September 09, 2006
And, by the way...
Another thing that's starting to bug me...
I watched a program last night about Flight 93.I've seen other shows about that day and I have a question. Where are they getting the assholes who wanna play the terrorists?
Are these people actually hoping for a career in movies and TV and do they think that this is the way to achieve that? Maybe it's a bit of misdirected rage, hatred and whatnot, but I can't help but wonder what kinda of brainless, soulless pieces of shit these people are who portray the terrorists.
I wonder how they live with themselves, look in a mirror, stand themselves. And, if the defense is that they
Posted by: Stevie at 04:48 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Calling Dudley Doright...
Couldn't figure out why. I'm in a house fulla people, even glad to see a couple of them go already (just GO!) and I have tons of animals, books, TV, this thing (the computer).... but, just a while ago, I was reading (again) Fergie's autobiography (yeah, Fergie... Sarah, the one who married the "gorgeous" brother) and she said, among other things, that loneliness was, in part, having no one to confide in. *smack*
(upside my head) Well, hell... that's what's buggin' me... besides MISSING THE GUY!!!!!
(Not to mention the truckload of people who are probably starting to think I'm fulla shit, saying I'll ask him things for them about computers, moving (hosting) and whatnot.) There was a time when I talked to Paul about all manner of things.
Ran shit by him, turned outrage at injustices into constructiveness and learned, or tried to, how to "handle" (read: shut down completely and permanantly with a touch of class) other people's shit and insanity. Then, there's the whole "kept this patchwork, thrown-together-from-spare-parts computer of mine in decent running order"... (and yeah, I can mostly manage that by myself, hell, I've even made a few changes in my templates in the last coupla months...) I never was one to nail him down. I never had this much trouble getting hold of him, so I wasn't too huge a pain in the ass about it (I think). Then, I lost Rob and now I don't know which way to go with this "Paul is GONE" shit. Do I just let him go?
Fuggeddaboudit or call the fuckin' Mounties? Right this second, I don't even know if he's ALIVE. I did call where he works once. I'm not above doing that again. Then again, I'm also not above fucking off and leaving him alone, if that's the way it has to be, but, goddamn it, I wanna know.
(And, yeah... right this second, I have a choice between crying and getting pissed and I'm going the "pissed" route, because if I start to leak about losing Paul, then Rob's gonna get involved and I don't know if I'd EVER stop falling apart after that...)
Who's next?
My Dad?
(And, I already haven't heard from HIM in months either...) Ya know...
this is the kinda shit that leads me to the inevitable conclusion that if I were to drop dead, very few people would give a shit, let alone notice. Anyfuckin'way... if any of ya talk to Paul, wouldja tell 'im I said "Hi"?
Posted by: Stevie at 01:31 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 08, 2006
Maeve sent me this...
(He seems to think so, anyway... *grin*)
(If you don't see what I mean by that, say so and I'll tell ya...)
Posted by: Stevie at 09:47 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
So...
I'm coming back from having deposited the checks and stopping by my insurance agents office to drop off a check (as opposed to playing the "timing game" with the bank as to when the checks clear... will it be in time for me to do this shit online before midnight Saturday, thus renewing in time, or will the bank's computer have a brain-fart and not clear the checks in time, thus making me hafta redo my insurance all over again, possibly involving a hefty "first payment" payment?) and it occurs to me that my registration is gonna be expired soon, so I oughta look into that.
Thanks to the endless tourists, boneheads and TRAFFIC, turned out I had PLENTY of time to check it out, sitting, waiting for cars to MOVE and... oops. Seems it expired on August 31st. *exhales thru nose hard, but not hard enough to dislodge boogers and send them cascading down the front of my shirt* So, I come home, get on the phone and now I have it all set to be "fixed". Either tomorrow, if the checks clear early, or Monday, I hafta go to Hanover (home of the famous teeth-shattering hard pretzels), find the tag place and get this shit taken care of. Then, I suppose I oughta get the stupid thing INSPECTED finally and be legal. That would make my next trip to Bucks that much more "comfortable". I do NOT need to end up on some cop show as a stupidass who drives great distances in an illegal car to obtain... horticultural supplies.Ya know? Get pulled because my stickers are from the 90's or something, then get popped for that... nah.
Not part of my motivation. Anyway....
We're quickly approaching the end of this
George just got home from work, is getting a shower, then.... Then, the population of this "resort town" goes back to the "winter numbers"... in other words, the population in this house goes back to managable levels.
Back to HALF what it is now.
Back to no "extras". AND, thanks to school, I don't need to worry about this shit again for MONTHS. YAYYYYYY!!!!!!! Also thanks to school, the are a plethora of jobs available now, too. I love school.
Now. However, I HATE school busses. Lardbutt fuckin' things, stopping every five feet. Da fuck ails those kids?
They can't WALK?
Can't they have those little fuckers gather at one central spot and all get the fuck on the bus at the same time and git that fuckin' thing outta my way?
Or let 'em walk.
I don't care if it IS 17 miles.
The excercise would do the pasty-faced little couch potato, helmet-wearin' turds some good.
Or, you people who INSIST on having these critters, YOU drive them to the stupid school.
You wanted 'em, quit being lazy and having the roads all plugged up with stoppin'-every-seven-inches, stupid BUSSES. Jeez, it drives me beyond insane the way people kiss kids asses. Little assholes wear helmets to take a piss these days... Let 'em learn what life IS. Darwinism, a crap shoot.... "Listen kid... you're walkin' and if ya get yer stupid ass run over, oh well. If yer too stupid not to step in front of a car, we really don't need you breeding ever, now do we? NO. Now, quit whining, gim'me that stupid fuckin' helmet and git outta the house. And, have some SENSE. And, if you can't be bothered to have sense and you get yourself killed by being stupid, don't come running to me..." God, I hate school busses.
(And, yes... after this week, I probably am a tad more... "sensitive" in regards to kids right this particular second...) (Ooh, and, I just remembered... where IS that kitten? Need to find that lil poop...) And, yes, I did finally bake stuff last night. Two batches of cookies... tollhouse and oatmeal raisin. Okay, I just spun around in this chair and, for some reason, looked at the couch and there's the kitten, stuffed into the pocket on the back of one of the "cow pillows"... Hope it's just sleeping... God.
Help me.
(Please?) Yep.
Still breathin'.
Good. Now, to get it to EAT.
I need to call the PAWS lady, actually.
Oughta get some of that milk replacer, I think. (Calling her right now...) Okay.
Done.
She'll be calling back... (If I had EVER expended half the energy (or money) on myself that I do (#$!@&%!!) cats, I'd be a millionaire by now...)
(And, why did I hear that said in my Dad's voice? Hmmm?) ANYway... I feel a need to go "read" for a while. And, George wants this thing (the computer) anyway, so I'm outta here.
For now... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 04:31 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Guess what I have a new one of (if I can find it) thanks to the 8 year old...
I'll give ya a few hints.
I already have entirely too many of these.Some people think ONE of these is "too many".
I have never met one I've been able to say "no" to yet. And, no, it's not "men", ya wiseasses. They have fur, yes, but FOUR legs, not three.
(Think about it... *grin*) Yes, another (expletives deleted) kitten.
Or, to be more precise, another kitten with eye boogers. He says he found it sitting by itself in the barn. Borderline ready to eat canned food too.
(Very young...) Good timing though.
The PAWS lady was coming to take Ozzy to have an ultrasound done of his heart to check out the "heart murmur" the vet heard when he was gonna be neutered before.
They didn't "do" him then.
They wanna make sure his heart is strong enough to take the... shit they give 'em to make 'em go to sleep for surgery. (And yeah, I know what it's called. YOU spell that shit. WITHOUT looking it up...) ANYway... she was coming to get him for that and I showed her the kitten and she said she'd see if the right person was at the vet's tonight to get meds for it, but...
Ozzy wasn't actually supposed to be there til Tuesday night and the person she needed wasn't there, but... now I have backup for this baby and she said if I can't get it to eat the canned food to call her and she'll bring me some milk replacer, so cool. Now all I hafta do is find the little shit. And bake something. (And, no Dad, I don't wanna kill two birds with one stove, so to speak. I don't need no "cat recipes", thanks... *giggle*) Oh and here's two questions that have crossed my mind lately... If all the states have "Bureaus of Investigation" and they called themselves by the initials, like the Georgia office is called "the GBI" and in "Walking Tall", they referred to the one in Tennessee as "the TBI", what does the one in Florida call themselves?
And, can they be sued for copyright infringement for that?
Or be arrested for impersonating Federal Agents? Also... what does a person who doesn't like to or can't read do when they go shit?
Just shit?
Sit there, stare at a wall and shit? How utterly boring that must be. And, I still wonder from time to time how reeeeally reeeeally large women wipe themselves.
(This one ain't MY fault. It's PTSD from working at that dairy farm in Jersey with the two grossly fat sisters (both of whom had pretty lush moustaches) who both did things in the parlor bathroom that defied imagination.) I swear to God, when they shit, they just scraped their asses off on the back of the toilet seat.
And, sometimes, on the inside of the lid, too.
Plugged up the entire parlor drain system with what they did manage to get flushed on a regular basis. Ever since then, I've wondered how really fat chicks do that little task. Wasn't no way those two's arms were gonna reach their butts past those rolls of fat, ya know? Which may very well explain the "customizations" they did to the toilet at the farm... And, before anybody gives me grief or takes this shit wrong... no, I am not picking on people of size. I'm picking on those two disgusting dirtbags.
(Y'all don't EVEN wanna know what they did to their HOUSE bathroom... believe me.) And and, I never wonder this shit about big guys. Hell, I love big guys... Dom DeLuise, Drew Carey, Rob Reiner, Dennis Burkley...
I guess I just figure guys can handle it easily. Plus, I've never entered a bathroom behind a man that made me wanna run screaming... barring a coupla incidents involving smells... then burn the bathroom to the ground the way those two thaaaangs did at that farm. Which is making me think of the nasty shit every other female on the planet does in public restrooms, which annoys the HELL outta me, including having to use the men's room because other idiots who sit when they piss can't grasp the fact that this IS NOT the time to do a total overhaul on your face, hair, clothes and life. Just piss and get the fuck OUT. How hard does this shit need to be? And, when y'all piss? WIPE IT OFF THE FUCKIN' SEAT, YOU SCUMMY WENCHES!!!! *several minutes later* Wow man... from a kitten, to shitting, to yet another reason why some women make me chew my back teeth in less than... less than the number of words Stephen King used to write the original version of "The Stand".
(So far...) Gawd, I've got issues... Well... there it is!
The kitten has appeared.
I guess that's my cue to try again to teach this little waif to wanna eat canned food.
And, clean it's eyes.
And maybe try to ascertain what sex it is so I can quit calling the poor thing "it". Then bake something. And, never let those two activities overlap in any way.
(Especially with the fucked up excuse for a brain I currently have rollin' around inside my skull like so many rabbit turds...) Maybe I should go bake me before I get involved in this other stuff... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 01:12 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 07, 2006
Speaking of stupid...
Guess what I'm making for dinner tonight?
Chicken. Pray for me, please. Thank you.Posted by: Stevie at 07:05 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Crickey!!
My original title for this was gonna be "Comin' 'round...", which I "hear" being said in Andrew Mc Carthy's voice in "Weekend at Bernie's" when he dumped Jonathan Silverman, who by the way is GORGEOUS, into the water once the rope tying the speedboat to the dock snapped when they were trying to escape the island.
It was gonna be called that, because the more I read about Steve Irwin the (kinda) cooler he seems to have been, but after I had to squeegie the spittle offa my monitor from the last comment on this subject, I decided to change it to what it is. I don't hate the guy.Never did, really. But, he was a bit too... boisterous for my personal taste. Him, the Billy May guy who screams endlessly about the Oxy-whatthefuckever shit, that blonde guy who used to lead excerises (the one with the ponytail, not Susan Powter, and I can't stand her either)... alla those screamy/bouncy/"perky" kinda people make my eyeballs shatter after about a nanosecond.
(Same effect as a screaming baby, I might add...) Plus, and normally I love accents, but this guy's was somehow irritating, probably due in part to his "enthusiasm".
And, while I'm at it, I've had about enough of that godamned Geico gecko, too. Anyway... what he did as far as preservation and teaching was really cool. The chances he took just for the sake of it were insane. Maybe if he had been single and childless it wouldn't almost piss me off when I think of it. Somehow, I can't seperate it in my mind from Eric (Sr.) risking death riding bulls. And, it's not just "risking death", because everybody who breathes does that on a daily basis, but to chase it like that... fuckin' insane. It crosses the border to "stupid" when you have a wife and even moreso when you have kids. Once you have them, you also have an obligation to not keep flaunting death and doing things that will almost certainly lead to your death, sooner than later. You just can't keep acting like a teenager with that "immortality complex" they all have.
(You know... none of them believe for one second they're as susceptible to death as the rest of us.)
I think it's caaalllled... yeah... growing up. You quit driving like a raped ape.
You stop chugging full bottles of Jack.
You stop trying to gradute Summa Cum Laude for "Pharmaceuticals" from the School of Life.
You also quit handling, harrassing, playing with and daring things that Nature has clearly marked "Do Not Touch" by arming them with various ways to kill that probably make James Bond pop a boner. You stop trying to die. Okay? So, yeah, it is sad the guy died.
He did do some pretty cool things for animals and such.
He was even cute, physically.
But... it was no huge surprise to me to hear he'd died that way. That he'd died at all, yeah, that was a "wow" kinda thing (for about 12 seconds), but not the way he died. Not to be cruel, but, Jesus Christ... the guy was askin' for it. Sooner or later, he was bound to end up as lunch for some kind of aquatic creature.
Or a snake bigger than a friggin' Redwood. I'll bet even he wasn't surprised, beyond the initial pain/agony of being speared. "Oh, crikey. I knew this was gunna happennnnn... ugh." I mean, c'mon... What would have surprised me was if he died of old age.
Posted by: Stevie at 06:57 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 06, 2006
It's not that I was ignoring this, I just didn't know what to say...
Still don't.
Hang in there! YOU have become my regular read since Rob left us...as a beautiful, intelligent woman with the same poetic eye and insightful sense that Rob had of life's irony and weird twists, as well as the small rays of hope and surprise that can be found day to day in the stuff of life, you are doing much to fill the gap that was created when Rob left us, for me as well as others I'm sure! I really enjoy your writing Please Don't give up on blogging, and don't think that Rob is not with you every day in some way watching over you and living through your writingWhile there are parts of that that just flat out make me blush and sputter denials, there are also a coupla things (that I made bold) I hadn't even conceived of that blow my mind. Since I first read this comment and started trying to wrap my mind around it, I've also read three or four of Lewis Grizzard's books... two of which had me laughing out loud... sitting in the bathroom, alone, howling laughter at this guy's stories. Sure, I've read 'em all before, but this time, it was almost like the first time. And, it occured to me, it would be beyond cool to have Gut Rumbles in some kinda book form that I could read laying in bed, in the "library" or out in the hammock, if I felt like it. There is a printer in this house.
Posted by: Vizsladog3 at August 30, 2006 04:55 PM
I think it needs a cord or something. And paper.
Now... if I were to get this cord or whatever, how big a "thing" would it be to print all of Gut Rumbles and bind it somehow and should I wait for Paul to get it moved, cleaned up and back in the original form?
And, how many truckloads of paper would I need? None of which has a single thing to do with the original point of this post, but, damn it... I toldja's I don't know exactly what to say... *grin* I think I wanna say thank you.
I think I see a glimmer of something to live up to in there, like I had with Rob... something to aspire to. I didn't think I'd ever have anything remotely like that again. But, if I can just keep the two "bold-ed" thoughts foremost in my mind (instead of the JCS soundtrack like has been for the last coupla days, or the endless realization that Rob's really gone like has been for the last... EVER), maybe I'll be okay after all.
Maybe my heart will get back into this. Keep Rob with me... with us... through my writing.
That I can grasp.
That I even like. But... me?
Filling the gap left by Rob? Jesus.
Wow. My own "gap" is so gignormous and deep and I can't even begin to fill it for myself, so it never occured to me that I could be doing that for anybody.
But... the thought that I could... well, that seems to have found the bottom of my "gap". I heard it when it hit the bottom, which is a huge improvement over the endless depths of it before. Not that it's not still deeper than the damned Grand Canyon... but it is a relief to finally know that it does have a bottom. And, that it finally has something in it... the beginning of "filling it in and capping it", I guess... that's... just wow. And, in case you're wondering why I'd wanna fill in (like with cement) and cap off the hole Rob left in my life...
Well, nobody can ever take his place. Nobody would ever fit in his niche, in his place, in my heart. Nobody else can be my "first" in this. He was who I found first, read first, followed first, loved first... and it was through him that I met a few really excellent other people.
And, tons of cool people.
And, a handful of troll nutjobs. He was the first in a long time to show me I could trust some people (meaning him, Cat, Paul, Mike, Mike, Bob, Debbie, Ruth, Libby, Chablis.... and probably others not coming to mind right this second and Rob, or just being around Gut Rumbles, also taught me the difference regular people just having a "moron" day and true assholes, a thing I sorely needed to learn in the depths of the depression I was living in at the time.) I don't know anybody else who has been through as much shit as Rob had and not only survived it, but kept fighting on, forward, in the face of it... except maybe Buford Pusser. In my life, I've liked many people, tried to save several people and loved a few people but never in my life life, not here online and not in my "other" world (I refuse to call it the "real" world, because, lem'me tell ya... this shit is real, too, sometimes more "real" than what goes on in person. Rob's passing is more "real" than any triflin' shit my life has thrown my way EVER), have I ever trusted, cheered for and just so completely loved ANYBODY the way I did Rob.
So immediately. He had me 100% completely on his side from the first. And, hell yeah, there were a coupla times when what he was doing to himself was so wreckless, so pain-fueled, it was impossible to watch. But, I never really ever gave up on him. I loved him too much to ever stop believing in him. Still do. He was a lot of things to me that I couldn't be for myself for a loooong time.
A hero, a friend, somebody to respect, to want to live up to, to WIN for... Maybe someday I'll be a few of those things to myself.
I'm working on "friend" first... And, that comment up there... well, if I can live up to it, that is maybe something I could respect, so... I can see a path for the first time in a while.
And, while it may not be lit with Rob's light anymore, he did leave marks and tracks and if I pay attention and apply what he taught me... maybe I can keep going from where he left me off. Since I first read that comment, I have been trying to let, not make, "it" flow again.
Posting about God knows what til I finish it, no discernable destination, just letting my heart, or head, take over my hands and get it out. It's my head when it's a post like the one about Steve Irwin.
It's my heart when I'm talkin' to Rob.
Or about him. (Sidenote about Irwin... Can you say "OW!"? He pulled the fuckin' stingray barb outta his HEART himself and my other thought is, how bad musta God wanted HIS ass back for this shit to have even happened? Barbed between the ribs, right in the heart? JeeZUS. And, I always thought I was the epitome of selfish when it comes to kids with my attitude and all, but, fuck man, not even I would take the kind of chances, and so OFTEN, that this guy did if I had two small kids, for Christ's sake... Ya know what I'm sayin'? I do feel kinda bad for the guy, but it's not like it was totally outta the blue. The 'ray didn't break into his house and barb him in his innocent sleep, ya know. He lost me, even ME, when he had his baby in with that huge crock or gator or whatever the fuck it was besides 14 feet of teeth. Anyway...) Thank you again, Vizsladog3. There's a gift in what you said, the enormity of which I'm only beginning to comprehend.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:13 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 04, 2006
Okay now, gettin' all happy and sentimental-feelin' over puppy breath I can understand...
But...
Kid breath? *shudder* Ew, man. (Thanks for the giggle, Darlin'. Maybe if you were still home, I'da felt comfortable enough to leave this as a comment... *shrugs*)Posted by: Stevie at 04:18 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Karma personified...
Posted by: Stevie at 04:15 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Okay, so I cleaned it again...
The coffee pot, that is.
Maybe third time really is a charm.
Seems to be working a bit better now.
(Freekin' well oughta be workin' better... the last cleaning was over half vinegar, which for some odd reason I pronounce in my head "vine-gar" and then I always think of that ugly fuck Tom Berringer in "Eddie and the Cruisers" mispronouncing the name of the town in Jersey that I've been to a million times where his character was a teacher... it's called Vineland and just about pronounced "Vinelin" and he says it "Vine Land" all stupid and thanks to him vinegar is now forever "vine-gar" in my head... did I mention he's also ugly as sin?)
Still need to rent a Rug Doctor someday. The wash is now all the way done.
Just gotta gather Jr's socks outta the dryer if he didn't before he went out to work.
I bleached those nasty-assed things.
I wanted to last week when they were all gross in a large pile in the bathroom waiting to be subdued, but I was too sick still and he (Jr) washed 'em with some jeans before I got a chance to make 'em white again, so this time, I took it as a personal challenge, which... I won.
So there, socks.
And, y'all best quit growlin' and snappin' at me when I'm trying to get y'all into the machines, too, ya buncha ungrateful cotton or whatever yer made of. Dishes are done, kitty potties are clean, provisions have been obtained (with the exception of the coupla thing I forgot last night...). Right now, I'm sitting here in almost total darkness, most of the light I've got right now is coming from the monitor, half-watching "The Jeffersons" on TVLand and getting ready to toddle on upstairs to the library. Then, sooner than later, I'm gonna go lay the hell down. And, seeing as how this is the second or third night I've stayed up most of the night, I think I'm finally back as 100% as I wanna be.
(Meaning I still have no appetite compared to before and I like it like that...) Not only did I finish the house up right, I also cleaned out the fridge and the pantry, then I put away the shit we just got at the store a while ago.
(Getting better about that "living-out-of-grocery-bags" shit...) Right now, having my shit in one sock as far as the cleanliness of the house and car and crap like that and because it's early and I've got the house to myself and it's quiet, clean, dark and smells good and I don't feel sick as shit anymore... I almost feel content enough to be able to believe that Rob's right there, in the Crackerbox, asleep, and will be posting tomorrow. I almost feel good. (And, the instant I finish that thought, in staggers George... *grin* Which reminds me...) I used his drill/screw driver/large vroom vroom thing to put up the miniblind.
(It's stored in a Dewalt box, whatever it is...)
Anyway, he brought this thing in outta his truck for me a month ago when I originally bought the blind, before I got sick.
Never did hang the blind then, so he took his drill back.
Brought it in again for me the other day and I used it last night, right? Do ya think either of the times he brought it in for me to use he coulda bothered to mention that without a length of duct tape the stupid batt'ry would keep falling outta the dumbassed thing causing me to nearly kill two cats and break the window? NOOOO. Here I am, standing on a chair, barely knowing what the fuck I'm doing, trying to mount those irritating little cap-thingies that you stick the blinds in on the edges of the window and the fuckin' battery keeps falling out and bouncing to the floor. Third time I said fuck this shit and got out my handy-dandy duct tape and solved that shit. No wonder he let me use that one, huh?
*rolls eyes* And, does anybody ever use alla that shit they have packed to hang miniblinds?
I don't even know what most of that shit is. I use eight things. The two endcaps.
Two screws in each one.
Then, after I've stuck the blind in, I use the little slidey-things to keep the stupid blind from falling out. End of story. The rest of that crap, I've got 700 sets of and I don't know what the hell it's even FOR. Metal things, clips, more screws... ugh. Just gimme what I need and fuck the rest. And hell wid the instructions, too. I've got too much "guy" in me to be bothered with that shit. The only time I mind spare parts when I'm "fixing" something is the engine of my car.
If you end up with more shit than you started with on the garage floor, you might have a problem there, Sparky.
And, no, I do NOT care to find out what those parts are for whilst driving down the road and suddenly being unable to steer or stop or something, thanks.
(And, speaking of fixing cars... y'all do know that, no matter whatcha do, until you bleed repairing a car, it will not be fixed, finished, completed or started (running) right? It's true. Watch next time somebody fixes your car... soon as they bleed, it's fixed.) Okay, on that note (and before people start wantin' to plug up the bathroom)... I'm outta here. I'll be back later. Peace, y'all....
Posted by: Stevie at 03:57 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 03, 2006
And, away we go...
The extras are here.
For a week.
*gulp*
So now, I kinda can't wait to mop the floor again, just to smell Mr. Clean. House is clean.
Wash is all but done. Only "major" project I have left right now is hanging a miniblind in the kitchen. Right now, I have a black POW flag push-pinned to the side-sills. I'm gonna hang the miniblind right over top of it. That way, you'll still be able to see the flag from outside and I'll finally have the damned light blocked off the TV screen, not to mention how much better it'll look. Oh and I finally did amble across the road to the truck scale...
dropped 20 pounds... so far.
*grin* Anyway...
I gotta go do this shit.
Might bake cookies again later. Gonna hafta go back to the store at some point. I forgot the sloppy joe shit and I need chips for chocolate chip cookies.
Plus, if I ever find the recipe for the GOOD peanut butter cookies, I'll make them, too.
I have the thing around here somewhere, in a notebook that I had not long ago- I remember it, so it couldn'ta been that long ago- and it is good.
Those cookies come out so soft and moist.... man.
Gotta find that damned notebook. But, right now, I've gotta go pee, so I'm outta here. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 10:32 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
More fucked up than a football bat...
That is what Liar Guy is.
I know that now.
I know that now, because last night, right before I wrapped Jr's arm, he was upstairs, getting a shower and when he came down he not only had the green box that is our First Aid kit around here, he also had a HUGE pistol in his hand.
Also, I know, and I'm the ONLY one who does, where it is right now.
The gun, yes.
I hid it.
I told Jr. that having it in his room while the kid and his buddy are here would be a horrible idea, he agreed and gave it to me to hide til they're gone. Jr.'s not the worst kid who could've been given something so incredibly stupid, but still... He's been around guns before.
Sr. used to hunt.
He knows what NOT to shoot, especially around me, but... still. You just don't go around handing out weapons to 17, or 18, year olds without checking with an ADULT first. And, being an inbred, lying cocksucker ain't no excuse, either... *several minutes later* Is it my imagination, or has my life been more sucky since Rob died?
Since then, there's been the "gang bullshit" which actually turned out okay, since Jr. isn't ever going back to Jersey again. Bitch didn't plan on this little twist, but, fuck her after all she's done to both of these guys for all those years.
Anyway, after the gang crap, I lost the kennel job for some mysterious reason.
Then, there was the horse drama, with the check bouncing and alla that bullshit.
Then, the 8 year old fucked up the bathroom.
Then, I got sick.
Now, there's a gun in my house and George is, as I type, enroute to Joisey to retrieve the two "extras".
And, ya wanna hear "completely fucked"?
(This'll be me, by the way...)
Last night George and I ran to the store.
Talkin' about all kindsa shit.
Kids come up.
The original "plan" was for him to go get them today and take 'em the hell back Wednesday night.
Then, last night I asked him if he was goin' to Jersey next weekend anyway and when he said "yeah...", I said, "Well fuck it, then. Let the little turdburglers stay til Friday. Save you a trip back and forth, fer fuck's sake... *disgusted sigh*" Sometimes, I'd like to punch myself right in the teeth. Anyfuckin'way... I need to go tweak this house and I suppose I also oughta put on some fuckin' PANTS (another reason I hate people being in my house).
(I swear to God Himself, I get more like my Dad every day, thank that same God...) *huge, mostly disgusted, sigh* I'd wonder why alla this shit hasta happen to me, but I already know the answer.
I can visualize it...
God, sitting at a table, with his thumb grinding into the surface, saying "Because you piss me off." It's either something along those lines, or I'm due to win the lottery or some other positive, life changing thing.
And, my life ain't no example of "how to", so I'm gonna go get an umbella now and be all Wile E. Coyote while I wait for God to wear his thumb down to a nub. I hear this strange whistling/incoming noise........
Posted by: Stevie at 11:29 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 02, 2006
What is this, a test?
It's not enough, I guess, that I still don't feel 100% yet from being sick, not to mention being sick itself, right?
Plus, I'm living with the... threat of having two extra kids here again for multiple days. Then, today, I get up, after having baked oatmeal raisin cookies til 4am, and I come down for a cuppa coffee.George comes into the kitchen and tells me that Jon, the Liar Guy from back in Bucks, is here. Oh, fuck me dead. He didn't stay very long, thank God and I managed to hide in the bathroom til he left. Worst thing?
He now lives only about 40 miles from here. Again, kill me now, please. *bangs head on desk repeatedly* And, I hope whomever gave him the correct directions to get here gets a huge weinie pock. Like a chicken pox pock, only bigger. This dickwad exudes evil to any creature perceptive enough to pick up on it. I can't stand him.
My dog, April, would gladly rip his throat out. She HATES this guy.
And, Tyler, my totally housebroken, good-little-man Jack Russell peed on the living room carpet while that putz was here. Now, what does that tell you? E-ville. Plus, every word outta his mouth is most likely a lie, yet Eric and George can deal with him. Ugh... I can't, therefore, I don't. Hell, he's part of the reason I was pissed enough to tell Eric to call this Boss in the first place.
First, I had the two psychos, the brother/sister act, to deal with at work.
Then, I come home and here's this dickhead lying to me about horses every damned day after Storm died. Part of my motivation for leaving there was to get away from this fucknozzle and now... here he is again. I musta been Atilla the Hun in a previous life.
That would explain a lot... Anyway... I wasn't just "sitting there" while I was avoiding that a-hole.
I was also reading Lewis Grizzard and laughing my ass off.
(Thank God I was sitting down, hence my ass didn't actually go anywhere...) Did y'all know that in one of his books ("You Can't Put No Boogie-Woogie on the King of Rock and Roll", I think...), he has an entire article about Helen, Ga.? You know... where the blogmeets happened. It was about how Helen has an Alpine theme about it and Mickey D's wanted to build a restaurant there but wouldn't do it "Alpine", so Helen told Mickey D's to piss off. Pretty cool.
Wish I'd have mentioned that to Rob... Lewis also doesn't care for cats. Lewis is also gone entirely too soon. Ya know... there's a part of me that can't WAIT to get where these guys are... them, Morrison, Bon Scott, Stevie Ray, my friends... oughta be awesome. No matter which place is it. I don't care.
I just wanna go where they all are. And, as much as it sucks losing people like Rob, Lewis, Jim, et al., I am glad to have been alive while they were. So much good music, good TV (and M*A*S*H, All in the Family spring to mind), good books, excellent people... Coulda missed the pain, woulda had to miss this dance.... Lotsa pain there, too, but... I'm learning to live with it.
Finally.
Can't stop it.
Can't keep it from happening.
Can't even escape it for very long... even WITH weed.
But, I'm finally learning how to LIVE with it.
Like a permanant disease or something. Rob's doing that for me.
Quite well, too. I've gotten past a lot of pain in my life.
Maybe never got completely over it, 'cause it still hurts to think of some of the people I've lost.
But, I don't think I'm ever gonna get past this most recent hurt.
Gonna hafta learn to live with it. Without my primary teacher. Jeezus. Well, anyway.... I'm fine.
Not in physical pain right now.
Not crying.
Not upset or anything.
Just facing reality, which usually bites. And, yep. It sure does this time, too. Guess I oughta go find something to do. It's all rainy here, so outside shit is out.
Might go visit the hosses. They're in because of the rain...
I haven't seen Bo since I got sick and then they squirted alla that tar-shit on the sides of the road, thus effectively trapping the horses in the field til it "dries" (til this Ernesto-rain showed up) and precluding me from parking in the field next to the pasture lest I get sticky black tar-shit on my white car, ya know?
So, running to the Boss's barn might be cool. Or, I could soak in the tub again. Or, I could do both, if I don't fuck around too long. Whatever. I'll take it as it comes. As if we have any choice in that. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 02:43 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
September 01, 2006
I hate it...
I hate change.
And, "change" is what they did to the Yahoo homepage.
And, I hate it.
(When you use purple degreaser stuff, it does go quick...) And, if I were really feeling industrious, while I was using said mop, I'd also go on and spray the Resolve on the carpet in the front room then scrub it in with the scubby thing on the mop.
IF I felt that industrious.
Which I kinda don't right now. I just got outta the tub.
Soaked and read for a while. Oh and guess what I actually ate for dinner?
Chicken. Kentucky Fried, but chicken nonetheless. There've been many, many times in the past three weeks or so when I wondered if I'd ever eat chicken again, believe me. I don't usually eat shit that nearly kills me ever again, or whatever unfortunate thing I ate before I nearly died even if the sickness isn't because of the food. One time, I was sick for days right after I'd had a salad with that shaker/carafe kind of dressing that you add water, oil and vinegar to... Italian, to be exact. I had that salad, then, hours later, I was sick. Aftet the amount of time I spent puking that time, I didn't eat that kinda salad dressing for about 10 years. I'm glad I finally got over that too, because now I like the Zesty Italian with balsamic vinegar sprinkled on top, after the dressing. I'm also glad my body didn't decide to blacklist chicken for ten years this time. And, now that I think about it, not once while I was sick and managed to be outside long enough to hafta catch my white rooster and toss him back into the yard, did I ever feel nauseous looking at him or Cogburn, the red one.
Pretty cool, considering the fact that the thought of eating chicken then nearly made me ralph. And, about that KFC?
I think I need to take a ride on over there tomorrow if I have the energy.
The three guys went to pick it up (and notice I've never ONCE referred to them as the "three WISE men", thank you). They came home after having spent 59 bucks (yes fifty-nine) with:
a twenty piece bucket o'chicken
five sides
that's it. Not even any damned biscuits. Sixty dollars for that? I wanna go eyeball the order-board my own self and just ask a manager about it.
I don't know what they can do about it now, but I at least wanna point this shit out, ya know?
Sixty bucks for that piddlin' shit... jeezus. Anyhoo... I feel a need for speed... "ing" up the stairs to the library, so I'll be back later. After I got-damned BAKE SOMETHING. Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 11:00 PM | Comments (30) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 31, 2006
Okay...
Everybody is finally upstairs.
Jr & Sr got done work, I got Jr to get his shower first so I could "do" his wrist.I kinda changed my plans on that, too.
Got to CVS and found waterproof tape and bandages and Neosporin and self-cling ace bandages.
I got all the shit wide, 2"-this, 4"-that...
When he got outta the shower, I smeared Neosporin on the big-assed, waterproof bandage and put that on.
Then, I covered that with three strips of waterproof, white Johnson & Johnson tape.
Then, I put maybe three or fours wraps of the ace bandage around alla that. Very neat, very safe and the ace bandage is the same color as his tanned arm, so you can barely see any of it. And, I got plenty of everything, thinking it may need to be changed more than once a day if he gets cow shit in there. With the ace bandages, I'm just cutting off 10" or 12" at a time. If that much.
I have two of them, so they should last the ten days if I don't get nuts with it.
Like I do tape. As I was putting the third strip of the white J&J tape around his wrist, I said, "Oh, by the way... when it comes to tape, I never know when to quit. I'm a terror with scotch tape on Christmas presents.", as I unwound several inches of the white tape. He giggled and said, "I ain't no Christmas present, now..." "I'll try to remember that", I said back. The Doc in the ER asked me if I was gonna be okay before he started stitching and I said, "Oh yeah, I used to be an EMT... 'course, it is different when you know the person." The Doc got me a chair... *giggle* I was fine, though. I can remember following them into the house when he first did it saying to myself, "EMT head... need the EMT brain..." and not getting too great a response from that request. I had him put it under cold, running water, then put a towel on it with pressure while we tried to decide if he needed stitiches or not.
I finally told Eric to call the Boss.
Hell, I needed directions anyway, right? That's when he said to come to his house so he could see it and if we needed to go, he'd tell me how to get there. We did, he looked, we went, he said to bill him, like I said earlier. If the Boss had determined he didn't need stitches, my plan was to cover the wound with Balmex and a gauze pad and tape.
BUT... stitches it was. As the Doc is stitching, it occured to me that we hadn't even mentioned the most insane thing Jr. does, so I brought it up... his bullriding bullshit.
I can remember going through my whole routine about his Dad riding bulls til we got together and me telling him, "Look, I'm a Taurus, a bull. You wanna ride a bull, ride me. I, unlike other bulls, won't even turn around and try to gore ya if ya fall off, okay? Oh, and bring the rope, leave the spurs..." I say the stupidest shit to people when I'm all nerved up sometimes...
(I get that from my Dad...) Thank God the Doc was laughing.
Thank God even more that I eventually stfu. Oh crap... I just remembered that I forgot to call that lady with Jr's soash number.... Must remember to do that tomorrow... My bad. And now, now that my legs finally have feeling again from my last visit to the "library", I seem to need to go there again. I hear the Ann Rule book I'm (re)reading calling me... THEN, I hope to hell I come back down here, do the dishes, clean the catboxes and bake something.
Now that my headache is gone (three aspirin slammed down with a cuppa coffee), I feel better and like I might actually stay up all night like I usually do. It'd be the first time in damned near a month.... AND, I know exactly where Jesus Christ Superstar is, too... *grin*
Now, if the cats haven't chewed the friggin' speaker cord again... (fucker's gonna be three inches long by the time they quit...) Oh yeah... one other thing... I think that sometime here recently, unknown to my concious self, I decided that I'll watch Rob's DVD when my jeans size begins with a "3" and his shirts are looser. I don't know why, I don't even know for sure when I decided this, I just know it's like a fact in my head. Meanwhile, I'll just keep it right where it is, less than a foot away, standing up, angled so I can glance over and see him smiling and playing his guitar. And, ya know what else?
I don't know if my stupid period is coming again real soon or what, but it seems that, every day, it gets harder and harder not to fall apart when I think about Rob. Isn't this suppsed to get easier?
'Cause, it's really, really not. I keep hearing "Hard Habit to Break" by Chicago, in my head... I honestly don't know which it is that breaks my heart more often... that he's really and truely gone or how well defined his last few years were in his face and eyes. He and his brother Dave aren't that far apart in age, but when I looked at Dave, then looked again at Rob... at first, I just couldn't think about it.
Because Rob looked years older than Dave does. And, I know why. And, that kills me. And, so does his being gone. *several minutes later* Now, look, damn it... I haven't been waiting all this time for everybody to go to bed just so I could sit here and not be able to stop crying, ya know?
Yet, that's what I seem to be doing... Hah... a totally other thought just popped into my mind, thank you, Chablis... I think I already know what she's gonna do.
And, for the record, I read her early this morning and haven't been back yet, so if she's already said it, I don't know it.
Officially.
But, in my gut I do.
(I'll put it to draft, with the time and date and after she says what she's gonna do and especially if I'm right, I'll post it then... after she decides.) Okay, that got me to stop leaking, finally. Damn it.
Now I just need to quit looking over at him. And, I know how to do that, too... go out in the kitchen and DO something.
Something constructive. Or, go shit. Whichever. Oh, fuckin'-A, maybe I'm losing my mind because with my eyelashes not yet dry, I just made myself giggle with that "or go shit" thing... Rob, what the FUCK did you do, going away like this?
Why, man?
How, even.... Didn't you know what it would do to people?
Why couldn't you ever believe me when I told you, or tried to, how important you were? How much you just being there, being you, meant to so many, to me? You struggled so hard for so long, you beat so many things... I really believed you were indestructable. I was always scared of losing you, but I never really thought I would... we would.
At least not s'soon. You were only, what? 53?
I want to say you were still a young man, but, I can see you right now and I know you weren't... not anymore.
But, you were still Rob.
You were still a hero to some.
To me. And now there's just this big old empty void.
The silence is deafening. And, very heavy. Now, before I get to crying agin, I'm outta here. I don't think I'm handling this very well.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:50 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
The jeans I have on right now...
are 4" smaller around the waist than the ones I wore in Georgia.
Besides this, I've had an "exciting" morning. First off, this moron who works here who canNOT drive rips down the electric wires dragging some rake-lookin' piece of equipment behind a tractor. Numbfuck. Nuttin' to do, so I go outside.And, cleaned the front porch part of the house.
Fed the rabbit.
Fed the birds in the front yard (shickens and duck!). Then, when I was lookin' for something else to do, I got it. Jr. comes around the side of the house holding his wrist.
I heard something about "gonna need stitches...". B'scuse me? Oh hell yeah, sure nuff, Jr.'s done cut his own wrist.
By accident.
Thanks to the moron who ripped the wires down, thus rendering the electric saw thing useless, Jr. was cutting PVC pipe with a razor knife and... slipped. Fuckin' oops. Wound up having to take him to the ER, filled out forms, the Boss was the one who gave me directions to the ER and he told me to have the bills sent "here" and we were in front of his house at the time.
He is GREAT. Told me not to worry about anything, just get the kid fixed. So, we did. And... believe it or not, we were in and out in less than an hour.
He got two stitches. When we got home, the stupid electric still wasn't back on, but it did just come back on about half and hour ago. I cheered when it did.
"Yayyyy..." Now I need to go to a store (again) and get a viable ace bandage for Jr.'s arm. Gotta keep shit off it at all costs, pretty much. We're talkin' antibiotic goop, bandage, tape around that, a latex/rubber/vinyl/whatever glove of some kind and, when I get one that'll WORK, an ace bandage under the glove. I do have two ace bandages and I actually found 'em, too.
BUT... one needs those little butterfly clips which I can't find anywhere and the other one is one of those kind that stick to itself, except this one is so old, it's dead. It wouldn't stick with duct tape. Holy hell...
I just looked at my lava lamp/floor lamp and it scared me for a second.
All the "lava" is just sitting on the bottom in a blob.
I was like, "wtf?", then I remembered the electric was off for a while.
That stupid ass.... it was the same jackass who pissed me off last winter, driving behind me like a complete asshole.
I went off about him then and I still can't stand him.
This didn't help a bit, by the way...
*sardonic grin* Oh, and guess what else?
I can now fit into Rob's flannel shirts. It'll be nice when they're a little looser, but, I can get 'em on now. Think I've lost weight? This keeps up I may even buy a bathroom scale, just to see. Of course, there is the truck scale right across the road.
I weighed my car on it once.
Then, I weighed myself, walking across it.
I had no idea it was sensitive enough to even register me, but it did and I was NOT happy with the number. That was before I went to Georgia. I might oughta take a lil ol' walk across the road, maybe.
Just to see. See what kinda female I am?
What other female do any of you know who'd even THINK of weighing herself on a truck scale? 'Course, I'm also the kind of female who say to a semi-bleeding teenaged boy enroute to the hospital, "Your right hand, huh? Wipin' your ass is gonna be fun. I can hear it now, "Da-ad, I'm DO-ONE!!!"... That'll be a blast." He almost fell outta the car laughing.
I did say the line in Bill Engvall's southern accented voice, too...
Hollered it, even... He and his Dad just looooove my references to their shit, lem'me tell ya.
They are so easy.
I even mention the fact that they DO it, let alone forget to flush or whatever, and they are GONE.
Dying.
Sputterin'.
Laughing.
Turning red. It's great. Anyway, I guess I oughta go get the ace bandage and shit. Come back, maybe bake something.
Cake, cookies... something.
Also have a few dishes to do, maybe a load of laundry, the cat boxes...
Vacuuming, too. Nothing major. And, I've been wanting to bake something, but I've just been so "bleh", I haven't.
Today, I've got more energy, thank God.
But... my God, I miss him so much it hurts to breath.
Posted by: Stevie at 12:55 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 30, 2006
Hey, Rob?
This still sucks, man.
It's not getting any easier. The void you left is growing, not shrinking.Conversely, my interest in this whole thing, blogging, is shrinking, not growing. I do believe that half... more then half... of what motivated me was you. Getting a comment from you, being linked, being quoted...
I don't know how many times I'd use an odd phrase or twist of words, then see the same thing show up at your place a few hours later.
How many times did we post the about the same abstract thing, unbeknownst to each other til later?
Too many to count, really... I used to spend hours on here, basically killing time, til it was "time" to go back to Gut Rumbles and see what you were up to next.
Now, I go through my whole toolbar (personal links) in no time and I walk away feeling unfulfilled, still starved and lonely. Having some of your belongings helps... sometimes.
Other times, it hits me why and how I came to have them and that kills me all over again. This just plain sucks.
No more new posts.
No more Rob.
No more laughing and crying at nearly the same time, being made to think, re-evaluate myself or learning from the Master of Surviving. And, in all that time I did have with you, the one thing we never did cover was how to survive without you.
The one thing it seems I need to learn the most urgently... Blogging without you somewhere out there keeping an eye on me just isn't the same.
It's like going from Oz back to Kansas, like going from driving a NASCAR to a LeCar, like existing not living.
It's pretty much like it was before I found you... lonely, barren, empty, echo-y and still. God damn.
Ya know? I miss you.
And, I love you even more than that.
If there is a way to keep going, to love this again, I'll find it.
For myself as well as you. But, I've gotta tell ya....
It's black as pitch here without your light to show me the way. I'm scared, Rob. I thought I was scared when I was scared of losing you... of you dying.
Now that you've up and done it, I know what "scared" means. It's trying to do this alone.
Without you.
(And, pretty much without Paul too, these days...) Right now, I'm hoping that my move will help this be new to me again.
It won't replace you... nothing ever will, but the new place, new pictures... it can't hurt.
Nothing can hurt me anymore after losing you.
I'm still too numb. I swear, losing you, then being sick for so long... I do NOT get sick, EVER, but when I do- lookout. But, this time was insane.... it's changed me. I feel better now from being sick, but I still feel blah, like "who cares" about most shit.
I'm tired all the time and sitting down here in front of this blinking cursor seems almost like a chore right now. When I was about 14, I first heard of Nostradamus and heard his predictions.
Well, it scared the ever-livin' fuck outta me and made me wonder what the point even was to try to be "successful" if the world was gonna end before I was dead. This is about the same. What's the point of doing this knowing I'll never hear from you again? I know there must be one, but I'll be damned if I can figure out what it is. "Hate me, adore me, bite me. www.gutrumbles.com Not for the faint of heart." I see that every time I look up from here. I'm gonna go with "adore you" and add that the truth never is for the faint of heart. Maybe the point lies somewhere within "picking up where you left off".
(As if I have the full-fledged chops for that...) Maybe the point lies somewhere within never letting you be forgotten or denigrated or fucked with ever again.
Or at least trying not to let that happen.... You're my heart, Dude.
Have been for a loooong time and probably will be til a year or so after I'm dead. What was done to you wasn't right.
How you handled it, survived it, defied it and continued on in the face of it all was awe-inspiring. I wish you'd known that second bit as well as you did the first. Losing you has brought me to my knees once again.
I've been here before.
But, I've never tried to stand with such a heavy load before... all the days I have left without you weigh a LOT.
Just knowing you were there... somewhere... anywhere... was such a gift.
I only had the slightest idea when you were here. I knew then what you were.
But, I didn't know half of it, not really. I'm learning that now.
Just how much you being on this planet meant to me... If I could have improved your trip one tenth as much as you did mine, maybe you'd still be here, ya know?
Maybe you'd have found a way...
To live, not have to escape. There is no escaping this, that much I know.
So, now I have to find a way.
Where you couldn't.
And, without you leading the way.
At all. *siiiigh* Only for you, Dude....
Posted by: Stevie at 12:10 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
August 28, 2006
Holy shit...
You wanna talk about a good, solid "perspective" brainduster?
Here I am, all bleh because I've been sick and still feel a little "used and abused" because of it and then, I go on over Chablis' place and, "Wham", a dose of perspective, much like a bucket of cold water poured over the top of your warm shower, right on ya. Number one, compared to what Chablis is wrestling with, I got no problems.Number two, compared to what those kids are dealing with, I got no problems.
Number three, in the big scheme of things, my having been sick ain't jackshit. Holy Jeezus.
I don't even begin to have an idea how to do, and not do, what Chablis has to decide about.
How can you say no, but how do you say yes, too? I have neither experience nor kids of my own and the idea scares the hell outta me. They can't go back to where they were.
They probably can't stay where they are now for very long.
But, how do you deal with kids that've been treated like they have been, let alone you have your own kids to think of....
God Almighty. In a way, my total lack of the "motherhood gene" makes this easy for me, really, because I can't think of a soul who'd be insane enough to even ask me to do this.
I'd probably fuck up a semi-normal kid. I shudder to think of what could happen with kids with such emotional baggage... thanks to their shitty excuses for parents...
Somebody needs to sterilze one or both of that couple, by the way.... Anyway, before I go getting all pissy, I just wanted to point out how fuckin' awesome Chablis is to even be in this position in the first place.
That she's considering doing this makes me breathless.... Whatever you decide, I'm behind ya all the way, either way.
Posted by: Stevie at 07:50 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Doin' lots better...
Physically, I'm almost back to 100%.
Of course, this is my version os "100%", so it has inherent flaws, like my back buggin' me, not being thin enough yet, having a cough in the morning, not feeling like Miss Perky 2006 to begin with... shit like that.
I'm doing whatever I want, just a little slowly still... bein' careful is all.
Sometimes, I get headrushes, which are mostly just fun. Oh and I finally found Jesus Christ Superstar.
It was in the stupid car. Have I played it yet?
No.
But, I will... The bullet I dodged was fired by Jr., too, that little shithead. Seems he called the cuntbag in Jersey and tried to arrange for the two kids who were here before to come back for another week before school starts. Screw asking anybody around here.
Screw the fact that I've been sicker than nine dead dogs for over two weeks.
Screw the fact that I just got the house cleaned again.
Screw alla that. He just took it upon himself to try this bullshit and, lucky for him and everybody else in general vicinity, it didn't work.
And now, since I can't seem to be asked beforehand about this shit, it ain't GUNNA work again before school starts.
As of this second, I no longer need to worry about assholes in my house for a week at a time til next year.
So, thanks for that, Dude.
You wanna disregard me, I kin do that too.
You wanna make plans without asking first, thnaks for the open door to do the same. Next time, ask first. And, no, I'm not mad.
I would be if there were extra kids around here, but there aren't and I ain't, so good. Now, off to the "library" again. Back later... Peace
Posted by: Stevie at 05:46 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
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