People have been asking...


...who was bigger, Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, or the Beatles? Intriguing question to be sure, but the truth is that there is no answer except to say, "We can't possibly know."

They're are a LOT of reasons that we'll never have an answer to that question but the biggest is the media. They have skewed things so badly that you just can't answer it so it's really a stupid question to even ask.

For all of the similarities that Michael's death has to the death of The King, there are just as many differences.

The afternoon that Elvis's death was announced, I was in California, pregnant with my first child, watching the old Match Game with Gene Rayburn. It was shortly after 2:30 PST. Across the bottom of the screen, a simple message scrolled along, beginning with..."The King...". That's all it took before I realized that Elvis Presley had died. The rest of the message confirmed what I had guessed and then I went back to watching the Match Game and waited for the evening news so that I could find out what happened to the most famous solo entertainer of my youth.

Back in that time, they wouldn't have interrupted programing for anything less than the death of a president or an impending weather disaster. At one time, it wasn't odd to hear the following statement when a favorite show was broken into by a news flash..."Somebody better be DEAD!" We knew something then that has faded into time, you can survive without having news available to you 24/7.

I've heard it submitted that JFK wouldn't have been as much of a legend if he hadn't died and Oswald hadn't been shot going into a weekend. That left the young medium of television and the handful of networks free to dissect the assassination for an entire weekend, something unheard of in 1963. Even with the death of JFK, the networks wouldn't have broken into weekday programming. The constant weekend coverage convinced a nation that this relatively average president was more than just that.

It's certainly easy to see how they can exalt Michael Jackson to some sort of saint status by the constant and consistent coverage of his untimely death. We are being manipulated into considering Michael something more than he was, a talented yet tormented young man who was the victim of an abusive, overbearing and greedy father. We all got an idea of just how despicable Joe Jackson truly is recently.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't kick a man who just lost his youngest son but hell, it doesn't seem to bother Joe, why should it bother me? He opened himself up to such comments when he walked the red carpet at the BET awards last Sunday. As if that alone wasn't in bad enough taste, he proved himself a true piece of trash when that hideous quasi-human was asked about his family and the recent death of his son. On Sunday, we could still count in hours the time since Michael was pronounced dead and yet life was business as usual for this freak. He answered the question about his family with a a quick and terse non-answer, mumbling how they're all fine and then he followed that brief comment with a comparably lengthy commercial for his new record label which I will not glorify by naming here.

My father was abusive by today's standards. But 40 years ago, parents spanked their kids often. Of course, very few of them forced their children to be their meal tickets as did Joe Jackson. I can't imagine what Michael went through being raised with such a non-feeling SOB for a father. Joe is only one person in a group of people responsible for the sad life and recent death of this tragic figure.

Michael is gone now and it would seem to me that the one last decent thing we can do for him is to assure that his children do NOT end up in the home of the man who has destroyed the lives of far too many children already.

When JFK died, and even when Elvis died, there was no Joe Jackson around to ensure anymore of a circus atmosphere than usually accompanies such an event. There was no news coverage for 5 days (with no end in sight) which seems to be assuring that we will all remember this man for more than he was.

Michael was not a saint, he was not even a man of any character. He was a great entertainer to be sure. But a lot of great entertainers are never aggrandized the way the press is hyping the life and death of Michael Jackson. So...is Michael Jackson REALLY more famous than Elvis and the Beatles? We just won't know until future generations who have been untouched by this insane media coverage that is skewing the life of Jackson come around and pose the question in a more objective time. Hopefully, more dispassionate minds will answer that question with an answer that can be given some credence. In the meantime, we'll just continue to hear how wonderful Jackson was and how he is now "bigger in death than he ever was in life".

I guess there are millions more "yes people" than those in Michael's immediate circle. Shame on them all.

The press and the DEA...

...are doing you a disservice right now. They're ranting about acetaminophen (Tylenol) and whining about putting labels on every bottle to warn you of the damages. But, they haven't seemed to mention the most important piece of info that you need...the dosage that is TOO much for you to take.

Anything more than 4000 milligrams of acetaminophen a day can cause liver damage. Isn't that easy? So, like people read the caloric information on their food, they need to read the ingredients on their medications. Many, many different drugs contain the stuff. So, the smart thing to do is monitor the totals of acetaminophen that you are ingesting and stop before you get to 4000 milligrams (4 grams). DUH.

Even the makers of combination pain meds like vicodin, lortab, lorcet etc..., that contain a narcotic AND acetaminophen, have finally realized that for the average user, the acetaminophen is more dangerous that an innocuous narcotic like hydrocodone (unless it's abused of course) so they're coming out with new combinations that have lower dosages of acetaminophen but the levels of the narcotic have not changed.

At levels over 4000 milligrams a day, a person is subject to serious liver disease. We pretty much NEED our livers and we should take good care of them. So, if you know anyone who might be able to benefit from this information, send it to them now.

Oh, I'll be right back...I have something else on my mind.

:)

It's my birthday...

...and I'll bitch if I want to. It just turned 10 AM and already I've been annoyed mightily. The most recent annoyance came when I was putting gas in my car. How come you can put 50 bucks in a tank in 38 seconds but the last 20 cents takes 2 minutes? I hate standing at a gas pump squeezing that last few drops out of the nozzle but I'm always afraid that if I don't get every last bit of it, I'll run out of gas a block before I get to the gas station.

So that left me peeved and perplexed.

Then I got into a minor argument with a 19 year old. At my age that can be rather vexing because 19 year-olds don't make any sense. You never know what will come out of their mouths next so it's best to avoid all contact with one of them whenever possible. I tried, I swear I did. But that little wench didn't have the maturity to shut up and walk away. I keep worrying that I'll be the subject of a newspaper headline that reads, "19 Year Old Murders 51 Year Old Woman On Her Birthday".

More ado and vexation.

Of course here's the inescapable reminder that, at 51, over half of my life is over an I'm on the down side of life. I'm pretty sure that I'm sliding into the end of my life like Ricky Henderson slides into second base. Whatever.

On the bright side, my ex husband is still madly in love with me and he proves it on a regular basis. My other ex likes to pretend that he's a single guy who's still waiting for me to magically reappear in his life and that the crying baby in the background is his latest GRANDchild. I love that, this time, I'm not the woman being betrayed by his dishonesty. I have one other ex who has left me alone since our divorce and he's the one I would have thought would be nuttier than the rest but he's the only one of three who knows how to behave like a respectable ex husband...he stays out of my life completely. Whoda thunk it? That's the one from San Francisco who directed my father to the Mint thusly..."They're on the counter by the cash register."

Of course yesterday was a bitch, what with that creepy dude who actually took the time to speak to my even creepier ex. I'm sort of glad that it happened because I was looking for a way to avoid a man with bigger boobs than mine. I sort of freaked when he peeled his shirt off in the Gogia heat and looking back, no matter how rude he was, all is really right with the world. I couldn't kiss one of those nipples without a loud guffaw. Oh, and I'm a nipple kisser from way back.

By the way...don't forget, I bought lottery tickets for tomorrow and I'm pretty sure that, if ever I'm going to win ANYTHING...tomorrow's Mega Millions is gonna be it. If I don't, I'm never buying lottery tickets again. Hell, if I DO win, I'm never buying them again so I've purchased my last lottery tickets.

Yep, no more lottery tickets for me. I'm not THAT stupid. Of course, I am stupid enough to continue dating men although that tact hasn't been any more successful than the lottery thing. It's all good though...someone needs to mow the lawn.

You know...

...I hate people. Well, not all of them, but a good percentage of them. Today I had a date with a guy who I've dated before and he's always been a gentleman. Today he had too much to drink and he was an asshole. I just couldn't wait to get home but when he offered to drive me home, I was too afraid to drive with a drunk nimrod. He offered to call a cab and he had so much to drink that he just kept googling my address. Apparently that's how he gets cabs.

At one point he asked me to do it so I asked what cab company I should call. He wouldn't answer me so I googled cabs in Lilburn Georgia and I called the one that seemed closest to Lilburn on the little google map. When they pulled up, I had to giggle because it wasn't a cab but a limousine. The nimrod whipped out his credit card and paid the driver to drive me to Marietta, a good ride to the other side of Atlanta. I sat in the back of a nice limo smiling because all the fool had to do was name a cab company and I would be going home in a yellow cab or some such crap but because he wanted to be a dick, I was riding in a limo instead.

:)

Apparently, the last time I was at this guy's house I called my daughter on my ex's cell phone. They were in town that weekend for my son's graduation from law school. My idiot ex called the number on the phone and spoke to the nimrod. He did something that he's been doing for over 20 years...he told this guy the same bullshit lies that he's been spreading around about me since I left him. I didn't bother asking this nut what the other nut told him but whatever it was, it was bad enough for this one to think that he could treat me like dirt and get away with it. I don't know why he would think that, most people who've met me twice would be smarter than that. But this one wasn't and thanks to Mark Colletti, my ex who is obsessed with me after decades of no contact, I found out what a nit wit the new guy is early enough to avoid any long term damage. I still don't know why Mark is so concerned with me and everyone I know...but that's OK, his constant interference into my life after so many years of being divorced simply serves to show me that he is still madly in love with me. Pity.

They say the opposite of love is indifference, whatever this yahoo feels for me is NOT indifference. Over the years I've seen him so few times that I can count them on one hand. I only see him when one of the kids graduates from something and yet still, decades after our divorce, he can't get me out of his mind. It must suck to be his second wife. I can't call her a "new" wife anymore, she's far too old and far too ugly. She's also fat and stupid. If I were fat, ugly and stupid, I would be one nice mother fucker so people would have to say, "Yeah, but she's just so sweet." But Deanna isn't smart enough for that. Pity again.

Then, when I got home from the nut man's house, one of my friends told me that he went to Kroger earlier today and ran into the freak who assaulted me last weekend. THAT nut actually tried to engage my friend in conversation as though he didn't leave me bloodied and battered last weekend.

Ordinarily I would think that someone would only have this much drama in their life if they went looking for it. But I swear, I don't know how it's all finding me like this. If I'm doing something to invite it, I wish I knew what it was so that I could stop doing it.

But, if nothing else, it all makes for good blogging anyway.

I'm not a doctor...

...but I am a nurse and, like the rest of the world, I've been following the Michael Jackson story. Listening to the news is giving me an idea of what may have happened to Michael.

Obviously, drugs seem to have been involved. But a few other details are coming to light that very well may explain what happened in the hour preceding the 911 call placed from Jackson's home.

In the 911 call, the caller mentioned that Michael was on the bed being "pumped". If that is the man's word for CPR, I think it should be quite obvious that pumping a man lying on a bed will do no good whatsoever without a backboard underneath so that the body absorbs the compressions, not the mattress. That's why the 911 dude told the caller to put Michael on the floor. I've heard that Michael was taken off of the floor and put on the bed. I don't know if that's true or not, but if it is true, it was a bonehead thing to do.

I've also heard that there was a bottle of lidocaine on the floor in the room. Once again, I'm going on what the news has reported so if my facts are wrong, you can blame CNN and FoxNews. The news people wondered if the lidocaine was used along with Demerol to help ease Michael's pain. That's highly unlikely although it is a possibility. But, I would think that it's more likely that the doctor, in a panic over seeing his famous patient in cardiac arrest, used the lidocaine in an attempt to revive Michael a la Pulp Fiction. After all, this guy was a cardiologist, not a pain control doctor. Cardiologists would consider the cardiac benefits of lidocaine, not so much it's pain relief qualities.

I've seen lidocaine used for pain relief, but never by intramuscular injection, only by intrathecal infusion. Even intrathecal lidocaine infusion is only used near an ICU with lifesaving equipment on board. And I don't think Michael would have been happy with anyone giving him lidocaine for pain...there is no buzz attached to it and that seems to be more along the lines of what the man was seeking.

My guess, and it's only a guess, is that Michael was given a dose of Demerol on top of whatever pills he was taking and that caused him to go into respiratory arrest leading to a cardiac arrhythmia that was NOT going to be helped by lidocaine. That arrhythmia is called ventricular fibrillation. A heart in V-Fib simply cannot perfuse the brain with enough oxygen to support life.

It would appear that the doctor panicked and he may or may not have had Narcan with him which would have immediately reversed the effects of the narcotics in his system. If Michael was given parental Demerol in a setting that did not have Narcan, there is absolutely a problem. If the doctor refrained from calling 911 and instead tried to revive Michael himself, there's another problem. Of course, those problems are piled on top of the fact that Michael had drugs usually reserved for cancer patients and post-operative patients.

I don't know how you convince a person that they are absolutely subject to the rules of mortality but I do know that someone needs to do a PSA specifically for famous yahoos surrounded by "Yes people". Shame on everyone who sat back and allowed this to happen.

My cousin Bonnie...

...is about to pass away and she's much younger than I am. I don't know what happened but last night I got a call that she was in a coma and on a ventilator and not expected to survive the night. I remember the day she was born and I can't believe that now I'll remember the day she died.

No one that I spoke to is sure what exactly happened to make her lungs fail but they did. She's a sweet little thing and I can't believe that this has happened to her. Her parents are both gone and she has a sister named Ruthie and one named Bobbie. Anyone who knows Bonnie Dillon should know what has happened to her.

God bless her and her family.

What appears to be blue and green is actually the same color in these interesting optical illusions. If anyone can disprove that, I'd be pleased to hear about it. They were created by Kitaoka.

I give up...

...and I fully admit that I came to the South on my own. It wasn't my idea but I wasn't in shackles and I was a full grown woman when I got here. I could have left any number of times. Now I'm stuck and I can't figure out how to get the hell out of here. Someone needs to come and get me.

My birthday is next Monday and when people ask me what I want, I don't know what to tell them. I pretty much just want to get the hell out of dodge. How can I tell the locals that my birthday wish is to leave them and they're pick up trucks and get as far away as I can? Oh well, my official answer is that I want to go on a vacation, far, far away from here.

The 23rd was the anniversary of my mother's death and the night before that, I dreamt about her. I hadn't been thinking much about her lately because of all the stupid shit I've been dealing with. But, when I woke up that morning I remembered that I dreamt my mother won 23 million dollars in the lottery. So, since she died on the 23rd and she won 23 million in the dream that I had on that day, I had to take that as some sort of message. Naturally, I bought lottery tickets. I rarely do that because I don't have the kind of luck that it takes to find a decent coupon for dog food, there's no way that I would think that I could win the lottery. But, that day I did. The drawing is on the night of the 30th, come back then and I'll let you know if I'm rich or if I'm still just an idiot with rotten luck.

I walked to the store that day because I had to walk the dog anyway. As I was walking, I looked up in the sky and saw a perfect X made out of clouds. Of course I took that as another message and kept walking to buy my lottery tickets. Then, a couple of minutes later, I looked up to see the X but it was gone and had been replaced with a great big cloud heart. My sisters are usually more into that kind of stuff than I am but what the heck, I'll play along.

Once more, as I tried to have a pity party, I was smacked in the face with people much worse off than I am. Remember when I had the worms on my ceiling that turned out to be moth larvae? I bitched about that until some woman had a real worm removed from her brain. Now, I'm sitting here nursing my injuries from the weekend and other people are dropping like flies.

When I was much, much, much younger, my father would let us stay up long enough to watch Johnny Carson's monologue before he sent us off to bed. I never missed Ed McMahon's deep voice saying "Here's Johnny!" When I was discovering boys, there were a couple of them who took my world by storm and one of them was Michael Jackson. When my son was a baby, I would drive from Petaluma to LA to visit a cousin who happened to live in the same complex as Dick Van Patton. His wife's best friend would be there occasionally and I was lucky enough to meet her a few times. Her name was Farrah Faucett.

OK, Ed McMahon was an old man. But Farrah wasn't that much older than I and Michael Jackson was 2 months younger. This is getting creepy. I guess I'm getting to that age where people I know are going to start croaking on a regular basis. My grandparents would read the obituaries daily to see what acquaintances had died. I won't be doing that. I'm sort of freaking out over all the dead people and I don't need to look for more bad news, it always seems to find me sooner or later anyway.

I remember having great-grandparents, grandparents and parents. They always insured that I had a bit of a death buffer but now my father is the only one left, I'm on deck and I'm rather unnerved about that. And my father isn't really much of a buffer because that SOB is gonna live to be 104 and I'll be gone before he hits 80. He asked me to die after he dies but I can only do so much. He needs to take up smoking or some other unhealthy vice or he's gonna bury more kids than this one.

Now I'm really freaking myself out so I must go do something to get my mind off of my own impending death. I'll be back soon...I hope.

Did you know that...

...what happened to me the other night is considered "domestic violence"? I didn't. But, that's what the cops said. I haven't yet figured out the logic behind that one but I guess the cops know what they're doing. (I almost gagged on that last sentence, and I didn't even use my mouth to say it.)

I have to admit, I almost expect a husband to be violent and I know that's considered domestic violence. But you don't expect to be assaulted when you're with a man you've known for less than a week.

It offended me the first time I prosecuted a man for domestic violence because it wasn't in criminal court, it was in Family and Juvenile Court. That just hit me wrong so I asked someone why that was and the answer was to "protect me from anyone finding out what happened" I didn't commit any crimes...why the hell would I care if anyone found out? I think it protected my ex and his reputation much more than it protected me and mine.

As if that wasn't offensive enough, now I hear that it's domestic violence to have a friend attack you, possibly poison you and then do God knows what to you. Isn't that interesting? If I had been another dude, I doubt that anyone would have attached "domestic violence" to the crime. I'm pretty sure they would have called it assault and battery and left it at that. But, since I'm a woman, it's domestic violence. Go figure.

I don't know what that term means for a crime...I would guess a lighter sentence. It certainly seems that way, doesn't it? The guy who bruised up Rihanna won't be going to jail and as much as people complain about that, Chris Brown DID get a stiff sentence compared to what I've seen. I've never seen anyone that domestically violated me go to jail. Even Rick didn't go when he violated a restraining order and assaulted me for a third time in one summer. I know he didn't get a felony rap which Brown did receive. That does mean something to the man...or it will eventually. But, the way men get away with knocking women around, I'm sure he will be having that felony expunged from his record. Geragos probably told Brown..."Just wait a couple of years and we'll have it expunged, no biggie."

Unless that psycho guy who assaulted me comes at me with a gun, knife or more of his simple handiwork, I'll probably be OK. I doubt that he'll get close enough to me and my dog to hurt me again. But there are women walking around who might just be headed for a pavement bouncing. And just like I'm someone's mother, daughter, grandmother and sister...the future victims of this creep will have people who care about them.

The legal term "scienter" comes to mind. I hope that it never has to be applied to the cops as relates to the guy who left so many bruises one me. But, now that I think of it...I wonder if he has a history of doing this? People just don't suddenly turn violent at 56.

OK...

...it's been well over 24 hours since the incident that I mentioned in the last post. I have now officially reported this crime to 3 cops. The last one told me that I should call the original officer who started the report. This, after I said, quite plainly...three times, that "there might still be evidence that can be collected". Maybe it's me, but are cops getting thicker as their muscles get bigger?

About an hour ago I was on my couch watching the news when I noticed a cop peeking in my window. I told him to go around back and I would go out the back door which he did. He asked to see a friend of mine who was sleeping. Supposedly he had a ticket for her and he needed to drop it off. I asked him if there was anything more going on that I should know and he said, "Nope."

I went and got the chick and the cops arrested her for her traffic hijinx right there on the spot. That's for a judge to figure out but since I had a few cops at my house, I thought I'd mention the previous day's events and see what he had to contribute.

At first I was hesitant to speak to him because I've heard three cops lie in the past day. But, as time passes, more and more bruises pop up and more of me is sore. So, I gave it another chance and after I explained my hesitancy about being lied to, he officer had this sage advice, "The reason the officer did that is so you didn't tell her that we were here and have her bolt out the back door." I love it. More defending of their brother cops.

And, as I told him then, "OK, I'll give all the cops a mulligan. At the end of the day, there could be evidence that could be obtained." He wanted the know, "So, what exactly happened? You're telling me that a cop was a jerk. What do you want me to do?" So, I had to spell it out to him.

I said, "There's a chunk of Saturday night that I don't remember. What I do remember was being dragged out of a car, coming to in the street and ever since then bruises have been popping up all over my body and I have no clue how they got there. I can't even show you all of the bruises but here's the ones on my arms (see below). Clumps of hair came out of my head yesterday morning and I don't know why. I'll take care of myself, you're the cop and I'm reporting a crime. I'm trying to be very efficient with my words, I'm not emotional, I haven't been drinking and there's no one here telling you that I had sex. There's no reason for me to deserve these injuries. You take it from here. If you want this guy in your neighborhood, then never mind."

That's when he gave me the great advice to wait until tonight and see if the guys who took the original report would come back since they started the file. That almost sounds reasonable until you consider the fact that evidence that might be here now is likely going to be gone by tonight.

I've told this story to three cops in Marietta, Georgia and so far, not one of them has seen fit to treat me like a victim. I asked the last one to at least consider me a witness. But, for one reason or another, not one of the three has seen fit to take me seriously. BUT...every single one of them has defended the actions of the other cops as though instinct compelled them to do so. It's nice to know that our cops are a tight-knit group. But what good is that if all they do when you report a crime is explain the asshole actions of other cops?

This is almost getting funny. I would think that within a few days I'll see the humor in it all. But, for right now, the entire right side of my chest hurts when I inhale. My dog is seemingly the only male in Marietta who consistently acts more like a gentleman than all of the other testosterone induced shitheads combined.

My friend may have broken the law, I don't know, I wasn't there. But it's interesting how the cops showed up only after I posted the last post. I have a feeling that the cops in this town aren't going to be done until they've arrested anyone who is in this house for one thing or another. Of course, in the meantime, there's someone who DOES know what happened to me Sunday morning and not one cop has asked him what that could be. That is apparently because, "If two people are drinking, we could arrest either one of you for drunk in public." I understand that. What I don't understand is why drunk in public is a concern but drunk while driving a car is NOT. After that idiot got away with DUI, I shouldn't have expected the cops to be worried about me. But, I'd rather not get arrested for being the victim of a crime that I don't fully understand and I seriously see that as an option.

I finally figured out...

...why I found Hippie Dude so compelling. It was apparently my knack for falling for violent men. I haven't been around one of those since my divorce which means that I've been free from any man induced injuries for close to 5 years. That explains why I didn't see this one coming...it just never occurred to me that this was an option. I weigh about a hundred pounds and Hippie Dude weighs well over two hundred pounds so violence is about the last thing that I would see coming. I'm an idiot.

Last night I was over at Hippie Dude's place watching a movie and having a good time. The last thing I remember is the movie ending. The next thing I remember is pouring a drink on his car seat out of anger. I don't know what I was angry at and up until a few minutes ago, I didn't think much of the fact that I didn't remember anything because the next thing that happened was so painful that I dealt with that issue first.

I was yanked out of his car by the arm and I fell on the street, injuring my right shoulder. I was still a bit fuzzy at that time so I can't explain all of the bruises and cuts but luckily, a passerby called the police. I remember thinking that I would be safe once the police got there. When the police officer approached me, I started to show him my injuries but he immediately said, "Don't even bother or I'll arrest you for being drunk in public." I was baffled by his attitude but things were still a bit hazy so I just shut up and let him drive me home.

By the time I got home I was coming around pretty well and I was angry at the bruises all over me so I called 911 and asked for a different cop. Four squad cars pulled up...one of them the cop who refused to help me earlier. I was sitting on my back steps with a bloody towel when a cop who said that he was the other cop's supervisor was trying to explain why an officer would behave the way the first cop had behaved. I understood what he was saying, he didn't have to say it over and over again. It would have been nice if he was more concerned with me than he was with defending the nit wit who refused me help, but at least he didn't threaten to arrest me.

Of course the cops asked me why the guy was violent and I told them...I don't remember. While the supervisor cop was defending the nit wit cop, I overheard the nit wit cop telling another officer that the guy who assaulted me said that this all happened after we had sex. I just assumed that the guy was lying and went back to talking to the second cop.

I was sitting on the step bloody, bruised and not remembering a thing that had happened and all the cops could do was defend their buddy and discuss whether or not I had sex.

I went into my room and fell asleep. Then, when I woke up this morning, I started noticing new bruises. I also started trying to put together what happened last night. When I remembered the guy mentioning that I had sex, I dismissed it as a lie that the bum told the cops. Then, I went to brush my hair and I realized that the back of my head was totally messed up like I had been laid. That's when I began to realize how bad last night really was.

By the time the second group of cops got there, I doubt that anyone could say that I was drunk (not that it should have mattered) but I did have a few glasses of wine during the movie so I was more concerned with not being arrested than I was with my injuries and what could have possibly happened. But basically, I can't remember anything from when the movie ended until I spilled the lemonade on the car seat. I don't know why I did that and now I'd really, really like to know. The police were only concerned with what I might have done to earn the assault so they didn't even try to ask any questions about the assault itself. I told them that I didn't remember anything and they must have assumed it was because I had been drinking. If that were the case, I wouldn't have remembered everything after the incident so well.

Even the EMT's that came acted as though I was a pain in the ass so I actually felt guilty about requesting a ride to the emergency room so I declined the offer. The more today goes along, the more it's all starting to come together.

I have no clue why I didn't remember a huge chunk of last night and I'm not terribly sure how the bruises got all over me although I do remember being dragged out of the car and bouncing off the pavement. I also remember trying to get help from the police and being threatened with arrest. I even remember the supervisor explaining why a cop should ignore a bruised and bleeding woman because she may have had sex. I don't remember having sex, I just don't know if I did or not. I don't remember how the bruises got on my throat and I'm not sure how my finger was sliced open. But, I do remember being threatened by the police after I called them to help me. And, I certainly remember all the reasons why a cop has no responsibility to a woman who "asked" to be assaulted.

Perhaps I'm forgetting a lot more, but the cop who said that we were both drinking didn't seem to mind that the man was driving, just that I was "drunk in public". I wouldn't have been in public if I hadn't been dragged out of a car and tossed onto the pavement. But, I guess if you have a woman who may or may not have had sex to arrest, why bother with a drunk driver?


Marietta City Police Department

Officer Braxton

Sgt. Bryd

770-794-5300

Man...

...this has been an interesting week. I had my first argument with a guy since my divorce and I actually cried over it! I hadn't thought about it...but I haven't cried in years. I know that because if I had remembered what crying did to my face, I never would have done it. My eyes were all swollen and puffy for a day and a half and I was miserable and nervous feeling. I don't know what that's all about.

Ordinarily, if a guy annoyed me I would have laughed in his face and skipped away. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me that I actually bothered arguing with Hippie Dude but I sure as hell did...for an entire day! I don't understand this one little bit.

Hippie Dude got mad at me for something that I perceived as stupid but it was obviously important to him. We argued back and forth over email while he was at work. I couldn't count the times that I read one of his emails and thought to myself, "FUCK THIS!" But each time, I would eventually rejoin the argument and at one point a salty substance began to come out of my eyes.

My head was telling me to block his emails and go on to another activity but something inside of me wouldn't let me do that. As I said, I haven't bothered bickering with anyone since my idiot husband left. I can't imagine why I bothered...I didn't understand it then and I sure as hell don't understand it now. Eventually we stopped arguing and he came over the next day with a couple of Philly Cheese Steaks. We had a nice evening watching TV and when he left, he said that we should get together Saturday night...which we will be doing this evening.

Then, I sat around wondering why on earth I would bother seeing a guy who made me cry. But, I totally was over the argument so now I'm just looking forward to seeing him tonight. Someone needs to explain this to me because I'm totally baffled as to why I would not only allow someone to make me cry...but then look forward to seeing him again.

Over the past 5 years, I've had men get annoyed with me and I've gotten annoyed with them but that was only an excuse to get the heck out of Dodge and find another man who hadn't yet irritated me. As I said, this one was angry over something that I thought was stupid but after the entire thing was over with, I actually apologized! It's all very vexing.

I have no clue what's going on in my head but to look forward to seeing a man who annoyed me is relatively new to me. As I said, when a man gets mad at me for something that I think is stupid, I usually take that as a reason to find another one. But, I couldn't help myself, I just kept on trying to fix the situation. Then, at one point I figured out that if he was going to bother hanging around long enough to keep fighting, I should probably do the same. That goes against every single instinct to run that I usually have.

And the salty crap coming out of my eyes! What on earth was that all about? I've gone for YEARS without crying like that. Why would I release that shit from my eyes over a guy that I've only know for a short time? I SO don't get it.

It blew me away that anyone would even get annoyed with a person that they've only know for a short time. I was so baffled that I wanted to laugh and tell him that he should sit and spin but I couldn't do it. I was actually concerned that his feelings had been hurt even though I didn't really understand why. I spent a day and a half bickering with him over something that I thought was stupid and then, when he came over the next day with those cheese steaks, I was just happy to see him and I actually cuddled with the same person who had caused the salty crap to flow down my face just the day before.

This is SO not me. I must analyse this a bit more and I think I need your help. What would cause this exasperating situation? Why would a person go back for more? What's going on here? I spent a day sick to my stomach and out of control of the situation (which I despise) and then, instead of saying, "Next!"...I looked forward to seeing him again.

I'm quite confused...why would an adult woman allow this to happen?

Good morning!

I've been trying to get the swelling in my knee to go down and it seems to be working but I'm getting pretty sick of doing nothing so here I am!

That guy who I was talking about is still around but it's occurring to me that it's stupid to even allow myself to have feelings for someone else. I've totally forgotten how to do this and I'm not even sure that I want to. It's been years and years since I've done this crap and I just don't have the energy for it. So, I'm doing what I do best, I'm shutting down any part of me that might be vulnerable.

I rented one of my extra bedrooms out to a very young couple who immediately bought a car and within a week, the chick drove the car up a tree. She's OK but the car's dead. I was thinking, "Oh well, it's a good thing they had insurance." but I was wrong. I don't know how they did it but somehow they drove off the lot without it so they're relatively screwed. I feel so badly for them, especially the guy because he tries so hard to do the right thing and it doesn't seem to get him anywhere. I can certainly relate to that.

The other day he walked in after work and I found out he had to walk home...at least 5 miles. I felt so badly for him. Then this morning I was minding my own business and taking a leak when I saw the guy's head peek into my room. That was annoying. He was trying to get my attention, which he did, because he needed a ride to the bus stop. I could tell he was afraid to ask me for a ride because I can be a bitch. I felt even worse then so of course I took him to the bus stop. He looked so sad in his little quickie lube cap and shirt that I couldn't say no. While we were driving to the bus stop I told him that he shouldn't be afraid to ask me for a ride to work and that I know I can be intimidating but I get over it quickly.

It's interesting to watch a young couple relate to each other. I'm fascinated by the way she whips him and the way that he just maintains his composure so well. He does all the work in that relationship...laundry, dishes and anything else that needs to be done. I asked her to do the dishes once and she did such a crappy job that I wouldn't ever want her to do them again. When my kids did crap like that I would take the dishes, put them back in the sink and tell them to do it over again. I can't do it to her but she could use some serious Meg-discipline. These kids are way younger than my own so I have to keep telling myself that.

OK, I'll be back soon, I have to jump in the shower. Well, actually, I think I'll carefully step into it.

:)

Hi ya'll!!!

I spent the weekend lying on my couch, trying to get the swelling in my knee to go down. Part of the time I was listening to the TV but most of the time I was thinking about my latest flame. I was thinking how nice he was and how much I enjoy kissing him. Then I was trying to remember the last time I felt like this about a guy and I realized it has been a long, long time. I was thinking about how I never expected to feel like this again in my life and how it was such a nice surprise. Then I realized what a jack ass I am.

What kind of moron expects a guy to allow this type of happiness to go on for any length of time? DUH! It isn't allowed and I, of all people, should know that.

When I worked at a drug and alcohol treatment center, I learned about something called "stinking thinking". That's what drunks are guilty of. They keep on repeating the same behavior over and over again expecting something different to happen. But, like a drunk ends up in jail after a drinking binge, I end up hurt after a "guy" binge. I should know better and now I feel like I deserve 40 lashes with a wet noodle. If I had the energy to boil a noodle, I would...but I don't.

Can you believe that I almost fell for that crap? He really is a nice guy and he really is as sexy as hell but I can't assume that a nice and sexy guy will stick around. It'd be different if he were in a wheelchair, it's harder to roll away than it is to walk away. But, alas, he's a strapping, healthy man and he could probably outrun me if I started chasing him.

I don't know which is more shocking...that I still CAN feel like this about someone or that I'm insane enough to go ahead and DO it. Thank GOD I came to my senses. This could have been bad.

Oh well, it's nice to know that I can still feel like that. Not that is does me any good, why the hell would I want to roll those particular dice?

Good morning!

I finally rented the carpet shampooer thingie and shampooed most of my carpet. Then, I made a mistake by telling a guy that I was busy "sucking carpet" all day. I seem to have an odd way of phrasing things and it can get me in trouble often. But that's OK, I'm used to being in trouble. I didn't finish last night because:

1. I couldn't find a 3 pronged adaptor for my room

and

2. I put my back out lifting a bag of Kibbles and Bits to put them in the shopping cart.

Then, I had to get the dumb dog food out of the cart, into the car and then into my house. By the time I was done with that I had to go back to the store for motrin. It didn't help at all. Anyway, this morning I have to shampoo my bedroom carpet before I take the carpet sucker back to the store. The rest of the house is done and I'm pleased about that, especially since the belt on my vacuum cleaner was chewed up. See? This is why I need a man. I have a honey-do list longer than my arm but I don't seem to have a honey.

I AM working on one, by the way. He's a doll and I haven't enjoyed a guy as much as I enjoy him in years. We've only been out once but he we got along so well that I felt quite comfortable with him and that's something that I haven't experienced in so long I don't remember the last time that I did.

It's odd, with other guys I figured that feeling would come with time but I never wanted any of them around long enough to feel that way. With this one I felt like that the very first date. I sure hope he doesn't screw me royally although the odds are pretty good that he will. That's OK, I'm still going to hang out with him because he lives right around the corner and there are just too many reasons to keep seeing him. Oh, and he lives in a condo so he doesn't have his own yard and men without their own yards have more time to mow mine.

Well, I have to suck carpet a bit more and go get the tags (that what Southerners call license plates.). I'll be back soon but with any luck at all, I'll see my new guy this evening. Oh, he has to have a name so let's call him Hippy-Dude.

:)

It's hard to explain how I feel about the sad events that occurred yesterday at the Holocaust museum in DC but I'm sure you understand when I say that some news stories just seem to affect me more than others. Stephen Johns was shot as he stood guard at work in Washington DC. It appears as though one of the oldest white supremacists in the world decided to take a gun to the museum and although I don't know what he had in mind...by the time he was finished, Johns was dead. The man who "greeted us every day with a wonderful smile" won't be there anymore and some nut who lived for 88 years is to blame.

You would expect that by the time a person got to be 88 years old he would have mellowed somewhat. I'm nowhere near that age and I've mellowed considerably over the years. Other than my rotten SOB of an ex husband, I can't think of anyone upon whom I would waste such negativity. But apparently, there are still people around who, by some strange defect of character, has enough hate for mankind that he has chosen to arbitrarily hate a fellow man simply for the color of his skin.

As if the hate itself wasn't bad enough, this old man chose to take a young man away from his family, causing unimaginable pain to people he had never met. How is that possible? How can one lone nut have the power to steal so much from so many?

The morning smile that greeted so many won't be there anymore and there's really not a damn thing that can be done to change that. So, what does a reasoned person take away from this? A tragedy of this magnitude cannot be a waste because that would make John's life a waste. All I can think of is this...the next time you see a familiar smile that makes you smile back, take a moment to appreciate it.

Damn...

...sometimes I wish I could tell you guys the crazy things that happen to me but if I did, I'd have to tell you the crazy things that I do and I'm not sure that would be a very good idea. Oh, what the hell, I'll tell you, but only because it's funny and it'll never happen again. This crap would only happen to me.

After that guy paid my phone bill for a lunch date, I put an ad online that said I was looking for an "generous" man. I don't know what I was thinking but I do know what I was drinking. I actually got a response from a guy who wanted to come visit me. He wanted to chat first so I called the number he gave me. I asked him what he was doing and he said that he was working. I asked him what he did for a living and he said, "I'm a cop."

See? That's too fricking good to keep to myself. I even THINK about acting like a hooker and I attract a cop. I can't even be a good hooker now because I'm sure that every cop in Georgia is after my ass and I'm freaked. Crap.

Oh well, I guess I'll just be a good girl and act like a lady. Obviously, I don't have the luck to be a successful hooker. How many of them start off their career by propositioning a cop? That's the kind of luck I have.

Other than that I'm fine. I've been rather nervous lately but I feel better now that I'm not picking up cops anymore.

Can you believe that shit? I'm so damned annoyed with myself that I don't know what to do first. Ain't that a bitch?

I'm starting to get hungry and that rarely happens so I should go eat something while I feel like doing so. I sure would enjoy some Chinese food but I can't afford it since my career as a hooker went down the toilet.

Good morning!

I did something to my back yesterday and it won't stop hurting. I have the hiccups and it hurts everytime I hiccup. I just realized that I don't really have anything to say. Ain't that a bitch? I'll be back when I do.

I've had girlfriends...

...who had no visible means of support yet somehow they got their bills paid and never seemed to worry about the next month. I never knew how they did it and I certainly didn't ask. But if I just figured something out that I could have been doing for 30 years, I'm going to be rather annoyed that I bothered working for so long.

A guy who's been asking me out wanted me to come meet him for lunch today and I told him that I couldn't make any plans until I figured out how to pay my phone bill because I didn't want it to get turned off. I wasn't hinting at all, that never would have occurred to me. But the guy responded, "Hell, I'll pay your phone bill, just have lunch with me!"

Are you kidding me?

Has this been an option all along? Why didn't anyone tell me about that? I knew about the hooker option and I dismissed that idea long ago but I didn't know that men would give you cash simply to have lunch with them. How long has this been going on and why hasn't anyone mentioned it to me? I think I'm owed quite a bit in back pay.

When my kids were little I wouldn't be able to go out because I didn't want to have to pay a babysitter to go on a date so my dates would pay the sitters for me. That's as far as I ever pushed the "How much do you want to go out with me tonight?" envelope. I never thought about getting the utilities paid too. So, maybe it was my fault, I never even asked a guy to pay my bills so perhaps it's been going on and I simply didn't know any better.

Of course I have to wonder, does that make me a professional lunch date? If I kiss the guy, have I crossed a line? Or is this just business as usual? I'm not sure how to take this unprecedented turn of events.

Oh well. It sure makes you think about the man/woman relationship, doesn't it? Is it OK for me to let a guy pay my phone bill for me if he wants to? Do you only accept cash from men you know really well or can you let a guy butter you up as he tries to get in your pants? I'll figure this crap out sooner or later.

When I need my lawn mowed I put an ad online and get it mowed. It's amazing how many guys will just come to your house and do work. I still don't understand that but it works for me. The last guy to mow the lawn simply came over, mowed my lawn, shook my hand and left. How sweet was that?

OK...I need some other things too...who do I ask about them? I don't want to abuse the phone bill dude so he's gonna get lunch and a polite handshake. I suppose I should just be happy about that but now I'm worrying about the electric bill. That probably won't be as easy as the phone bill but I guess that means I just have to be a bit more thoughtful of whom I ask.

I have someone in mind but I can't just blurt out names. You know, if this works, the entire economic system is in for some major overhualing. Damn, I wish I thought of this when I was 24.

Damn it...

...it's almost 3 and I'm still here. Oh well, someone should be having some fun somewhere sometime. I'll be ready.

I want to go out and play and I want to do it now. So, hurry up player people, come and get me. When I was a kid all I had to do was knock on doors to find playmates. I'd like to do that now but I don't know where the boat/airplace/race car people live. Ya'll just have to make your selves known.

I could do whatever you needed me to do. I could play with kids, cook, bartend or just be sweet. Whatever. You could sort of lease me. If you have some fun toys, I'm ready to share them with you. Don't get freaky, I don't mean sex toys. I wouldn't rule them out off hand but it's not implied in the person lease.

Oh, I could even yell at others for you. I'm good at that. I could dump your current albatross and see to it that they never, ever come back. I'm as good at hostessing as I am at kicking people out. And I enjoy them both equally.

Somebody must need a person, I'm one. And I'm trustworthy. I wouldn't steal anything from you unless you stole something from me first...I'm very fair.

I'm sort of in a hurry so if you could use a person, let me know. I'd like to take care of this today if possible.

I could call one of my regulars but I'm sick of doing the same things over and over again. I would have gotten my own toys but ever since I've moved to Gogia, I've had gall bladder surgery, brain surgery, female surgery, parathyroid cancer with surgery, one brain hemorrhage, one grand mal seizure, a bad back and constant falls due to multiple sclerosis. Not to mention my husband's affair while I had cancer. I'm afraid to stand up for fear of falling down. That's why I want to have some fun. If I'm still here after all that, there must be a reason.

Aren't you curious as to why this crap is happening to me? I'm not a Jack the Ripper or Squeaky Fromme...I'm just a nice lady. And one day soon I'm sure I'll figure out why this shit keeps happening. I've been worrying about this stuff so much that I forgot about enjoying myself. That's a bad thing. So, now I'm going to stop worrying and see if that doesn't change things. Worrying isn't getting me anywhere.

So, I'm back to needing someone to play with. C'mon, someone out there has to have room for another fun buddy. I may or may not collapse again soon but if I do, I'd rather be rock-climbing than sitting at my desk.

I'm waiting!

Pretty please?

I'm bored and now I want to have fun...

...because I know what those people are all doing on the lake. They can't be the only people having fun so I have to go find some more of them. If anybody is having a bunch of fun, let me know and I'll help.

I'd really like to do something crazy so if you have a parachute and a plane, let me know and I'll jump out of it with you. I can't think of much that I'd be too afraid to do because I feel like I died at least twice already and I keep coming back. I don't know why but I do know that I have a couple freebies. So, even if my chute streamered and I landed in a corn field face first, I'm still up at least one.

Ooh, maybe a race car? Does anyone out there have one of them? I'll drive it with the petal to the metal and a big smile on my face.

To other ordinary people...did you realize all the fun these people are having? I get excited when I go to Home Depot and there are people sailing around the world on beautiful boats. It's not fair.

I might listen to Obama if he found a way to socialize having fun. I'd like to be the Secretary of Weekends. But since he's too busy with health care, I'll just sit here and see what I can do from a place I can almost afford to go...my dining room.

I suppose that most of you don't have a boat or you wouldn't be reading this right now. But sooner or later, someone with a boat should read this and come and get me. You know, it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you were in Europe so don't feel bad if you aren't near Atlanta.

I wonder what other fun stuff people are doing out there? I've decided that I want to be rich and play with very expensive toys. I just haven't figured out exactly how to do that yet. I will, don't worry. In the meantime I'll be happy to play with other people's toys. Then, when I get my own, I'll pay it forward and take some other poor schmuck out to have some wild and crazy fun. I promise...just hurry up and get me because I really need to have some fun right now. Don't think about it too much, just come and get me.

I can be a lot of fun to have around, especially if you make exotic rum drinks. I read that some "cowboy" won the lottery big time but it didn't say whether or not he was married. I could handle a cowboy. Not a married one because the kind of women who marry cowboys are like Roller Derby Queens and they frighten me...but just a regular old single cowboy dude...I'd play with him for a while.

As I learned earlier in life, cowboys are just rednecks from the north and as much fun as a redneck can be, after you sober up there's not much to discuss. They aren't quiet and mysterious, they're just stupid and can't think of a damn thing to say. But...disposable income can make the reddest necked cowboy tolerable. That and a lot of beer.

A lot of beer is what made me marry a moron. My bad. If you don't want to drink for the rest of your life, you shouldn't marry someone who is most attractive to you when you're drunk. I'll NEVER do that again.

OK...it's two minutes to noon so I should get this post out there so that the fun people can find it and let me know where they are.

:)

Ouch.

That's the part that hurts the most. I don't usually turn my back on the sun and I won't do it again anytime soon. It could have been a lot worse because I brought skimpier clothes to change into on the boat but when I got there I realized that I hadn't shaved my legs. That meant my jeans had to stay on and therefore my legs were spared the wrath of the sun.

Of course my legs are whiter than Michael Jackson so when they burn they burn pretty well. After I got out of the sun yesterday I could feel my skin continuing to cook. It was not at all fun.

If I could only shoot...

...one person on this planet, I think most of you know at whom I would aim my pistol. I must admit that I blew my shot at that SOB a while back. I'd have a better chance at getting out of jail sooner if I shot him in the head back when all of this anger was new. Somehow it almost seems understandable if you shoot your husband when you find him in bed with another woman but if you refrain from making any knee-jerk reactions, think about it for a few years and plan it well...all of a sudden you're a psychopath. That makes no sense.

It's going on 5 years since that lying sack-o-shit left and I'm still as annoyed as I ever was. Call me bitter, I really don't care. I tried being not bitter and that didn't help so I'll just go with what feels natural and being annoyed at my ex feels right. It just feels right.

After all, I am angry. Why sugar coat it and say things I don't mean? I could say, "I hope he finds happiness because my love for him is that unselfish." But it would be a lie. The truth is that occasionally I wish hideous, unpleasant and life-changing events upon his ass. I'm sad that I don't get to watch him suffer but it helps just to know that sooner or later, the bastard will feel dreadful pain and loss.

When I tell people about this blog, I try to emphasize how little I ever discuss my ex because "I'm so over it all." But it's bullshit. I'm still pissed and the only thing that keeps me quiet is a ridiculous feeling that it's the gentile thing to do. After this long, I should "Get over it!" And I realize that a lot of people are probably saying that as they read this. I think there's something that I need to explain to those kind folk. Go fuck yourself.

It is what it is.

And actually, I don't mind at all because the anger is SO much easier than the bad feelings. If I have to chose between feeling rotten and acrimony, acrimony wins every time. You know, I think it's healthier, don't you? It sort of gives you an energy. Anger just sounds more energetic than feeling rotten. I wonder what I'm going to do with all of my angry energy now that I've tapped into it?

You know what I'm missing? Other people. I need other people to help me with energy expenditure or else it's just walking alone. I saw a bunch of other people on the lake yesterday but they were on their own boats.

It was really lovely out there. We dropped anchor in a cove and I sizzled and burned all day. I don't know what I was thinking but I'm paying for it today. I'm the whitest white woman on the planet and I have no business out on a lake without a parasol. But there I sat, singing Sloop John B all day and walking all over the boat like I had been walking on boats for my whole life. I figured the worst that could happen was that I could fall in and that's not such a bad thing. So, I wandered around the boat holding onto the boom and the ropes that hold the sails up. It was fun.

I saw a bunch of houseboats out there that had to be very expensive. There's a lot of people who have enough spare cash to play on great boats on weekends. I don't seem to meet many of those but if one of you people with a bazillion bucks in disposable cash would be so kind, dispose of some of it my way, would you? I'll put it to really good use. Oh! Maybe we could go on Good Morning America! Or Oprah! I wouldn't want to walk onto Dr. Phil's set. That man is a barracuda.

You know what I need today? A refrigerator. Yep, if a rich person is out there with their credit cards, get in touch with me and you can order one from Home Depot. It doesn't have to be fancy, I just like the ability to have ice on demand. This is like being in Europe...my water is "cold" but it isn't ice cold. So rich people, have a little pity on a thirsty water drinker and get me a new fridge. It'll make you feel good...I promise.

OK then, I have to run along now and worry about things so I'll be on my way. Don't forget, a refrigerator with an ice maker thing.

Thanks.

You know...

...I tried to get out of the house and have a change of scenery last night and I did it the way I usually do it. I found a man to take me out. He seemed nice enough but he was Italian. I tried to let that slide and give him a chance anyway. I don't know why I do that.

He had to leave early because of whatever he does at night. He implied that he was a Mafioso type and that he had "business" to take care of. Then, as I was holding back my laughter, he accidentally said, "My wife..." when he meant to say "My mother..." The word wife came out pretty easily for him so I assume his business was related to his family...but not the one he was referring to.

Why are people such rotten liars? He would have been better off just saying, "I wish I could stay out tonight but I can't." He didn't have to make up a huge crock of shit to go with his excuse. I was nice enough to act like I was buying his crap but if he were really smart he would have realized how ridiculous he sounded. Oh well, his last name does end in a vowel.

Anyway, that was fun. So, today I'm going to try it again. I'm going to Lake Lanier and I'll be on a sailboat. My camera is messed up but if this dude has one I'll get some pictures for you. He's supposed to be here in one hour and I'm sitting here in front of my computer with my pajamas on and mascara under my eyes. How much primping do you need to do to go on a boat? I wouldn't think you had to do much at all. See...that's my problem...I don't primp enough. I did take my Prozac but that just stops the suicidal thoughts...it doesn't make me happy. I'll probably have to work on that one myself. Now I have 55 minutes left to try again.

Damn it. I'm going to go get ready to sail away. If I don't come back, you know that I was kidnapped. I don't plan any accidental injuries today.

OK...

...I think I'm going to take me hostage and hold me for ransom. OK then, someone better give me some cash or the bitch gets it.

OK...let's see how much I'm worth to anyone!

:):):)

I think I need my prozac...

...and I need it now. I would get it right this minute but the pharmacy isn't open yet. I've called that crap in and now I'm just waiting for the store to open.

Luckily I realize that suicidal thoughts are a symptom of something that needs fixing. But if I sat here feeling like this for any length of time, I can easily see swallowing one pill every 5 minutes until I couldn't feel anymore loneliness. But, worry not, I won't do that. And I'm so annoyed about that because I can think of a BUNCH of rational reasons why suicide makes sense. But, bottom line, I'm not that stupid, I KNOW I need that damn prozac. I'll go get it later and maybe I'll be more fun. For now, this is what you get.

You know what I find odd? I actually felt like doing myself in without making life a bit miserable for my ex. How absent-minded is that? There has to be some way to do accomplish both of those goals. Even if I just offed myself on his doorstep...I'd have to be somewhat of a pest. I'll be damned if I'm going gently into that good night.

Often I hear from people who say they're going through the same thing that I'm going through so I have to assume that there are some people out there who have suicidal thoughts but wouldn't ever consider discussing them. I have to say something to those people...so send this to any suicidal people you know:

Did you guys read the headlines regarding David Carradine? It would appear that at best he died in the middle of some kinky masturbatory ritual involving tying a penis to a throat and at worst he choked himself on purpose. I guess the only way to know for sure is to check for "love jam". If he left a bit of a mess next to himself, he probably went out with a smile on his face. If not, he was miserable and couldn't find a gun. I don't picture Carradine as someone who would go into a suicidal venture unprepared.

I don't think anyone purposely kills them self while nude. I wouldn't do that...EVER! If you find me nude with my wrists slit, look for a murderer because I might slit my wrists, but I would never do it nude.

Actually, I doubt that I would slit my wrists anyway. That seems rather harsh and painful. Of course there's a hideous mess to be cleaned up afterward and who should do that? Once again, if I WERE to slit my wrists, I'd do it on my ex's front porch. Let HIM clean my congealed blood off the steps. I'll purposely bleed all over before I pass out.

Gun shots are usually efficient but once again, what a MESS! I picture Samuel L. Jackson on brain detail and that's not any better than wiping up blood. Once again, if I were to do it, on the porch of my ex.

Pills seem easy enough but they can be sort of iffy. Not only can you wake up, you can wake up in a locked, empty room with someone peeking in the door window every 15 minutes. Not this bitch. I really, really don't like having my extremities restrained.

Let's see...what else is there? Hanging is no good because I don't want to be out in the open like that. Especially if I lose all muscle control and make a mess in my pants. (IMPORTANT SUICIDE HINT-give yourself an enema and pee right before you kill yourself. It's the polite thing to do.)

What we need is a fun suicide method. Thelma and Louise did it right. Yep...I'd like to drive off of a cliff. Of course, that's something best done with a friend. It just sounds like more fun if you're raising your hands up shouting, "YEEEEEHAAA!!!" on the way down...a friend makes it more fun, don't you think?

Yep That's it. I'm driving off a cliff and I'm doing it with someone else. Now all I have to do is find another suicidal old lady. Oh, and I need to pick up my prozac.


Résumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Dorothy Parker

Perfectly good grandmother...

...available for a short time only. Young enough to enjoy having fun and old enough to know when it's time to go to bed. Raised around kids and perfectly safe to have around.

She doesn't smell bad but she can get a bit selfish with the remote control. Cleans up after self and others by habit but can easily be distracted by short people having fun. She has grandchildren of her own but they're out of town so she is usually just playing alone. No grandmother should ever play alone when so many grandchildren are out there needing a grandmother who appreciates coloring and Happy Meal toys.

My crayons used to be all pretty and unbroken but since grandchildren have come along, all of them are broken and worn down but the color is as bright as it ever was. I enjoy night skies full of stars, lakes and fishing...but I can't bait my own hook.

Trained at grandmotherhood by the famous grandmother Ruth Dillon of Roanoke, Virginia. Guaranteed for life.

LOLOL...

...it just occurred to me that I should push my luck and take the few bucks I have and go play Bingo. My only chance of paying any bills is if I win the big prize at the end. The odds suck but they're better than none at all.

:)

I'm dreadfully frightened...

...and I don't know what to do. That's why I haven't been here lately. My daughter wants me to stay alive so I'm trying to do that, but I don't really enjoy it. I wake up every single morning and think, "Crap...I'm still here." I get scared again and I hate that feeling. The daylight just reminds me that I should be doing something useful instead of worrying but I haven't a clue what to do.

I couldn't feel anymore alone than I feel right now. I need a reason to keep going and I can't come up with any except for my kids. They're busy living their own life and I don't see anything for me to do except wait for them to need me for something. They rarely do.

I don't know when I went from being a valuable person to being one that really has little worth but I do feel like I'm a drain on the natural resources of the planet. I am so behind in my bills that I don't know how I'll ever get caught up and I don't have a clue where to start or who to ask for help.

When I was a kid and my father would tell me to clean up the house I would look at the mess and think, "How will I ever get this cleaned up?" My father would say, "Pick up one thing and put it where it belongs and then come back and do it again." I've been trying to fix my life that same way but nothing seems to work for me. If I could get caught up one time, I feel as though I could handle it but I've gotten into such a deep hole that I don't know what to pick up first and every time I bend over to pick something up I trip and drop two more things.

I don't remember the last time I bought myself food. I have to be sure that the animals have something to eat so I do that. It's easy for me to do that because when I'm as scared as I am, I can't eat anyway. Eating is now just another chore that I can't quite muster.

It would be much easier if I knew that there was someone who needed me but I can't think of a soul who would know if I disappeared. That makes it very easy to consider checking out but I can't do that to my kids. I've always thought that suicide was the coward's way out but now I'm sorry that I was so hard on people who were too tired to go on trying to think of a reason to survive another day. It's bad enough to be without positive things in life but when the balance tips and you become a drain on society, how does a responsible person justify their own continued existence?

How do people in nursing homes deal with that life? I see how it would be very easy to slip into confusion...living in another time is ever so much nicer than living in the present day. The past was secure to me and I want to go back. All of my friends are there as was my mother and the other family members that I loved to spend time with. Now my friends are all in different states and my family has mostly died out so that all I have left is my children. Even my own husband is gone and I'm still here by myself. I don't even get any email lately.

All I need is a reason to go on after I type this sentence.

I'll find one, I always do.

Oh, I remember...my dog. Damn, that little guy is a life-saver in so many ways.

Yesterday I sat around feeling weird.

It took me a couple of days to get back to normal after Saturday. I don't know if I'm there yet, I thought I was fine before. I suppose I can clean the house. Oh, and I could post the crap I wrote yesterday:

Hola!!!

Today I was nursing a sore body so I was a bit rare but I'm still here. Apparently, seizures are painful for a few days. I can guess why but I had no idea. I don't like seizures. I don't think I want to have any more of them.

I didn't tell you guys that Payton was my hero the other day. He wouldn't leave my side but he had to make noise so he did...and he did it without leaving my side. I had some people in the house but they were in another room with the door shut so Payton stood next to me and took my desk chair in his mouth and banged it against the kitchen table until the other people in the house heard him and came to investigate. What a good dog he is. Now that I know he's a live saving type of dog, I feel much, much better about spending so much time alone.

I don't know what he would have done if those people weren't in the house but I'm sure that he would have figured something out. I just turned around and looked down...he's right next to me. What a sweetie. Oh, here he is:



It's nice to know for sure that your dog is a life-saving type dog. I hope he never ever has to prove it again but this once, I know that my dog is smart enough to bang a chair against the table until someone comes to see what's going on.

There are so many reasons why that dog is my buddy and this is just one more. I've trained him to come to me when I've fallen and let me put my arms around his shoulders and pull so that I can get up. He knows that I'm a fragile little thing.

That's the first time that I've ever been confused. I remember it too. I don't remember the beginning but I do remember enough of it. It was scary to be confused and now that I know what it's like, I can tell you that I am gonna be one nasty old lady. Especially if I'm confused.

The other day when I was confused, I was also scared and I was about ready to hit someone when the people that I knew came into view. For some reason, even though I didn't know who they were, just the fact that they looked familiar made me feel better. I was about ready to hit one of the chicks who had her face in my face. I'm SOOOOO glad I didn't because I don't think I'd be here now if I had. I'd probably be in a locked facility somewhere with an order for restraints if necessary.

I prefer my own place.

But...I do know what it's like to be confused now and it's nowhere near as cool as I thought it'd be. I thought that if you were confused you wouldn't know who you were and your brain would be all messed up. Well, maybe my brain was messed up but I I knew who I was. I just couldn't place me.

It was bizarre, like being me...but being stupid. I felt like myself, but I didn't know who I was. I never gave it any thought because I was too busy trying to figure out who the people in my face were. For a moment, I did consider smacking one of them...it could've gone either way. I'm just glad that I didn't. But being confused is an odd feeling and from now on I shall have more patience with confused people.

It has to suck to be old, confused and with no hope of remembering anyone or anything, anytime soon. Oh yeah...I would've hit someone soon if I didn't come back around when I did.