just a warning...
I tried to start a 'quitting cigarettes' journal about how crabby I am and will remain, until I am washed clean and free from crack... I mean, nicotine. It is proving to be a little more difficult than I thought.
I figured, type all the emotions that are running though me, but ended up realizing I'm just slamming the keyboard and pounding it with my fists like a chimpanzee would hoping it would somehow bleed my emotions to the screen. this sucks and this sucks, hairy balls, bad. I hate that I ever allowed something to control me for 22 years. My own mother & husband cant control me so I'm not letting this mother fucker control me anymore.
Easier said than done. I quit a lot of shit in my life time. Jobs, relationships, weed, acid, diets (obviously). This is proving to be the hardest, but it's the last thing I am ever quitting (well I do still have that one 'white elephant in the room' thing but that's more like winning than quitting)! I am smoke free and hopefully tmw I will have better control over my thoughts and words because today it's just all muther shit Beelzebub cock die hate spit flap balls crap fling dammit! *sigh*
How hemorrhoids, Pabst Blue Ribbon & Harleys reminds me of my hero.
I could easily talk for days or even weeks about how badass, strong & handsome my Dad was but I only have so much time to spare before I have to run along and do my motherly duties and tuck my kids into bed.
so here's a long, short version...
It's going to be pretty shocking for you to hear this... but I was / still am,(deep breath) a total adhd, wild, tomboy, child, shoulda had a bag of liquid Ritalin implanted, banned from all sweets, red No. 40 dyes & small animals, pees or nearly pees her pants often because way to busy doing 90 thousand other things such as chase squirrels, lick 9 volt batteries and talk directly into fans to hear my mind blowing robot voice, type of girl. I was my father's dream child. I know it.
My parents divorced when I was 5 and when it came time to visitation, I would pack my stuff a month in advance and drive my mother insane daily asking if today the day that my Daddy comes? When the day finally did arrive, I pretty much lived on the front window sill and would dart out the door every time a car came by.
Even the UPS man once led me on when he stopped a couple houses from my house. "Maybe Daddy's in disguise because that's how awesome he is" I thought. After I found out the UPS man wasn't my Dad, I lied and shouted "it's my birthday!" to him, hoping he would have a reserve package in the back for girls like me who lied about their birthdays. Instead the man in brown, just said "happy birthday idiot, now get away from my parcel truck!".
As the day went by, I started getting pretty fatigued from galloping after cars to look in the backseat, in case he was hiding or to see if they would stop near by and pop the trunk to spring my Dad out with millions of balloons holding signs that say "#1 Daughter" so I went in to sulk & fret that maybe my Dad forgot about me...
What is that massive noise, shaking the house? "chopchoppotatopotatopotato chop chop"... wait... Diiiid myy Daaad just arrive in a helicopter??? I jump kick, flip, roundoff, out the door and saw the most majestic thing my little eyes ever did see... I swear the white of my eyes turned black and my jaw dropped to the floor while my body immediately floated 90 feet in the air...
my handsome, wavy haired, hero... was in my driveway, smiling... sitting on a Harley...
My Dad was bungee cording my suitcase to the back of my seat while my Mom was waking up, recovered from her meltdown after breathing in a paper bag. She started borderline making out with me by kissing, crying & hugging me so much. We didn't have any helmets and I had already burnt my calf on the muffler while climbing on, but I could not have been more excited. We only got a couple of miles on the highway before I peed the seat.
3 hours later, we arrived to my Baba and Papa's house in Steubenville and my once shoulder length hair, was now one giant, beaver tailed, dreadlock, sticking straight out from the back of my head. My dried mouth, teeth still baring face, arms and legs are covered in welts from the bugs and/or pebbles landing on me at 65 mph. I returned home a few weeks later, looking like a boy since my hair had to be chopped off but that summer with my Daddy, Baba, Papa & Unka Non, was CHAMP! I was the happiest girl alive.
That winter, during Christmas break, my Dad showed up in his, equipped with seat belts and a hard outer, made of steel, Buick. My Mom was so relieved... up until she helped me put my suitcase in the back seat and empty Pabst Blue Ribbon beer cans fell out. Boy, my Dad just cant win with her, no wonder they got a divorce. I still to this day, remember the sounds those cans made when turning corners. It's so soothing to me.
Lastly, I have an embarrassing story...
(in the voice of Sophia Petrillo) Picture this, Columbus, 1980somethingish, my father's trailer...
It's happened to the best of us, so you cannot deny it. After too much cheese, red no. 40 dye or fast food for the month, I had an upset stomach. After I did my business, I was really hurting and walked out to the living room (aka weight slash trophy room) of my Dad's trailer and told him that my butthole hurt. Sorry, but it did.
My Dad tells me to "use the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom". So... I found the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom and used it. I believe the name on the tube was Icey Hot, not the lanolin that he intended for me to use. Anyhoo, I put it on my butthole. Sorry, but I did.
I was just a kid, I didn't know any better! I made a big poop and my hole hurt and I thought my Dad's advice on hero cream for buttholes, was gonna help. I tried to scorn & banish away the hurt by splashing water on it. That made the pain so fucking great that even to this day, in 2011, I still cringe when I hear the words "Icey Hot". I automatically think "oooooh, do not put that stuff on your butthole". This is forever embedded in my brain. Sorry, but I do.
To summarize my long, short version... I miss my father. He still to this day, swells and breaks my heart. I miss every simple & complicated thing about him... He was the greatest man and he loved everybody, but he especially loved me. I'm so privileged to have been his daughter and my memories of our crazy fun time, will never fade. Even the time we hit a rabbit and splattered on the windshield and he said "look... the heart is still beating" while trying to use the windshield wipers.
so here's a long, short version...
It's going to be pretty shocking for you to hear this... but I was / still am,(deep breath) a total adhd, wild, tomboy, child, shoulda had a bag of liquid Ritalin implanted, banned from all sweets, red No. 40 dyes & small animals, pees or nearly pees her pants often because way to busy doing 90 thousand other things such as chase squirrels, lick 9 volt batteries and talk directly into fans to hear my mind blowing robot voice, type of girl. I was my father's dream child. I know it.
Even the UPS man once led me on when he stopped a couple houses from my house. "Maybe Daddy's in disguise because that's how awesome he is" I thought. After I found out the UPS man wasn't my Dad, I lied and shouted "it's my birthday!" to him, hoping he would have a reserve package in the back for girls like me who lied about their birthdays. Instead the man in brown, just said "happy birthday idiot, now get away from my parcel truck!".
As the day went by, I started getting pretty fatigued from galloping after cars to look in the backseat, in case he was hiding or to see if they would stop near by and pop the trunk to spring my Dad out with millions of balloons holding signs that say "#1 Daughter" so I went in to sulk & fret that maybe my Dad forgot about me...
"CHOPCHOPCHOP POTATOPOTATOPOTATO CHOPCHOPCHOP POTATOPOTATO"
What is that massive noise, shaking the house? "chopchoppotatopotatopotato chop chop"... wait... Diiiid myy Daaad just arrive in a helicopter??? I jump kick, flip, roundoff, out the door and saw the most majestic thing my little eyes ever did see... I swear the white of my eyes turned black and my jaw dropped to the floor while my body immediately floated 90 feet in the air...
my handsome, wavy haired, hero... was in my driveway, smiling... sitting on a Harley...
My Dad was bungee cording my suitcase to the back of my seat while my Mom was waking up, recovered from her meltdown after breathing in a paper bag. She started borderline making out with me by kissing, crying & hugging me so much. We didn't have any helmets and I had already burnt my calf on the muffler while climbing on, but I could not have been more excited. We only got a couple of miles on the highway before I peed the seat.
3 hours later, we arrived to my Baba and Papa's house in Steubenville and my once shoulder length hair, was now one giant, beaver tailed, dreadlock, sticking straight out from the back of my head. My dried mouth, teeth still baring face, arms and legs are covered in welts from the bugs and/or pebbles landing on me at 65 mph. I returned home a few weeks later, looking like a boy since my hair had to be chopped off but that summer with my Daddy, Baba, Papa & Unka Non, was CHAMP! I was the happiest girl alive.
That winter, during Christmas break, my Dad showed up in his, equipped with seat belts and a hard outer, made of steel, Buick. My Mom was so relieved... up until she helped me put my suitcase in the back seat and empty Pabst Blue Ribbon beer cans fell out. Boy, my Dad just cant win with her, no wonder they got a divorce. I still to this day, remember the sounds those cans made when turning corners. It's so soothing to me.
Lastly, I have an embarrassing story...
(in the voice of Sophia Petrillo) Picture this, Columbus, 1980somethingish, my father's trailer...
It's happened to the best of us, so you cannot deny it. After too much cheese, red no. 40 dye or fast food for the month, I had an upset stomach. After I did my business, I was really hurting and walked out to the living room (aka weight slash trophy room) of my Dad's trailer and told him that my butthole hurt. Sorry, but it did.
My Dad tells me to "use the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom". So... I found the stuff, in the tube, in the bathroom and used it. I believe the name on the tube was Icey Hot, not the lanolin that he intended for me to use. Anyhoo, I put it on my butthole. Sorry, but I did.
I was just a kid, I didn't know any better! I made a big poop and my hole hurt and I thought my Dad's advice on hero cream for buttholes, was gonna help. I tried to scorn & banish away the hurt by splashing water on it. That made the pain so fucking great that even to this day, in 2011, I still cringe when I hear the words "Icey Hot". I automatically think "oooooh, do not put that stuff on your butthole". This is forever embedded in my brain. Sorry, but I do.
To summarize my long, short version... I miss my father. He still to this day, swells and breaks my heart. I miss every simple & complicated thing about him... He was the greatest man and he loved everybody, but he especially loved me. I'm so privileged to have been his daughter and my memories of our crazy fun time, will never fade. Even the time we hit a rabbit and splattered on the windshield and he said "look... the heart is still beating" while trying to use the windshield wipers.
Feral and dumb ass hamsters
One July, when I was a just a pup of a human, my Daddy, in his blue 'hippie' cargo van, and I were on our way to my cousin's (Willy Jr) 1'st birthday party. We stopped at the mall to get him a gift and this is where I met, hamster, aka, feral bastard. There, in a pet store, with flowing locks of blonde hair, shiny black eyes and big ol, stuffed to the brim of dried corn pellets, cheeks. My jaw clenched so tight and my heart nearly burst because it was the most precious thing alive and I was in love. Perhaps hamster was just chewing it's spit moistened pellet food but I prefer to think that it mouthed "i love you, take me home". "I'm totally allowed to have pets at home" I lied. (my Grandparents raised me and they never allowed any animals except for my dog and a deformed goldfish that outlived the other 89 that I once caught in the community pool)
Back in the van, I sat so proudly knowing my 'life partner' was in this colorful cardboard box. I was so sure that hamster couldn't wait to kiss & love all over me for saving it so I poked my finger in an air hole and wiggled it, as to say "you're welcome, come kiss my finger". My new precious hamster didn’t quite understand my 1 finger, sign language and sunk his long choppers right in my finger. OOOoowww! but I knew hamster was just confused, it thought I was showering him with “welcome home” chew toys.
Once we arrived to the party, I couldn't wait to carry it around and show it off. I opened up the box, my lockjaw in place, (I have a tendency to clench my jaw shut really tight when I see extremely cute things. This is to refrain from biting them. I would never draw blood but I'm guessing I could bruise em.) I went in to retrieve the cutest animal in the world and this is when I watched it angrily pounce and sink it's chiseled ivories deep in my finger. I remember being so shocked this alluring beautiful creature just attacked me like a wild animal and it obviously hates me. I started screaming/crying in the front seat till my dad 'thwacked' me on my head to calm down. After I was attacked by hamster twice and my dad once, I knew I had a feral bastard of a hamster and a Dad who didnt like crybabies.
I now hate this ugly, fat, yellow thing, with stupid eyes. My Dad said "set up the cage, it cant stay in the box, it will chew a hole and get loose" Good thinking Daddy because it would probably eat the wires then disable the van and begin to gnaw on us till we were just bones. So in the back of the van, I just lined the cage with bedding. No water, No food, No chew toys too! I opened up the box, stood up, turned the box upside down and dumped the sadistic fur ball out. I secretly enjoyed watching it take a nose dive, screaming, it's silent hamster scream, "I'm gonna diiiiiie" then thump onto the soft cedar chip. It scurried around sniffing mulch in it's new glass prison called home.
A few hours later during the birthday party a bunch of us return to the van to check on hamster and to my horror, the deceiving hamster, was... dead. A few of us kids are screaming, some ran to get their parents. My Dad immediately began dunking hamster in his cup of beer. The hamster didn't respond. It didn't absorb the liquid like a sponge and regain life. My 1st hamster, roasted to death, in a blue 'hippie' cargo van under the July sun and it was all my fault since I didn't provide water. I had just unintentionally committed my first murder on a small, shaggy, potential murderer.
Back in the van, I sat so proudly knowing my 'life partner' was in this colorful cardboard box. I was so sure that hamster couldn't wait to kiss & love all over me for saving it so I poked my finger in an air hole and wiggled it, as to say "you're welcome, come kiss my finger". My new precious hamster didn’t quite understand my 1 finger, sign language and sunk his long choppers right in my finger. OOOoowww! but I knew hamster was just confused, it thought I was showering him with “welcome home” chew toys.
Once we arrived to the party, I couldn't wait to carry it around and show it off. I opened up the box, my lockjaw in place, (I have a tendency to clench my jaw shut really tight when I see extremely cute things. This is to refrain from biting them. I would never draw blood but I'm guessing I could bruise em.) I went in to retrieve the cutest animal in the world and this is when I watched it angrily pounce and sink it's chiseled ivories deep in my finger. I remember being so shocked this alluring beautiful creature just attacked me like a wild animal and it obviously hates me. I started screaming/crying in the front seat till my dad 'thwacked' me on my head to calm down. After I was attacked by hamster twice and my dad once, I knew I had a feral bastard of a hamster and a Dad who didnt like crybabies.
I now hate this ugly, fat, yellow thing, with stupid eyes. My Dad said "set up the cage, it cant stay in the box, it will chew a hole and get loose" Good thinking Daddy because it would probably eat the wires then disable the van and begin to gnaw on us till we were just bones. So in the back of the van, I just lined the cage with bedding. No water, No food, No chew toys too! I opened up the box, stood up, turned the box upside down and dumped the sadistic fur ball out. I secretly enjoyed watching it take a nose dive, screaming, it's silent hamster scream, "I'm gonna diiiiiie" then thump onto the soft cedar chip. It scurried around sniffing mulch in it's new glass prison called home.
A few hours later during the birthday party a bunch of us return to the van to check on hamster and to my horror, the deceiving hamster, was... dead. A few of us kids are screaming, some ran to get their parents. My Dad immediately began dunking hamster in his cup of beer. The hamster didn't respond. It didn't absorb the liquid like a sponge and regain life. My 1st hamster, roasted to death, in a blue 'hippie' cargo van under the July sun and it was all my fault since I didn't provide water. I had just unintentionally committed my first murder on a small, shaggy, potential murderer.
R.I.P. you feral bastard.
The next day, I thought my dad felt really bad for me and went and got me a new one because of how berserk the 1st one was to bite me and then die on me. Found out it was only because he already bought all the expensive shit, the fuzzy mammal only costs around 2 bucks. This one bites too! Dammit, another feral!!! I wasn't going to drop him like a bomb into the cage this time. Instead, I just pointed to the box and to the cage and commanded my father to do the deed. He then stood up and dumped the savage beast and it too screamed it's silent hamster scream.
For the next few days, I would open the lid and quickly fling it's food in the cage as gently as I could trying not to hit it. I always checked it's water and would press my face against the glass in case it couldn't see well to show it that it was ME who was caring for it. One day, I decided it was time to try and hold it again.I nervously scooped it up and was so elated that it didn't bite me! We spun and spun & we danced on air, I was suddenly Snow White and animals were my thing. With my teeth clenched tightly, I squeezed my newly trained and improved life partner in my hands, right next to my face and then it pooped in my hands. Eeeeeeeeww, what a dumb ass as I tossed hamster back into the cage.
From then on, every time I took it out of the cage it seemed to automatically start dropping it's droppings. Hamster stinks and I hated that the dumb ass kept exuding and crapping on me and I hated cleaning the cage even more. So I did what any other person would do. I would pick it up every so often and run to the bathroom, slam the door and hold Hamster over the toilet and wait. Of course, now it's never pooping... sigh. So, I remembered if I squeeze it till it's eyes kinda bulged, it would poop. I look at it like I invented cleansing for hamsters before cleansing was cool (this is back in the 80's) but in reality I guess I was just squeezing the shit out of it. All for love.
I had my clean coloned dumb ass Hamster for awhile before it finally died. It ran away and a mousetrap behind the fridge killed it.
R.I.P. you dumb ass
I'm recapping this true story as best as I can since I was only 7 or 8 years old but moral of the story is 28 years later, I still am sorry that I ever thought hamsters could be pets.
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