...want to work in a movie on Tuesday and Wednesday of this week? If so, drop me an email at email@example.com. Bill Murray, Sissy Spacek and Robert Duvall will be there.
I can OK a few men OR women, any ages. Let me know, I'll be going. It'll be loads of fun! Naturally, you'd have to be in the Atlanta area to participate. So, if you live here that's cool and if you fly here, it's all good too.
...rednecks are very handy around the house. They're even really good with cars, yard work and digging large holes. I guess it's because they never have enough cash to hire people to fix stuff so they have to learn how to do it all themselves. They also have tools for just about anything and if they needed to, they could borrow a backhoe or some such piece of heavy equipment from a cousin, friend or the friend of a friend.
I figure their heritage of fixer dude classes are pretty much just a bunch of good ol' boys standing around one of their own as he fixes his own stuff. They're ready to help if needed, but if nothing else, they learn how to do it. I'm not sure, but somehow they seem to get the job done even though training and the actual performance of the task at hand are both performed with a Budweiser in one hand.
Rednecks are raised by people who couldn't afford to pay for fixer dudes so they're rather familiar with most of the work that I need to have done. I'm in a bad situation...my father couldn't do ANYTHING but yard work. So, I grew up thinking that you hired people to perform such menial chores. I was rarely exposed to the underbelly of a car motor. And then, I find myself in THIS messed up situation...I'm having trouble coming up with rent money so there's NO way that I could afford to hire someone to do the work that I need done.
Redneck Dude can fix a broken window and now I think I could do it too. It didn't really look too hard. I love watching men fix stuff, that way I MIGHT learn how to do it for myself the next time. I would really have to be hard up to do it by myself...I'm sure that I would end up with many, many stitches were I to attempt to work with cut glass. But, I have to face facts...I only have so many years lefts before I won't be able to pull off a decent look now and then. It's not that I won't be able to attract men when I'm in my 60's, it's just that the men I would attract would all have Alzheimer's. I can't bother with old men who have legally lost control of their financial matters. And you can't trust THEM to work on your car. Talk about a MAJOR waste of my time!
Back to Redneck Dude...his experience isn't as well rounded as I had expected so I have an opening!!! Actually, I have openingS...I need a plumber and a carpenter. To apply for the position, simply respond to this post. (Meals and Budweiser provided.)
The working atmosphere is great and the tone, laid back. I provide the entertainment and trust me...I can be quite the entertaining little female. Of course you should be close to Marietta in case the job is a long one...but if you fly or drive in, I have a spare room. I make a KILLER breakfast!
Anyway, I'll get someone sooner or later so it's all good. I'm too busy worrying about financial crap and flirting my way into some serious handy-men.
Spring must be close because that's usually when I start my annual clean up. Anyone whose read my stuff for a year or more should be able to remember that every spring...my fancy lightly turns to thoughts of home repairs. This is also about the time that I begin my "One Date Only" summer. Most men will take you someplace nice on the first date (unless he's one of those extreme rednecks or my ex husband). After a first date, EVERYTHING goes downhill so I like to take full advantage of the friendly, first date behavior of most men. The first date is the one time that almost all men will keep their faults to themselves and try to avoid offending you.
Craigslist Dude took 2 dates before he creeped me out and by the third (and final) date, he had offended me more than Michael Moore, Amy Winehouse or Yoko Ono ever could. Out of nowhere, he used the N-word and trust me, the way I was raised, that's the worst thing that you can say about ANYBODY...black or white. Long before anyone had ever heard the term "politically correct", I found that word so ugly to hear that it made me cringe...no matter who said it. The word itself offends me, whatever the context. But I assure you, Craigslist Dude used it in one of the ugliest contexts possible.
I know that most men are NOT like that...but they all slowly stop trying to behave like a pleasant date to the point where they don't mind farting in front of you.
Ooh, I just had a visual of a farting racist...it gives me the shivering willies. I am SO glad that I never made out with that. I couldn't take enough showers had I tapped that thing.
Back to my staff...THOSE guys get to come back. Naturally, they'd need a good reason and a toolbox, but I'd give them more than one date. But other than that, I must keep to my one date plan. Oh, Set Medic Dude would be another exception. :)
Actually, there's always a chance that some guy will sweep me off of my feet, I'm open to that. I'm just not making plans based on them. Of course...that guy would have to be handy around the old homestead...unless he has so much money that he can pay someone else to do it. I really don't care as long as the work gets done.
...that I haven't really had any time to clean my house so it's pretty much a disaster area and I'll be having a guy over today to do some work around here. My dog jumped up on one of my windows and busted it all to pieces. I can't blame him TOO much...it cracked years ago and my nit wit ex taped up the cracks. He's a whiz...isn't he? That's the kind of fix that I would do, like when I fixed a brake fluid leak in a Kia with a coat hangar and folded pieces of newspaper. It worked, I didn't have to use a bottle of brake fluid every time I drove to the grocery store.
But the guy who's coming over today is going to take me to get the glass and, apparently, putty. I don't know what the heck he wants putty for but I'm sure he has it all under control.
You know what this means, don't you? It means that I can't sleep with him at all. If I did, he would stop work immediately and as I've said, I have a long list of chores to be done around the house and out in the yard. Sometimes I just thank my lucky stars for my fuckbuddy...if it weren't for him, these past 4 years would have been rather frustrating.
Now that I think of it, I think that I should give him a call. It's been a while since we've relieved each other's frustrations.
I need a few more men to round out my staff and I think I shall actively pursue them. (Don't worry...no more Craigslist Dudes.) I promise to be pickier with my new men. I will keep them all compartmentalized in my life and pray that I have no "Maalox Moments" where one might run into another.
Redneck Update: For those who were wondering, I have NOT heard from Craigslist Dude but while I was gone the other day, he came into my house and took back all of his stuff...even the stuffed tiger that he had given me. All he had over here were a view DVD's and the few things that he had given me. Well, he wiped out every sign of himself. I considered calling the cops but I usually go to great lengths to keep them away from my house. I hate having a squad car in my driveway...it NEVER looks good. If I find out that he took anything of mine, I might change my mind.
Well, I suppose it's time to clean the house so that Mr. Fix-it Dude will be comfortable. If I feed him well he'll be more likely to come back and do some work out in the yard. Now all I have to do is decide whether to make a list or just let him find the problems himself. I haven't quite figured this one out but that's OK...I usually do better ad libbing my manipulative tactics anyway.
This is Bootsie, a beautiful mastiff pit bull mix. She has been missing since October and her best friend is still desperately seeking her. She was lost somewhere in Atlanta near Perkinson/Metropolitan roads on the west side of town. If you have any idea where Bootsie could be, please let me know. There IS a reward in addition to the reward of bringing these two back together.
"...If you think that all Rednecks are illiterate, tattooed slobs”who cling bitterly to their guns and religion” I’d have to disagree. I consider myself a Redneck and I hold a Graduate degree, I have all my teeth, no tattoos, I don’t hit women and I don’t have a still in my backyard..."
Well ain't that a fine, "How do you do?"
It never occurred to me that I would offend anyone while describing my Saturday evening dating disaster. No one ever complains when I write about assholes so I felt safe in telling you all...or ya'll...about my most recent encounter with a member of the opposite sex. Now I feel terrible.
You know, I really shouldn't feel too badly because it appears as though this particular redneck and I have different ideas as to exactly what a redneck is. The attributes that he ascribes to himself are pretty much a description of an anti-redneck but I'm sure he knows better than I do whether or not he's a redneck.
So, say I accept this guy as a redneck...even a redneck would have to admit that there are differing shades of redness of necks. And the rednecks that I was witness to this past weekend were frightening rednecks...I don't care what anyone thinks about that. It's simply a fact...those suckers FRIGHTENED me and that makes them frightening rednecks.
It's not as though I have no redneck experience, I DID live in Roanoke, Virginia for a long time and trust me, I had my share of interpersonal experience with rednecks. I do believe that a few of my Virginia cousins would qualify as rednecks...and, like the rednecks that I saw Saturday, they would be proud of their redneck heritage. Redneck is not necessarily a bad thing. I've met some really cool rednecks in my day and if you find a pretty one, you could have some serious fun for a week or two. But, as all Catholic priests are not as sweet as you would like to see them be...not all rednecks are good either. And, I must say, I have met enough rednecks to feel quite comfortable in my assessment of the situation.
I'd be lying if I said I never bedded a redneck...it's been decades but I've done it. I had fun, like I said. He was a pretty boy redneck and those guys are like the Disneyland of men. You wouldn't want to spend your life there...but it sure can make for a fun filled month or so.
So, Redneck Dude, I swear, I meant no disrespect. It's not that I don't like rednecks, not at all. I find most of them to be open, honest and fun sorts of peeps. But I assure you...those escapees from the local boot camp were not the kind of redneck that they have in most of the country. These were new and improved rednecks. I've seen rednecks from Illinois to Georgia and from California to New Jersey...I have more than adequate redneck experience. A woman doesn't get as good at shooting pool as I am without associating with a SHITLOAD of good ol' boys, rednecks and ex-convicts.
And since when don't rednecks dis each other? It seems to me that Virginia rednecks made fun of West Virginia rednecks and Chicago rednecks (yes, they have some there too!) made fun of the Wisconsin rednecks and right here in Georgia the local rednecks make fun of the Alabama boys. So, to the other point you mention:
"...I know you were having a bit of fun there and that’s OK just so long as we Rednecks can also use stereotypes to describe those diverse folks around us..."
...just let me say this. Of course you can say what you want to say. That's the beauty of America. I realize that a lot of people find honesty offensive but it is what it is. I'm not here to hurt feelings, I'm here to talk about crazy stuff that happens to me. I am a brutally honest person and I can't change that. I don't think I'd even want to. Perhaps I'm honest to a fault. Whatever...it's all good and I'm just sitting back enjoying myself.
I'll probably keep doing that so I hope I don't offend anyone else...but I'm pretty fucking sure that eventually, I will.
Do you know where HE lives? You have not been to HIS house, have you? This seems like desperate behavior. Either he is desperate or you are!
No, it wasn't desperation, it was boredom. And incredibly stupid. But I usually do stupid things rather often so I'm quite adept at handling these types of situations.
The nice thing about wackos is the immediacy with which I run from them. It didn't take much to recognize the appropriate moment and I've already extricated myself from that one. I must say though, I absolutely did enjoy the sociological aspect of this brief but red flag-filled relationship. I found myself at a redneck place filled with the most extreme rednecks I have ever seen. And remember, I lived in Roanoke, Virginia for years and years. But Roanoke rednecks are rather classy compared to Gogia rednecks.
We walked into a place with a band playing and Craigslist Dude put his beer down on the first table he came to so I sat at it. My back went out the other day and it was causing me quite a bit of trouble so I was happy to sit down at the earliest opportunity. Apparently, I misread his intentions because he shouted, "Let's go get closer."
I shouted back, "Why? Can't you hear the band from here?" We were all the way in the back but that was only about 70 feet away from the band that I couldn't see, but could hear quite well.
He responded, "Let's go up there so we can dance."
That irritated me more than the redneck chicks who screeched forever at the beginning and end of each and every song that the band played. "My back is out, I can't dance!" No one ever said anything about dancing, I wouldn't have ever agreed to that. And, it never occurred to me that a date would ask me to dance knowing that it hurt me to inhale.
I made the observation that, "This is a place that you have to be half shitfaced to enjoy." I was stone cold sober so it held absolutely NO appeal for me. Of course, there's the fact that I've never been in such a place in my entire life and I was quite sure that police would be right there if only I waited long enough.
My jaw literally dropped as I looked around at the yahoo's who had been drinking all night. I was amazed. They were like caricatures...each one looked more like a redneck than the last. He read the look on my face and was apparently somewhat angry at my "snobbish attitude". It wasn't snobbery at all...it was sincere and utter shock. I could only hope that I would find the plutonium and travel back to the future soon.
Just as he was calling me a snob, I noticed a guy walking past me who looked like he had the reddest neck of all. He was huge, at least 6'4" and he had to be well over 300 pounds. He was wearing a black leather vest over tattoo covered arms and he had one of those long redneck ponytails hanging down his back. The obligatory beard was hanging from his chin and I just had to laugh. The timing couldn't have been better...the accusation of being a snob and then the appearance of Big Red had me in stitches. The margarita might have been kicking in about then as well.
I guess that did it and my date said something that I couldn't hear but I'm pretty sure was derogatory. Then he left. I had no idea where he had gone and I still wasn't past the environment in which I found myself so I sat there, still rather shell shocked and laughing for about a minute and a half. Then I thought..."Now what?"
It quickly occurred to me that I had a golden ticket out of that entire situation and I took it. I bolted and called a friend to come and get me. Then, I did what I would ordinarily do, I went looking for the pool tables while waiting for my ride. You wouldn't have to know me too well to find me at a place like that. Anyone who's ever met me would know to look for me at the pool tables. I was sitting at the bar watching the games being played to decide which table to challenge when Craigslist Dude finally found me.
I thought he took off but apparently there's a game rednecks play where they argue and then one runs off and the other follows them to bitch more. Personally, only a total moron would think that I would be at all familiar with that game so I grabbed my excuse and held on tightly.
He accused me of "taking off" and I immediately recognized that as "the guilty person turning the bad behavior around on me" and Meggie don't play that shit. Everything he said emboldened me and confirmed that I had made the right decision and soon after that, my friend came and I left.
Now, I realize that one was all on me. I walked right into it. But, to be honest, it was rather entertaining and I didn't really have anything else to do over the weekend so it's all good. But I must apologize to the gang at the Second Alarm in Roanoke. I'll never laugh at you guys again. You are NOT the creepiest rednecks in the known universe. Cartersville, Georgia Rednecks have you beat all to hell.
OK...at the risk of possibly looking really foolish, I'm going to tell you guys more about Craigslist dude. He came over last night to watch a movie with me. As soon as he got here he said, "I have to talk to you about something."
I hate not knowing something so I was all, "What? Tell me! Now I have to know!" He almost changed his mind but I bugged him until he spat it out. He said that he was talking about me yesterday and he didn't know how to refer to me...meaning he didn't know if he should call me a "girlfriend".
I knew what that meant and being who I am, I quickly made a joke about it and changed the subject. That's what I do when things get uncomfortable for me and that sort of made me uncomfortable. Then, I started the movie.
I sat there watching the movie, half assed. Mostly I was thinking about what the guy said. Almost immediately, I put up my usual wall and felt like I needed to slam on the brakes. Then I thought to myself, "This is the same guy that I enjoyed so much the night before...I shouldn't shut down simply because he likes me." I don't want to brake any of my rules but what am I supposed to do now?
Later he asked me a question about how I felt and I couldn't possibly tell him because I don't jump into discussions about feelings within a week of meeting someone. I may HAVE feelings...but I'm not about to mention them. So, I blurted out the only thing that I could have blurted out...I said, "I've really only known you for one day so it's hard to say." That pretty much put a stop to any further relationship discussion.
For a moment I considered leaving the state but then I started thinking about the fact that he IS a nice guy and he hasn't even had a chance to change the furnace filter so maybe I should ride this one out. If the worst thing that I can say about him is that he's moving too fast, maybe I can just maintain my own speed and see what happens.
One thing is for sure...he does like me. A lot. He keeps telling me that. Oh...another thing is for sure too, I will do everything that I can possibly do to hide this blog from him. I prefer being able to be honest about my feelings here. I can't do that when I'm worried about someone reading it.
For example, if he knew about this, I couldn't discuss sex at all. Not that there's anything to discuss so far, we haven't done anything besides kiss. We haven't even made out...just a kiss here or there. But even telling you that I HAVEN'T done anything is sort of like talking about sex anyway. Maybe he wants people to think that we have...who knows what goes on in men's heads?
I'm busting one of my most important rules all to pieces with this dude. I met him in person for the first time the night before last. Then, last night he came over to watch that movie and our original date was for tonight. We weren't supposed to meet until tonight...the other two meetings were unexpected. Last week he asked me to go to a Scottish dancing thing with him. Apparently, that's what he does for fun. I can't really find fault with that but for some reason, it makes me want to snicker. You know what? I'll see if he has a camera in his cell phone and if he does, I'll let him take a picture of me looking stupid in public and then I'll post it here. I've never Scottish danced in my life. I even went to Scotland...but I don't recall seeing anyone dance. Anyway, seeing a guy 3 nights in a row is like the dreaded "date that never ends" and I can't do that and this is frighteningly close.
But he did bring me a tiger that makes a neat purring sound when you squeeze it. I guess he's one of those sensitive types who like to give a lot of stuffed animals. That's a fault that I can work with...in 6 months I'll have him shopping at jewelry stores.
He seems to have the basics...honesty, decency and a lot of tools. Yeah, I think I'll investigate this guy further. All I really need to know is if he is what he appears to be. If he is, I can work with all of the minor faults. I don't mind molding a guy into a custom fit. But as my nit wit ex husband proved to me, a dishonest bastard CANNOT be turned into an honest man.
I do have some serious motivation for wanting this to work out. First of all, I really, really do have a bunch of man work to be done around here and I'm willing to not sleep with this guy long enough to get that taken care of. Secondly, I like having a guy around who doesn't smell and he is quite well groomed. And lastly, I have a burning desire to be able to introduce him as "The guy I found on Craigslist."
And now I have to take care of some plumbing work. A friend of mine had an interesting question:
Has it been your experience that the decent guys *like* to be helpful as opposed to the not so decent ones being all "me-me-me"?
Cassee, it's been my experience that all guys will fix shit if you don't sleep with them. Once you do that, no guy is gonna work real hard for you. So, it's not only nice guys that will fix stuff, all horny guys will do what they can to get into your pants.
Luckily, Craigslist dude seems to be a nice guy and he seems to really like me. He kept saying things like, "I feel like you're way out of my class...I can't believe you're here with me!" Isn't that sweet? I'm not sure how long a guy feels like that before he makes Andrew Dice Clay jokes about you...but for the time being, I'm just going to bask in his adoration. :)
This is why I prefer to date older men. Younger men were raised by women who didn't really teach them things that men are supposed to learn from their fathers. You know, the stuff like, "Don't hit women!", "Women are to be taken care of." and "You must treat them right!" This is only a theory, but I am pretty smart so I think I'm right.
About 4 years ago, someone broke into my house in the middle of the night. I had a fishing date for the next day but when the guy got to my house to pick me up, he saw the broken door and refused to leave until he fixed the door and installed motion detector lights for me. I let him do that because he seemed so happy up on that ladder screwing in the new lights.
The difference is that some men must fix things for you when they see you in need of help and some of them don't even consider fixing stuff, they just sit on your couch listening to the whine of a broken refrigerator. I have no use for them. If you aren't man enough to see a problem and fix it, I am not woman enough to sit there and let you stay in my house.
If I mention broken stuff, I expect a guy to feel sorry for my coy little self and offer to fix it. It's not as though I don't show my appreciation...I do. And, I show it well.
I only have one problem when it comes to appearing helpless...I'm not. I have to put effort into appearing befuddled. I'm pretty bright and it's tough to hide that for any length of time. If a guy starts to notice how smart I am, I have to find a way to remind him that although I have a Master's Degree, I don't know how to do anything that involves screwdrivers, motors that have ropes to pull or heavy lifting.
I have one sure way to make guys take over the car maintenance and it doesn't involve doing anything dangerous to the car. I just let them see me pour oil in the dipstick hole. That works every time. Or, I just show them my tools. Well, actually I only have one tool...a butter knife. If I can't fix a problem with that, it won't get fixed.
Craigslist dude seems to be really smitten with me and that's cool. He's a nice guy and of course, he knows how to fix a lot of stuff. After we met last night, he kept telling me how "pretty" he thought that I was and he even said that he felt as though I was in a class above him. I don't know why he thought that, there's nothing wrong with him...I guess he's just at that point where all he sees are my good points. I hope that lasts for a while because I really, really need some work done around here.
I think that I'll invite him over for dinner this weekend and while he's here, I'll start to rake the yard. Craigslist dude is still at the point where he has me up on some pedestal so before he turns into his regular self, I have to take advantage of his cloudy head. God only knows how long this will last before he goes from wanting to do anything that I need to wanting me to do his laundry. I have to work fast.
As I said earlier, one very important thing to remember is to NOT sleep with him until he's accomplished at least most of my list of broken stuff.
I don't want people to think that I'm using men for handiwork. This one happens to be funny and smart as well. No one wants a stupid, boring guy fixing stuff around the house. I actually like this one and he could probably entertain me while he's working. So far, so good.
Guess what? I decided to do something that I've never done before and I HAD to tell someone so I'm telling you. I haven't really felt much like going out lately so I've spent a lot of time at home. Hanging out at home is cheap, relaxing and comfortable. But, I don't meet many people here by myself. Men don't show up at my door no matter how long I wait.
One day last week, I was a bit more bored than usual and I wanted someone to talk to so I did it the lazy way. I went on Craigslist and read the "Men Seeking Women" ads. At my age, pickens are mighty slim. Men my age are there looking for women half my age and young guys looking for older women, while I understand the appeal, are a waste of my time and considerable talents.
So, I had to read for a while before I finally found one that looked acceptable. We exchanged a few emails and in one of them he asked me a few questions and my age was one of them. I told him that I would tell him my age but that it would be a lie and since I don't lie, I couldn't tell him how old I was. He was cool with that. (Then I did something stupid, I mentioned the Cuban Missile Crisis. That was a LONG fricking time ago and only old people remember being around then.)
Anyway, he sent me his yahoo ID which is useless because there's only one person who I ever communicate with that way...a very good old friend back in Chicago. When I speak to him we're on webcam so I know that he's not juggling me with 8 other chicks. I have his complete and undivided attention. Other than that one very good friend, I never yahoo with anyone because I hate the thought of being juggled with a bunch of other chicks. I was a tad unnerved when he sent me that ID, but then he gave me his number and never brought up the yahoo thing again.
So, after an appropriate number of emails (I guess it was enough, I'm not really sure but it felt right!), he sent me his phone number and I called him. That was Monday night. We spoke for the longest time and it was a lovely conversation. We made plans to meet this weekend and hung up. Then, when he got home from work yesterday, he called me because he had spent the day "thinking about our conversation". Apparently, he didn't want to wait all week to speak to me again. I figure either he's smitten or he wants to strangle me and dump my body on the side of some back hills Georgia road. I'll let you know which.
Anyway, we did have fun talking and who knows...maybe he'll turn out to be a normal guy and not a serial rapist. You never know...stranger things have happened.
You know what I like about this guy? He's one of those guys who fixes stuff. That's the kind of guy I want because I break stuff. He does heating and air conditioning and that's good because I don't go under my house and that's where the furnace is. It needs to have the filter changed and he said that he would change it. I told him that I didn't even know what size for him to get and he mentioned that he had a truck full of them. That was so easy that I mentioned my dryer.
Last week, my dryer's heating element went out. I think that's the problem, anyway. So, Craigslist dude offered to come over and fix it for me! I'm gonna let him. I have a bedroom full of panties, wash clothes and jeans on hangers hanging all over the place. That's the only way to dry the stuff and I have to do that because I can't stand dirty laundry.
Anyway, he's coming by today when he finishes work so with any luck at all, my dryer will be fixed by nightfall. Or, I'll be under the house with a slit throat. Don't you just love the suspense?
You know, if that guy does strangle me, this will be an ominous, freaky post...won't it?
Basically, what I wanted to say was that I actually think this guy is a nice guy. Of course, I could be wrong, Lord knows I was wrong with Rick. WAAAAY WRONG! This guy has opinions and a working knowledge of grammar. Rick was rather short on those 2 concepts. I thought he was just a quiet guy...he was, but not because he was mysterious or anything like that. There simply wasn't anything in his head and from what I've heard, there still isn't anything up there. Of course, men with IQ's over 48 can be just as evil as those with IQ's under 48...but at least you don't feel stupid for being involved with an obvious moron. Of course, even a moron is better than a serial rapist...but I like to live life on the edge.
And besides...who's to say that you can't meet normal men online? Some people have been pretty lucky in that department. Not me of course, but I've heard about people who found love on the net.
This is one of the more exciting things to happen to me lately. :)
So, I'm having a rather upbeat kind of day. I'm looking forward to meeting Craigslist dude because I perceive the unmistakable signs of a guy who is somewhat smitten. Now, all I have to do is refrain from doing anything really stupid.
Tune in later to see if he gets my dryer working. Ooh...wouldn't it be cool if he did electrical work and carpentry? OMG! I just remembered...men do yardwork! Whoa...this could be really good!
...of of the Golden Globes for years. I don't mind because I'm not one of those wacky liberal stars that professes to be better than the rest of us when it comes to being politically correct. One of those nuts actually took credit for the Civil Rights Movement on behalf of Hollywood. That's nothing new...those egomaniacs are known to be rather full of themselves.
But ordinarily, they try to make it look like their doing something that is morally AND politically better than anything the rest of us could do. They save the world, baby seals and Ethiopians. They stand a little taller than the rest of us because they own a hybrid car (Tom Hanks), or they accept nutty science, (Michael Moore) or they are simply the spokesperson for The Network for Good, (Kevin Bacon). I don't know what The Network for Good does but it HAS to be good...it's in the name. That's all very sweet.
But when it's time to act like Hollywood stars, they go right into a mode that requires them to spend as much money as is humanly possible simply primping. And then, of course, they have the annual hand job ceremonies at the usual places...where the biggest story is usually who was the worst dressed.
So, why should they mind that the Beverly Hilton is run by serious republicans? They might as well just wear fur coats to the award ceremony. 5 companies (HBO included) have their after-parties at the hotel every year. These smug, holier than thou brats stand on top of the Beverly Hilton and look down, believing that their adoring public is looking back at them with stars in their eyes. I've been on top of the Beverly Hilton, I prefer the Signature Room in the John Hancock Building.
Anyway, apparently politics don't matter when you're trying to spend as much money as is humanly possible. And, I guess it makes sense that the liberal Hollywood elite would go to such a republican stronghold to drop millions of dollars in one night.
Arnold's home away from home, the Governator visits whenever he's in town. That's fine, he told everyone his party affiliation. But the hypocritical liberals of Hollywood continue to drop more money into republican owned companies than they ever donate to liberal causes. It looks as though they aren't really all that liberal, they're equal opportunity donors. It's just that to give a republican money, you spend it at their business. To give it to a liberal, you donate to a cause. They have all of their bases covered, don't they? The republicans eventually make a lot of money and then they can afford to challenge the democrats who have been bankrolled by admirers.
I guess it's always possible that the stars HAVE to go to the Hilton or the employees there will tell all of their dirty secrets. Not many employees could deny seeing John Edwards when he came to visit his mistress and her baby on a regular basis. They might even tell what happened at the Hilton before Chris Brown and Rhianna left. But most of them are pretty good at keeping secrets. I still can't believe no one ever found out that a kitchen at the Beverly Hilton was shut down by the health department. I've never seen a McDonald's shut down...I can't believe the Hilton couldn't keep vermin out long enough to be inspected. I guess there's a lot of secrets in Hollywood.
It seems as though you must learn to keep secrets very well when you work at the Hilton on Wilshire. Especially if that secret is about a male co-worker and it involves sexual harassment. As a matter of fact, now that I know what one of the highest chef does with all of the female help, I don't think I ever want to eat there again.
People wondered how John Edwards could be so stupid as to get caught having an affair. Hell, they ALL do it. I've learned one thing that's as sure as death and taxes. If there's a piece of ass in the air, MOST people will go for it. They just don't think of the consequences. It's stupid, arrogant and hideously selfish...but then again, so was my ex. So, if the bosses are sleeping with the women, how can they blame the kitchen help for pinching their asses? Apparently...they don't, no matter how many complaints are filed.
...I give up. The stupid chair that I sit in at my desk has slowly been losing it's ability to stay in the highest position. It prefers to avoid arguing with gravity and simply collapses to the lowest position leaving me reaching over the desktop to find my keyboard. My coffee is sitting behind the keyboard and I have to reach over it to take a sip. I feel like a 4 year old trying to grab a cookie.
Yesterday I watched the Curious case of Benjamin Buttons and as bad as that movie was, it did have an interesting premise, the growing young thing. I started thinking about things that I did when I was a wee munchkin and I wondered how I got away with so much. People all seemed so stupid to me. I guess it's just now occurring to me that I wasn't really so smart, it was just that no one was paying any attention to me and I got away with stuff because nobody cared.
My grandparents had a restaurant when I was 1 or 2 and I would ride a little green tricycle around and around. When men would come in and eat at the counter alone, I would steal their butter. It was that butter that was served in teaspoonfuls on little white squares...something they don't do anymore. I used to think that if the men looked the other way, I could steal their butter...and I did. But I guess if they had wanted the butter in the first place, it wouldn't have been sitting off to the side.
So, I wasn't really good at being a thief, I just never stole anything that people wanted. Even today I just steal things that no one would want. I have to take small bowls from restaurants and I can't stop myself. Once I stole a pitcher of beer. Actually, I only stole the pitcher...I had paid for the beer. I didn't really want the pitcher, but I wanted that beer. I like Olive Garden silverware...they have nice big forks so I have to steal that stuff. I used to steal Denny's stuff exclusively but I had to stop when they stopped putting Denny's on everything. They had small silverware that really wasn't any good, but it did have Denny's stamped on it. That made them special enough to steal. I think the plan was that I was going to marry my boyfriend who took me to Denny's all the time and the silverware would all be from a date of ours. It made sense at the time.
I don't steal much anymore, but that's only because I don't go anywhere. I'd like to go somewhere, but I don't feel like putting on any make-up and you pretty much need to wear make-up when you go out. I have nothing to do until the 23rd and then I'll put on make-up, but for now, I'll just sit here. The 23rd is the day I'm supposed to start work on a new movie filming here in Atlanta...H2-Halloween Two.
I guess it's by some guy I've sort of heard of named Rob Zombie. Whatever. They pay so I'll go and play with them. (OMG! Guess what? I just set up my camera to tape me falling down with the chair so that I could show you guys and it didn't drop...now it's keeping me up high in the desk. Oh well, that's cool too.) I'm not sure exactly what they want me to do but they'll tell me. They made sure that I was the nurse who did the medical advising and then they asked what size I wore. So, apparently, I'll be background and advising for that movie which is fine...I just hope to see some of the same people that I ran into on the movies we filmed last year. One of the director dudes was really cute and if I see him again this time, I'm gonna ask his ass out myself. Dare me? I will. He had a lot of back hair. I'd like to get a picture of that alone. (He told me he had back hair, I never saw it myself. I'm not afraid of back hair like I was when I was a little girl.)
So, there's a cat in my lap and I just noticed that. he must have snuck on me so sneakily that I didn't even notice it until I was reaching over him to get to the keyboard.
Damn, I want to go on a vacation. I'll come do dishes if you let me sleep at your beach house. Hell, I'll even wash a window or two and I usually don't do windows.
Oh, remember the ugly BeeGee? You're right...the UGLIEST BeeGee? Apparently that guy had a baby with his housekeeper, much to the chagrin of his wife, a bisexual former druid priestess. I guess it's tough to claim the moral high ground when you start out as a Druid Preistess. You sort of have to expect the husband of a Druid Priestess to do something like that. Of course it probably didn't help that the lady seems to have sacrificed a few Burger King's in her lifetime. Of course, the mistress was a little roly poly herself so who knows, maybe BeeGee dude just likes the cushion. I don't know. I'm a tiny little piece of bone myself and I think that it would feel good to be up against a fat man. Not necessarily a man who couldn't leave the house, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to be up against anyone as bony as I am...that seems dangerous.
I'm almost envious of the wife. I guess it's been a long time since my ex left me with all of my lovely anger. I sometimes miss that. But, luckily, I memorialized it forever on this blog so when I start to be happy, I can always go back and read something I wrote in February of 2005. That's always good for a bit of misery. So, is anyone else's husband having an affair now? I could call them a lot of names online for you!
...and if I tried to, I could avoid saying anything meaningful for a long, long time. I could also make you agree with me without really saying anything and that's not easy to do unless you're a lying bastard like my ex husband. I watched some idiot Mayor on TV this morning trying to justify the millions of dollars that his city requested from the "Stimulus Bill". It seems as though it would stimulate the guy to fund a nicer polar bear habitat for the local zoo. He was pretty good, I must say. It took a while before I figured out that while the guy IS responding to questions, he really isn't saying anything.
You wouldn't think that people could get away with such blatant manipulation, but they do. Just listen the next time you hear any politician speak. This is pretty much how a conversation would go between me and my minions if I were trying to get cash to run my kitchen stuff:
Minion: I heard you were going to ask for an increase in your flour budget, can you tell me what precipitated that request?
Me: Yes! Thank you for asking! I began cooking in the 1960's when, as the oldest of 6 kids, I cooked dinner for my brothers and sisters when I was growing up. I had kids early in life and began cooking for them. I have a couple of college degrees in health related stuff and I am very good at creating menus for people with dietary restrictions with a special cnsideration to diabetics.
Minion: What was it about flour specificaly that put you behind this push for more? Was there a shortage of the stuff?
Me: Oh my word! Do you have any idea how bad a wheat shortage would be? Our wheat stores are only so good and as we continue to grow, we need to be assured that our children will have continued access to flour in the future. I don't think I have to show you pictures of what the Dust Bowl did to America. A life without flour is no life at all!
Minion: Specifically again though...what is it abour flour that has you backing this request for governmental intervention?
Me: I don't think people realuze how important flour is to our diet. We all understand that we have to eat fruits and vegetables. But if we eat only fruits and vegetables without any solid foundation to our diets, the numbers of those affected will rival the numbers of people who suffered from malnutrition THREE THOUSAND YEARS AGO! What does that say about us as a nation?
Minion: How will increased flour spending help people in their day to day lives?
Me: At least 4 different types of anemia could be prevented if we continue to utilize the "enrichment" capabilities of private flour makers. Of course, remember earlier I said that we were paying strict attention to diabetics...that's VERY important!
Minion: And there's no other way to accomplish this?
Me: Well, the people who ran this place before I got here left us in a bit of a ditch, financially speaking. We have to dig our way out of it, one step at a time. I think we can learn from this disaster in the making and if there's a better way to spend the money, I can't imagine what it would be. We're talking about wheat...the mainstay of an American diet! If we don't nourish our children, nothing else really matters.
Minion: When you get the funding, how will you spend the money?
Me: In ways that you can be sure that your mother would have agreed! I'm a mother, heck, I'm a grandmother! If I can't figure out how to serve you a well balanced meal yet, it can't be done! Only by looking at the eating patterns of humans and studying diets of the past can we possibly hope to actively identification of the Minimum Dietary Allowances of flour. Once we figure that out...we have to head straight to dairy foods. But, first things, first.
Minion: And what's in this for the average taxpayer?
Meg: Well, there's the increase in health awareness and dietary knowledge. I think we need to spearhead a huge effort to educate mothers out there. Can you imagine a world with no anemia? No diabetes? No scurvy? Well, we CAN do this...it'll just take some time and a bit of effort to bring that imaginary world to a potential reality. If we can't do that in America, there's really not much hope for the rest of the planet. People are starving today, that's a fact. It's also a fact that flour is the cornerstone of a well balanced diet. And, my kitchen can produce more flour next month than it did in all of last year.
Minion: And the benefits? When would we see them?
Me: Well, that would depend on how probiotic the government is. If your congressman has no idea what probiotic means, maybe you need to tell them!
Minion: What does it mean?
Me: Well, it's pro...which is for and bio...which is life. Probiotic is FOR LIFE! What kind of a nasty republican devil would NOT be probiotic? And who wouldn't want poor children to benefit from everything we have that is PROBIOTIC? Yes, we have people who can afford to buy the best food available. But even some of them just don't have the knowledge of flour to be able to utilize it to it's hugest ratio of probiotic qualities campared to malbiotic properties. But, remember, we also have a HUGE class of working people who are not lucky enough to have been born with a silver spoon in their mouths. So this spending increase will help EVERYONE!
Yeah, that's about how it went. Yes, the mayor of Providence did a pretty good job, but he pushed it. He almost sounded like he was answering questions but what he was really doing was trying to find a way NOT to answer them. When they asked about his "request"...he kept responding, "It's not a request for money. It's just a list of things that we would do if we had the money to do them."
I didn't think you could be so vague and non-committal at the local level. That's almost Presidential-speak.
"...Stanczak’s death is the first killing of a Western hostage in this terrorist country of Islamic Pakistan since U.S. journalist Daniel Pearl was beheaded in 2002. Chinese technicians working on different projects were targeted many times in this terrorist country.
John Solecki, the American U.N. official, was abducted on Feb. 2 in Quetta in southwestern Pakistan as he traveled to work at the offices of the U.N. refugee agency there. His driver was shot to death..."
What am I missing? Don't drivers count as hostages? Do they realize this?
I discovered music. I started out with Donny Osmond and quickly worked my way to Rod Stewart. By the end of the 70’s, I was a HUGE fan of Rod’s music and I forgot all about Donny. I never thought much of Rod or his looks, he certainly wasn’t as pretty as Donny Osmond. But, I really, really enjoyed the music. He was one of very few rock and roll stars to make it through disco without looking too stupid. Now that he’s begun singing really old song’s, I feel like we’ve made it through most of life and all that’s left is for him to do is to lay down and die.
If I had known that he would cause so much trouble, I never would have listened to Maggie May twice. How was I to know that he would get my DAUGHTER in so much trouble decades later? As a teenager, I really didn’t think much about having kids. I spent a good bit of time and effort trying to avoid having them. But, have those kids, I did. And now that I have had them, I’d like to take back all my years of being a Rod Stewart fan. OK…can we do that?
My daughter did something that I’ve never been able to do IN MY LIFE! I’ve worked with famous people AND I’ve been written up at work, but so far, none of my write-ups have been about famous people. My daughter, on the other hand, can brag that she was written up at work for annoying Rod Stewart. I’m not sure if she actually DID bug the aged rocker, but she certainly was given an A for her effort.
Apparently, if you really want to bug Rod Stewart, all you have to do is walk into a huge room with him and pick up a dish. That seems like a very important piece of information to have so I thought that I would let the rest of you know. If you see Rod Stewart in a room full of dirty dishes…walk away quickly. To do otherwise is to risk an immediate suspension from work with huge cuts in pay. I wouldn’t have ever thought that was an option when I saw the dirty dish. (My first instinct would have been to pick up the dish as well so maybe it’s my fault. I raised her to be too neat.) Maybe it’s a British thing.
I wonder if famous people realize the effect that they have on relative idiots out there in the world? I wonder if they realize that the first word from them gets people fired? Do you suppose they realize how stupid people are? The yahoo who made the decision to write up my daughter is one those “can’t think outside the box” management people that most rock stars sang about when Rod was younger.
I believe you can now call Rod Stewart part of the “establishment”. The establishment was the enemy in the 60’s and you knew who they were because they were over 25. That was pretty cut and dry, until the kids grew up. Now the people who bitched about the establishment have pretty much established themselves in positions of authority and that was specifically what we were trying to avoid. I guess that’ll happen after you turn 25. Take flabby belly’s, receding hairlines and office politics…mix it all in with some ego problems and you end up with Rod Stewart’s name on your write up.
I wonder if he knows that people are losing jobs over him…ya think? If I were Rod Stewart, I wouldn’t want to be in any one’s personnel file. That’s rarely a good story and never a happy one. Usually, happy people are not those with supervisory responsibilities. Very few people tell nice stories in those files. Personnel files aren’t supposed to be nice stories…they don’t even have forms for nice stuff. They have forms for saying bad stuff so when someone feels the need to fill out a form, they will grab one and fill it out as soon as they decide to do so.
My daughter never would have gotten written up for that Rod Stewart thing if some idiot wasn’t looking for something to write her up over. They never would have found something that was so lame to be form-worthy. Only when something is either really annoying or done by someone you have targeted would anyone ever think of ever bringing out a form. You just don’t see many forms in the course of a day. If you do, you spend far too much time in front of paperwork. And, if you spend all day with paperwork, you will lose your perspective and start filling out forms over stupid stuff and Rod Stewart’s name happens to be attached to stupid stuff right now. And it’s all attached to my daughter’s personnel file.
Let’s see, 2 days pay? That wouldn’t buy Rod’s first round of drinks but it would make a huge difference in my daughter’s monthly budget. All because someone at my daughter’s place of employment has decided to fuck with her. Oh well, these things will happen. And…sooner or later the idiot who made the decision to write up my daughter over Rod Stewart will fart really loudly.
I wish that I could twitch my nose and be with my daughter. Since I can't do that, I guess I'll annoy other people instead. I guess that's why I'm here. So, why are you here? Where would you be if you weren't here right now? I'm glad that you came by, it makes me feel less stupid to know that you're here and that I'm not ranting and raving to myself. That would really SUCK!
Oh! Did you know that some people walk away from yahoos like my ex all the time without necessarily taking retaliatory steps? I did NOT know that. Those people do confuse me, I don't know what to expect out of them next.
I was thinking about my divorce yesterday and it occurred to me that if I hadn't stopped listening, my nit wit ex would still be lying to me and he wouldn't mind one bit. Isn't that a shame? The only thing that I could do to make him stop lying was to turn him off completely. Drastic, yes...but it worked.
Of course now there's no one else around to talk to which brings me back to my daughter. I need to get me and my stuff all to LA. That doesn't seem so tough, especially when you look at the planet from the moon. In the entire scheme of things, it's probably a relatively easy thing to do but I can't seem to get myself west. I know that I have to go to Alabama first, only because that's west of me. Then, I could head west all the way across the lower states and I would come out at Los Angeles. That's a plan, I just can't seem to begin the westward movement.
Sometimes I think I have more control over other people's lives than I have over my own life. I'm bored with Georgia and I want to leave. How does one get out of a state that one is finished with? I'm afraid if I start going west I might get stuck in Alabama or Mississippi and never get out. OMG! That would be even worse than being here! But then again, I would be further west.
You know, we are slaves to our stuff. I have too much stuff to move. It's freaking me out on a regular basis now. You know, when I was younger and prettier, logistics were rarely a problem.
...it appears as though Whitney Houston was marching around Beverly Hills recently with a nice young man doling out apologies to everyone she passed and offended. And oh, she offended everyone that she passed. To the nice man who is so sorry, don't worry, we all know she's nuts.
...I give up. Apparently I'm not going to "get in the mood" to write anything ever again. So, now I'll just sit here and force myself to write something. But...what about? Jessica Simpson's weight gain? Obama's last cigarette? Christian Bale's latest meltdown? I can't think of anything to chat about right now...ain't that a bitch?
Well, I do have to walk the dog soon. I have no idea what time it is but I'm pretty sure today is Saturday. I went to bed sometime on Thursday and woke up a few times but only to take care of the animals. Now I think I'm up for a while. I could be wrong, but this feels like awake.
I broke a nail while I was sleeping and I'm not really sure how that happened. What on earth could I have done in my sleep that would cause a broken nail? I finally tossed that hideous breakfast bread and although it made one helluva "KERPLUNK!" when it hit the bottom of the trash can, I don't think it was hard enough to break a nail. I know I said that I don't usually toss food and usually, I don't, but that's how bad this bread was. I knew I wasn't going to eat it and there wasn't a chance of me serving it so I went ahead and threw it away. I've saved left-over oatmeal for weeks and yet this bread, not a chance.
Maybe it's because it would have been harder to clear a spot in the fridge. (I just tricked myself...and I FELL for it!
Once I mention the chore that I have to do on this thing, I have to do it. It drives me insane until I fix whatever it is that I've complained about. I didn't want to clean out the fridge today so I purposely didn't discuss the stupid thing. Then, I steered the conversation craftily toward the fridge once I began talking about breakfast bread. Damn, I was smooth, I didn't even see myself coming! Wow, I'm good. But now I have to clean out the fridge. Oh, sneaky monkey that I am...I should have known better than to get into any conversation with me.
Anyway, that's how I tricked me. " One way or another, that was some seriously BAD bread. I know someone commented that it was good...I knew that someone must THINK it IS good or they wouldn't have made the stupid stuff in the first place. But maybe that's because once they give it away, no one will ever tell them the truth. People know that fruit bread isn't any good and when it's given as a gift, we usually just regift it to a great aunt. If you followed the fruit bread you would probably find out that it's the same damn piece of bread that you gave away last year. I've never met anyone who admits to making that stuff. How else do you explain the hardness of it? I can't think of any way to make flour, eggs and pineapple come out so hard except to let it sit in a moisture controlled room for a year.
I think that I should finish my coffee, get dressed and head out to the store. I would love to go out tonight to see a band play because I want to do the drummer but it's tough to get one guy to give you a ride to do another guy. Of course, there is something sexy about the thought of dancing with one guy when only you and the drummer know that you're really only dancing for the drummer dude. Yeah, that's sounds like fun. I think I'll get started on that plan. The more I think about it, the more it appeals to me!
...talk about how she was "out of energy". She said that she should go get one of those, "Organic Coffee Enemas" to do a "good washing from the inside out". I thought that was lame so I told her to eat 2 apples and take a Correctol. That'll scrub your guts pretty good.
I wish I would have thought of some harmless medical procedure that I could charge a hundred bucks a pop to do. Oh! Does anyone have DOUCHE'S? Damn, they got enemas...I guess they'll cover douche's too. Or do they charge per hole? How exactly does that work? Yeah, douche's are good, they won't hurt anybody and women are always ready to believe that there's something wrong with them that a nice trip to the drug store won't fix. I could call it Meg's Super Douche. Oh! And I could even have strong, medium and weak...ooh! And Citrus!
I know, I won't use organic coffee...I'll use organic lemons.
I'm not sure what to do here but I thought that I would come in case you guys were like my local friends, everyone is getting worried after not hearing from me in a couple days. So, I'm fine.
I have to do something today...maybe now that I've gone this far, I'll just go get all busy and take care of stuff. Ooh...that's a good idea! I am almost finished with my coffee and "breakfast bread". I never had breakfast bread before but someone said that it would be a nice sweetbread so I cut myself a piece. I don't know what this bread is but it looks like the head cheese of the pastry world. I suppose it's OK if you like fruit bread...but I don't. It isn't bad tasting, but it isn't good tasting either. I won't be eating anymore breakfast bread and if no one else comes to eat it, it will just rot. I can't throw it away early...that'd be throwing away food. You can't throw food away until it has visible agricultural or botanical activity occurring on it. I don't make the rules, I just abide by them.
I guess that's why there are so many different kinds of cheese. Those cheeseheads keep getting bored with the old cheese and there could be a million other kinds of cheese that haven't been created yet! OMG! Can you imagine? "Cheese Jerry, CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!"
Now, I have to see if whatever I did to make the microphone work has worked again. If not, this post will be followed by nothing.
OMG! This bread is more hideous with every single bite! Ladies...STOP making fruit bread and breakfast bed!
...in a world where doctors can impregnate (?) a woman with 8 embryos while she already has 6 other kids at home, it's rather stunning to think that doctors so intent on beginning life suddenly "don't want to play God" at the end of life.
A full grown American citizen who has possessed self determination for their entire life, cannot determine the date or condition surrounding their death. There is no way to legally obtain the means to end life peacefully and successfully. I find it interesting how hypocritical we can be when discussing such life and death issues.
We can end a half developed human baby life, but we can't end a miserable, painful and spent adult life earlier than the appointed date with death. We haughtily take pride in our total "respect for life" but if a person has committed any one of a few different crimes, treason being one of them, suddenly life CAN be taken, but ONLY by the government. Don't talk about your God around my children...but you need to consider what He has in store for you and your suffering.
Years ago, I worked the evening shift on an oncology unit and answered the call light of a patient I had never met. He was as alert as I was and after I did whatever it was he needed me to do, I spoke with him for a moment before I left for the night.
When I came back to work in the morning, he was my patient. And, he was dying. Overnight his condition had become so bad that he was drowning in his own fluid. I couldn’t suction his lungs enough to keep them clear. He was in agony. He looked at me and said, “If you can’t make this stop, at least help me not feel it.” The man had an arterial blood gas that pretty much told me that he wouldn't be around for my entire shift.
I called the doctor. It took a few calls and a few increases in dosages but eventually, I was sitting on the side of his bed, pushing morphine into his vein, a little at a time, until he calmed down. At one point he seemed to be sleeping. I said his name. He opened his eyes and smiled. I asked what was so funny.
He said, “My wife left me on my 28th birthday and when she did, I remember praying to God, ‘Lord, whatever else you do to me...just let me die with a redhead in my bed. It looks like my prayer has been answered”
“Go for it.”, I told him. I smiled as he did just that.
Now, decades later, it would be impossible to know if the last dose of morphine ended his life before lunch instead of after lunch and I've often wondered about that. That last dose was a doozie.
I'm glad that I was there with him that day. It was an experience that I've only had once in my life and I'm pleased with the way I handled it. No one but that patient and I know what exactly happened in the hospital room that morning, and he's not talking. It was one of the most human moments of my life to date.
More often than not, dying patients would not receive enough morphine to ease the pain, they certainly wouldn't get enough to do any harm. And then you have 90 year old men who just want to decide when they should lie down and swallow a bottle of Nembutal but they can't...all because of some religious view on the subject that we aren't supposed to consider when we legislate morality in the first place. We still haven't learned that you simply cannot legislate morality. The people who believe strongly about moral issues WILL break the law, and then they'd be willing to go to jail over their beliefs. How do you argue with determined old hippies?
The ridiculous arguments from some doctors are repugnantly offensive. They suggest that we should make death or disability a much more positive experience for all concerned. I don't know about you but I can't think of any positive spin that you could put on wiping my ass that would make it a dignified option. Elderly people have to be made to feel more important and less of a burden. Not many elderly people at all would want their own kids to spend weekends visiting them in a nursing home. Then you have people who say that the older/disabled/terminally ill would naturally be depressed and we need to pursue treatment for that rather than a peaceful exit from this world. A 90 year old man may be a lot of things, but rarely do you find one who is depressed.
Depression and fear come about when there is so much uncertainty in store for them. Will I suffer? Will I be a vegetable? Will I be a mere shell of myself? How long will that go on? Will I have ANY control over myself at all? Depressing is the fact that the majority of elderly people who suicide out choose hanging and that's a horrible death. You basically smother and that's one of the worst deaths that I've ever witnessed.
There is very good medication available that would allow a person to choose his or her death day and to do so in whatever fashion they so desire. You could die alone, with friends and family or choose to have a huge party the day you plan on escaping. No one, absolutely no one else is truly made a better person for watching family members rot to death. The elderly/seriously disabled/terminal patient must break the law to obtain that medication. As I said though, it's tough to stop a bunch of dying hippies from doing what they want to do when they want to do it.
It's nice to see our military actually protecting Americans. But, I'm not sure, and correct me if I'm wrong...but I think I see...a nipple. I wonder if the photographer knew that he was getting the nipple shot.
That squirrel is one of the red ones like they have in the Chicago area. I don't know where else they have them but I'm sure other places have red squirrels as well. I never noticed that the squirrels were different colors until I was in my 40's. I guess when I moved south, I was too young or too busy to notice the different colored squirrels. It wasn't until a visit back home when I noticed that the squirrels were a different color than the squirrels down here. I'd get you a picture but I don't know where to find a dead squirrel.
One morning 25 years ago, I was cooking breakfast when my son walked into the kitchen from the back yard to tell me that there was a squirrel outside that was "holding still". I went to investigate my son's story and I'm quite glad that I did. As I leaned over to look at the squirrel that was indeed, "holding still", I queried out loud to no one in particular, "Don't squirrels have furry tails?"
What we had there was NOT a squirrel...it was a giant rat that must have come from the alley out back. I got the kids in the house and then attempted to kill the rat by throwing a brick at it. I kept missing or just not killing him and then I'd have to run back down off the porch railing and pick up the brick and start all over again. It didn't run away, I guess it had eaten rat poison and it's brain was being affected.
Anyone watching would have seen a woman standing on a porch, throwing a brick at the dirt with all the strength she could muster. Then, for some reason, that woman would run off of the porch, pick up the brick, run back to the porch and throw it at the dirt again. I did that for a good while.
The rat was bloodied and broken but it still ran away. It was one of the most horrific days of my life. It wasn't THE most horrific...that would be the day that I met Rick. I wish that I could go back to my life and stay home the night that I met him. I'd do the rat thing three times if I could just take back that one, hideous day. People have asked me, "You don't really mean that, do you?" I assure them that, "Yes. I really, really, really do mean that." I don't know why it's so hard to believe that I would pass on the lying cheat if given another chance. It's really a no-brainer.
Rats...that's all I ever got...rats.
Yesterday I walked to a drop box at City Hall to pay my electric bill because it seemed like it would be a nice walk for me and Payton. It would have been if that stupid dog would have listened to me. He wouldn't slow down for me so I was pretty much pulling on the stupid leash the entire time. When he pulled against me, the leash would tighten around my little hand or two fingers, causing me quite a bit of discomfort. The walk was two miles each way and there was no way that I could even semi-trot with that big dumb dog.
It was awful and I wish that I had never done it. On the way home, naturally, I fell. I've been thinking about that lately. I've fallen 6 times since my birthday last June. That can't be a coincidence. And then, last week, I suddenly began stuttering. That was fun. Can you imagine? You speak well for half a century and then you start to stutter out of nowhere. I felt like an idiot.
Anyway, I'd like to have the myelin sheath around my nerves checked out.
I fell down good last night, I really did. It could have been much, much worse, but the way I fell I went down in a small culvert type ditch behind some new curbs they were putting in at a side street off of Marietta Pkwy. That's one of the busiest roads in Marietta and not a street you would want to fall in or near.
When I went down, I ended up behind the wood that was holding the cement of the new curb straight up. I was down low enough in that culvert that I could just rest my arm on the curb itself. And right after I fell, that's what I did. I sat down Indian style and just relaxed for a moment. I knew that no further harm would come to me if I stayed down. The ONLY way that I could fall back down would be to pick myself up again.
It's funny, all throughout my life when something would fall to the floor, I would rarely pick it up again unless I had to. Things can only fall once if you leave them where they are. Pick them up and sooner or later, they'd fall again. So, I considered just staying behind that curb for a long time. While I was sitting there trying to figure out if I had broken anything THIS time, I didn't know whether or not I could stand up and then walk the mile and a half home from that corner.
This time I fell on my left knee. That was cool because that knee is already messed up. It hurts all the time anyway. It would annoy me if my RIGHT knee started hurting, because that would be a new thing. If my left knee decides to go from a 4 on the pain scale to a 6 or 7, I can handle that.
You know, I originally fell on that knee outside of CBS Studios the day I went to see The Price is Right. If I could, I would sue CBS and make them put the good shows back on TV. (At least for a week.)
Well, I'm going to take my knee and carefully try to get it into the recliner. I may have only actually FALLEN 6 times, but I trip over stuff, even my own feet, all the time. Or, I walk into walls. It's sort of funny until I fall. I don't like falling. I don't think I've fallen 6 times in my life until my birthday last year. Now I can't leave my house without, at the very least, coming frighteningly close to going down. Life certainly is an adventure!
...keep on happening, we'll give the government all the reason that it needs to take away our guns. On Januray 12th, John was shot down by a gun that fell out of it's holster. John was totally exposed at the time of the shooting (the dropping?) and obviously not expecting a bullet to crash through and rip his insides apart. The shooting has been ruled an accident and no charges have been filed. But John is still gone.
The police have said that the gun itself AND the holster were somehow to blame for the accident as if they walked themselves up to John and just exploded. That's so offensive that it's an insult to John. In Centerville Utah, a memorial was held Friday at the Carl's Jr restaurant where John worked from the day the restaurant opened until the day he was gunned down in the men's room.
For some reason, people aren't taking this seriously at all. The best that I can figure is it's the location and circumstances. Apparently the gun toting guest had walked up to John, unzipped his pants and was pulling them back up when the gun went off. No one knows exactly what happened while his pants were down, the cops are playing that one close to the vest. It's a little funny, I admit. But it's still going to be hard for John's co-workers to go without him. There ARE other victims besides John...everyone who walks into the men's room in that restaurant can see the damage done by the single bullet that discharged as the gun hit the floor. Once the cosmetics are repaired, people will probably still think, "Where's John?" as they walk into the men's room. But none of this makes it funny enough to be totally dismissed and that's what the authorities seem to be doing in Utah.
I have a theory that it was one of Centerville's own policemen who caused John to go down for the last time. They wouldn't SAY it was a cop, they didn't SAY anything about the person with the pants around his knees, wearing a holster and looking up when the bullet was fired. If it wasn't a cop, they would have arrested the person for SOMETHING, anything. That's what they do. And who else wears holsters? Goodfellas? Nope...cops. Anyway, at the risk of drawing the wrath of the authorities in Utah, I'm going to speak about the day that John's life was flushed away back on January 12th.
First of all, as I said, if it wasn't a cop, they would have either arrested him or said something along the lines of, "Charges may be pending." Even if they don't arrest a person, they will mess with them a little bit. Next is the fact that we DON'T know this guy's name. They know who he is yet no one is talking. There's never been a clear explanation of what the guy was doing in that men's room...and you can ask all day long, you won't get an answer to that question. Was he undercover? Was this some sort of a perverted sex act gone hideously awry? And finally, it the shooter wasn't a cop, he would almost be proud of himself now that he knows he can still carry firearms in fast food places which frightens me because my grandkids hang out in such establishments. Add to all f that the fact that a young boy was seen running from the men's room with his hand over his mouth and nose. How long did John lay there wounded? Is it possible that someone could have saved him? We'll never know because the cops aren't talking. They have no reasonable explanation the nasty smell emanating from the men's room after the shooting.
People in Utah truly give themselves away for the heartless creatures they are with comments like this one, spoken by deliveryman Doug Graham-"I thought it was the funniest thing I've ever heard. I got a kick out of it."
He sounds like a helluva fun guy, doesn't he? Apparently a lot of people are laughing right out loud when they hear the story behind John's death. So, naturally no one is even THINKING about the fact that a cop could be responsible for the loss of John. Oh well, I've done what I could, it's up to the citizens of Utah to act next.
I hope they DO complain to the police department. If for nothing else, I hope that John finally gets the respect he deserves after so many years of faithful service. He was always there when men walked into the men's room and he always flushed with the flushing power of a proud, stoic toilet. He took pride in his work, something your ordinary Johnny Blue Boy doesn't have.
John is gone and, "He was survived by the men's urinal and wash sink." The next time you go to the bathroom, please, please, bow your head down just a bit and pay attention to YOUR toilet. Oh, and for John, if you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie!