the fartmaster. When my oldest son attained a certain age, he developed a facsination with farting that he pretty much still has. He laughs pretty hard at his own farts, but you can irritate the heck out of him by farting back at him.When he and my ex were both living with me, it was one great big fart-a-rama. A few years ago, I was in New York and I had this great beef sandwich with peppers...three kinds. I went into the restroom and noticed what a hideous bouquet that sandwich had summoned. I smiled. I began developing my stratagem.

It was so marvelously brilliant and the timing couldn’t have been better. They were both in the living room watching television. I went back into the living room and sat down as though all was right with the world.

Serenely secure in my evil scheme, I withheld the pressure that was my vengeance for the years of anguish to which I had been subjected by the fartmaster and his little partner in crime. I smiled cunningly as I remembered the silence that preceeded the appalling stench. I knew that there would be no forewarning for my victims. I waited until just the right moment and unleashed what was the most foul, repugnant, revolting “silent but deadly” that I had ever had the misfortune of suffering. And then I sat back and watched the consequences of my reprisal ensue. It was breathtaking...literally.

When the effects of my opus first reached their noses, they immediately glanced, accusedly, at each other. Then, they inhaled again. Oh, it was magnificent. I laughed so hard that I immediately gave myself away. They both actually got up off of their chairs. The looks on their faces were identical and said the same thing, “How can I leave the presence of this gruesome entity?” Their eyes went back and forth as though they were looking for an exit. You would have thought that they were a couple of mice in the presence of a lion.

Such a sense of contentment, I have never felt. I assure you, that one fart made up for the years of olfactory assaults that these two yahoos had released upon me.I have tried, in vain, to duplicate that awesome fart but I haven’t found the proper combination of gastric ingredients with which to do so.

OK, enough fart talk, the dog just farted again. I guess I asked for that one.

See ya,

Meg

McFly is getting better...

...but last Stewie got sick.

As I was leaving for my pool league, I was making sure that all of the animals had food and water. I had been calling Stewie earlier to give him some treats but he never came. That didn't worry me, sometimes, if he's found himself a nice cozy hiding place, he won't come when you call him. So, I just finished getting dressed and forgot about it.

My sister was here (she was going to take me to pool since I STILL can't drive my car at night...no tail lights), and between all of the commotion in the kitchen as I was getting ready to leave and filling food bowls, Stewie came into the kitchen as though he was paralyzed from the waist down. His back half was twitching on it's own and the rest of him was twitching too.

The emergency hospital is NOT the one where I took McFly because they don't have an emergency room at night. But Stewie went to the one that my vet sends animals to when their office is closed.

The problem seems to be the flea medication that I put on them Sunday. I saw Payton scratching and I cannot ABIDE knowing that there are creatures on my animals! I would have gone to the vet to buy something but it was Sunday so I went to Kroger and bought some of that over the counter CRAP that I didn't even expect to work but I had to do something. I used it all so I threw away the box. I couldn't tell them and I can't tell you what it is but I'd recognize it if I saw it so the next time I go to the grocery store, I'll look to see what it was. Last night the vet said that they see this occasionally with one particular brand. I bought the one that was priced in the middle...I didn't want the cheapest one and I really couldn't afford any of it, but I had to do it so I didn't get the most expensive one either. I DO remember THAT brand...it was Adams.

That's NOT what I bought...I wanted it though, I figured that you get what you pay for and I wanted something that might work. So, I got one that was priced in the middle.

Anyway, they said that Stewie would have gone into full blown seizures if he hadn't gone to the hospital. They gave him some Robaxin (the same thing McFly is getting) and a bath to get the rest of the stuff off before more was absorbed. I guess it took 2 days for enough poison to absorb into their skin to do the damage. Stewie is smaller but McFly is much, much older...almost 10. Stewie isn't quite a year and a half old. They wanted to keep Stewie overnight as well but when they said that it would be $700, my sister actually started talking and we ended up not paying a DIME!

That hospital was Town and Country Veterinary Clinic on Gresham in Marietta, sort of behind the Big Chicken and a few blocks over. They knew that I already had one cat in the hospital that I can't afford to pay for so they did the best they could (Which turned out to be enough, Stewie is hungover from the Robaxin but that's a good thing. Other than that he seems fine. I don't know if it was his age or if he didn't get as much in his system, but he never got as bad as McFly.) They didn't have to treat the cat gratis. SO many places wouldn't have. You could rip a page of vets out of the yellow pages and you wouldn't be able to find a professional as compassionate as these ladies were.

At one point they were going to have me sign a promissory note (which I would have been happy to do) and that's when my sister started talking.

The Veterinary Clinic on Roswell Road in Marietta, the place where McFly is, did save his life and they are taking good care of him while I haven't yet given them a dime. But I have a feeling that when McFly is out of danger and ready to come home, they'll want all of it. I usually do pay all of it when I take the animals in but I haven't been this broke since right after Rick left.

Anyway, Stewie is fine and McFly seems to be getting better so I'm just going to think about that for now.

When Stewie got home from the hospital, Payton was checking him over really, really thoroughly. He's still doing it only now he's not so much worried as he is affectionate...just like a person would be after a disaster. I taped him sniffing Stewie and laying his head on him as if to say, "I'm so glad you're OK!". It's so cute. I have to get a new mic so there's no sound here, but you don't need it:

About an hour and a half ago...

...I heard what sounded like a child screaming. I ran into my bedroom to see what it was and I found my older cat, McFly, under my bed in a puddle of vomit. He was shaking terribly so I pulled him out and laid him on the bed. I was surprised he let me do that. Then, he surprised me again by letting me wrap him up in a blanket. Usually when I do that I'm about to give him medicine.

I held him for a few minutes to see if the shaking would stop but it didn't. I figured he was just scared. He didn't stop shaking and then he started drooling so I just took him to the vet. On the way there, McFly started shaking so violently that I knew he was having seizures.

I don't know what's wrong with him but the vet gave him Valium and got him calmed down a bit. I had to leave him there and I have NO CLUE how I'm going to pay for this. I was hoping it would be something simple but I never have simple problems to solve so I don't know why I thought that this one would be.

I just got back and when I walked in, Payton was looking behind me to see where McFly was. When it first happened, Payton just backed up and let me do what I had to do. He knew something was wrong with McFly. So, when I walked in without him, I don't know what Payton was thinking but he isn't happy about this. He gets very upset when one of his four legged friends goes away.

Well, I guess I should go clean the cat vomit off of my carpet.

I'll let you know if I hear anything from the vet.

UPDATE:

McFly had to be sedated again so that they could start an IV in his poor little leg. I asked if they had visiting hours, they don't but they said that they shouldn't be busy at 3:30 so I'm going to go visit him and take them his food because I know he won't eat anything else. They aren't feeding him yet but when they do start, I want them to have the right food.

Later on:

I went to visit him and drop off the food. He's hooked up to an IV and he looks so pathetic in there. But, he tried to kiss me, usually if I pucker my lips, he'll come up and touch my mouth with his, today he was initiating the kisses and the forehead rubs that he does to show affection. That made me feel better, he knew me and he wanted to leave with me and he was healthy enough to do all of those things hoping I would take him with me. It was so sad to leave him there.

It's 5 AM...



...and all I can hear from the TV is the Democratic Dick Sucking Party so I turned on Leave it to Beaver. That's not too annoying for background noise...Susan Estrich grates on my nerves and they're tender right now as it is. Anyway, now I can write without getting terribly frustrated, annoyed and homicidal. I think I'm in a bad mood because Rick called me to whine about HIS problems and he "plucked my last raw nerve" as my grandmother used to say.

I am so over it and every time I go for a week without thinking about him, he seems to know. Then he calls me to let me know how lonely he is. This time he wasn't lonely, he was sorry...LOLOLOL.

I think it's the self pity that got to me. I just am not in the mood to deal with his guilt so instead of saying, "Oh, don't worry, it all turns out for the best.", like I would usually say (and I'm SURE he was expecting to hear), I just borrowed a line from the movie Cold Mountain (the DVD that he stole from me) and told him, "You made the weather and now you're standing there shouting, 'Look, it's raining!'. I think I added some spice like "Suck my dick" and then I hung up on him. He called me back but I didn't answer the phone.

I fell asleep cursing him and when I woke up I was still annoyed so that's where I am now...annoyed.

Anyway, I've decided that it's not a ghost or a poltergeist that's causing the drops to appear everywhere. I think it's coming from the ceiling fan. If my mind is wrapped around this one well, and I think it is, then I am right in assuming that there's a small leak somewhere and the water is, oh so slowly, coming out of the electrical sockets. If I'm not here one day you'll know why.

Of course it could be humidity forming on the fan and THAT'S what's landing all over the kitchen. I haven't a clue. But it rained really hard all night and the drops aren't around now. I guess it's still a mystery. Oh well, that's one mystery I can live with...but the mystery of why Rick calls me for some stupid reason or another every few weeks can keep me scratching my head.

Anyway, I'm going to stop thinking about that and let it go so I don't spend another day all irritated.

I found a joke which should get me in a better mood for you guys...if not for MYSELF! Here it is:

(Posted by xblogger in Doctors Corner)

Two guys both have 9:00 a.m. appointments at a vasectomy clinic. A lovely young nurse greets them and tells them she’s going to prep them for surgery and takes them to a private room. She tells the first guy to take off his clothes and sit on an exam table, which he does. She then takes his manhood in her hand, and begins to masturbate him.

“Whoa!” he says, “What’s going on?”

She replies that it is all standard procedure and that she has to ensure that he has no blockages.
The guy thinks, “How bad can it be?” So he agrees. And allows the nurse to finish her task.

Once done, the nurse tells him to go sit down, and repeats the instructions to the second guy.

When he is up on the exam table, the nurse gets a big smile on her face, licks her lips and begins to perform a blow job on him.

Upon seeing this, the first guy says, “Hey, what’s this? I get jerked off, and he gets a blow job. That’s not fair.”

The nurse looks up at the first guy and says, “Sorry, buddy. That’s the difference between Private Healthcare and Public Healthcare.”

The Cubs are safely ensconced in first place in August so that means that I can actually talk about it. Every time I wanted to talk about them before I would worry that I would jinx them if I said a word about them. They hovered around a tie for a while. With a 5 game lead over Milwaukee, I have a BIT of breathing room.

I haven't seen a Cubs game in quite some time and that's not fair. They just came to Atlanta but I couldn't afford to go. Who's dick do you have to suck to see a Cubs game? I'd get really jiggy if the game was at Wrigley and included a beer at the Cubby Bear Lounge. I'd lick chode for seats right behind the third base dug out.

Yeah, I sure would enjoy a good Cub's game. I don't like seeing a slug fest because when the wind is blowing just so, those balls go halfway to Lake Michigan. I wonder if one ever actually landed in the lake? Wrigley isn't far from the lake at all. Anyway, a slug fest is anyone's race to 20 home runs. Of course, it is sort of fun to watch, but only if the wind blows for the Cubbies.

I used to have a crush on a really bad first base player named Pete LaCock...number 23. He sure was pretty. But none of them would do now...they're mostly the same age as my kids. They may LOOK like real men, but baseball players are nothing but 20-somethings with big...bats. Nothing else.

They have no sexperience worth speaking of and not enough maturity to even know how to PRETEND to be classy. If done properly, a one night stand doesn't HAVE to be a totally negative experience.

I'm sure that the guys in that age range are thinking, "How dare you say that! I'm a stud...I can go all night!"

Well dude, maybe you can. But did you ever ask a chick if she WANTED to "go all night"? My other ex would go so long that I would eventually fall asleep, wake up and wonder, "Is he STILL at it?" All night sex is highly overrated. I don't care if you do have a .361 batting average.

I don't know if guys realize it or not...but EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM says something to the effect of, "Let me show you what I can do, I promise, I'm the best that you'll ever have. I'll take you places you've never even dreamt of before." They all use different words but basically every guy who is going to tell you about his love-making prowess is going to significantly inflate his own abilities. He may believe that he is good, but that just makes it worse. He wants to prove that he's really, really good. Then he tries so hard for so long that you pretty much have to fart loudly to make him stop.

A nice big fart will get any self-respecting man off of a woman. Of course there's those guys who don't care and for that apathetic fart stance, he's out of there on principal. There's no farting in sex, I don't care what they do in San Francisco. If some dude finds it acceptable...he's OUTTA THERE!!!

Of curse, I'm not talking about pussy farts. Those are a totally different situation. If some dude pumps a chick full of air, it WILL eventually come out. If you don't know why, think of it like an air piston. You can't blame a chick for a pussy fart...you pumped her full of air. I just hate it when a pussy fart could be mistaken for a real fart. You almost feel as though you need to mention it..."You know...that was a pussy fart, not a real fart."

Oh well, enough fart talk, I have to go fix this coffee, I made it too weak.

:)

Good Monday to you!!!

I hope it's not as yuchy where you are as it is here. It's raining and windy and I've had my AC off for most of the weekend. I even threw caution to the wind and stuck a fan in my bedroom window to keep the room cool all night. If little creatures crawled in while I was sleeping, they should have been eaten by one of my cats or my dog, all of whom would just LOVE to play with a small mammal who had the misfortune to find itself in my house.

Stewie loves to eat bugs so I've got that covered. If only he could fly, I'd be totally bug-free.

Now, if only I could be ghost-free, I'd be happy. I think that I better take a chill pill because there's weird stuff going on in this house. It seems to be raining tiny droplets of some substance that's not water. On the counter, it looks like brownish water and on the computer monitor, it looks like little droplets that won't go anywhere. I'll take a picture of the stuff...I don't know if I'll even be able to get it and if I do, I don't know what it'll prove, but here it is:

When I first sat at the desk, he monitor was full of that stuff. I THINK I've been here alone all night so no one else could have done it. No one from THIS world, that is. Anyway, I wiped off the screen and started surfing. When the spots came back, I figured that whatever I had done had wet them or something but didn't get rid of them. So, I got Windex and did it again. I wiped that sucker as hard as you can wipe one of these soft screen things. I don't know what the screen is, but I know it isn't TV screen hard.

Anyway, when the spots came back AGAIN, I looked around and found them on the counter. That's when I took the pictures. Since I posted them, I'm noticing the drops everywhere. I wonder if I have a poltergeist.

That's probably not a good thing to think about when you're alone. Especially when it's not quite light outside.

Well...this is great, it's raining in my house. The ceiling is dry. A leak would come from one place, this rain is going everywhere. OK...someone give me a logical explanation now please.

I'm just going to wipe off the screen and assume that there IS a logical explanation and forget about ghosts and poltergeists and spirits...yep, that's what I'm gonna do.

Oh, I heard something the other day that makes no sense to me. Someone told me that flea collars work because the fleas all go to the animal's eyes to get their water so sooner or later they all go on a pilgrimage that would take them up the animal's neck and therefore close enough to the collar to be zapped. It doesn't make sense for a few reasons.

First of all, the cartoon lines on the commercial that show how the collars work go down the dog's body and around it's backside. I don't think the lines go anywhere near the eyes. Secondly, I'm pretty sure they can get all the fluid they need from whatever body fluids they suck from their host. And lastly (and most importantly), I've seen animals with fleas but I've never seen an animal with his eyeballs covered with fleas. And you know, they'd have to be. At any given time, SOME of the fleas would be sucking up the tears.

I wonder how a silly thing like that gets started?

You guys want to start one? Let's see, what could we tell people today...OK, here's one:

Tell people that you heard on the news that the "naso-media" tissue (I made that up) becomes numb for a day or so after an orgasm. People never notice it because when they pick their noses, they only touch the outer part of their naso-media, which of course, is that thing that divides your nostrils. They never touch the part that gets numb...the flat part under the tip of the nose.

If you wanted to be mean, take out the orgasm and stick in herpes.

Yeah, that's a story that could be real...spread it around. If you tell someone who didn't have an orgasm the night before, they'll be touching their noses because of you the next time they do. And if you use the herpes line, you got 'em. EVERYONE will touch their noses. I like stuff like that.

Oh, did you hear that Fran Drescher is suing the people who do The Family Guy because of Lois's voice? Drescher says it sounds too much like hers. I always assumed the person who did the voice was trying to sound like Fran. I have to admit, I had a hard time getting past that hideous voice when I started watching that show. The rest of it is funny enough to make up for the cringing when I hear Lois speak. That Nanny show didn't quite do that. Drescher should be pleased, her voice is now more famous than it ever was when it was just on HER show.

I just ate a bowl of Cocoa Krispies, the real stuff, not the Kroger brand...and guess what? Only half of the Krispies in that bowl were cocoa. The rest were just regular Krispies covered with a slight sugary glaze. That glaze is made of sugar, why not just make ALL of the sugar a cocoa flavor? There's no reason that I can think of.

You know...it could be that the Cocoa Krispies people are saving money on cocoa by only making 50% of the Krispies cocoa flavored.

I'll be damned.

OPERATION: BLOWJOB

Having only seen...

...clips of the Paris Hilton ads, you might say that I have no right to address them. To you, I say, “Na na nana na.”

I speak the truth and those who fear it should not be in the proverbial TRUTH KITCHEN!

I don’t have any opinion one way or another, I figure it just is what it is. And…I must admit that for a chick who doesn’t know WHY you don’t boil the water before you put the egg in the pot, she has accomplished quite a bit. But I still doubt that she has much influence in a presidential campaign. Most people choose their candidate based more along the line of who’s the best looking and who appears on the most late night television shows. But, I’m sure there is a group of people who would base their decision on the silly “Bikini Brainstorm”.

Since there are most likely a LOT of people who are that stupid, why not just pay Paris Hilton to star in a commercial where she holds a tampon up to her cheek and says, “Paris’ Pink Protection….it’s HOTTTTTT!”?

(I don’t think it would be a could idea to have Monica out there hawking ANY phallic symbol. She can’t get her orifices straight. God knows what she’d do with a tampon.)

If I worked at a drug store and Monica Lewinsky walked up to the counter with a box of tampons, I wouldn’t be able to help myself…I would look her right in the eye and with a deadpan face, I’d say, “You do know where these go, don’t you honey? They’re NOT cigars.”

It must be a rather odd feeling to know that you’ll go down in history for such a relationship with the president. Or do you think the future generations will see her differently?

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce a woman belonging to a very elite group of heroic American women who have made our great nation a better place for us all, Betsy Ross, Harriet Tubman, Eleanor Roosevelt, Monica Lewinsky and Georgetta W. Bush…”

Wouldn’t it be a bitch if we were to find out that blowing a president is the ONE way to get them to do a good job? I think we should have Laura take that one eyed wonder worm of her husband’s…and make it truly the most powerful penis in the world. Then, if the war in Iraq stops and gas prices go down and Bill O’Reilly has nothing to bitch about anymore…we’ll know it works.

If it doesn’t do a thing, my scientific mind says that we should let Monica try it before we trash the idea completely. After all, she could be the common denominator. We could create a new cabinet, not a cabinet position, but an actual cabinet…one where the president will go every morning after a couple of cups of coffee to receive his presidential blow job. Then, he just steps out, buckles his belt and straightens his tie. That’s it. Now he’s ready to make important decisions with a much, much more pleasant demeanor.

Monica would be the perfect person for the job, after all, she has spent a lot of time under the presidential desk. We could do better than that with the presidential blow job cabinet. We could even put up mirrors. Well, I guess we’d have to see what Monica looks like on her knees. It might NOT be something the president would want to see.

Maybe we could just put up some nude pictures….say maybe Cloris Leacham, Joan Rivers, Bea Arthur…whoever Bush likes…Obama could replace them with pictures of Haley Berry, Lisa Bonet and Alicia Keys. If McCain wins, he could just put up pictures of mega-rich widows. Whatever floats the presidential boat.

If Operation Blow job works for 3 presidents in a row, we should stick it in the constitution. (I'd love to be in the audience for THAT debate...who would oppose such a bill?) Yep, it might sound crazy, but nothing they’ve done so far has worked. And with the 2 yahoos we have running for president, I don’t see any hope for the future. But, I do have a message for the wives of the presidential hopefuls:

To Cindy and Michelle:

BLOW YOUR MEN.

We might just have to send in Monica so for your own good, as well as the good of the entire planet, go down on yourmen TONIGHT! And remember this, if his dick is in YOUR mouth…it can’t possibly be in ANYONE ELSES…pootang. (?)

Sincerely,

Meg

I’m sure it’ll work because I’ve been paying attention. I KNOW BJ Billy’s dick wasn’t in HIS wife’s mouth. She had too much to say and it’s not polite to speak with your mouth full. And then, during the primary election…I submit that a solid pussy eating every night would have clinched the bid for the Hill-dog. Tell me I’m wrong.

Think about it…don’t you feel better after oral sex? I know there’s a lighter step in my feet the next day.

On the other hand, when I haven’t had ANY sex, I’m pretty much looking for a fight. I’m irritable, cranky and nothing at all like my sweet self. The longer I go without makes me exponentially bitchier.

So, the presidential blowjob is absoluely a valid proposal. If every person out there had oral sex tonight, you would all be a bit happier tomorrow. Something like that would be like the proverbial pebble on the pond. Your pleasant nature would change things that you would never consider and because of those small changes, as in the Butterfly Effect, great things would begin to happen all over the world and you could very well be responsible for saving the planet. All because you did something that you want to do anyway.

Now, once you see that I’m right, I want you to write a letter to your congressmen, senators and yes, even the president. (Aw heck, send one to the candidates too, it only fair) Tell them ALL about Operation Blowjob and then tell them about your own experience’s. Appeal to their sexual/politcal ego…tell them that they could lead America to the Gold…we could finally overtake France as the greatest lovers of the world!

They would really be into that idea. I think I’m going to become a lobbyist for my cause. The only problem is that I can’t afford the trip to the lobby. So, if you believe in Operation Blowjob, let me know. I will tell you how you can be a part of saving the future of our civilization in a way that doesn’t endanger the planet, intrude on the rights of any other country nor does it affect manatees one way or another. (Of course, happy people tend to be more philanthropic so it might even HELP the manatees!)

With any money left over after my trip to Washington, I will start a school that will teach attractive young ladies the ancient art of cock sucking. Just imagine a world full of women who can do MUCH more than suck on the head of your penis and call that a blowjob.

This is just one more reason of many that I should be president.

Oh, by the way, as president I would put Johnny Depp, Jude Law and John Goodman in my cabinet.

Ham Sandwich, racism and Meg tossing primping to the wind.

The title pretty much says it all. I really do want to know what you guys think about the plate...should I hang it up?

My dog woke me up...

...at 7 this morning because he wanted to go out. I let him out, started a pot of coffee and went to lay back down until the coffee was ready. The next thing I knew, my sister was standing over me saying, "Hey, wake up! I need a ride to work!" She had tried to call me over and over again but when I let the dog out, I took the phone out of my room and left it in the kitchen. I never planned on falling back asleep.

I took her to work and came home. Then, my roommate stopped to talk to me on her way to the doctor. She was in a 4 car wreck yesterday, right down the street from here. She was on her way home when some poor old man in a Terminex truck smashed into one car which smacked into my friend's car and then she hit the car in front of her. All 3 of the cars that were hit were at a stoplight.

The guy had to be going pretty quickly because my roommate's car was totaled. Yesterday when it happened, she didn't feel too badly but last night she had a dreadful headache and today she can't move her neck and her back hurts. That little lady might end up with a few shares of Terminex stock before this is over.

She took pictures of the car and when her boyfriend gives her back the camera, I'll stick them up here.

I think I'm going to create a video for you guys. I made one last night but apparently it was too long to embed on this blog. But, I did learn something from that video...I have no business filming myself when I'm ready for bed and not ready for the camera. During the day, I'm dressed, I've put my contacts in and I've done my hair. I may have even put some make-up on if I had to go someplace during the day.

But at night...I've pretty much gotten ready for bed and if there's not a guy around, that could be really frightening. So, if I want to make a video now, I'd have to get ready to some extent. But, I don't want to wear make-up for no reason at all. I'll think of something.

This week has really gone by quickly. I guess it's because it started at the hospital on Monday and then I had one stupid thing after another happen to me like the court thing. Oh, my calcium level is high again. I don't know anything else and I won't for a while. My doctor referred me to a specialist and he'll be the one to find out what, if anything, the blood tests mean.

The doctor who figured out that there was a problem with my parathyroid gland in the first place figured it out because he had seen me twice in the ER...once for a broken wrist and once for the kidney stones. He saw on my record that I had also broken my tailbone earlier that year. He asked me some other questions and then said that he thought it would be smart to check my calcium level. Thank goodness for that.

I had been feeling really badly and I had lost about 40 pounds at that point but I attributed it to Rick's affair and the nasty way he was treating me. It never occurred to me that I could have had cancer.

Hell, who thinks about their own health at all when they're busy jumping through hoops for a cheating husband? Not me, that's obvious.

Anyway, I'll let you know if there's anything important to tell you. I'm not going to start going into detail about every little symptom because I would feel like I was whining and I hate whining unless it's about my ex. But, as I said, I'll keep you apprised of any major developments. If I die, I just won't be here. I can't really tell you about that...but I think you'll figure it out.

I have to clean the HELL out of my house today. It was a really, really bad day to sleep late. But, I have a couple more things to do on the computer and then I'm going to get to work cleaning up and taking care of business.

See ya soon!

This is my response...

...to the insane dude who sent me the emails in the previous post. I don't know whether or not he'll understand it because he has all the intelligence of a curtain rod. I'm going to do it anyway because if he reads EVERY SINGLE word, he just might pick up on the derogatory nature of the post itself. He might not get all of the nuanced insults...but he should grasp the tone.

First of all, for full disclosures sake, I have to show you this; an exchange that I found after I posted the first emails:

HE SAID: If you are not too busy with the current fuck buddy, would you like to spend some quality time with me? After watching olympic, I'm all for the world class competition. I want to top your past fuck memories. I'm going for the gold baby. Let's fuck like we are competing at the Olympic. What do you say?

HE SAID: We can start with strolling around the central park. We can share freshly brewed iced coffee or tea shortly afterward. From there, we can either had back to my place or your place to take an ice cold shower together. (BTW, rubbing testicles in the cold water helps to stay longer.) We can try to match or out perform Sting's 16 hours of making love. I'm up for the challenge; are you? Let me know ASAP if interested

SHE SAID: The ice thing gives away your age. You are between 25 and 35. Am I right?

HE SAID: Ok, I'm 30 yrs old. Am curious to know how the ice thing gave away my age.

So...to my latest insane woman hater,

I don't know where to start. First let me submit the following observation, you have the sex appeal of a used toothpick.

Next, I should answer your question about the ice. The subject of ice comes up during what I call the third grade of sex. You see, this is how it works:

In the kindergarten of sex, you learn where everything is and if you're lucky, you'll also learn what all of the various components feel like. That's it. This could last for a month or with guys like you, it could last for years.

The entire first grade of sex is spent with the first poor chick that you boink. This is when you'll have the most pregnancy scares, embarrassing condom purchases and you'll spend a lot of time just looking for places to fuck. You're pretty much frightened at some point during first grade sex...of one thing or another...each and every single time you get a piece. First grade sex is embarrassing and awkward, but you MUST go through it.

When you get to the second grade of sex, you're a bit more comfortable about the whole thing and you fancy yourself quite the Don Juan. You may be a 'wham bam thank you ma'am' type, but still, YOU think that you're God's gift to women, which Peter obviously does. This habit first appears in second grade sex, but you never really break it. (That's why Peter still has this particular problem even though he's in third grade sex.)

(An aside: I met Rick in his second grade of sex. The first time that he ever lasted more than 4 thrusts...I swear to you...he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Now, wasn't that better?" I just smiled. I liked him too much to break out in uncontrollable laughter.)

Anyway, during second grade sex men work up a sort of certitude and an unabashed faith in their proficiency in the area of their sexual prowess. The idea they've worked up in their head in NO way corresponds to reality but it does give them the confidence to experiment. I've met men who wanted to experiment with one thing or another but I'd have to say that the most common way that a third grader gets "freaky"...is with ice. They use it in different ways, some want you to rub it on them, some want to you put in a place that's usually very warm...the garage where they want to park their willy.

I knew that you were between 25 and 35 because that's usually when a man is in the third grade of sex. So, I know that you are right there...sitting at your desk, pulling pigtails and looking up patent leather shoes. For a woman who is, say...23, a third grader looks pretty good. But, when you've been to grad school, third graders are a bit passe, sexually immature and honestly, not worth the time, effort and experience that I would have to invest in them.

At the very least, I could be with a high school graduate. They've had long, long, long term relationships and their vocabulary includes the word "reciprocation." So, you see, Ice Boy, you never stood a chance.

So much for how I knew your approximate age. Now it's time to answer your barrage of emails accusing me of being a "slut" because I didn't meet you the day after you sent me an invite to "fuck" you. Your behavior here doesn't really fit into any sex grade, it's just a sign that you should have been on the short sex bus from the get-go...not to mention the fact that sluts DO fuck people arbitrarily while obviously, I do not. I am what you would call the OPPOSITE of a slut.

If not fucking someone makes a woman a slut, then your mother and sisters are total whores because not ONE of them fucked my father, my sons, or my brothers. WHAT HOES THEY ARE!
Speaking of your mother, I know why she named you Peter. You came out of her dick first.

And I absolutely must defend my FUCK buddy here. He is SOOOOOO NOT an "old fart faced duck buddy". On the other hand, he is a perfect 37 years old, unbelievably good looking man who has more class in his ass sphincter than you will EVER have in your entire psyche. I chose him carefully and he has had the job for close to 4 years now. There's no way in HELL that you could EVER take his place. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING about you is attractive and EVERYTHING, and I mean EVERYTHING about my guy is so damn sexy, attractive and gentlemanly that a short bus dude like yourself has no hope whatsoever. None. Nada. Niente. You know so little compared to what this man knows that even in your BEST fantasies, you could never hope to come close to him.

I have to wonder if there was a man present in your home while you were growing up. If there was, he must have been an abusive bastard with no respect for women. But, I think he was long gone after he noticed the queer manner in which your mother cared for you. Your dad was probably trying to avoid a Bates Motel type situation. I picture you as the baby in a family full of girls who, along with mommy, spoiled you rotten in a way that made you believe that you were entitled to get anything that you wanted from women...no matter what you had to do to get it.

You learned very early how to manipulate women. I wouldn't necessarily assume that sisters who spoil a manipulative little brat boy are stupid. But your sisters must have been. Intelligence is a genetic trait that is so absent in you that I doubt your sisters have much more. So, since your sisters were morons, you think that all women must be just as stupid.

Obviously, you think that I am stupid. If you didn't believe that, you wouldn't have written the silly little threats and stupid comments that you wrote, nor would have thought that your disrespectful "come on lines" would have worked. Also, I find it fascinating how you state the opposite of the truth so often:

"...You missed out some quality time..."
"...I'm not a nut case..."
"...I'm not desperate..."

Your ice comment proved that I didn't miss a damn thing except a waste of my time and the other comments are hysterical when taken in the context of the rest of your emails.

By the way, I have never, nor would I ever want to know what the heck THIS means:

"...My penis can sing tunes you have never heard before..."

In closing, I'd like to say that you're right...one does need to be open to new experiences. Unfortunately for you, screwing an egomaniacal perv with absolutely NO respect for women would NOT be a new experience for me. I did that when I was 23...so...as I said before, go find yourself a 23 year old and leave the real women for the real men.

Sincerely,

Meg

I've mentioned this before...

...and I've added the links to the original posts at the bottom of this post. If you want to, you can go read them. But so you don't HAVE to, let me give you the Reader's Digest version.

A guy sent me an email in which he asked if he could "fuck" me so that I could write about him on the blog. I didn't jump on that one so he had that answer that rednecks and other assorted morons have, something along the lines of, "BITCH!" That's it in a nutshell so far.

My mistake was in not ignoring him from the beginning. But he's in New York so I didn't mind responding a couple of times. But, when it became obvious to him rather quickly, that I had no plans to meet, much less "fuck" his ass, he became...shall we say "winsome".

Here are his emails since I stopped emailing him within 36 hours of receiving his first email...I get into SO much trouble blowing guys off who don't want to blow...anyway, here they are:

Will you answer my emails please.

Hi there, What happened? You backed out on me. You really shouldn't be writing about sex. Sex is just good and you have to be open to try new experiences. You missed out some quality time. You could be enjoying multiple orgasms by now. My penis can sing tunes you have never heard before.

You didn't reply to my emails. Fair enough. I'm not a nut case. Let's be honest here you deliverly (I think he meant "deliberately") ignored my emails. I'm not desperate. You can go back to your old fart faced duck buddy. Fucking slut!

You don't deserve to write about sex online. I'm really furious about what you did to me today. You should be more repectful and honest with people. At the end, you are just a fucking slut. I have more respect for prostitutes than you. At least, they are fucking honest and respectful. Fucking whore!

peter1277@gmail.com

Now I shall work on my response which will be posted here as soon as I am finished with it.

:)

http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/2008/08/dont-you-just-love-gentleman.html
http://diaryofmydivorce.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-keep-sleeping.html