October 29, 2003
The REAL crossfire....with an update again
The crossfire I'm caught in is my own....it's within me. Conflict between what I intellectually know to be right and...what my heart says. (Which is, for the most part, one phrase over and over: Fuck that.)
It's everywhere I look, it seems. Every single shitty thing that is currently invading our life is simultaneously my fault in a huge way and also something I could just as well not even have to deal with in the first place. Maybe that's what people meant when they used to tell me I bring my shit onto my own self. I dunno.
Anyway...I got to thinking about the end of that post, where I said "Don't you DARE ask me why..." And, I asked myself why. It's got a lot to do with not 'being able' to fix this shit for Eric. It has to do with self-preservation. It has to do with me most likely being an un-professionally medicated depressed-type person. It has to do with me getting a break from the shit in my head and in the world itself. No, it doesn't solve a single thing. It just keeps me going one. more. day. til I can figure this all out.
There is also only one way to even begin to fix this shit and that also calls for me to not be able to be with Eric. (fuckthattoo) (what crossfire?) In order for me to 'fix' this, I have to be able to do without him for incredibly long periods of time. I know this. I was put through it before. When he worked for Crane Nuclear Valve. Who wants him to come back. Real bad.
(fuckthat)
When he worked for 'em before, they promised he wouldn't be on the road. Just day trips. Those lying maggot cocksuckers.
Those lying maggot cocksuckers paid him $18.00 an hour. Which is what his support/alimony payment is based on.
(fuckthat)
Ain't ever gonna get 18 of anything outta Bill an hour, except jobs and complaints, maybe. Now, before anybody gets all analytical on my ass about being too dependant on Eric, wantin' to be with him 24/7 not being healthy and all that SHIT- let me clue ya as to why I'm like that.
#1. He is too. So bite me.
#2. My stupid, dead mother.
What's a corpse got to do with it, you may be asking? She died right before she turned 43.
I'm 40. Elvis' mom died when she was 40-something. He died at the same age. What if I do? I do not want the last three years of my life to be spent alone, in the 'lap of luxury compared to this shit' we'd have because of the money, because he's gone all the time working.
Selfish fuck, ain't I?
Yeah. I've recently realized that I am.
This isn't the only thing, either.
Bullriding...I'm fucked about that too. The two things that Eric wants/needs to do the most and there I stand, as in the way as one bitch can get. When it comes to bullriding, I didn't demand he stop, or forbid it or any of that shit. Not my way.
I begged him in tears not to start again. LaneFrostLaneFrostLaneFrost...ya know?
If you don't know who Lane is, watch 8 Seconds. I dare ya. Then tell me I'm wrong. (Which I know somehow I am...) Now there's this Crane shit. It's never really gone away in the first place, no matter how much I wanna try to say in earlier posts that the job 'doesn't exist anymore'. It does. He's gonna go back. I know that, even if he doesn't, yet. I just don't know when. Fuck me runnin', I'm gonna probably be living in Jersey again. (fuckthattoo...)
Then, last night when he was talkin' to the kid, he (the kid) mentioned that a guy he used to be very good friends with for years and actually worked at Crane with for about three weeks before he (Eric) quit is looking for him and that part of what he wants is Crane is on his ass to find Eric because they want him back. Bad. (fuckthat) I already know it's the answer. It's the answer to all the shit. It's the only way we'll ever even have a chance to get married. To be rid of her. To do anything except barely survive on this farm.
God DAMN it!!! This is exactly, to the muthafuckin T, the kind of shit God just loves doin' to me. "Want a chance for you two to ever get anywhere? Okay. Here it is...be away from him. Even IF ya might be dead in three fuckin' years. Take chance..live a little. Not a gambler, are ya? Forgot to install that, did I? Oh well..tough. Deal with it. I've killed damn near every single person you've ever loved except your Dad and I saved him for a special kinda torture for ya and you're scared? Get over it. Bitch. This is my offer. Take it or not. I don't give a good Me damn." Yeah...that's Him. Sigh............ Oh fuckin' well...I'll wind up doing what I have to do, even if I do hate it.
One thing I don't hate, in fact I love it, is taking care of Eric and he just came in for breakfast, so I'm gonna go make him eggs, bacon and cheese on English Muffins.
While I still can...
I'll be back
Sometime.
In the meantime....duck.
Crossfire, don'tcha know... Update aka 'Next Bullet':
Eric just talked to the ever smarmy asshole Chick who says definitely yes, he'll have Eric back there, full time in February.
He also asked almost immediately if he was going to have any problems about traveling.
See?
I fuckin' told ya.
Being right SUCKS.
So does being alone.
Now.
I used to like it.
Before Eric.
It wasn't forced on me.
Before Eric.
It will be now.
By Crane.
Again.
All for stupid fuckin' money.
Wonderful.
Posted by: Stevie at 09:09 AM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
More hugs.I feel better now...sort of...
Well, after getting that 'update' done, I'm no longer so angry I'm vibrating, but I do feel sick...
ugh. Didn't help a bit that I fell asleep in a chair in the livingroom. Feel like a smacked spider. Stiff, sore and sick. Goin' back to sleep soon...Right after my headache subsides. Which it will now...now that the contents of my spleen are all over the next post down, that is...But, I am kinda laughin'/smirkin' at shit I'm saying...so that's good. Gettin' my (warped) sense of humor back. And, please don't let my vitriol about school nurses offend you...I meant it, but not at anyone in particular. Just in general. Besides, it's true. They are about useless. Prove me wrong. Show me one school nurse ANYWHERE who does the right thing and not the 'thing' school 'policy' dictates-especially when it's putting kids in danger. Prove me wrong, or let it go. This just is one more reason I'm glad I've never given birth to anything. And...never want to. Okay...I mostly just wanted to say 'thank you' to the people who have commented. Not just for commenting, though, but also for helping me....I wanna say 'get over it', but that's not exactly right...for helping me feel as much better as I can. For letting me vent my spleen all over that post. For giving a shit. That's the best part of you all...giving a damn when no one else does. Thank you for that.
Sincerely. Okay..go read it. Get pissed. Get pissed at me too, for 'attacking' poor school nurses. Get pissed as ya want...just see if you can see a solution I've missed. I'm a little worried that I may be standing too close to the tree to notice the forest. Perspective. It's all about perspective...
Right?
Posted by: Stevie at 06:32 AM | Comments (43) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 27, 2003
Bathrooms...
(Two little things before I start here...first of all, I really wish I'd quit hittin' the enter key instead of the tab key after I type the title. I did it again and now, out there on my page, is the word 'Bathrooms', all alone, no text til I get this done. Just a title...Real cute. I can't help but wonder how many people are gonna pop in, see that and be, like, "Yeah? What about 'em? I got one...do you?" On the other hand, there could be a coupla people who know that's just an odd little clue that there just might be a decent post here soon. *Shrugs* I just wish I'd stop that with the Enter key....
And-Yes, I know I'm supposed to be cleaning the house...And, I will. Soon. I've just gotta get this out and get a bit more coffee in me and then I'll clean...I'll clean. Hell, it ain't really that bad, anyway...which, yes, I know, is beside the point. Shaddap.)
Okay...bathrooms.
I'm not sure who it is that's odder about bathrooms. Me...or the rest of the planet. I have to give ya a bit o'background for the rest of this to make any sense at all, let alone real sense. heh
In my family, being in the bathroom did not necessarily make you exempt from having to talk to people. Face to face. Very open door policy. Didn't matter what anybody was doin' in there...ya need 'em and they're in there...so were you. The way we figured was, if it was an 'extended' visit and someone wanted to brave the possible olfactory damage bad enough to come in there...why, they were welcomed to come on in and set a spell. On the edge of the tub or the sink, mind you. We ain't that fucked up...usually. We'd talk about whatever was going on..life, why-in detail-it was that I couldn't have $50 and the car keys, why asshats in high school are so evil...whatever.
I can remember my Pop-pop showing me, when I was a kid, how not to waste toilet paper. Ya don't wad up 14 yards of it into a ball and have to repeat that 5 times. No. Ya get your 14 yards and fold it neatly-like and ya don't have to keep goin' back for more.
I can remember when I was a skinny-assed little kid, bein' in there with my Aunt Linda and noticing that her butt went from one side of the seat allll the way over to the other side. I remarked: "Hey..that's neat. You don't have to worry about falling in..."
She just gave me one of those "oooh-if-you-weren't-my-neice" looks and said "Shut UP."
Oops.
When I first got with Eric...he thought I was fuckin' fried. He about died when I walked into the bathroom while he was 'reading' and commenced to talkin' to him...probably about Wally or something. (Hell..he's gonna be dyin' when he sees what I'm writing about...let alone when it happened.) He just could not believe I was in there, in no apparent respiratory distress, talkin' away, as if we we in the living room.
He still wants ta die every time we talk about the time I did sit on his lap for a second...(ain't no big deal...dag...He was just being silly, worrying that I'd think he was gross or something, for shitting, when I was the one who was in there...not him...well, he was there, but I didn't actually have to be and ...aww, you know what I mean. So, to prove to him that nothing he does is that damn bad and that he can quit worryin' and just be himself...I sat on his lap facing him for about a minute.)
He freaked...but, it worked. Mostly. He's okay with me being in there now...as long as I don't do that again. I may have 'odd' methods to get a point across, but they work...for the most part. The one thing that can still send him over the edge is...me, again. Our toilet isn't the most efficient flusher ever made, so when I go in there after him and there's any 'evidence' left, all I have to do is say "I see poopy!" and he's losin' it. He comes runnin' back and flushes the toilet about 10 in a row while practically standing on the lid to keep me from looking again. The look on his face...priceless. Thank God he knows I'm just fuckin' with him. Now. Finally.
(He is sooo gonna be lookin to kill me right about now-roflmao)
I do have a point, tho. YES, besides the one on the top of my head....
All of this is leading up to another one of those little ways I get to see he's changed, for the better, since we've been together. (Yeah...that's the ticket...good defense..."I do it for his own good. Not just because it's funny. Nor for 'payback' for what he does to me when I'm in there. Nope. It's for him...remember that, y'all) Okay...
Finally, after two years, it hit me just a little bit ago, how much he's changed...and that what I do to him is just fine, in light of....this...that I was looking at at the time.
See, when I first wake up, I want two things...unless George is here, then it's three. The optional third thing is a long shirt. But, the first two thing never, ever change.
I gotta pee and I want coffee. I don't care in which order, as long as it ain't done backwards. (Peeing in a coffee cup and pouring coffee into the toilet is not out of the range of possibilities until I've been awake for a few hours...)
I usually pee first (it's on the way), then get a cup of coffee and head back to the 'library' to do a little light 'reading'.
This early in my day, as much as I love my animals, I just want to be left alone to come to life slowly. Being jerked into wakefulness by kitten claws in your back or on a bare thigh is just not a good way to start a day, ya know? I also do not need two large dogs and one smaller dog with very sharp claws all vying for attention at the same time. Along with the cats.
What I do, usually is, make the first quick pit stop. Only one or two of the dogs and maybe a random cat makes it in there before I'm done. Stagger out to the kitchen, tripping over the rest of all the furry creatures, put one dog out to pee (that would be Daisy because she's quick about it), pour the coffe, dump in my shit (coffeemate and sweet-n-low) and while that's melting, I feed the kittens and put the next dog out.
Then, I grab my coffee, cigarettes and whatever else I think I may need (can get extensive, too, don'tcha know) and go in there, shut the door firmly, set all my shit down, settle in, find something in there to read (I have the equivalent of a smalltown library in there..) and just...do what I gotta do in peace and quiet.
I read, sip my coffee, smoke my cigarette...and get to hear all the animals become done with my distractions and all eventually show up right outside the door. I see dog paws, cat paws, tails and the occasional little part of a face under the door. I sit there, isolated, alone...at peace...cackling evilly that they can't get me.
Then, inevitably, I hear the front door open and the dogs go racing off to see Eric. I wait, knowing I'm gonna hear him heading my way in about 10 seconds.
Sure enough-thump, thump, thump- he here comes up the hallway. He flings open the door and usually has a "Good Morning" or a kiss on his lips and is all sweet and cute and adorable. He chats for a few, gets my next cuppa coffee and finally wanders off to get breakfast or something, leaving the door wide open and me covered in animals...sigh.
Today was no different...except he was soaked. He comes in, compromises the integrity of my sancutary and is drippin' wet with his cow poopy barn boots on.
So, now, on toppa dogs and cats, he's gotta drag cows into this...
He starts shuckin' off the wet clothes, the boots and such and I'm sitting there, grabbing a towel off the shower curtain rod and flippin' it onto his head so he can dry his hair and get warm and here comes the fuzzy friggin' parade.
All the animals had it made this time. They were like the "Real World' kids when they finally do make it into the control room.
"oh happiness, oh joy! HI MOM!!! Want I should sit on your shoulder?(Kitten)....Pet me....no, pet me.....no, pet ME (all three dogs)...wonder what we can get into?"(the other cats)
There I sit. Cigarette burnt up in the ashtray, coffee cold, book knocked outta my hand, covered in animals.
In the meantime, Mr. Eric has shed the wet, cow poopy clothes and kindly left them on the floor for me so I can have a little ' bovine amroma therapy', deposited little globs of real cow poop all over the floor off his boots and is getting into dry clothes.
Then...he thinks he's gotta 'get back out there'. Nuh-uh, Bud....
Not until I am again alone, with a hot cuppa coffee and we find my BOOK. Okay?
Pretend I'm a National Forest and LEAVE ME LIKE YA FOUND ME. Please.
Thank you.
This is what that 'poor guy who can't even take a shit in peace' did to me again today.
He does this everyday. Except for the being wet part.
Other than that, it pretty much an accepted part of my day.
The booger.
Now...I started this with two little 'asides'. I'mina end it the same way.
Little aside #1. As to the 'extensiveness' of the list of crap I take with me...
I lived in one house where I about lived in the bathroom. It had ya basic tiolet and sink, yes, but it also had a six jet whirlpool tub, a TV, VCR and a stereo receiver, tons of books, tapes...everything except a friggin' coffee pot. If it'd had one of those, I'd still be in there.
Little aside #2-I absolutely, completely, 100% totally despise Porta-potties. Those disgusting fuckin' things should be outlawed. I'd rather pee in an open field (waaaay out in the middle) or the woods than one of those icky damn things.
(Can ya tell we have 'em here for the agri-tainment stuff? I've been in one twice recently. EW!) Okay...going to clean the house now.
Now, that I've done my head.... I'll be back...
Question is, after this...will you? hehehehehe
Posted by: Stevie at 04:19 PM | Comments (47) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 26, 2003
There's good and bad stuff about bein' this tired...
Lord. I feel like a truck ran my ass over. It's not all bad, though.
Some, but not all.
Good things include this floaty, numb feeling and the fact that my voice gets a little rough, a little deeper...which makes singin' with Waylon a lot easier. Especially with the song "Amanda". I usually have to dig a hole in the floor to get my voice that low, but not today...
On the downside, it took me 20 minutes of being choked by my sweater before I realized I had it on backwards.
He was in a hurry to get back from the hay ride because of the Eagles game. Pfft.
Which is pretty much what I said: "The Eagles? Pfft. Ya want speed, ya need to tell ME Dallas is playin'..."
Nothin'. Not a word, Just stood there, in the wagon, lookin' at me. Again...PFFT!!!
Must be hard to have a sense of humor when your TEAM SUCKS SO BAD!!! Putz. Anyhow, I'm done out there now. I'm burnin' off my energy aggravatin' Paul some more.
Hey...He started it.
Did too
Did.
Uh-huh!
Posted by: Stevie at 08:58 PM | Comments (41) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Ya know what?
Micky Dolenz owes me.That (adorable, gorgeous, I'll keep lovin' 'im anyway) PECKERHEAD has had me telling this story about him, for years now, that I thought was true.
I found out last night, it's an old urologists joke.
From here, indeed.....Micky.
Whatta combo this is. Okay..gotta go stand out there and wave my arms at people, trying to direct them where to park, only to be completely ignored and nearly run over several times.
Then, I gotta go drag a few of 'em through the woods. I shall return....
Posted by: Stevie at 04:12 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Yo, like, excuse me an' all, but...
If 'it's my soapbox and I'll rant if I wanna"...
How youse gonna do that wit' ME driving it down the hill in the soapbox derby? Hmmmm?
'Cause I am, ya know...
Winnnin' too....
With 'Hot Rod Lincoln' blastin' outta the boombox I've got bungee corded to the hood...
Posted by: Stevie at 03:50 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
You go, Paul..
You were numbers 3699 and 3701 on the sitemeter. 3700 was 'unknown'...Oh well...
Yes, Paul, I am awake again. So far....
'Bout 3 hours of sleep. Not too bad.
As long as I don't drive a tractor into a tree or hafta smack anybody, I should be fine...lol.
And...
I still gotta finish learning html.
He was right in the midst of explaining converting pictures to html when we.....we....got the IM's flyin' around and wound up laughing for about 8 straight hours. I told him we oughta publish the conversation on the blogs, because we were being so silly. Kept right up, he did...still giggling over fuckin'
'RUSSELL', damn it!!!!
He got me so good with that, I broke out with the patented "Death's Door" phrase....."Fuck me runnin". Yes, I said that....It just fit. (In between the hittings of m'head on the table...) Well, one thing's for sure...If ya absolutely, postively hafta be up in less than 4 hours, ya oughta take two Ultra Diet Peps-if ya can find 'em anymore, thanks to certain, numbfuck athletes who OD on the shit and die. My body is all tingly, including my scalp. I'm so awake right now, I look like a poster child for paranoia. Caffeine helps...lots.
I'm awake. I'm laughing and nobody's bleeding.
That's good.
Let just hope it stays that way...bwahahahahaha.
Posted by: Stevie at 03:28 PM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Paul is just too frickin' cool...
I just spent the last 12 hours talkin' to him. About an hour was about html. The other 11 hours were just pure comedy riffin'. This guy is awesome in his ability to not only keep up with my brain, but get a step or two ahead...
And, he knew my best jokes!!!
Anyway, if ya's don't hear from him for a while, I did return him in one piece. He'll probably sleep for a week...
So, go read his blog...he won't mind.
Just remember...shhhhh.
He's s'eepin'.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:46 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
HTML lessons happenin' here...
Paul is teaching me some HTML stuff and he wants me to stick this:
in here and publish it and see what happens.
So, here goes...
Posted by: Stevie at 04:13 AM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 25, 2003
This is the kinda silliness I like to find...
Lotsa links to lotsa strange shit.
I actually try to find this kinda stuff.
Sad, sin't?
lol
Posted by: Stevie at 09:38 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Hanoi Jane really does suck...
I still despise her, even if I really don't like Dwight on his own 'frailities'...(lol).
Jane still needs to eviscerate herself. She can apologize all she wants. She'll never get past this.... The bitch.Posted by: Stevie at 09:32 PM | Comments (41) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Don't I wish...
I can think of a few people I'd like to do this with!
Posted by: Stevie at 09:25 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well, Thank God...
This site makes me feel much better.....
Posted by: Stevie at 09:20 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Hi...I'm back!
That was fun. Got my Coffeemate, got my shower, washed the hair, got dressed-warmly-and went on out there. I was even wearin' my duster. Which is probably why it was warm enough not to need it. It laid in a heap next to my pile o'crap until well after dark. Then, it did get cold. My fingers, nose and boobs froze almost off. Hell, even my TEETH were cold. I could feel it with my tongue. (Anybody got'ny thing ELSE cold they want me to feel with my tongue? LMAO- I just know somebody was already thinkin' that....)
You guys! Before I did all that, though, remember I had to go get the horse? Gawd. What a stubborn little...ugh. Now, the poor dear is about 30 years old and nearly blind as a bat (and I mean the baseball kinda bat, too) and I understand all that. But, still...I'm out there with her oats and a lead snapped onto her halter, tryin' to convince her to follow me. Normally, if you just turn your back to the horse and walk, they're likely to follow. Try to get one to come with you when you're facing them and they're more liable to balk. With her, it made no difference. I coulda stood on my head and she'd have remained unmoved. The next trick is to spin 'em around and try again. Anything to just get 'em to move. It kinda worked. About 14 times. I felt like some kinda deranged Michael Jackson wannabe spinnin' my way back around that pond with her. If anybody was watching who didn't know why I was doing it, they probably thought I was on acid or some damn thing. She wouldn't even come for the oats. I shook that bucket half to death, too. Booger.After I got un-dizzy from that, I decided to check in on the goat and see what he was up to. Plus, I gave Miss Gia two carrots and I had one for him, too. So, I went over, plunked my butt down on the bucket I had with me (upside down) (the bucket-not me) and hung out with Mr. Wm. Goat. I noticed he needed to be moved down to the next huge patch of grass, so I did that. Then, I saw he needed water. So, I got that bucket and headed for the hose. I passed the horses bucket on the way and saw she needed water, too. Fine.
I get to the spigot and there's this huge pile of knotted up, tangled up, dirty rubber-type shit, masquerading as the hose. I fuck with that for about 15 minutes and finally get it straightened out. It goes three quarters of the way to the horse waterer (thing). So, I fill the goat bucket, take it to the horse tub, drop it off, drag the horse tub over to the end of the hose, stick it in and deliver the goat water while it fills. I come back to see water pouring out the side, high up, thru a split in the seam. "Well, it's still pretty full" I think to myself and go right on by, back to the spigot and shut it off and coil the hose next to it NEATLY.
Then, I drag the mostly full water tub as far back to where it goes as I can, then I heft the fuckin' thing and carry it the rest of the way.
By then, I'm hyperventilating.
So, on my way back to the house, I, Miss SmartAss, stop in the parlor to bust Eric's stones about the hose and the pain in the ass method of watering the horse. I describe in lurid detail (much like I've done here) what I went through. I started by asking him "So. That hose you use to water the horse? Do you pay a professional or did you create the knotted monstrosity that it was yourself?" I go on to ask why the hell it has to be such an unmitigated pain right in the buttocks to water two animals. He gives me this sweet little "Ain't you so cute, YA DOPE?" look and says, all innocent "I don't do all that. I just take a five-gallon bucket, fill it, tip 80% of it into Gia's tub and take the rest to the goat. I never even really move the hose."
Sigh....
I got in the house and it hit me...I think I water the horse and the goat the same way I trackback.
Posted by: Stevie at 01:49 AM | Comments (43) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 24, 2003
Have mercy....please.
Man, my head is so fulla crap today and it's all going about 99 mph in there...
It's mostly silly, unrelated shit and first I was trying to tie it all together somehow, so I could get from one thing to the next here and not cause anybody whiplash. But....that just makes it worse. It's bad enough to have a brain that likes to come up with this shit and then fuck with me with it. What? I'm supposed to tie it all together like I approve? Or like I understand it? Feh.
I'm having enough trouble and (laughing spells) just having to hear it.
He's got the same kind of stupid sense of humor I have, he seems very 'down-to-earth' and he's just damn sexy. I like guys like him. And, his dancing...I could watch him all night long. I love Patrick Swayze in "Dirty Dancing" and John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever", but they've got nuttin on Drew in the 'sexy guy dancing' department.
Which got me to thinking about my own, personal, highly diversified definition of who/whats sexy.
Which lead me to the same conclusion that most of my 'self-realization' moments do... I'm weird. Let's just take a look at what I think is sexy. Okay?
We'll start with Drew. I know he's no Adonis, I see the glasses...I don't care. He' sexy. His dancing even makes up for that buzz cut.
I also think Jim Davis was gorgeous. No, not the guy who draws 'Garfield', the dude who played Jock Ewing. Yeah, him. Weather-beaten old face, those eyes and all topped off with a cowboy hat. I'd give my eyeteeth for that portrait they had of him hanging over the fireplace at South Fork.
I used to think Jonathan Frid was adorable. Yeah...Barnabas Collins on 'Dark Shadows." I don't remember why...I was a kid.
Next we have Al. Yes, Al Borland. I know Tim is the star and all, but-screw him. I'd run his ass over to get to Al. HE'S adorable. And sweet.
Dennis Farina...Oh my Go-oood. I love this guy. He is fuckin' awesome. Gorgeous, sexy...those eyes, that face. Oh, man.....
Tommy Lee Jones and Robert Duvall in 'Lonesome Dove'. I'd get all giggly and stupid around either one of those two, too. They were both gorgeous. Hell, Tommy Lee still is. Mr. Duvall's no heartthrob usually, tho.
Tom McLaughlin, too. He's the guy who played Billy Jack. Cripes, I'da run off with him anywhere he wanted to go back then. Day-um, he had some nice arms. I liked his face plenty, too.
Then, there's the dude who played Buford Pusser...the most times. No, not Joe Don Baker. I like him, too, but he ain't shit in the knee-weakening area compared to Bo Svenson. I love that guy.
And, Bret Hart. Whew...maaaannn...God help me, I'd love to climb up the front of that guy, kiss his cheek and climb back down...slowly. He's is incredible. I love his hair. And eyes. And face. And body. I'm not, however, overly thrilled with the wife part, but what ta hell. Can't have everything...where would I put it? (Bret I'd sit on my bed with the three Teddy Bears.)
Then, I came across Mr. Yoakam up there in my head. I used to love him almost more than life itself. I bought evey single tape, CD and video he put out. I went to incredible lengths to see him live, twice. The first time, a bouncer saved my ass and Brantley Kerns, the fiddle player, invited me onto the bus. (That's a post in itself...lol) From the first time I saw that one, I was GONE, Baby. Gone. Out to frickin' LUNCH wit' dis guy. I can still sing every single song on all those tapes and CD's and sound exactly like him. I swear, if he ever heard me, it'd freak him out. Even more so, because these days, he bites, in my opinion and I'd have no trouble at all ignoring him to his face.
Which was my first 'sharp left', mentally. I went from 'odd looking people I think are gorgeous' to 'why are some people even alive' in about 30 seconds.
See, Dwight was the shit. I used to play his stuff constantly while I was so much as awake, even, a few years back. I played him at home, at work, in the truck, on a Walkman, a boom box, when I was workin', soaking in the tub, driving, walking, eating, shitting...well, you get the idea. Then....he fucked up.
Bad.
First, he starts dating Bridget Fonda, whose aunt just happens to be a Commie loving asshole. I hate Jane Fonda and I hope she aerobicizes herself to death. Or, drowns in Golden Pond or whatever. Bitch. I fart in her general direction (thank you Monty Python). And, here's my epitome of manhood itself, fucking the neice. EW!. EW, ew, ewewew. Then, the last time I saw him live, he blows off an after concert 'meet-n-greet' consisting of about 30 people because, in the words of Pete Anderson, he's too 'fragile' to handle it. Fuck what? *snort*
More like he's got him some Commie-related nookie waitin' for his skinny ass back on the bus, ya mean.
Well, that was it for me and him. I know they're broken up now, but I ain't bought nuthin' from him since he started tapping that, and I ain't gonna start up again now. He fuckin' blew it. Jerk. I've spent more money on his stupid ass, buying his shit, than that dipshit ever did.
Anyway, I went to Dwight, flashed on Bridget and ended up wondering why Jane is even alive. Her and Sammy Gravano. Another one who should just lay down and DIE because they're such sucky excuses for human beings. With Gravano, it's not because he was 'connected'. It's because he couldn't keep his fat, rat, 'omerta-breakin' MOUTH SHUT! That low-life, scummy, piece of shit should be shot by the next person who sees him. No loyalty. No balls. No honor. No reason to live. I mean, Christ on a bicycle, if ya suck that bad at bein' a 'bad guy'...what's left? DEATH. That's what's left.
I've kept an interested eye on the goings on of my local Mob guys all my life. I first got attracted to 'em as a kid, because I loved their last names. So musical, lyrical and fun to try to pronounce correctly. Then, I got older and started noticing how daggone good-looking a lot of those guys are. Jesus. Then comes the 'Godfather' and all that. Now, I wanna join. I wanna be one, too. Or at the very least, I told my Dad once, I wanted to go to Little Italy in Philly and just stand somewhere, holding up a sign that said "Looking for Michael or young Vito Corleone-type. Apply right here." Then, along comes TV channels like Biography and DTMS and all those shows that documented the real Mob's moves. I could see a difference between them and the Corleone's. But, I didn't (and don't) really care. The things about the Mob that I respect are more along the lines of the 'unwritten rules' they're supposed to follow. Unlike Sammy "The RAT" Gravano. ("The Bull" my achin' ass. I've got more balls than that pansy-assed motherfucker.)
Anyway, he should be dead. He's sucks that bad. Jane too. These are semi-famous people, pissin' all over their personal little worlds and having a negative effect on ours...so they should both just be dead.
Who da fuck would miss either of 'em?
To shit all over Nam vets and to break the longest standing, even-I-fuckin'-know-it rule of your lifestyle...pffft. DIE. Both of you.
Oh...and after ya's die? Go straight to hell. Do not pass 'Go', don't collect anything, except maggots in every hole ya got. 'Kay? Ahhh. I just took a big 'ol deeep breath. I feel much better now...which is good, 'cuz I gotta go. I'm 'parkin' fuckin' cars' again, in the cold, in the wind, probably not dressed warm enough, 'cause I'm stupid like that...lol.
I have to go to the store first, real quick, and get more Coffeemate. No way I've got enough, now, for the huge assed cups I use out there. They hold an whole pot of coffee. Keep it warm for hours, too. Good cups. I love those things.
And, I also have to go move the horse. She can't see too well and she's got herself on the wrong side of the pond, so before she decides to walk back to where she belongs by way of swimming, I gotta go get her.
So.......I'll be back later, with more juicy bits'o shits in my head, I'll betcha. (Sorry about that 'bits o' shits' thing...I couldn't he'p it...)
See ya!
Peace.............
Posted by: Stevie at 04:10 PM | Comments (44) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Susie...
Let me know if this works....I'm 'pinging' again.
(Ever'body...I'm practicing 'pinging' Susie...bear with me.)Posted by: Stevie at 12:02 AM | Comments (45) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
October 23, 2003
Acidman's questions...
I'd love to sit and answer questions from Acidman all day long. I think I'd learn a lot about myself. Maybe not from these, but I'm sure he'd ask a buncha good ones after a few glasses of white zin....heh.
1) Does anybody really see a correlation between the size of a man's feet or his nose and the size of his penis? Nope. Eric's got cute little feets and a huge....Roscoe. 2) If you are a woman, would you ever get a tit-job? If so, why? A boob-lift, maybe, but I've got enough...uh...'material' now, thanks. 3) If you are a man, would you buy a bionic Roscoe if your dick quit working? If so, why? Yep. Because you taught us it is possible to do and possibly a good thing. Better than that 'needle' shit, anyway. 4) Did you ever sleep with someone and wake up in the morning unable to remember their name? If not, WHY NOT? Nah...they were mostly cowboys with their names on their belts or buckles...or tats. (Honestly, no, not that I remember...) 5) Which would you rather have for a pet? A DOG or a CAT? If you answer "cat," you've got some serious explaining to do. Any, either, both, all...Hell man, I've got 4 dogs and nine cats among other things. And, Sweetie, cats are like Harleys..."If I have to explain"...'Kay? 6) Do you eat grits for breakfast? Only if I drop pieces of shell into my eggs. That's kinda gritty... 7) What is the most dumb-ass thing you ever did in your life? Was it fun or has it haunted you for years? What? I'm supposed to pick ONE thing? Hmmm...I believe that would have to be renting an apartment to a Jamaican con-artist chick....And, no, I don't LET it bother me anymore. Fuck her.
Do you exceed the speed limit regularly when you drive, or just do it occasionally? Don't tell me that you NEVER SPEED you lying shit! Tell the truth! Ask anybody...to me the 'speed limit' is merely a suggestion. Or, the lowest speed you should be going...
9) Describe the happiest day you can remember living. The first 24 hour period I spent with Eric as a couple. I still can't believe it sometimes...
10) Do you believe that some things are worth dying for? If so, name one thing worth dying for and tell me why you feel so strongly about it. Eric.Because he is my whole heart. And, he damn well deserves someone to feel that way about him. Yes, he really is that wonderful...
There ya have it. I love answering questions. Anybody got'ny more? Even if it's just one question like: "Chick, what the HAY-ELL ails you?", feel free to ask. Leave 'em in the comments or email 'em...(which you do anyway by leaving a comment). Email srv200163 at Yahoo dot com I'll answer 'em one way or the other...as long as they're not...mean, troll-like or disgusting on purpose. (I'd probably still answer 'em, but, my God, you'd get the smart-assed side of me...)
Hell, if I get enough good ones, maybe I can use 'em to do the '100 things' thing.
Posted by: Stevie at 11:45 PM | Comments (43) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Well...considering the fact that I did it from memory..
I didn't 'f' it up too badly...I just had an 'a' stuck in there I didn't need.
Thank you Pixy! I won't do that again...I hope.(I also hereby hope I don't do anything worse, while I'm at it.) See? Busty blonde...just remember...busty blonde and all will make sense...lol.
Posted by: Stevie at 10:47 PM | Comments (41) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Talk about your 'Instant Karma'....
That's what I get for playing with the mu.nu logo. Karma-ed. I'm gonna leave this be for a bit, until I can figure out how to 'unstrike' the whole damn thing and get my breath back from laughing so hard at my stupid self...do you believe this shit?
I do. I know me....Posted by: Stevie at 10:29 PM | Comments (43) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Is it just me?...or...
Does this-mu.nu - Where the thingy connects with, uh, the other thingy. -strike you as...um..uh..like the definition of a blog group I'd belong to, or what?
I dunno man. That's alsoHELP!!!!!!
Posted by: Stevie at 10:19 PM | Comments (49) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)
Processing 0.01, elapsed 0.0819 seconds.
37 queries taking 0.0732 seconds, 55 records returned.
Page size 66 kb.
Powered by Minx 0.8 beta.