Lets keep this brief
Can I just say, Trump is playing a joke on all you stupid suckers who watch too much tv.
He's been testing you fools. you fucking glossy eyed sheeps. Turn off your fucking telly you neanderthals.
He wont last... it's all for show. He'll either quit or cause some scandal. He's not jerking my (she) dick.
Ladies and gentlemen, America is just a reality show now.
The media has won. Spit on Bernie for flaking but hey GO Hill(Bill)ary
Fuck, I'm going to miss Obama and his mom jeans.
the evolved hippie DNA thingy that is sitting in my chest
time to randomly vomit the ol words out...
I was born with this massive magnet right front and center between the fun bags, core. It's doesn't attract metal or random children's CI while I'm walking by them or anything but it does attract hurt, pain, negativity and stupidity. Some call it compassion, I call it, OW! because when I absorb it, it hurts my core. The ol hippie parents evolved this DNA from that free love shit they did and now I have me this annoying compassion OW! magnet. I've spent the last, oh... 12 years trying to shun it out of my body. I'm all for crying when a commercial shows a legless baby kitty cat without an eye drowning on the telly as a random country song forms in the background. Occasionally my husband has to get up off the couch to wrestle the razor that I'm weilding from my jugular but that's where I draw the line. no biggie.
Facebook depresses me.
heeey, wait a minute...
Facebook doesn't depress me, it angers me.
but.. I cant stare them down all wide eyed and shut them up because if I do then I hurt their feelings and my little core magnet thingy will hurts worse. My ball of sunshine bullshit helps none. I'm a fleshy vessel of issues but hey I try and keep that shit off of you, I save it for my poor friends who have to deal with me. So with all this I should be checking facebook less and less.
I was born with this massive magnet right front and center between the fun bags, core. It's doesn't attract metal or random children's CI while I'm walking by them or anything but it does attract hurt, pain, negativity and stupidity. Some call it compassion, I call it, OW! because when I absorb it, it hurts my core. The ol hippie parents evolved this DNA from that free love shit they did and now I have me this annoying compassion OW! magnet. I've spent the last, oh... 12 years trying to shun it out of my body. I'm all for crying when a commercial shows a legless baby kitty cat without an eye drowning on the telly as a random country song forms in the background. Occasionally my husband has to get up off the couch to wrestle the razor that I'm weilding from my jugular but that's where I draw the line. no biggie.
Facebook depresses me.
- Stop posting pictures of cripples, battered women and telling me to "like" if you want an end to it, "like" if you want Grandma to live another day. fuck you, sicko. Go subscribe to The Oatmeal and learn how to be miserable yet fun like normal people.
- Stop telling me to legalize and smoke a doobie, trust me, I quit that shit many many moons ago, I am never going back, it's crazy cottonmouth, eat gravy, town. You shouldn't be proud to be a zoned out pothead. Aint no body got time for that.
- It's kind of gross that we never talk then facebook says you poked me. Why? and stop it, just dont.
- Another favorite is the dramatic people woes of going to work. Fuck my life, FML, Thirsty Thursday Friday is finally coming! Ugh FML It's Tuesday and I gotta go to work. FML. OMG it's Monday, is Friday ever going to get here? FML.TGIF! It's Friday but FML I work in 2 days. Shut.. the FUCK... up! Shall I make an appointment for you to go to the welfare office then? Oh I forgot your pompous ass thinks only potheads collect welfare to afford pot yet you want to legalize it but hate that you have to work on a Wednesday for it? I'm confusing myself... do me a favor about your petty complaints, think twice at how you sound.
I have so many more pointless rants but I have a book staring at me so I ought to read it than dwell on stabbing stupid people in the back with my knifey words. dueces.
Facebook doesn't depress me, it angers me.
but.. I cant stare them down all wide eyed and shut them up because if I do then I hurt their feelings and my little core magnet thingy will hurts worse. My ball of sunshine bullshit helps none. I'm a fleshy vessel of issues but hey I try and keep that shit off of you, I save it for my poor friends who have to deal with me. So with all this I should be checking facebook less and less.
right?
wrong.
I worry about missing out on you, so I check.
fMl
wrong.
I worry about missing out on you, so I check.
That little uni is doing it's tricks again
Oh that universe, always having those silly tricks up in her sleeves.
I'm sleeping a little better these last 2 nights and trying to get a new outlook on things. I'm going to keep being myself, I am not going to let this scar me because I'm far too strong and stubborn. I look forward to exploring a new community in Indiana but I will be very wary before I ever reach out and ask for help in return. That is a lesson of embarrassment that I wish on no one. I sure felt that deep pang of hurt in my soul to not be valuable enough for any words, cards or gifts from our circle but I'm grateful that I openly blogged it because immediately afterwards my sister/cousin/friend (from far far away) called me, armed with wild hair and powerful words and I began to heal immediately. She said, the universe feels you are struggling to let go so perhaps this is the uni's way of telling us to "break up" and move on. It may be a bad break up and you may hurt right now but in the long run it will be much better.
ABSOLUTELY, holla, Amen!
Maybe one day I will have an answer on why most people felt we deserved nothing but for now it has taught us an extremely valuable lesson on humanity & has opened my eyes to the kind of community I was in. I give give give but in reality I guess I'm kind of alone.
Anyhoo, this is just a lesson to throw up to whoever stumbles across this.
In other news i'm kicking ass in a new watercolor world. I will not be able to break open most of my art supplies for awhile but watercolor is so portable that I do it in bed when insomnia strikes. I literally roll over open my drawer. grab my sketch pad, pens and watercolor tablet and I'll use whatever remaining drinking water I had on the nightstand. When creativity kicks in, NOTHING will stop me. It's so therapeutic & since I never believed in coloring within the lines, I enjoy blowing the paint outside the lines too... Here are a couple instagram pictures I shared.
Right in bed... that's dangerous, I may never leave the house again.
dueces, I guess
Exposing myself to the pain of being hurt, nervous and scared doesn't mean I am weak, it means I'm human. We do we shy away from fully expressing our emotions to the general public? Why? Because this day and age to get any kind of help or relief you have to be well off or have loaded parents, carry some kind of ganky shady insurance and be available to vent when the therapist is in or if you tell the wrong person (some physician) you're diagnosed with a disorder, prescribed drugs and asked to wait a couple weeks to feel better. Where's the love, hugs, friends? They're all avoiding you because you're too raw, real and emotional I suppose? Where's the immediate relief that you need at that moment because the pain is just too great to go on any longer? It sure is getting harder and harder to heal for those who just want to have a simple life that doesn't involve bitch ass steps to take, waiting list & the fucking government in my business. I'm not even going to fall for the it's going to be okay, it's not going to be okay and it's not going to be okay because I refuse to succumb to the rules that this red white and blue decided for me. Closing your eyes and breathing deep belly breaths, screaming on the top of your lungs, crying or wailing and allowing self pity, writing in a journal, lying on your back staring at the clouds and trying to see beyond them are all ways we have healed in the past. My favorite is writing in a journal & I'm usually just talking to myself but this time I do not want to write privately in my journal. I want this one to be out there. Like I said earlier, I am human so don't judge me. Actually... go ahead and judge me because right now... I don't care.
Journal entry 1
Well, before I even begin on this, I'm hurt to the core, rant, I gotta say the funny thing is tonight I may get some decent sleep and not need to hurt my soul any longer. Unfortunately I haven't slept more than 5 hours in the last 3 days due to overwhelming stress and a pinched spine/neck nerves so I suppose I'm a little manic this morning. Have to get it out before my family wakes up because they do not deserve to know how hurt I am. They're my rock right now. I'm hurt to the core at how I thought we made a bigger impact in our circle of friends. Apparently not, lolol. This is EXACTLY why I try to stay invisible on birthdays every year, and avoid parties because while this time I was truly craving to read loving words, gifts and farewells from my friends to cheer me up & heal my heart as we spit our family up and leave home only to not get them from my nearest and dearest has TRULY ripped a hole in my heart. I will never again hold a party for myself for the rest of my life since my worse fear came true. Aside from a couple of friends helping with food, my mother, husband and I worked so hard & I was appalled at only receiving 4 people's farewell wishes. 4. 4 people out of everyone thought of us during our farewell party to wish us well... I'm not sure where we went wrong, we never asked for much, maybe I'm not a real friend and I will probably analyze myself to no end over this but I guess now we know, that the kids who I put SO HIGH on a pedestal and the hard work I have done with my community has little avail has truly NOT meant much at all. I'm still going to miss everyone, it's what I do and while I am happy that people showed up and visited, I'm going to cherish those 4 well wishes with every fiber in my being because it's all I have right now. Perhaps it's the only child in me that wishes you loved me more, I'm only human. Columbus, you slay me... in more ways than one.
Ps- life is too short, what is said is said what is done has been done. I want this put behind me, I want to heal so I feel putting it out there will possibly help me heal. I am in no way shape or form asking to be un-dumped to those of you who have dumped me for no reason, nor am I asking for well wishes after the farewell party. I'm just simply trying to heal to be a better & healthier mother to my humans.
Journal entry 1
Well, before I even begin on this, I'm hurt to the core, rant, I gotta say the funny thing is tonight I may get some decent sleep and not need to hurt my soul any longer. Unfortunately I haven't slept more than 5 hours in the last 3 days due to overwhelming stress and a pinched spine/neck nerves so I suppose I'm a little manic this morning. Have to get it out before my family wakes up because they do not deserve to know how hurt I am. They're my rock right now. I'm hurt to the core at how I thought we made a bigger impact in our circle of friends. Apparently not, lolol. This is EXACTLY why I try to stay invisible on birthdays every year, and avoid parties because while this time I was truly craving to read loving words, gifts and farewells from my friends to cheer me up & heal my heart as we spit our family up and leave home only to not get them from my nearest and dearest has TRULY ripped a hole in my heart. I will never again hold a party for myself for the rest of my life since my worse fear came true. Aside from a couple of friends helping with food, my mother, husband and I worked so hard & I was appalled at only receiving 4 people's farewell wishes. 4. 4 people out of everyone thought of us during our farewell party to wish us well... I'm not sure where we went wrong, we never asked for much, maybe I'm not a real friend and I will probably analyze myself to no end over this but I guess now we know, that the kids who I put SO HIGH on a pedestal and the hard work I have done with my community has little avail has truly NOT meant much at all. I'm still going to miss everyone, it's what I do and while I am happy that people showed up and visited, I'm going to cherish those 4 well wishes with every fiber in my being because it's all I have right now. Perhaps it's the only child in me that wishes you loved me more, I'm only human. Columbus, you slay me... in more ways than one.
Ps- life is too short, what is said is said what is done has been done. I want this put behind me, I want to heal so I feel putting it out there will possibly help me heal. I am in no way shape or form asking to be un-dumped to those of you who have dumped me for no reason, nor am I asking for well wishes after the farewell party. I'm just simply trying to heal to be a better & healthier mother to my humans.
preach!
I often write my thoughts down everywhere because more often than not I really annoy myself but sometimes I think I am funny and laugh. Here's one I wrote and I know It will offend people but this is when I will grab my right boob and say, former milk bag, I don't care!
preach- You pray to Jesus, I'll keep my plastic unicorn. We both love the mythical stuff but mine doesn't drive me to babble or foam at the mouth preaching it.... unless it's a baby unicorn then I flip the fuck out because come on, those are so adorbs! Baby Jesus, in my opinion, was so average looking. Speaking of average looking... who's the old ball and chain, in the manger with "Virgin" Mary? The one wearing a headband over a sheet. They look pretty tight and Joe's adoring that average looking baby just as much as her. I can see that hipster's thought bubbles, it says {"wtf is that smell and why are we outside with the animals? Lordy, I drank way too much red wine when I should be out looking for a better job. My own kid is born in a manger :(... wait, isnt this super creepy that all the animals are just staring at us like this? Jesus, it's cold as fuck out and he has no clothes on laying in hay! Did I just say Jesus? We should totally call him Jesus, that sounds pimp."}
Here's Mary's thought bubbles {"my peepeeth hurteths. Toucheth thy vaginath again & Joseph shall be shanketh"}
It's a good thing I am a leaver loner (hence the whole "typing in MY blog than chanting this on the television" to millions of folks) You make fun of sign language, I make fun of you praying & talking to air. Praying to the air asking for stuff feels really, really, odd. I do it once in awhile because it's hilarious to feel so "off" but I understand the feeling. It's the power of funny. "Jesus, dont let me kill my child" and what do you know? My child is a living, thriving, yappy ball of 'tude. She cant thank Jesus for that! She can thank me for tuning everything out and going to my little "off, talking to the air" land to distract me from strangling her.
Raised Catholic, these are my thoughts and I am allowed to have them. Everyone is allowed to believe in whatever we want. I promise I will never preach to you about my silly gnomes, unicorns and mother earth again, as long as you shut the fuck up about your silly beliefs to me. I'm super content believing in my own fun stuff, by myself... shouldn't Christians be?
preach- You pray to Jesus, I'll keep my plastic unicorn. We both love the mythical stuff but mine doesn't drive me to babble or foam at the mouth preaching it.... unless it's a baby unicorn then I flip the fuck out because come on, those are so adorbs! Baby Jesus, in my opinion, was so average looking. Speaking of average looking... who's the old ball and chain, in the manger with "Virgin" Mary? The one wearing a headband over a sheet. They look pretty tight and Joe's adoring that average looking baby just as much as her. I can see that hipster's thought bubbles, it says {"wtf is that smell and why are we outside with the animals? Lordy, I drank way too much red wine when I should be out looking for a better job. My own kid is born in a manger :(... wait, isnt this super creepy that all the animals are just staring at us like this? Jesus, it's cold as fuck out and he has no clothes on laying in hay! Did I just say Jesus? We should totally call him Jesus, that sounds pimp."}
Here's Mary's thought bubbles {"my peepeeth hurteths. Toucheth thy vaginath again & Joseph shall be shanketh"}
It's a good thing I am a leaver loner (hence the whole "typing in MY blog than chanting this on the television" to millions of folks) You make fun of sign language, I make fun of you praying & talking to air. Praying to the air asking for stuff feels really, really, odd. I do it once in awhile because it's hilarious to feel so "off" but I understand the feeling. It's the power of funny. "Jesus, dont let me kill my child" and what do you know? My child is a living, thriving, yappy ball of 'tude. She cant thank Jesus for that! She can thank me for tuning everything out and going to my little "off, talking to the air" land to distract me from strangling her.
Raised Catholic, these are my thoughts and I am allowed to have them. Everyone is allowed to believe in whatever we want. I promise I will never preach to you about my silly gnomes, unicorns and mother earth again, as long as you shut the fuck up about your silly beliefs to me. I'm super content believing in my own fun stuff, by myself... shouldn't Christians be?
Cable TV is a big ruiner
Oh dear God.
I've never watched "To Catch a Predator" before until last night. I was always told to avoid it. Why did I watch it? I watched it. omg the horror. This world is fucked. There were so many pervs caught in ONE episode. Sooo many!!! One, 1, after 0 but before 2, numero uno, episode. I cant even say episodes because that is plural, this is singular. ONE EPISODE.
They're barely charged with anything. All they got was getting arrested, jail, faced a judge, hopefully lost their wives, kids and jobs, paid fines, registered as sex offenders then patted on the butt and let go.
Umm, big problem here. They're still breathing.
Those growdy bastards were all heading over there to tear up and go to town with that little, innocent, virginal girl who just loves her computer, sweet tea and laundry.
My10 65 year old daughter, Anyaxxx Louisa Jo Brown of Scarborough, North Dakota, will never be allowed to touch a laundry basket again, computers are the devil and she'll be forced fed with grains like cattle or geese to keep her greasy and fat. I'll make her so fat her innocent arms cant reach the keyboard.
How in the hell is that man, Chris Hansen, so calm? Forget those soft cops waiting outside. Someone needs to replace them with a mother like me. A screaming banshee, covered in Vaseline with a gun in one hand, grenade in the other and it's pin in teeth, mother, blasting through those curtains, not even! I'll meet em in the driveway and chew through the car to get at him. Seriously, Chris Hansen's tweed jacket must be acting as a full body transdermal patch loaded with heavy sedatives. How is he not stabbing those pedophiles with a knife/pencil/sharpened fingernail finger/boom mike/shank straight in the face? How does he not at least tremble or foam at the mouth when talking to them. How does he not bite his own tongue off at the thought of what could have happened?
I cant have cable tv. It ruins me.
I've never watched "To Catch a Predator" before until last night. I was always told to avoid it. Why did I watch it? I watched it. omg the horror. This world is fucked. There were so many pervs caught in ONE episode. Sooo many!!! One, 1, after 0 but before 2, numero uno, episode. I cant even say episodes because that is plural, this is singular. ONE EPISODE.
They're barely charged with anything. All they got was getting arrested, jail, faced a judge, hopefully lost their wives, kids and jobs, paid fines, registered as sex offenders then patted on the butt and let go.
Umm, big problem here. They're still breathing.
Those growdy bastards were all heading over there to tear up and go to town with that little, innocent, virginal girl who just loves her computer, sweet tea and laundry.
My
How in the hell is that man, Chris Hansen, so calm? Forget those soft cops waiting outside. Someone needs to replace them with a mother like me. A screaming banshee, covered in Vaseline with a gun in one hand, grenade in the other and it's pin in teeth, mother, blasting through those curtains, not even! I'll meet em in the driveway and chew through the car to get at him. Seriously, Chris Hansen's tweed jacket must be acting as a full body transdermal patch loaded with heavy sedatives. How is he not stabbing those pedophiles with a knife/pencil/sharpened fingernail finger/boom mike/shank straight in the face? How does he not at least tremble or foam at the mouth when talking to them. How does he not bite his own tongue off at the thought of what could have happened?
I cant have cable tv. It ruins me.
not for the weak...
Touch and go with letting Anya remain in the house as my daughter, last night... My sweet little human chick and I were having a funny conversation when all of a sudden, she's twitching a little, face is turning into a green hue, the ground starts rumbling, vomiting, demon man, making the ugliest, cat having a massive hairball, bulging veins in neck, sweat, chunks and other nouns, dripping from nose, type of faces, I have ever seen. I nearly started taking picture because I could not believe the amount of stuff coming out of this obviously, Jaba the Hut squeezed into a 10 year old child's body, body. Even though I didn't take pictures of it, I did stand there helplessly, staring, covering my mouth and point at the poor sight. I thought should I run away? She kept looking up at me with these "help me Mommy" eyes but I couldn't. I was frozen with such surprise that my little princess will never look the same. She's ruined. Thankfully after 20 pound of vomit exited her like a fire hydrant, a shower and good night sleep later she woke up cute again.
It's a good thing I'm not dramatic, huh? She got sick because we ate TOTAL CRAP food for 2 days and after having a meal of fake hotdogs, macaroni salad, guac burgers, and other random objects found around the house, we went out side and there was a stench (later we found it was hefty roadkill on the tree lawn) that glued it's rotten perfumed self to our nose hair to carry around inside our face for awhile. She finally had enough of all this (apparently during our fun conversation) and flipped the internal, gravity off, all systems go, exit switch, and let it frigging loose. again and again and again....
God, I felt bad this morning for almost evicting her last night so I decided to make her a nutritional breakfast of sweet potatoes and strawberry & sprout salad. Bless her sweet heart (and stomach too Jesus, never let that happen again...)
Mommy's just kidding Anya. You can stay with us for as long as you like ♥ We just have to eat better food.
It's a good thing I'm not dramatic, huh? She got sick because we ate TOTAL CRAP food for 2 days and after having a meal of fake hotdogs, macaroni salad, guac burgers, and other random objects found around the house, we went out side and there was a stench (later we found it was hefty roadkill on the tree lawn) that glued it's rotten perfumed self to our nose hair to carry around inside our face for awhile. She finally had enough of all this (apparently during our fun conversation) and flipped the internal, gravity off, all systems go, exit switch, and let it frigging loose. again and again and again....
God, I felt bad this morning for almost evicting her last night so I decided to make her a nutritional breakfast of sweet potatoes and strawberry & sprout salad. Bless her sweet heart (and stomach too Jesus, never let that happen again...)
Mommy's just kidding Anya. You can stay with us for as long as you like ♥ We just have to eat better food.
I couldn't decide if I wanted to post this here or phattymania.blogspot.com/
Quinoa, almonds, currant, coconut, flax fuclusters.
I used the following
1 c. Oats
1/2 c. rye multi grain oats
1/2 c. Quinoa
1/2 c. almonds
1/2 c. dried currants
1/2 c. coconut
some flax and chia seeds
1/2 cup of honey, agave nectar and maple, I poured all 3 till I got a half cup. (NOT A HALF CUP EACH)
3 eggs (whites only)
Combine all the dry ingredients, stir in 1/2 cup of sticky sweet syrups mix well. Beat 3 egg whites to death till foamy, add salt? Up to you. Pour egg white in, mix well. Ice cream scoop balls on wax paper, press to flatten and bake at 350 for 15 minutes.
You will get this...
Quinoa, almonds, currant, coconut, flax fuclusters.
I used the following
1 c. Oats
1/2 c. rye multi grain oats
1/2 c. Quinoa
1/2 c. almonds
1/2 c. dried currants
1/2 c. coconut
some flax and chia seeds
1/2 cup of honey, agave nectar and maple, I poured all 3 till I got a half cup. (NOT A HALF CUP EACH)
3 eggs (whites only)
Combine all the dry ingredients, stir in 1/2 cup of sticky sweet syrups mix well. Beat 3 egg whites to death till foamy, add salt? Up to you. Pour egg white in, mix well. Ice cream scoop balls on wax paper, press to flatten and bake at 350 for 15 minutes.
You will get this...
*Brakes screeching*
No you wont.
ALL LIES!
You will have spent all your time and money into this...
...a bowl of granolayish clusterfuckde cookies.
On the plus side, wax paper resembles coconut.
chew well, I'm not insured.
Population Control # 62,211,054
So, is there a reason why we're not adding a good inch to that platform that raises my bread in toasters? Do the toaster folks get some kind of profit from ambulance rides, burn creams or band-aids?
Every day!!! Drop your bread into the abyss - push the handle to sink the bread deeper in the abyss - wait for bread to startle you when it humps/thrusts itself up from the abyss - watch it collapse back into the bitch abyss.
All those people who ended their lives by stabbing their toasters with butter knives. shame. NOw that I think of it... is it a coincidence that I eat that bible bread? I wonder what Ezekiel 4:9 means?
I stand over the crucifying, hot, full of voltage, metal, hell box armed with a butter knife ofcold candle wax unsalted butter, waiting to pounce on it like a lion to a gnu, yet settled just enough to remind myself to NOT to stab the toast with a knife because then I'll just die and that sucks for my kids.
Population Control #62,211,054 - along with cast iron pans, candles in jars and those biscuits that pop out of a can (I know it will pop but I still have a coronary every time it does)
PS- In case you said "why don't you just buy a toaster OVEN?", under your breath. I shall let you know, I threw out my toaster oven long ago because my hands are not the size of newborns in which that oven was clearly made for.
Every day!!! Drop your bread into the abyss - push the handle to sink the bread deeper in the abyss - wait for bread to startle you when it humps/thrusts itself up from the abyss - watch it collapse back into the bitch abyss.
All those people who ended their lives by stabbing their toasters with butter knives. shame. NOw that I think of it... is it a coincidence that I eat that bible bread? I wonder what Ezekiel 4:9 means?
I stand over the crucifying, hot, full of voltage, metal, hell box armed with a butter knife of
Population Control #62,211,054 - along with cast iron pans, candles in jars and those biscuits that pop out of a can (I know it will pop but I still have a coronary every time it does)
PS- In case you said "why don't you just buy a toaster OVEN?", under your breath. I shall let you know, I threw out my toaster oven long ago because my hands are not the size of newborns in which that oven was clearly made for.
blurpeebubadooGAAunidifit!!
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*
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.
growl
just a quick note.
I cant handle these daily quips & comments when we go out anymore.
They say - Are they deaf? (pointing to my kids)
My reply usually is - yup
What I really want to do is - start miming. ooh, i'm stuck in what appears to be a box. oh, a rope & mime climb out.
They say - Mania? like Mania?
My reply usually is - it's Polish and pronounced mineya not mania.
What I really want to say is - Yes, mother fucker do I look like an infant? Do you think this is the 1st time I ever heard this?
or when I'm invited over for dinner or out to eat...
They say - You don't eat meat? I love meat. I cant imagine not eating meat.
My reply usually is - Yeah, I don't eat pork, beef or any game meat.
What I really want to do is - drop on all fours and groAAAARGHHHwl while trying to bite a hunk of meat out of their cheek or shoulder.
I'm so sure if his holiness the Dalai Lama heard the dumb things that I hear every day he'd even clench his jaw shut to refrain from blurting out obscenities or punching someone in the neck.
That's all...
I cant handle these daily quips & comments when we go out anymore.
They say - Are they deaf? (pointing to my kids)
My reply usually is - yup
What I really want to do is - start miming. ooh, i'm stuck in what appears to be a box. oh, a rope & mime climb out.
They say - I know how to sign my name (commence the stroke victim, I'm going to cramp, hand gestures)
My reply usually is - help them figure out half the letters and say, that's great.
What I really should do is - grab their hands and break their fingers since they just need their mouth to talk.
or
They say - My son/daughter/cousin/ape at the zoo/sister's boyfriend/brother's boyfriend/neighbor/etc (choose one) knows, the sign language/a deaf kid/has a deaf neighbor/is death too (choose one again).
My reply usually is - yeah, the sign language/deaf kid/deaf neighbor/death... it's really out there now days.
What I really should say is - Call the postman! Who fucking cares!!!
or when I have to spell my name out...
They say - Mania? like Mania?
My reply usually is - it's Polish and pronounced mineya not mania.
What I really want to say is - Yes, mother fucker do I look like an infant? Do you think this is the 1st time I ever heard this?
or when I'm invited over for dinner or out to eat...
They say - You don't eat meat? I love meat. I cant imagine not eating meat.
My reply usually is - Yeah, I don't eat pork, beef or any game meat.
What I really want to do is - drop on all fours and groAAAARGHHHwl while trying to bite a hunk of meat out of their cheek or shoulder.
I'm so sure if his holiness the Dalai Lama heard the dumb things that I hear every day he'd even clench his jaw shut to refrain from blurting out obscenities or punching someone in the neck.
That's all...
Maybe I should rethink this animal rights thing...
As much as I love animals and try to be the voice against senseless violence to animals, I totally know why I started eating chicken again... I hate birds. always did. Not only do the unstable, flying birdbrains, ruin Spring with their constant stupid peeps and dive bombing, they aim to shit on or near me. They are all out to get me.
A couple stories that are still fresh in my head.
I once had a roommate who had a mentally challenged parrot. It was mean and charged and snap at me when I had to feed or change it's nasty shit paper. I would daydream of shoving peanut butter down in it's beak to get it to shut up. "Awk, hello Awk, awk *whistle* Awk" while staring at me with it's mouth open, showing that dehydrated black worm of a tongue, is all it did ALL MORNING/DAY/NIGHT LONG while shuffling and shifting across the perch.
Another time is when we first bought Ozzy, our cairn terrier, we were walking on a huge stretch of open farm land. Anya was on one side and I on the other when a massive screeched & pressure boom in our chest from it's wings, tried to snatch her puppy body away from us. When it failed, it flew way up and circled us over and over again from high in the sky. Anya grabbed Ozzy but within minutes we were being stalked by 4 or 5 more flying carnivores. All of them wanting to snatch our expensive dog for their own lunch.
And now, the latest event happened last Friday at the Pet Expo.
We went thinking there would be tons of farm animals and domestic pets but found out it was more of a expo for pet supplies. There was a small petting zoo so we were able to hold bunnies and pat goats & horses. Then we walked over to see the birds. Big mistake. With my track record of birds I should have known to stay away.
I followed Anya to look at the dumb red Macaws and an ugly beastly white feathery asshole. The ugly white feathery asshole looks at me and it all happens in slow motion. flap, flap, flap, "AWK, AWK" it flies off it's perch and lands on me, I'm in such shock because I knew this was going to be bad and it goes for my face. I grabbed it and yelled "your bird is on me" to whoever would listen. This fucker is really is trying to bite my face and in defense I'm trying to... kill it. It finally catches a hold of me and bites down HARD on my index finger and wants it for a souvenir. It felt like a giant vice crushing my finger. Feathers & screams and I am squeezing the shit out of this bird with one hand and flailing my other one trying to pull it's face feathers out with my free fingers. Now there is blood that actually is pulsating out. Is it mine? The bird?
Richard Simmons/Bob Ross appears out of no where and is moving his mouth. Am I dreaming? Is he talking to me? The bird? I only hear wings flapping and white noise from the pain, I cant hear what he is saying. I later learn he is the owner, John Leag, "Guy with the asshole Birds" and he finally got the white, now red bellied & beaked monster, off me. I cant even explain how much blood came out of MY finger. The pain was rough for a few days and this is def going to be a scar, since I didn't go to get stitches. One thing that amazes me is after all this happed, I saw that there were people who were seated watching this! No one helped, I hate them. One was a beast of a woman and she had no left arm, I have to smile because I guess Karma visited her early, didn't she.
Anyhoo,
I will never regret cooking and eating birds for the rest of my life.
i will gladly stomp on this bird and roast it on a stick without any remorse.
click the picture above to look in my new hole.
https://picasaweb.google.com/Urrrma/AssholeAndMyHoleyFinger#
A couple stories that are still fresh in my head.
I once had a roommate who had a mentally challenged parrot. It was mean and charged and snap at me when I had to feed or change it's nasty shit paper. I would daydream of shoving peanut butter down in it's beak to get it to shut up. "Awk, hello Awk, awk *whistle* Awk" while staring at me with it's mouth open, showing that dehydrated black worm of a tongue, is all it did ALL MORNING/DAY/NIGHT LONG while shuffling and shifting across the perch.
Another time is when we first bought Ozzy, our cairn terrier, we were walking on a huge stretch of open farm land. Anya was on one side and I on the other when a massive screeched & pressure boom in our chest from it's wings, tried to snatch her puppy body away from us. When it failed, it flew way up and circled us over and over again from high in the sky. Anya grabbed Ozzy but within minutes we were being stalked by 4 or 5 more flying carnivores. All of them wanting to snatch our expensive dog for their own lunch.
And now, the latest event happened last Friday at the Pet Expo.
We went thinking there would be tons of farm animals and domestic pets but found out it was more of a expo for pet supplies. There was a small petting zoo so we were able to hold bunnies and pat goats & horses. Then we walked over to see the birds. Big mistake. With my track record of birds I should have known to stay away.
I followed Anya to look at the dumb red Macaws and an ugly beastly white feathery asshole. The ugly white feathery asshole looks at me and it all happens in slow motion. flap, flap, flap, "AWK, AWK" it flies off it's perch and lands on me, I'm in such shock because I knew this was going to be bad and it goes for my face. I grabbed it and yelled "your bird is on me" to whoever would listen. This fucker is really is trying to bite my face and in defense I'm trying to... kill it. It finally catches a hold of me and bites down HARD on my index finger and wants it for a souvenir. It felt like a giant vice crushing my finger. Feathers & screams and I am squeezing the shit out of this bird with one hand and flailing my other one trying to pull it's face feathers out with my free fingers. Now there is blood that actually is pulsating out. Is it mine? The bird?
Richard Simmons/Bob Ross appears out of no where and is moving his mouth. Am I dreaming? Is he talking to me? The bird? I only hear wings flapping and white noise from the pain, I cant hear what he is saying. I later learn he is the owner, John Leag, "Guy with the asshole Birds" and he finally got the white, now red bellied & beaked monster, off me. I cant even explain how much blood came out of MY finger. The pain was rough for a few days and this is def going to be a scar, since I didn't go to get stitches. One thing that amazes me is after all this happed, I saw that there were people who were seated watching this! No one helped, I hate them. One was a beast of a woman and she had no left arm, I have to smile because I guess Karma visited her early, didn't she.
Anyhoo,
I will never regret cooking and eating birds for the rest of my life.
https://picasaweb.google.com/Urrrma/AssholeAndMyHoleyFinger#
I have absolutely no business talking sometimes... I never settle down long enough to filter my thoughts before dumb 'word vomit' spews out of my mouth. This can catch people off guard and cause embarrassing moments. Some funny, some not so funny. I've violated countless Jehovah vouching door knockers, sales people, cable guys, creepy men who stare, women who are NOT pregnant but really, really, really look pregnant, and today while buying batteries I was reminded of the creepy Cord Camera guy that I ruined years ago...
Long ago, my 1st point and shoot digital cameras was right when digital cameras were first coming out. It was always so confusing or shutting off right in the middle of shots. Started really pissing me off because I had to keep replacing the batteries after an hour or two. It was getting to be more expensive than a film camera so I took it to Cord to have them look at it. I'm in a bad mood, in a big hurry and the guy at the counter is greasy and looks extremely stupefied from codeine, morphine, or maybe too much of the saucy sauce? I don't know, he was on something. I'm already so irritated, pretty much bouncing in place and the slug is looking unconscious now. Filled out a stupid form with name and address, kind of camera blah, blah... and then he doesn't even look up at me and said "you prob*mumble*babaly need shum*mumble* Lithium, *mumble*". ... ... Now, if you know me, I'm pretty quick to react (hence the whole, damn I wish I thought twice before spewing words out like I'm in an underground rap battle) my response went something like "WHAAAAT did you just say to me, you, no having heart rate, slow, sloppy, shit!? I NEED LITHIUM?!? IIIIII NEED LITHIUM?" Few more insults, perhaps some beat-boxing and your momma cracks were thrown in, I dunno, all a blur... total big loud scene. Then I'm informed that lithium is also a battery that digital cameras need for them to power on longer. Oh.. so it's not just liquid mind altering drugs for people with crazy mania or bi polar disorders. Hmph, learn something new every day. Now that digital cameras have completely boomed so have lithium batteries. They are everywhere now a days so I'm always reminded of how much of an ass I am. Still doesn’t stop my mouth though.
Weddings, funeral, or a fancy place, are terrible. I always look really awkward for a couple of reasons. One, because I am wearing makeup and a dress. Two, because I am trying my best to not to heave out words but then I start thinking things like, I bet I look like a whore wearing all this makeup.... I really shouldn't say nothing out loud now...oy, did I rub my eyes? I cant rub my eyes or mascara will get all over my face... omg behave Mania'... Crap! forgot to cross my legs, I think I just flashed everyone... stop drinking so much beer... are my lips moving when I'm thinking all this?... great, everyone can read my lips... This is their day, not mine... I should say something... No, It will just come out as rambling shouts... settle... just shh, they will get my card, I said it all in the card.
See! I can totally relate to those who have tourrette syndrome. Quotes, catch phrases, or a really big word are a no no too on my end... I'm usually reminded how wrong I am or how bad I mispronounced it. I have no sense of proverbs! I'm like the old bartender guy in Boondock Saints."Why don't you make like a tree and get the hell outta here. Sadly, I get him, he's on my level... he's my people ;)
Long ago, my 1st point and shoot digital cameras was right when digital cameras were first coming out. It was always so confusing or shutting off right in the middle of shots. Started really pissing me off because I had to keep replacing the batteries after an hour or two. It was getting to be more expensive than a film camera so I took it to Cord to have them look at it. I'm in a bad mood, in a big hurry and the guy at the counter is greasy and looks extremely stupefied from codeine, morphine, or maybe too much of the saucy sauce? I don't know, he was on something. I'm already so irritated, pretty much bouncing in place and the slug is looking unconscious now. Filled out a stupid form with name and address, kind of camera blah, blah... and then he doesn't even look up at me and said "you prob*mumble*babaly need shum*mumble* Lithium, *mumble*". ... ... Now, if you know me, I'm pretty quick to react (hence the whole, damn I wish I thought twice before spewing words out like I'm in an underground rap battle) my response went something like "WHAAAAT did you just say to me, you, no having heart rate, slow, sloppy, shit!? I NEED LITHIUM?!? IIIIII NEED LITHIUM?" Few more insults, perhaps some beat-boxing and your momma cracks were thrown in, I dunno, all a blur... total big loud scene. Then I'm informed that lithium is also a battery that digital cameras need for them to power on longer. Oh.. so it's not just liquid mind altering drugs for people with crazy mania or bi polar disorders. Hmph, learn something new every day. Now that digital cameras have completely boomed so have lithium batteries. They are everywhere now a days so I'm always reminded of how much of an ass I am. Still doesn’t stop my mouth though.
Weddings, funeral, or a fancy place, are terrible. I always look really awkward for a couple of reasons. One, because I am wearing makeup and a dress. Two, because I am trying my best to not to heave out words but then I start thinking things like, I bet I look like a whore wearing all this makeup.... I really shouldn't say nothing out loud now...oy, did I rub my eyes? I cant rub my eyes or mascara will get all over my face... omg behave Mania'... Crap! forgot to cross my legs, I think I just flashed everyone... stop drinking so much beer... are my lips moving when I'm thinking all this?... great, everyone can read my lips... This is their day, not mine... I should say something... No, It will just come out as rambling shouts... settle... just shh, they will get my card, I said it all in the card.
See! I can totally relate to those who have tourrette syndrome. Quotes, catch phrases, or a really big word are a no no too on my end... I'm usually reminded how wrong I am or how bad I mispronounced it. I have no sense of proverbs! I'm like the old bartender guy in Boondock Saints."Why don't you make like a tree and get the hell outta here. Sadly, I get him, he's on my level... he's my people ;)
aww this is grumpyness...
I woke up around 4am, flipped on the TV and saw the fantastic news about all the Chile miners finally being rescued. Honestly, I had forgotten all about them. I had heard of the collapsed mines months ago and I guess I just assumed they perished or were rescued (I don't follow the news because I cannot afford and do not want to start tak any anti-depression pills) sorry...
Now that I think of it, the most patriotic I have ever felt was actually during & shortly after the ghastly 9 11. Those petty al-qaeda goon bitches who shat on us 'home of the brave' folks, left a mark. We were suddenly ALL on the same level. This wasn't the combat I asked for America to hear, it was the battle I acquired and the one that they suddenly heard. Paralyzed with fear and stripped of our security blanket and vanity and held each other close regardless of color, sexual preference and status. This was for the first time I felt like I could depend on my country for love and support. My people, my country is in mourning together because of these ape savages. I don't know if what I just said makes sense but long story short... to the hell with status, money, looks and toys. We didn't know what was going on... is this war? Are our days numbered? Are our hours dwindling down to 0? We're valuing life, buying guns, holding our children, family and friends close and being brave enough to shoot to KILL if needed. America cared at that time, America mourned for every American that has just perished. For once I felt like the 'people' in, "We the People". I held hands with a stranger while watching the news feed in my doctors office, I prayed to every single religion and God thing out there to keep my family safe, I hugged my neighbor, I cried with my boss (who is a HUGE racist) & witnessed a bank teller have a break down. I bared my soul and souls were shown back to me. This is what my dream country is. If I fight, we all fight. Deaf, gay, black, white, male, female.. we all in this. We.. All.. In.. This! That's my constitution!
Copiapo Chile let me just say, I am in complete and utter admiration of your love for one another, the roots you value, the kiss you kiss and the thick ass morals you cherish till death, just amazes me and I wish I could carry it and pass it along to my children. chi, chi, chi, le, le, le - Chile!
...or Maybe I just need to save up for some Prozac.
33 people rescued on 10/13/10 you add up the dates and tell me :)
forgive me
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| i swear to God I am going to go ape shit in a minute... |
i wanna be a derby girl!
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