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Hi. I'm trying to think of another description to put here. Any ideas? I'll try again at 420.

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Can you guess who this is?






I was going to simply post the cheese-cake picture but I figured you would need a close up of her face to have a decent chance to figure out who this hot chick is. I would be amazed if anyone can figure out the name of this lovely lady.

I'll give you a few hints in case you need them...but I'll post them one at a time. Before I go to bed tonight, I'll post her name but until then, I'll post hints about once every half hour. Here is the first hint:

1. She played a main character on one of the most successful TV shows of all time.

And...

2. She won an Emmy for portraying that character.

3. Shockingly, she was actually a bitch to work with.

4. Her character put up some hideous pickles.

5. She drove her beloved classic 1966 Daytona two-door Sports Sedan until the end of her life.

6. She never married, not as her Emmy award winning character nor as herself in real life.

7. She starred opposite Henry Fonda on Broadway.

8. She began her career in vaudeville.

9. One of her character's closest friends was named Clara.

10. Her character cared for her widowed nephew and his son.

You know her better as Aunt Bee, Sheriff Andy Taylor's aunt. You probably remember her when she looked something like this:


7 Comments:

Blogger q1605 said...

The Vlasic pickle stork!

January 24, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

GREAT guess! But no, it's not the Vlasic pickle stork. Compare the legs...the stork has much thinner legs.

January 24, 2013  
Blogger q1605 said...

Aunt bee a little coitus wouldn't hoitus

January 25, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

I know...right?!

January 26, 2013  
Anonymous Nevada divorce attorney said...

I never would have guessed and I have watched Aunt Bee a lot. I feel I know her.

February 11, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

I don't mean to be redundant but...I know, right?

February 13, 2013  
Anonymous Nevada divorce said...

But you are being redundant and also right. Lol. I love the photos, btw.

February 20, 2013  

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I'm trying!

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Tuesday, January 22, 2013

I had fun this weekend...

...in a "What the heck else am I going to do with my stupid ass?" sort of way. I haven't been to the beach in a good while so I decided to visit one before I head north (after, hopefully, I'll head south for a minute and check out Miami and Key West. I'm not sure but I think it's illegal to come to Florida for any length of time and them leave without seeing Miami OR Key West. If I left without seeing Miami, I'd feel guilty every time I heard Jackie Gleason's named mentioned. I'd toture myself with flashbacks of Miami coming really close and really fast right over the water. If I didn't go to Key West, I'd feel REALLY guilty very time I heard a Jimmy Buffet song and since, for some odd reason, I only hear Jimmey Buffet songs when I'm drinking, that is never a good situation. Alcohol and guilt don't mix well. So, just to be on the safe side, I should take a quick trip to the south quickly before I head north.

At my age, I have to think in terms of seeing places for the last time. When I visited Jersey with my father last spring, I thought about seeing places for the last time. I said good-bye to my grandparents' restaurant and the upstairs which they owned as well. They also had apartments up there to rent out. My dad took me right past the house in which I was conceived. My mother was supposed to be baby-sitting for my cousins that night. Dad's sister thought she could trust them not to have sex. I've never been THAT stupid. Dad and I also visited my sister's grave in Keansburg. That entire trip had me thinking in terms of "last times".

Anyway, back to the beach...I really did enjoy that. I was wearing a tie-died dress...pink with purples and blue, I love it. I have to admit that I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror wearing the dress and I looked fat. Well, maybe not so much fat as much as an "I'm just gonna cover EVERYTHING UP!" sort of attitude. I only notice it when I'm looking in the mirror so I just don't do that. It's absolutely a comfortable dress and I was very comfortable in it. Actually, the only UNcomfortable part of my beach-drobe was my bathing suit. As I lie there on the beach, I thought, "My comfort level would be perfect if I could lose this bathing suit and replace it with some nice white granny panties."

I tried to read a book while I was out there but between the wind and the sun, mother nature wasn't going to share my attention with anything else. It was actually a bit too cold to go in the water. Actually, getting in isn't the problem...getting OUT is. If it isn't at least a tad warm, you might be able to pull it off but this past weekend it got a bit chilly around here so most visitors to the beach were like me, enjoying the beach and relaxing next to the Gulf's gentle surf.

Anyway, it was a relatively quiet weekend and I pretty much enjoyed it. I didn't die but it would have been OK, I wouldn't have died doing something stupid. Oops, I have to go and actually open the door...it's for me and that rarely ever happens.

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Thursday, January 17, 2013

Are You Aware...

...that there is actually a show that consists almost entirely of men moving dirt? That sentence doesn't impart the sheer idiocy of such programming, you actually have to think about it for a bit. The show is called Gold Rush and the men on it are "mining" for gold. Apparently, gold bits are in dirt so a bunch of men are trying to get the gold out of the dirt. And that simply entails moving dirt. The guys on the show don't even try to embellish their task, they call it was it is when they say, "We have to move a lot of dirt today."

Television today reminds me of the screen Montags' wife stares at for hours a day in Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.

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If You Think Getting Your Hands On Obama's Birth Certificate...

...was a bitch, you should try to get MINE. The last time I needed my birth certificate was when I needed a passport. All I did was go to New Jersey's Department of Vital Statistics website, pay 8 bucks with a credit card and give information that no one else would have besides me (with the possible exception of Donald Trump). That was it, and if memory serves, it was easier to get my birth certificate than it is to order a PaPa John's pizza online.

I still don't think I actually NEED my birth certificate but is seems as though getting a driver's license in the state of Florida is almost as tough as it is to get a New Jersey birth certificate. The last time I got a license in a new state, all I needed was my old license from the state from which I had moved. But, in this crazy post 9-11 world, you need a birth certificate to get a driver's license in Florida. That didn't really bother me too much until New Jersey informed me that I would require a current state-issued ID to get my birth certificate. My old ID wouildn't do because New Jersey demands that the ADDRESS on the ID be current. My Georgia ID is so UN-current that I've lived in Chicago and LA since I left the address on my driver's license.

And, what the hell is Georgia doing with my stupid thumb-print? When Georgia passed a law requiring a thumb-print in exchange for a driver's license, they said that it was for us...the citizens of Georgia. To make identification easier and identity theft more difficult, the state of Georgia now has my thumb-print. But it does ME no good now that I need it to prove who I am!

Ironically, according to New Jersey state law, if I were a convicted felon, the identification thing would be waved in lieu of a letter from my prison case-manager. I'd have to rob a bank, get convicted AND be sentenced to prison time and then Jersey will bend the rules for me. But, as long as I continue to obey most laws, I do not stand to benefit from that particular loophole.

My son tried to get it for me and they asked for HIS birth certificate. He sent it to them, but it did no good. I think it would have helped if I had been an unwed mother, but since I was married to the father of my kids, the name on their birth certificate is my married name, not my maiden name. Since I wasn't born married, my birth certificate has my maiden name on it and that is one name that isn't on the birth certificates of my children. So, although they have "standing" to request my birth certificate, they don't have proof of who I am.

While I've been wrestling with the state of New Jersey, my Georgia driver's license expired. Now I have absoluetly NO state issued identification. Luckily, I don't really drink so I don't get carded and the seizures pretty much keep me afraid to drive so I haven't had much of a problem. But I'm pretty sure being without identification is a crime so maybe I'll just turn myself in, go to prison and ask my prison case-manager to handle it for me. 

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ha, and they call that 'streamlined'. Your logic is undeniable. Great blog. =)

February 10, 2013  

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Monday, January 14, 2013

As I was eating my breakfast...

...I remembered some of the fun things that happened while I was in the Cuckoo's Nest. I was chowing down on a bag of gummy bears when I thought about the lean days. They were lean because, apparently, gunny bears are dangerous. Therefore, they were confiscated upon admission to the Cuckoo's Nest. The powers that be took away my gummy bears, along with my shoes, the belt to my bathrobe and my under wire bra. I got there in a foul mood so I didn't argue or ask any questions, mainly because I hate it when people say to me, "We can do this the hard way or we can do it the easy way." I've seen enough reality cop shows to know that the only wise move is to choose to do things "the easy way".

Eventually, I saw people wearing shoes and I hate getting my socks dirty. Apparently, my shoes were mistakenly confiscated because they were Velcro so I got them back. That made me happy. Add that happiness to the chilly nature of the Cuckoo's Nest and I was becoming rather emboldened. So, on one particularly chilly morning, I gave the staff of choice of their own when I said, "You guys are either going to have to turn the heat on or give me my bra back." They chose to give it back to me...minus the under wire that I count on for support. It was a compromise I was willing to make because I count on the cups to tame my wild nipples.

They even took the pictures of my kids that I had been grasping since before my suicide attempt. I understood why they took the frames and the glass, but I didn't know why I couldn't have the pictures. I could have done more damage to myself with one of the year old People magazines they offered as reading material. The pictures wouldn't have caused a paper cut but Lord knows that a page out of People could. Reading about engagements between people who have since divorced was sad. Really, really sad. I hate old People magazines.

Excuse me now, I need to finish my breakfast. I save the red ones for last so I'm down to only red gummy bears. This meal will be great!

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Friday, January 11, 2013

I could be a socialist...

...if I had to. I could move to one of those oil-rich Scandinavian countries and live off of their cash. If the economy there took a Grecian nose-dive, I wouldn't even bitch because I'd be so grateful for the help that I do get.

It occurred to me that I could be in this exact same situation in any city of the world. I could put a map of the world on the wall and toss a dart onto the map and head for the city closest to where the dart lands. That's the silver lining in my situation, I could relocate to any place on the planet without worrying that my standard of living might take a tumble.

Once as I was walking down the beach at Santa Monica, I saw 4 beautiful palm trees spaced in a square. I thought to myself, "Hell, if I were homeless this is EXACTLY where I'd settle down." That can't be the absolute BEST place on the planet so I could travel around looking for a better place.

I could go to places that would annoy others...just to be a bitch. Or I could choose places based on the sheer beauty of them, like southern Utah or anywhere in Scotland or Ireland. Wherever I choose, I could have more fun just wandering around on my way to where I decide to go. For example, before I exit Florida, I'd love to be able to check out Key West. If any of you has an idea for a final destination or a great place to visit, I'd love to hear them.

I'd love to get one of those backpacks that carries a tent, among other things a camper might be able to use. Of course, I might need to get a gun although I'd prefer a English mastiff.

Other ideas I've come up with include moving to Chimp Eden and working with the rescued chimpanzees, joining a nunnery, going to Ethiopia and caring for starving children and/or heading to New Orleans to help the pit bulls and parolees. I don't have hair extensions, hot pants or a parole officer, but maybe my passion for animals will be enough.

So, this week I've applied for SSI/Disability, one of those phones the state gives you if you meet certain criteria and I took all the cash I had to Amscot and got myself a cash card with a MasterCard logo. They gave me a temporary card to use until the permanent card comes in the mail. The phone should show up any day now and the MasterCard should come in 7 to10 business days. Lord knows how long the SSI will take. So, I'll certainly be here long enough to get the phone and card, after that, who knows? I seem to have plenty of time to think about it!

7 Comments:

Blogger Tundra Woman said...

Are you receiving SSD currently? (As opposed to SSI.) I do believe you're gonna need to hang in the area where you are for awhile, because in the next few months you're gonna get pelted with mail from the SSA with appointments for THEIR MDs as the SSA goes about collecting all your previous records. If all goes well (let's HOPE!) it's about 6 mo. But your first check won't come until the seventh month-they hold back a month. I know they're over-loaded with applications right now as counties strive to get as many of their people applying for Public Assistance (which is State/County financed) shifted to the SSA (SSD/SSI) so the cost is shifted to the Federal Government. Also they will see if your benefits are more collecting on your ex-spouse's contributions or your's and give you the higher amount. No, you won't receive benefits retroactive from date of application, just from the six month date of your application, ie, there's a six month Waiting Period, first check the seventh month. At the earliest.
So you have plenty of time to sit tight and ponder your next move. In my younger itchy-feet years I could pack everything I owned in the trunk and back seat of my car. I really enjoyed that freedom to travel, to have the opportunity to quit a job when I was working for some over-bearing slime bag and hit the road.
In the meanwhile, Pool halls, beware! ;)
TW



January 11, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Oh snap! It never occurred to me that'd take so long. I was figuring that I could do that from anywhere. If I could count on consistency in my game, I would just look out for the youngin's who underestimate women and see if I could just hang here without spending the money I have saved (not that it's too much, I'm just afraid to spend a dime because I have so few of them!). But I better think of something soon, my last winning wad-o-cash paid for a room for a week and tomorrow is check out day. I have no plan from there...yet...but I'll figure something out!

January 11, 2013  
Blogger lusiana shamal said...

Hiiiii.... I know this is irrelevant to your post.. but I am currently going through a divorce.. very similar to yours.. how do you feel now?

January 11, 2013  
Blogger q1605 said...

Yeah Duvall street. Down a the gulf end. People just live on the street and love it.

January 11, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Where is Duvall St? Sounds like fun!

Lusiana,

As far as the flu goes, I'm feeling better. The divorce? I'm over it but I'll never forgive the jack ass for being so dishonest. If he ever decides to tell me what really happened, it would be over once and for all but he's too cowardly to be honest when it's tough. He doesn't want me to think badly of him.

I hope you're doing well, it gets better, I promise!

January 11, 2013  
Blogger q1605 said...

Duvall street bi-sects key west. It runs from the Atlantic side to the gulf of mexico. Which is maybe two miles. Its a free for all.
Down at the Gulf end there is the best Cuban restaurant I have ever eaten at. Just excellent chow.

January 11, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Cool, I thought that was what you meant but I wasn't sure. I'd love a really good Cuban sandwich! I'd really be annoyed if I had to leave Florida without getting to Key West.

January 12, 2013  

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Wednesday, January 09, 2013

It just occurred to me that...

...I finally have a safe address to give you online without having to worry about stalkers. I meet enough of them OFFLINE. I heard that a woman asked for birthday cards online and she was inundated with them. It's not my birthday (but, in case you're taking notes, mine is June 29th), but I would certainly appreciate greetings of another sort...emotional support So, if you have the time and the inclination, you can send me a post card or a short note to:

Meg Kelso
6220 N. Nebraska Av.
Box 629
Tampa, Florida
33604

That's a place that helps the homeless population who also suffer from mental illness. I go there occasionally to use their computer and telephone and when I do, I always end up setting up an email address for one of the older gentlemen (they just don't have many women there at all). I've heard so many of the old men saying that they were computer illiterate so I've decided to put up flyer's mentioning a free in-service for the those guys. They'll leave the in-service with an email address and the ability to access that email. If that helps a bunch of people, I might considering doing it more or even offering another in-service on basic computer skills. It's amazing how many things are available online and these men are missing out on so much assistance simply because they can't figure out how to do the very basic things that we all take for granted. Think about it...who would even think to help these men with something so vital to todays' way of life and access to information..?

Anyway, I'm doing well right now and I hope that when I go back to the place, I'll have another good reason to smile!

4 Comments:

Blogger Tundra Woman said...

Sounds like a GREAT idea, as well as much needed. And appeals to the Nurturer in you which is in evidenced every where except the pool hall!
Go for it, Meg.
TW

January 10, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Oh, but I can be nurturing in a pool hall too...usually other women who want to learn how to play will ask me for advice. If someone does that, I'll give them my best answer. I don't offer help to people who don't ask, that might be offensive. I'd nurture anyone...except for the fools who underestimate me.

January 10, 2013  
Anonymous Marty Shaw said...

Keep safe, the problem with the web is it is very easy to track people nowadays. There are so many clues, city, places you hang out, etc. Always be careful what you post. A great read by the way and I hope your flu goes soon.

January 10, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Thanks for the warning, I take pretty good care of me. I find more danger in the people I know who happen to have a LOT more info than I mention on the blog!

January 10, 2013  

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Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Before I started feeling like crap...

...from this hideous flu bug, I felt like getting my mind off of my problems. This past Friday I asked some people if there was a place to shoot pool anywhere around the area I was in. Two people mentioned a place called The Sore Elbow so I hiked over to that place to just sit there and not think.

I got to the place pretty early, around lunch time, and ordered an iced tea. (Not Long Island, simply real iced tea.) I racked the balls and played alone for a while. Usually I need a buzz of some sort to play pool well but I wasn't in a drinking mood and I had nothing green to use to prop up my game. On top of being totally sober, I didn't have my glasses so I wasn't really thinking that I would accomplish anything more than a clearing of my brain.

But, thank God for young sexist men who think that a woman old enough to be their mother's mother can't shoot pool. If you add that attitude to a bunch of beer, you have a stupid kid just waiting to be stripped of his cash. Ordinarily, playing pool for money means playing for 2 to 5 bucks  a game. But, young stupid dudes think that a 20 dollar a game wager is a good idea so when he made the offer, I was only too pleased to be backed up by a nice older gentleman who realized that a set of tits doesn't automatically make one a poor pool shooter.

I let the guy keep the first 40 that I won so he doubled his money. He split it with me so I had another 20 to bet when the stupid young dude continued to think that he could beat me.

Important hint when playing pool for 20 bucks a game...if you lose 9 games in a row, do NOT try to get your money back by saying, "Double or nothing!"

So, I don't have enough money to stay at the Marriott, but I was able to get a room without cockroaches for a week.

:)

2 Comments:

Blogger Tundra Woman said...

Lost 9 in a ROW?? I bet your gentleman backer was grinning too!
TW

January 08, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

He was until he left, if he had stayed long enough to see that little twit declare, "Double or nothing!", he would have cracked up.

Yep. 9 in a row, that doesn't include the tenth game that we shot for double or nothing. I left with almost 300 bucks and a smile of my own.

January 08, 2013  

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Monday, January 07, 2013

Well, ain't this a bitch...

...I woke up with a sore throat yesterday and I thought it was just the start of a cold with a cough. Today, the headache, body aches, fever and the extreme sore throat were kicking in as I listened to the news. They were reporting a "rampant flu" that seems to be going around. I had every single one of the symptoms. (I didn't mention the fatigue, I just assumed that was from my new meds.)

I'd rather have 2 broken legs than a flu. Pain above the neck is the worst...the sore throat and headache are kicking my ass. This is so bad that it would be worth the trip to Montana to cough in my ex's face. But, once I did that, I'd be stuck in a state that doesn't really do anything for me so I guess I'll just let him off the hook this time.

If one more person tells me this is from being outside while it was cold and raining, I'll blow viri straight at them. You don't get sick from being wet and cold, you get sick from a micro-organism. I don't know who gave this flu to me but if anyone in Florida irritates me, I'll stand my ground and cough at them.

Before I got sick, I had a good day that I want to tell you about but right now I have to go to an appointment so I'll have to save it for later.

For now, just know that I'm safe...contagious...but safe.

5 Comments:

Blogger Tundra Woman said...

While having the flu is a PITA, considering the medical stuff you've survived I'm sure you'll be OK-eventually ;) Thanks for checking in; hoping you're out of the cockroach motel and feeling otherwise better.
Hang in, Meg. You know you've got a bunch of people supporting you even if you can't "see" us. You'd be more than welcome here but Little One, you'd freeze to death! Not to mention geographically isolated and medical care, well....not so good.
"One foot in font of the other"-sounds like that's exactly what you're doin'. AND-taking your meds, right?
TW

January 07, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Yep, one step at a time. I just got back from picking up my meds. I ran out Friday too late to get them...I didn't know that the place I had to use was only open during banker's hours. I went the weekend without them, didn't like that! All I had to get by was xanax which worked but is NOT what I NEED to be taking.

And you ARE right, the flu is nothing compared to any number of things I've survived that I wasn't supposed to survive. In June of '05 they gave me 6 months to live. They lied.

January 07, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Oops, I meant June of '04!!! I seem to be surprising a few docs!

January 07, 2013  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Did that psycho let you take your dog? Kyle from Knoxville.

January 07, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

No. He wouldn't let me take the dog. I had to walk away while I was still able to. The cops said I'd have to sue him to get the dog back.

January 07, 2013  

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Friday, January 04, 2013

Lord, I hate cockroaches...

...but last night I met 4. By the time I got to where I was going, the place was closed so I had to take my last 30 bucks and rent a hideous room in the hood. The vermin came in the form of two big ones and two little ones and those little bastards made me keep the light on all night in a room with no heat. I would've thought that the cockroaches could find a better place to hang...but NOOOOO...they liked the nasty little place that I just left.

Right now I'm at a place that lets you use their computer, phone and laundry facilities. They also have some strong ass coffee that I'm sucking down right now. I can't hang here too long because there are other people waiting to use the computer.

I'm giving this chutzpah thing of mine a little more chance to see if something works out well for me and if I can't, I only have one other place to go and no one wants that. It's all good, I'm a big girl and I have faith in me...even if no one else does.

4 Comments:

Blogger Wandering Legal Mind said...

Meg, come to PA. Stay with me.

January 04, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Gotta ride? I'd be headed there in a heartbeat.

January 04, 2013  
Blogger Andrea said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

January 06, 2013  
Anonymous Family & The Law said...

I'm really sorry to hear about your situation too. Situations like this is why I developed a divorce blog ("http://www.familyandthelaw.com.au). Although it's focused on Australian family law, there's some great practical tips I think that could help you.

January 07, 2013  

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Thursday, January 03, 2013

I suppose I knew it wouldn't be easy...

...but I didn't think it would be this hard. I called the women's shelter where I had been staying and it turns out that I can't go back. Apparently, I am no longer in a "crisis" so unless I go back to my abuser and wait for a new 911 incident and further contusions, I no longer qualify for the emergency housing upon which I had been counting. On top of that, I have 72 hours in which I need to pick up my stuff or they'll get rid of it.

I have no way to get around and I certainly have no way to pick up my stuff and no place to put it. The easy thing to do would be to go back to my abuser's place and stay there but I won't do that. So, I'm about to pick up the 2 little bags I have and along with the clothes on my back, I am about to start walking into a new life. I have no clue what to do or where to go but my plan is to put one foot in front of the other and hope for something good to happen.

They tell me that if I help myself, good things will happen. Stay tuned, I'm curious to check out that concept. That's all I have and it's my first step. The next step will take me away from this computer so I have to take it now.

Good thoughts are hereby requested.

2 Comments:

Blogger Tundra Woman said...

Meg, Between a rock and a hard place, eh? I left an abusive relationship with what ever I could grab stuffed in 2 20 gal. black garbage bags and started all over again-literally on a city street about 60 mi. from "home." Or what had been "home" until it wasn't. I had no vehicle, had to quit my job (there were no Stalking Laws in those days) and start from scratch. Camped for a few days with some people I knew in the area, found a furnished studio apartment in a really dicey part of the city and found a minimum wage job working 3-11PM. Which I walked to and from in the freezing cold winter in the darkness. (I walked on the street, never on the sidewalk.) In my rush to get out I failed to grab warmer clothes, coat etc. One night a city cop pulled up along side me and asked me what I was DOING walking alone in this part of the city at night? (I think he likely thought I was a hooker-THAT "kind" of neighborhood.) I asked HIM if he thought I was walking for exercise, fun? I had NO money-what else could I do?
Meg, it's gonna be OK. Really. The Shelter for Battered Folks (or what ever they call them now) SHOULD be helping you find a place-they have access to/know who to contact in terms of Private Non-Profits (Churches, Ecumenical Councils etc.) as well as low-income housing. Also, Meg, you're considered (please forgive the word, I hate it too) "DISABLED." Which gives you leverage (so to speak) over other people looking for housing as well as on-going medical needs/tx. PLEASE make sure the Shelter people are aware of this, OK? Also, the Medical Social Worker at what ever hospital you were treated at most recently could be another resource for you in terms of housing etc.
When I was traveling a lot for work in a situation where I'd be in an area for a few months and then move to the next job site, I use to check out the area were the site was and go to a local Church and ask if they had any elderly people in the community who would take in a boarder. I always had really good luck there-it was cheaper than a hotel, certainly safer, gave me more of a sense of home and I met some really nice, interesting people. Many of them had large, old homes and typically I was the only boarder so I'd have a large Bedroom and a "private" bathroom. (Kitchen use "negotiable.") Not to mention an "introduction" to the community-these older people knew everyone.
Just a few thoughts/experiences.
"Stuff" can always be replaced: Your life can't. I KNOW it's scary. But starting over always is and yes, exactly-"one foot in front of the other."
Troubs and I are rooting you on, keeping you in our thoughts. Please post when you can. Please take care of you. I never could have imagined I'd find myself in this position either, but I was and so have many others. It WILL work out. Promise.
TW

January 03, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Hey chick, it's people like you who keep me trying so please stay around. I need emotional support now more than I ever have in my life.

January 04, 2013  

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Wednesday, January 02, 2013

There's no delicate way to put this...

...but my dog just farted. Jeez, I hate that. I thought that all the nasty farting left with Vex. Oh well, at least I KNOW the dog doesn’t have enough sense to go into the restroom for such things. There has always been a farting man in my life. When I was a little girl, my grandfather, a very successful businessman, would read the paper in his recliner at night and literally lift his leg and fart with no shame or “Excuse Me.” Of course, when I got a little older, my brothers got a thrill out of farting. I left home and got married so I immediately had a farter of my own. Then, without missing a beat, I married again and had another farter. I swear to God, I had him convinced that woman just don’t fart. Next, I was single for a few years but I was working as a nurse so I saw a lot of stuff much worse than farts. Then, I met the fartmaster. (My spellchecker REALLY didn’t like that one.) When my oldest son attained a certain age, he developed a facsination with farting that he pretty much still has. He laughs so hard at his own farts, but you can truly annoy him by farting back at him.When he and Vex where both living with me, it was one great big fart-a-rama. A few years ago, I was in New York and I had this great beef sandwich with peppers...three kinds. I went into the restroom and noticed what a hideous bouquet that sandwich had summoned. I smiled. I began developing my stratagem.It was so marvelously brilliant and the timing couldn’t have been better. They were both in the living room watching television. I went back into the living room and sat down as though all was right with the world. Serenely secure in my evil scheme, I withheld the pressure that was my vengeance for the years of anguish to which I had been subjected by the fartmaster and his little partner in crime. I smiled cunningly as I remembered the silence that preceeded the appalling stench. I knew that there would be no forewarning for my victims. I waited until just the right moment and unleashed what was the most foul, repugnant, revolting “silent but deadly” that I had ever had the misfortune of suffering. And then I sat back and watched the consequences of my reprisal ensue. It was breathtaking...literally.When the effects of my opus first touched their noses, they immediately glanced at each other. Then, they inhaled again. Oh, it was magnificent. I laughed so hard that I instantaneously gave myself away. They both actually got up off of their chairs. The looks on their faces were identical and said the same thing, “How can I leave the presence of this gruesome entity?” Their eyes went back and forth as though they were looking for an exit. You would have thought that they were a couple of mice in the presence of a lion. Such a sense of contentment, I have never felt. I assure you, that one fart made up for the years of olfactory assaults that these two yahoos had released upon me. I have tried, in vain, to duplicate it but haven’t found the proper combination of weapons with which to do so.OK, enough fart talk, the dog just farted again. I guess I asked for that one. Well, I have to clean my kitchen so I can mess it up again by making dinner.






Late Christmas afternoon I tried to kill myself. It wasn't a spur of the moment type thing, I had been thinking about it for quite some time...I just gave it until Christmas to see if ANYTHING would get any better. It didn't so I tried (really hard) to commit suicide when my allotted time had come. It wasn't a cry for attention, I never mentioned it to anyone and even the doctors referred to it  as a "sincere attempt". I didn't do anything easy like eat my Xanax except for the one I took to make the whole process less stressful. I swallowed a bottle of heart pills along with a bottle of my blood pressure medicine. The only role the Xanax played was to help me fall asleep so that I could drift off and never wake up.
As you've probably surmised, once I entered the hospital, I wasn't allowed to exit. After a couple days they decided that I no longer required acute medical attention so they sent me to a place that I shall refer to as the Cuckoo's Nest. The nice people at the Cuckoo's Nest were as hesitant to allow me to walk away as were the nice people at the hospital. Of course, the Cuckoo's Nest was somewhat more confining than the acute care hospital...down to the barbed wire and window fencing. I appreciate the need for such prohibitive measures but I would have stayed regardless. When a person Baker Acts one, the wise thing to do is to abide by all rules that the people in charge require of one. Nevertheless, the claustrophobia was maddening for me. I kept my cool by distracting myself from the visible restraints.

I  arrived at the Cuckoo's Nest quite irritated, disgusted and angry that I had was still amongst the living. I thought to myself, "Shit, I should have been cremated by now." I was in no mood to adhere to stupid rules, especially when I was already locked up...if I disobeyed a rule did I really REALLY have to stay? When I awoke after my first night there, I was already developing Plan two. Plan two consisted of a gun, one bullet and an open mouth. Later on in the day I met with the doctor who offered to change all of my meds. I did NOT expect it to do any good but as I told the doc, "I'll give you and your drugs one shot."

Long story short, the new cocktail of anti-depressants worked swiftly and effectively. I was shocked, stunned and pleased. Much to my surprise, I felt better than I've felt in a very long time. I had long ago resigned myself to spending the rest of my life, no matter how long or short, in painful depression. I'm still amazed at how well I feel. Once the meds began to work, I began to see the humor that was all around me and I began to take notes...for all of you.

The first chuckle came when a man said to me, "It's one thing to commit suicide, but these people are just plain nuts." Next, as I sat  in the dining room, I noticed a man pacing near me. I didn't really pay any attention to him, I just noticed him. Then, without warning, the dude took a header into the garbage chute. Some staff grabbed him by the feet to pull his skinny ass back into the dining room but his head was in the trash and he was too far down the chute so they ran to the kitchen to catch him as he crawled out of the garbage can with peas in one ear and instant mashed potatoes in the other. Now, that was amusing, to be sure. But, the truly ridiculous thing is that the following morning, I was called to the nurses station as I was sitting in the common area writing so I asked Garbage Chute dude to watch my stuff. Yes I did. And then, I was shocked when he took the freshly sharpened pencil that I had been writing with. When pushed, he admitted to his crime and pulled the pencil out of his pocket and returned it to me. I don't know what he planned on doing with it but he also made a shank out of a toothbrush given to him by the staff.

I wake relatively early as do the long term patients. At 5 AM, it was pretty much just me, the staff and a few long timers. One morning one of them had his hand behind him, fanning away his own farts. I appreciated the visual warning although I could have gone all day NOT knowing who was farting and when they were doing it.

Next, at one morning med call, I was behind a male patient and as he stood at the window taking his meds from the male nurse I heard the male nurse make the following statement (with glee) to the dude in front of me: "Your tongue looks really good today!" When my turn came to get my meds, I had to bite my tongue rather harshly to avoid saying any of the numerous smart ass comments that were popping into my head one right after the other.

There was another young man who was brought in because after a fight, his girlfriend called the cops and said that he threatened to blow his head off with any one of his guns and he had quite a few. (I spoke with him at length and I absolutely believe him that he never said that.) But the ironic part of his story is that on Monday morning, the man wasn't allowed to shave himself because he was deemed too dangerous to handle a razor blade. But, by Monday afternoon he had been discharged and he went straight from the Cuckoo's Nest to the police department to pick up all of his guns. The cops didn't give him back his ammo but one of them told him that, "Wal-Mart sells hollow points, you could just go there and get more."

I have SO much more to tell you about my flight through the Cuckoo's Nest, but I'm hungry and my shoulders hurt from sitting at this computer so long. Before I go I had to say one thing...I KNOW that what I did was selfish and stupid so please don't try to enlighten me further regarding those two facts.

See ya soon!

6 Comments:

Blogger q1605 said...

That's why when I am overly stressed I find a policeman and punch him.
You find a much better grade of crazy in prison than you do in the Cuckoo's Nest.
Are they giving you homo seltzer?
Where you wake up feeling yourself.

January 02, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

How you do it, I don't know. But I always smile when you comment. I'm not sure if it will last, I'm not even sure this is feeling like myself...it's been a while.


Oh...BTW, hello Brian, I see you.

January 02, 2013  
Blogger q1605 said...

My father snuffed it so my thoughts are all over about this. And not as firmly against it as one might think.
If you've never read Steinbeck's "The Winter of our Discontent, I recommend it.
In the last chapter he protagonist wades into the Atlantic to finish himself.
The words that run through his head are profound. It's not judgment. One would think he thought it is a viable option. In the end the protagonist comes to his senses and does not complete the act.

January 02, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Steinbeck is one of my favorites so I'm embarrassed to say I haven't read that one yet but it's next on my list...if I EVER finish The Stand.

January 02, 2013  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

What a very sad ending your life is coming to Meg. Homeless, suicidal, and your family didn’t help you when you were being abused by your most recent fuckbuddy. Your karma for all of the terrible things you’ve done in the last few years is catching up with you. And remember, perverts all over the planet are still fapping over those nude pictures of your grandson you posted.

Over at High-Street.Org, some of us will actually mourn your passing because of all the amusement you’ve given us over the years. Of course, after scaring the crap out of RCADE’s wife, I’m pretty sure he won’t be among those who miss you.

January 23, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Ooh, the karma cops. Not a job I would tackle but good luck with that!

January 23, 2013  

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Tuesday, January 01, 2013

When you're in the throes of a deep, deep depression...

...and I chose the word "throes" quite thoughtfully, purposefully and economically (verbally speaking), it is precisely the word that describes the level of depression that I was experiencing...you sort of lose your perspective. I don't know why, I can't explain it and I don't even want to, just take my word for it...I totally lost my perspective.

Because of that phenomenon, I missed a few clues that should have told me that I had more support than I thought I had. I think the problem was that I wasn't getting the support I needed from the sources upon which I had depended and counted. Because of that, I missed the support being offered from others who do care about me. I haven't been online much lately (I'll explain that later) but when I signed on today I saw that after I had made some comments on Facebook, quite a few people direct messaged me their phone numbers. Since I was seeking support from elsewhere, I didn't even notice, appreciate or acknowledge the support being offered to me. The simple act of sending me the their numbers was actually an offer of friendship, assistance and comfort. It may sound silly and selfish (perhaps it is) but those offerings totally went over my head.

To the people who sent me numbers, emailed me or otherwise made attempts to buttress my psyche, thank you. I'm sorry that I didn't call but, as I said, my perspective has been rather askew as of late. I'll be in touch soon. Right now I'm going to kick back for a bit then I'll be spilling my guts about something. I hope to be able to do it tonight but if not, I'll do it tomorrow. I have to be somewhere at 9 AM but if I don't get to it tonight, I'll make the next post a top priority because it is rather important.

:):):)




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5 Comments:

Blogger q1605 said...

You don't owe any body shit but to get to a better place. The place in the space between your ears, not to the other better place.

January 01, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

LMAO, I had to read that a few times to be sure it wasn't a cut...which, of course, would never come from you. Perspective, ya know.

:)

January 01, 2013  
Blogger q1605 said...

I am wounded. Ahhh.
Not so much.
I hope..I was going to say I hope you get your shit together but you are OK.
It's living in douchlandia that you need help with.

January 01, 2013  
Blogger Meg Kelso said...

Xactly.

January 01, 2013  
Blogger Tundra Woman said...

Been there. Hear ya. Yep, it's insidious and how easy it is to "miss" those "clues." FWIW, I missed 'em too. Screwed up thyroids mess with your mind as well as your body. It all seemed quite logical at the time and no one knew about my "plan" or had any idea about my "idea" either. The only reason it didn't work is because for once, even the weather wouldn't "cooperate" with my planned "accident." Yeesch.
Please take care of ((((Ms. Meggers.))))
TW

January 03, 2013  

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