It's always something...

...or someone. Yesterday as I was sitting on the beach waiting for the sun to set, some dude asked me if he could use by computer for a minute. I asked him if he could get online because I couldn't. He said he didn't "know anything about that". I said, "Then, no, you can't use it."

He responded that he might be able to get reception if he took my computer up to the boardwalk like sidewalk where thousands of people walk every day. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I was amazed at how stupid this guy thought I was. He even added an, "I'll be right back!" which I assume was to let me know that he planned on walking over a football field length with my computer and NOT with me. More laughter from me. As though walking away would be the right answer to that small problem.

Then today, as I'm surfing the web, there's a knock at the door. I'm at my daughter's place using her computer and she had taken the baby to the doctor so I got the door in case it was an expected workman. It was the manager and he wanted to let me know that he would be in apartment 39 and I was welcome to come over the "talk" with him.

Does this crap work? Do women actually just turn over expensive electronics and their own personal jewel just because a MAN asked them to? It must work or they wouldn't keep doing it. So I guess I have to mention that...if you think that turning over you're most valuable assets with absolutely no reciprocation of any form offered, stop and think again only harder.

Venice Beach

Behind me:

In front of me:

If ever I needed a reason to run away...

...I have one now. After listening to two women (both new mothers...one is 2 and the other is new) talk about baby issues, marital issues and "Isn't my mother horrible" issues. I can believe that in all this time neither one of them has said anything positive. Certainly nothing positive about ANY one person.

Oops, forgot the music...BRB.

OK...now I feel slightly avenged. My daughter went to the store and took her 2 year old with her. The new mother just started shushing her kid loudly and consistently. I didn't mind until she wandered into the room that I'm in. That reminded me that I could head to You Tube and play some Del Amitri. She wandered right back out of the room so it worked. I'm not usually a bitch but after what I've been listening to, I don't mind a quick bitch move, harmless to most. But these yahoos are LOOKING for negativity and they seem to be reveling in it.

She just asked me for tome Tylenol for her headache. I looked and looked and all I could find was baby Tylenol and Tylenol suppositories. I couldn't find any so we'll have to wait until my daughter gets back from her French fry run.

OK, all this girl talk is making me ill...it would make me ill if I were part of the exchange which I'm not so it's time to find some food and a beach.

:)

I want to go to the beach today...

...but I want to go to Venice and I'm a quick minute from Redondo Beach. But, when I took the bus to Venice Beach last time, I only took one bus. I just don't remember from where I began that day. I could have been in the hood and escaped to Venice Beach. I could have been somewhere else just as easily. This is why I keep getting lost when I take the bus. I think this sounds like the beginning of one of those days where I can't seem to get "home" after getting to wherever easily enough. Getting lost in Hollywood would have been much more frightening had I not the foresight to toss back a couple of pints of courage before I got lost.

I'm in a quandary about what I want to do today but with any luck, there'll be a place with a pool table at Venice Beach...then I'd be in pool-beach heaven. That would care of the both of my current desires. A couple other desires of mine have been attempted but they've been quite the bust in the end. (I'm snickering to me.)

OMG...the quality of my writing is about to take a nosedive. Either that or it will turn Judy Garland depressing.

As I was writing, I was also listening to music, as I prefer to do when I'm writing. It wasn't anything from my deep, angst ridden teen years like Ozzie Osburn...it was the freaking Marshall Tucker Band...Heard it in a love song. Jeez. That usually wouldn't be a problem but my daughter just went to pick up her girlfriend who just had a baby girl. I turned the music down for every one's sake, I know what an acceptable level of Marshall Tucker is. The friend whined that her baby WAS asleep. I turned the music down as they were walking in so my bad if the kid woke up. I wanted to ask her if she prefer the little brat NEVER wake up. Some degree of decency resides in my brain to mouth filter. It doesn't work as well as I would like it to, and there's apparently no cure. My father certainly has issues with his brain to mouth barrier. But I must say, he seems to enjoy his cerebral shortcomings far more than I do. I do admit that I enjoy having the ability to think quickly on my feet. I'm glad you're there to hear the line...I'm sure I made the right decision regarding to whom I shared it.

Maybe not.

Oh well.

OK, so first my music has to get turned OFF now that there is a sleeping newborn in another room. Ya know what, I'm gonna turn it back on and see what they say. OK...it's on. But Umizoomi is on in the living room and the music isn't that loud.

Oh, never mind...all I had to do was sit here. I'm in trouble now. Think I'll shower and split.

Even in LA, it's tough to find someone crazy enough to take a trip to wherever...

...the only requirement is that we haven't been there before. I have an idea, just not a good time for leaving. I'm so fricking ill from being such an annoying person with absolutely no effort whatsoever. I know I'm not so hideous...at the very least...I'm not a WILLFUL twit, I'm simply annoying in the same way your husband's whiskers are in the bathroom sink. Some people bitch like hell and some just rinse the fucker. I'm a rinser and I'm clashing with the other type in too many ways to mention. After menopause, a woman should NOT have to deal with an estrogen problem because it can only be someone else's estrogen problem so blow me. I'm plumb outta estrogen and my mood has stabilized to the point where I only need a little Prozac and Xanax. I also finally understand E=MC2. That one had be baffled for decades. Then, one day, I just got it like the day I got the clues that I really needed a bra.

Really? I can't even disappear and leave the world alone?

This looks like a rather harmless hermit, wouldn't you say? Just when I was considering the life of a hermit, this crap happens. I'll have to see exactly what he did wrong but for them to DEMAND his return to society, I would think it would take something really good, like winning the first billion dollar lottery ever. Of course, then he could hire a lawyer and remain a hermit, but very few hermits have a billion bucks. Other than Howard Hughes, I can't come up with another one.

I find it appalling that we can be forced to participate in a society we find totally alien. As long as we don't hurt anyone, we should have the ability to remain quietly in the mountain for archaeologists to find thousands of years from now.

http://t.news.msn.com/crime-justice/maine-hermit-ordered-to-re-enter-society-with-counseling

"A new study published by the Royal Society suggests that women evolved the tendency to be mean to each other."

I'm no scientist, but mean girls have been around since well before Nellie Olson.

http://t.now.msn.com/women-are-indirectly-aggressive-mean-to-each-other-study-says

I think it's time for me to roll...

...I haven't pinpointed my destination but my exit is assured. I'm gonna find a way to make this interesting. What the hell. Directions to secluded, unoccupied cabins in the woods would be appreciated.

It seems as tough we're having a 'run'...

...on prison escapes. I doubt these yahoo prison guards could keep Cool Hand Luke nowadays. Oh well, people can also escape legally and that's what I'm going to do. I have a few options and I'm considering them all carefully. I remembered something I thought of last summer. I can go anywhere I want to go...duh.

These are a few of my ideas:

1. San Diego Why not? I've never been and I've heard good things.
2. A nice winter trip along the southern border, Easy Rider style, only without the bikes.
3. Nebraska  I could still sue Greyhound for the OTHER suitcase to my head, but apparently, I can only do it from Nebraska.
4. Grand Junction Colorado  Been there, loved it.
5. Tour states where weed is legal-ish and then comment on the different markets.
6. Disappear entirely.
7. Join a West Coast Commune.
8. Get a tent and backpack, and then walk across the continent until I collapse.
9. Learn to ride a unicycle and ride it a thousand miles for charity.
10. Go all Thelma and Louise. Of course, I'd have to find a Thelma.

Any other suggestions?

Calif. governor allows freedom to woman who killed pimp

You know, a pimp is one customer away from a husband. So...I'm just sayin'. I give this chick a 5 on the 1-10 scale which means that half of you would love to have this woman as his wife. I know personally how quickly a betrayed wife can turn into a murderess. I was a Xanax, a beer and a bong hit away when my ex assassinated our life. But I digress.

And so, so very nice of the governor to grant her one of her inalienable rights. And I've been thanking deities for years. So, since a murdering woman is ALWAYS protecting her own right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, we have a conundrum. How can I pursue my right to happiness without giving up my right to liberty? Greater minds than mine have been baffled by that one. I've spent a lot of time discussing just that with a good friend who has the same problem. We had considered Criss-Cross but settled on a great body disposal plan. We haven't actually come up with one yet, but we decided that seems to be the key. My cousin Paul Mergle used it to get away with killing my aunt Mary Ann Broderick Mergle. He's wandering around North Jersey with the blood of 2 women on his hands, both with excellent body disposal plans. This guy is no Einstein. He's a moron and you'd be ashamed to have him as a kid (even before he killed you) IF you had other kids. But, if you only have that one kid, he's the world to you even though the rest of the world wants him stuck on Tom Hank's island in Castaway.

You know who you are

Anyone who'd like to may read this blog and anyone who wouldn't like to is free to read merengue recipes instead. But from this day forth, I shall not discuss, defend or decamp the blog posts. You don't have to read it, you don't have to like it and if you should come across something that annoys you, leave it in the comments section. I'm sick of the few people who demand that I answer for something that I wrote years ago and have totally forgotten today.

This is the one and only time that I'm going to say this. No more discussions, phone calls or arguments over what I write. If you aren't man enough to comment publically, than you're a wimp and a bully. I will not ne manipulated into any other efforts to get me to discuss the blog outside of the comment section. The truth is the truth and you're bad if it hurts.

Oh, by the way

This is certainly a mood lifter! I did it myself last night...big time.

OMG!

...I better call Walter!!! When I'm so bold as to not respond, I get this threat:

"Keep on being mean and I will give you a real surprise !! It will cost you BIG$$$$ try me loose lips sink ships??? Be nice"

He'd be better off just offering me cash to come back. I think he prefers to say the nastiest, bigoted and offensive things he can think of...like wiping the mud off of himself and throwing it at me to see if anything sticks. He's running out of my friends and family for whom he would love to present me in the worst light possible. When I claimed that he was sucking the life out of me and taking away every one I care about...his response to that was to tell me not to worry, I would be HIS family (she shivered in disgust as she typed). Of course, over the years he has had occasion to speak ill of me to his father so even though I've never been anything but kind and helpful...last weeks posts not included...his father is a perpetual supporter of his son...facts and logic be damned. So, when he feels the need, he says the most hideous things about me (or anyone who crosses him) and he can't take them back later when he wants me to go to dinner with him and his father.

Enough of this guy. He hates being called Hover-round Dude and Creepy-Dude so I'll refer to him as Jackass for the time being. But, Jackass isn't why I'm writing this. I'm writing to apologize for yesterday's post, I was really down (you may have picked up on that) and when I read it last night, I wanted to hit my OWN head on a suitcase.

Back soon!

Sorry I didn't get back last night but...

...my medication (seen above) knocked me out. As commenter mentioned, ice cream is a great cure all. Now I must suck coffee and then I'll be back!

I could be wrong...

...but I think my Prozac kicked in about 2 hours ago. Of course it could have been visiting a new friend and partaking of the items she purchased at the corner dispensary with the big green cross on the front door. But I was actually feeling better after I purged my guts out in the last post. I was soaking in the tub and my self pity began turning into anger which, as I've said before, I'm much more comfortable with as compared to sadness.

Uh oh, my daughter and I are running out for ice cream...be back soon unless I pig out and pass out in which case I'll be back in the morning.

:)

But sometimes I wonder...

The suicide season is upon us...

...and I'm doing all that I can to see another one. It's just tough when my "Live List" is so short compared to my "Leave List".

I don't want a million dollars (although I wouldn't turn it down), and I don't need a fancy house, car or jewelry (once again, I'm not stupid, I'd take them if offered). What I'd like to have is at least one good friend who likes me, enjoys my company and never betrays me. A family who cared what happened to me would be nice too. I'd even settle for a few family members who cared. I can't seem to find these things. Their absence in my life leaves me wondering if it could all be me. But I was talking to someone recently who is living a wonderful life after going through some really tough times but was never forgotten by family and friends. I haven't done anything so bad that I should be tossed into the world alone.

If I wrote down all of my thoughts, someone would send the cops looking for me and that can't be. There's nothing that a cop could do except delay the inevitable so I'll just keep some thoughts to myself. There was a time when this blog was what kept me going but people always commented so I knew there were people out there who cared. Maybe it's because I was without internet or my computer was stolen or I was playing with the sweetest little boy I've ever met. Funny, he likes me. But I've felt like I was writing to no one and the things I would have written wouldn't have been funny anyway. They would have been sad and embarrassing and I didn't want to bring anyone down but I thought I'd reach out today because I really do want to live, just not like this. Here are a few things that have happened that have me on the edge:

Close to 15 years ago, I used a credit card of my son's and he didn't know about it. I made the payments, I guess it was the fact that he didn't know. Mea culpa. He didn't find out until 2004 (my own annus horribilis, cancer, cheating husband and financial problems out the wazoo.) I got it together in '05 but the stroke in '07 stopped me in my happy tracks.

Another son got mad at me because he thinks I made his daughter pee in a cup to fake a drug test. At least that's the story I heard. I never did that. Whatever...that's two sons who haven't spoken to me in years.

Then, I go to stay with my father who lives near two of my sisters. One of them spoke to me, the other did her best to stay away. I was there for two years and was never invited to her house once.

I have one brother (the one who punched me in the face when I was in a sleeping bag and couldn't fight back, breaking my nose) who hasn't spoken to me since my mother died in June of '01. I have no clue why he is so mad (or indifferent...I don't know what's going on with him). If I did something wrong, he's never told me about it.

I have another brother who stopped talking to me and I didn't know why. Then I found out that his reason was that after I had brain surgery and was a bit confused, I called him in the middle of the night. I don't even remember that but it was enough to stop all communication. He's the one who likes to quote Springsteen's "Man turns his back on his family he ain't no friend of mine".

I have another brother in prison who got mad at me before he went in for reasons I am not aware of.

All of these siblings were at my mother's funeral when the preacher told us that my mother's last wish was to tell her children to take care of each other.

So, after I gave up on Georgia, I went to stay with my father. All that did was remind me why I was so insecure and frightened all the time. Never one to spare the rod, he threw a suitcase at my head when we were on a trip to Jersey. I'm in my 50's and I've had brain problems too many to list. I asked if he did it on purpose (as though it COULD have been an accident) and his response was, "If I had done in on purpose you'd still be on the ground." I don't know why he was mad that time but whatever it was, I wouldn't think a suitcase to the head would be called for. (If you're keeping track, yes, that's two suitcases to the head in the past few years. Dear old dad only did one.)

Then, like a moron, I started dating a guy who my father didn't like. One morning as I was coming out of my room, Dad told me to move out because of that guy. Well, that guy was the only person who would let me stay with him so I did. He spent his days getting mad at me even though I told him that "This is me...if you don't like me, let me go." I tried to go once and ended up the complainant in a battery case in which he plead guilty. Time for me to fly.

I arrive in California and get robbed between 2 and 3 times. I'm sure of 2 and one has me confused. I'm pretty sure I was robbed, but I don't accuse unless I'm 100% positive because I DESPISE being falsely accused myself.

I refused to move in with my daughter until the second robbery. It occurred to me how easily I could be victimized in ways worse than robberies. Tail between my legs and feeling like a dreadful imposition, I gave in and decided to stay with her until I could find a safer place to live. But then I couldn't do anything right. I forgot to take off my shoes, an e-cig fell out of my pocket unbeknownst to me, and sins of sins, I taught my grandson how to say fart in Spanish. Added to that, he enjoys farting and loves it when other people fart, which, of course, is my fault. By then I was already halfway out the door. I finally went to the doctor to get all of my meds and I put my pain pills on top of the medicine cabinet. They disappeared. Naturally, that was my fault. Then, the worst possible thing that could have happened did...Florida Dude got my daughter's private home number and called it. The next day he had the police call my son-in-law to find me. Son-in-law wants me gone.

The only person who will let me stay with them is Florida dude and I was so proud of myself for getting away but at this point, he's the only one who wants me and I don't have the energy to keep trying without the slightest bit of support.

Then, I feel like an idiot for feeling sorry for myself and that adds to my self disdain. I actually thought that going back to Florida would let my daughter live her life without me as a burden. But she said that if I go there, I can never see my grandson again. I already have one granddaughter who I haven't spoken to because her father won't allow it and one grandson who's father would never let me see him. I couldn't handle the thought of never seeing another grandchild. I can barely handle my boys not being any part of my life. So, if I go back to Florida to leave the kids alone, I lose another child and her son. If I stay, I have nowhere to go. I'm not good at being homeless, I tried it last summer.

I need a break before I cry. I refuse to do that twice in one day so I'll be back.

While I was taking the break it occurred to me that I haven't changed, I simply don't make 50 grand a year anymore. My older son adored me when I let him live with me and paid his bills. My younger son was a wonderful son when he needed braces and tuition for college. Not being able to work is the only thing different. Knowing that changes nothing.

My younger son got a message to me that said if I wanted to communicate with him that I should do it by e-mail. I did that. He never once emailed me back. For all I know I'm e-mailing him to a special addy that he never checks. My older son has a tatted wife who drinks vodka with him every night and has him referring to me as "Mayhem Meg" and that's funny to them. My daughter has a husband who apparently doesn't like me but the only way I know that is that she tells me everyday what I did to annoy him. She asked me to talk to him but I have no problem with him. If he has a problem with me, he shouldn't be afraid to tell me. I don't hit people, I don't even use harsh language. I know damn well that I'm a reasonable person and I can handle a rational conversation. But one day he's "mad" at me, the next day he is "really mad" at me. Now he's "beyond mad". I don't even know what that means. But never, not once, has the man told me that he has a problem with anything I've done. After he was "beyond mad", my daughter asked me how he was acting. I told her the truth, "He's acting like he always has, he never says a word to me...ever." Being around that dude is like one hideously long uncomfortable silence.

So, now that all 3 of my kids are trying to forget that I exist, I have very little hope for their kids because I've watched one generation after another pick up on the disdain the older generation has for me. The kid likes me now, but after he hears the same things my ex said about me to my kids, he'll think ill of me as well. So, when all I care about is my kids and my grandkids are picking up on the attitude that my kids and siblings picked up from my parents, I know what's ahead and I don't want to be here to see another generation of people I love cast me out of their lives.

I'm trying to find something to live for and I'm losing that search. Another Christmas without so much as a phone call would surely be the end of me.

When I wake up in the morning...

...I shower and get dressed which includes putting my shoes and socks on. I always have. Growing up in Chicago, we had to take our shoes off when we came in the house because they were full of snow and mud, but other than that, I keep my shoes on all day unless I kick back on the couch to watch TV. I take them off when I get my jammies on and repeat the whole thing in the morning. I don't really feel dressed without shoes on and Lord knows what I could step in so I'm rather uncomfortable without shoes.

It seems that other people take their shoes off as soon as they enter the house, afraid to get shoe bottom on the floors. So, shoes are not allowed two feet beyond the threshold. It takes a while to break a 50 year old habit but I'm getting there.

My question to you is this, which one are you, a shoe off person or a shoe on person? If you're a shoe off person, how do you get people to remove their shoes at the door? If a salesman or Jehovah's Witnesses should come in (I know, you wouldn't let them in but play along), how would you handle that? Would you make the visitor undress his or her feet or would you simply let it go for a minute? I'm serious, this is actually causing quite a stir and Dear Abby herself would have a tough time with this so, although it may not be as important as which way the toilet paper should be put on the roll, it is an issue I'm curious about.

PLEASE...leave your answer in the comments.

Maybe I should have googled him before...

...I came here to tell you about him. But I can do that anytime...I don't get to tell you guys this much at all. But here goes....I met a new guy. Well, he's not really brand new, he's actually older than I am by one year. And with any luck, when I do get around to googling him, he won't be wanted for any hideous crimes.

I met him last night on my way home from running errands. I asked him a question about the bus which he couldn't answer but we started chatting and he ended up hanging out with me until the bus came. (I missed one because we were so engrossed in our conversation.) He gave me his card and before I left we exchanged phone numbers. He's actually from New Jersey which means that in the late 50's, we were rather close to each other but we were somehow separated until last night when we met up again in LA.

He's a carpenter dude and he has a hammer and all the other accoutrement's of a wood man. He's nice looking and he meets all of my height and weight requirements. Also, he speaks well, and you know I like that. In our entire conversation last night (and the one we had when he called me later last night) he never once used one disparaging word in reference to another race. He said nothing bad about me but did say nice things. I could get used to that...again!

And then, this morning, he called "just to say hi" and let me know he was thinking about me. Then he actually said, "Your phone has minutes, doesn't it?" He didn't want to eat up all of my minutes, he just wanted to say hello. Isn't that nice and unselfish? Man, I wonder how many other ways this guy is normal? Normal is cool...I have seen it in a while.

I guess it's natural to think of a creepy dude who did the exact opposite of normal (abnormal...right?). I'll let you know if the new one does anything creepy like and then I'll let you know if the creepy dude does anything normal.

As usual, Walter is being a hoot...

...and some innocent people are being caught in the crossfire. Yep, I'm aware of that but I'm not covering for that nit wit anymore. He has plucked my last nerve and I'm gonna act as if he's doing exactly what he's doing. IF I were to believe him, I'd have to believe that his father's "caretaker" goes around telling people that I am doing cocaine. I don't believe that at all. But, Walter said it's true. And Caretaker chick says, "I am Jim's caretaker and Walts friend...". Yep, she is still naïve enough to think that those 2 things are noble and good. Sorry girl...but they are not.

I've been watching Walter and his father for 2 years now and they operate in conjunction with each other. Walter does what he can and then he sends his billion year old father out to do his bit. I've seen them screw every single person who has been in their lives...from girlfriends to wives to the OTHER caretaker and his father's girlfriend who he had when his wife was still alive. They both suck...Walter and the 2,000 year old man. They screw the people who treat them the best and those who treat them the worst. The only difference is that the closer you get, the more devastating the tactics become. They didn't screw many people as badly as they screwed Laura...the other caretaker who had been with them for years. She made it easy for them to do it, after all, she's black and those 2 are nothing but a couple of bigots straight from a KKK meeting. Seriously, if those 2 morons had half an opening, they would hop their little asses on to the next Klan rally. If nothing else, they'd consider it good for business.

So, now Caretaker chick is worried that I am causing her grief. Well, Walter put her in this situation without a thought to how it might effect her. That's how he operates. He had to use her to slime my reputation...no one else has so much as seen me, at least no one who talks to Walter anyway. It's driving him nuts. He needed to find a witness to bolster his story and that person had to be far away from me. He must not have thought that one out too much, a huge problem when you lie on the fly like that...calling audibles and committing yourself to a crazy story such as, 'Caretaker chick did it.' He knew she would be perfect, a certain degree of credibility as evidenced by her naïveté and far enough away from me that there was a possibility that I wouldn't speak to her and he might be able to gloss over another lie. Anyway, she still thinks that being friends with Walter is a good thing. I remember being that stupid myself. It was almost fatal.

She is totally missing the forest for the trees. I'm not putting her into this situation, she listens to it enough to be Walter's "friend" and I know what that takes. She can't be totally innocent, those who participate in The Lundy Negativity du jour must dabble in it themselves. She, like far too many, is totally taken in by Walter's act. But after a while you figure out (or you should) that he never does anything really good...rather he lifts himself up by constantly putting others down. It can be hard to see a person clearly when he is standing on a soap box pontificating. It's actually all an illusion. Walter is NOTHING but negativity. He has nothing positive to add to ANYTHING because he doesn't want to see good stuff. He's on a life quest to be negative, whomever might get in his way. Sometimes it's just an innocent salesperson who wanted the commission a year ago but wants nothing more than a do-over now so he can avoid Walter completely. Sometimes it's someone like me who gets lost in his crisis oriented presence.

Walter has one mode...crisis mode. If he isn't dealing with a crisis, he will create a crisis out of whatever is happening in front of him. He's also hideously dishonest and his lawyer realized that as well. There's no other reason to tell him to plead guilty to a crime. Duh. So, Caretaker chick, do you get it yet? The Lundy's don't let people walk away willingly. They must find a reason to kick you in the ass while you walk out at their behest.

One more thing honey, pay attention and notice how pathetic Walter's story du jour is. He has to validate the fact that he gets free stuff from the government, a special parking spot, a hoveround scooter thingie and your patience, your meal cooking ability and your laundry duties. I can't wait to watch you take your turn at bat. Let's see if you still claim Walter as a friend with such righteousness next year.

Whay are my windows so tiny?

I don't get it. On my new lap-top, my screens get microscopic. It isn't the resolution, it's really tiny letters. I don't know where they come from and I don't know how to get rid of them. HELP!

Alrighty then...

...Walter is messing with me long distance, from Tampa to Socal. Apparently I'm allergic to something here that's akin to my springtime hay fever attacks and every time I go outside, my eyes water and my nose begins to run. I spoke to Walter once from outside...he called when I was crossing a street...and he's decided that I'm snorting cocaine. He is sending my daughter messages accusing me of doing drugs while I'm watching my grandson. He even uses my blog to prove his points.

Shortly after I began this thing, I realized what a precarious situation I had put myself in. After giving that some thought, I decided to fess up to all of my major faux pas before anyone could use them in an effort to smear me. In the post I wrote an honest confessional and admitted to doing a little blow for a minute in the mid 80's. Once I admit to something, it can't be used against me as though it were a discovery along the lines of Jack the Ripper being identified. But to Walter, the evidence is rock solid. He even spices his story up by adding a "pocket dialed call" where I'm heard to say, "Let's do some cocaine." Yep...we all talk like that using phrases straight out of a drug documentary.

Jeez...my daughter sees me more than anyone else and she knows I don't do cocaine. I couldn't afford it if I wanted to, which I don't. I never thought much of the stuff myself. As always, I prefer weed...always have, always will. Now I'm in a state where it's medicinal and that's so cool. But you really have to be very careful when you have that stuff, you can smell it in the next room...when it's NOT being smoked. The stuff is so potent that the raw buds are all you need to smell up an entire house. Now I can't even do that until I get my own place which I hope is soon. I can't expect much before this Christmas, but maybe by Christmas 2014.

Walter has been spinning his lies about me for 2 years but this time he did something particularly stupid. He assumed that my daughter is an idiot who doesn't know me at all. She knows there isn't a man around...I don't have the time or inclination. She knows me and she's not an idiot. She would know if I were doing drugs around my grandson. On top of that, she knows me and she knows that of all the stupid things I've done, cocaine has never been an issue for me.

Now, Walter James Lundy (the same nimrod who plead guilty to battery this past summer) has a list of aliases that I use...as though I've ever tried to hide my identity. Where does he get that stuff? I've never used an alias, he must have actually sat down and invented them in a blatant attempt to get my daughter to turn on me and send me packing back to Tampa. He doesn't mind that something like that could cause a rift that would result in me not being able to see my grandson...as a matter of fact, he prefers to have me all to himself. God knows what he's telling my father and everyone else I know in Florida not to mention his own father and friends.

This is a tiny piece of what he's saying to my daughter:

Annie I'm still waiting for Meg to call me she hasn't so could you please call her and ask her to call me thank your

Annie I've been nice sent money ph card put money down on a beautiful ring for her and she didn't act happy at all. I overheard her when she was picking up tha baby crib she pocket dialed me she was with some guy and the next time I talked to her she sounded really high. I don't know who that person was but . I know what I heard I hope and pray she isn't . Really love her and do want to marry her!!! Sorry if I get upset worrying about her but that's loving her. Let's talk on the phone please. W

I know what I heard her say the day she got the crib she said to that guy I need to get fucked come to the hotel then she was snlffing when I called her your . That's your friend? Not much of a friend screwing mom and giving her soda. He must live by where you lived before. Look if she dosent care about me fine!!! But I care about her ! And her state of mind . Have you read her blog when she lived there before I sent a guy out for some rum and coke  how about no rum . Figure it out ,

keep your head in the sand like an ostrich and you'll see you are as nuts as she is!!!

 Goddamnit she pocket dialed me when she was getting a crib with some guy talking to some Filipino woman I know what I heard I'm not crazy and delusional where
 is she now? Not there withlike I said she's with your Margaret R. Kelso
Aliases:
Margaret Kelsey
Margaret K Berkley      44       Petersburg, VA
Appomattox, VA  Barbara Kelso
Beatrice Kelso
Yolanda Kelso   ACCESS REPORT
friend,

She is with him now who is lying now Annie you know I an right.

She was effing some guy when she went out there on vacation and I know that for a fact to

And if she was living there she would've been blogging on her blog so therefore she doesn't have Internet or she isn't living there! Soo who is lying now?


Okay I called it why didn't answer she was living there she been blogging on her blog you know that she's not living there

The day I'm talking about was about three weeks after she had moved out there she is with a guy with a deep voice talking to a Filipina woman and I heard them bringing some crib that's what she told me when I called just bringing some crib with your husband but I know it wasn't your husband

 It's funny that you won't answer me where she is now and why she's not blogging if she was there she be blogging


PLast thing I'm going to say is if she is doing cocaine and it's your friend giving it to her and she dies guess what he's at fault

And you're done because I hit the nail on the head she's living with your friend and they're doing cocaine.


I saw her with some that she got from some Mexican people here and I asked her if she did it she said yes

Reader blog says that she snorted cocaine I'll give you the exact date I'll even tell you the the page

Annie why don't you go visit her and find out how hi she is on that crap ?  If she was living with you she would be blogging on her new computer she obviously is not there because she's not blogging I am done now

No one who knows me would believe any of that crap.

So...just how old am I?

When the bus driver starts quoting you senior citizen's rates as you get on a bus, it's hard to deny your age. A couple of years ago I might have been annoyed at such an offer but I give, I'll drop my quarter and sit on the front seats, especially since those young rascals in the back of the bus seem to like taking advantage of old ladies. I used to say things like that in an attempt to protect little old ladies from tricksters but now that I'm using words like tricksters, I think I'm warning myself.

I AM an old lady, right down to the menthol smell. I'm menthol blind right now because I had a headache and it occurred to me that the menthol crap might help it. It never occurred to me that I might blind myself with the menthol crap dripping into my eyes. I was lying down on the couch letting most of it evaporate when my son-in-law walked in from work. That's what you want to be doing at your in laws' house when they walk in from doing a good day's work...lying on their couch as they come in their house. It takes a lot of baby-sitting to make up for that sort of stuff.

I love watching the baby because he's easily the brightest, most interesting and likeable person I've met in a long time. He's certainly the only other person who laughs on a regular basis. But even he has his own way of letting me know how old I am. He seems to have taken to calling all old ladies Grandma. I guess he met me, learned that word and applies it to all the old ladies he spots. I realized quickly that it was a put down of sorts. Talk about your passive-aggressive personalities.

Perhaps I even need protection. I seem to get robbed regularly. Every time it happens I think, "It's OK, I learned a big lesson from that." But the lessons I learn are so specific that I have to learn all of them before I'm safe. In the meantime, I can just do my best to avoid going outside all together.

Wish I were in a fast car...

...listening to good driving music and the like. Hm...so yeah...I got a new computer. My daughter bought it for me so now I can talk again. I hate being stifled, especially in a verbal manner. I like my words and am happy when they amuse me.

So, it's getting a tad chilly here but Sunday was really hot so who knows what's going on with the weather. I think I can safely assume that Chicago is getting good and nippy at night. I usually had to wear a coat over my stupid Halloween costume which I only wore for the candy. I did a lot for candy back in the day. My cousin and I would get on the commuter trains and go to each stop along the way between our houses and we would end up at one house with a pillow case full of candy by lights out. Before we could pay for the train tickets we had to get to each other's house by going to the Itasca Baptist Church halfway between our houses. We'd each go to Friday night youth group and go home with the other (the church ran 2 buses, one went to her house, the other to mine. On Sunday morning, we'd go to church and then back home.) and we got free rides across the suburbs. I don't recall how the heck how we came up with that one but it sure did work...right up until we found boys worthy of spending time with. My hormones killed Barbie...I didn't put that doll down until I noticed boys. Then, I dropped her on her head and ran off into my hideous teen years. Talk about your angst ridden adolescent girls.

OK so I've been helping my daughter with her move to a bigger place...I hope that means another kid. I don't know why I would say that stuff except mom's just do. Edith Bunker did. I wear aprons, she and I have a frightening list of similarities. And another thing, where I once identified with Lucy, lately I've been empathizing with Ethel a lot more. That's weird but true. It sure is a head scratcher.

I know, I wanted to shout out another White Chick in the Hood tip. This one is actually good for anyone, anytime...but especially if you're in the hood, no one who wants your stuff wants to give you the time to think so never turn over ANYTHING until you've thought things through. You might have heard of a "fast talker", well that's why they talk fast...so you don't have time to think about what they're getting from you. Also, when driving a metro bus, do not EVER sit in the back. That's where the fast talkers sit. Just be careful...mh'kay? That also goes for politicians.

Well, I think I'll go play with my new puter. It's got that Windows 8 thing and it blows.

Duh...

...I forgot to mention a couple of things. Firstly, if you've been around for a while you might remember that I've literally been trying to get a copy of my birth certificate to get a driver's license. It seems that it takes one to get the other and I have neither. I did have a valid Georgia ID but it wouldn't work because the address on it wasn't my current address when I moved to Florida. Anyway, through one stupid effort after another, I've been frustrated over the lack of a birth certificate which, of course, meant that I had no ID. Try flying around the country without one...it can be done, but it isn't at all pleasant. So, this morning, my daughter was packing because she is literally moving today and tomorrow. As she went through some stuff, she found a "random file" which held my precious birth certificate. Talk about, "I am born." So that's one thing.

Another is something that I wish I didn't have to tell you but there was a part that was too funny to keep to myself. Yesterday, some nutty chick in the place I'm staying kept trying to talk to me. I wasn't doing anything really, except keeping to myself. Eventually, I just pretended to be asleep to get her to leave me alone and instead...it wasn't long before I heard her going through my stuff. I flipped out. She had taken some of my stuff right off of my bed while I was IN the stupid thing. After I chased her out, I bitched to the person at the desk and told her I was going to look for my stuff. I did. I went though as much of her crap as I could and all I found of mine was 3 pair of underpants. But, I found something else that rather cracked me up. I came across a folder that was her C.A.S.A folder in which she must document her meetings at Cleptomaniacs and Shoplifters Anonymous. I shit you not. She kept it in the same bag that she put my panties in. I would think that if I were a crook, I wouldn't keep my clepto crap in the same bag as evidence of my most recent crime. It's unseemly.

My spell-checker highlighted Cleptomaniac because that word starts with a K. Apparently, thief's aren't terribly bright.

Apparently I've created a fart monster...

...of hideous proportions. It seems as though no one else found it amusing when my grandson let it slip out (No pun intended) that "Grandma farted!" Actually, I'm glad he doesn't possess the verbal skills necessary to tell the entire story which went like this:

Joaquin and I were playing and I decided to chase him while crawling backward. When I caught up to him, I farted at him. He shouted gleefully, "Again, again!" I was spent at the time but I admit that I did repeat the entire fart chase scene twice since then.

So, this afternoon, the kid let one loose and laughed and laughed and laughed. My daughter made it clear that she was unhappy with me. I, of course, am the inventor of all fart jokes and yes, without me they wouldn't be funny. My daughter actually said, "I don't want him thinking farts are funny!"

Then she expects me to keep a straight face when she goes on and on about fart etiquette. It couldn't be done. Now she is off on another tangent and I'm still chuckling over the "farts are NOT funny!" comment.

By the way, when I farted at the kid, I didn't tell him to laugh and beg for more...he just did.