In other random news...
I keep getting people coming here by searching for that ugly hag, Janice Dickenson. WHY?!?
I mean, I've never liked her to begin with, because I'm a Gia Carangi fan and it pisses me off to no end that that twat Dickenson refers to herself repeatedly as the 'first supermodel'.
She wasn't.
Gia was.
And, just because Gia is dead and can't defend herself is no reason for Janice to pull this shit. Gia was also the first female celebrity to die of AIDS. I don't see anybody trying to take that title. 'Course, Janice doesn't have AIDS...yet.
She does, however, look like she has some kind of debilitating ugliness disease. Has anyone seen her on that 'Top Model' show? Holy fuck...what happened to her? She looks HORRIBLE. I'd been watching that stupid show for a coupla weeks before I even realized that was her. Ewww. Haggy lookin', lyin' ho.
So, if ya got here looking for that retard, ya came to the wrong place. I can't stand her ugly lying ass and about the only good thing I'll ever say about her is: at least she's not twins. Skank.
Eric was here when I found it and the first thing he said was "Remember, Honey...the war is over."
First words outta my mouth were "Is it?"
I don't know about that.
I read "Thud Ridge". I read "Code of Honor". I know what those merciless bastards did to our men. I know how many never came home, how many aren't accounted for and never will be. I also have a really good idea how many men are still walking around, totally fucked up by what they went through over there. Not to even mention what the 'citizens' of THIS country did to them when they did make it home and how our fuckin' government has shit all over them since.
I support and respect and honor our Nam Vets, POWS, MIA'S, KIA'S and every one of those brave young men who tried to serve this country honorably in that war...and it was a WAR. My ex-father-in-law was a prisoner in Hanoi for 7 long years. Because of him and Jack Ayars, a very special person in my life who rode with the Shiloh, NJ chapter of the Nam Vets MC club, I pretty much gave my heart to those guys and I really don't think I'm ready yet to be having people from there being here. Not much I can do about it, I know. But, I don't hafta like it and, guys...I don't.
Anyone who's interested in reading how my ex-father-in-law was captured can do so by reading "Thud Ridge." His capture is the basis for the chapter called "The Longest Mission". Briefly, he was shot down and was being tracked by the beeper signal on his chute. He landed safely in enemy territory and, due to weather conditions and mechanical issues, was left there for three or four days. By the time they went back over the area where he was last known to be, they were still getting a weak signal from the beeper. When they made voice contact, the voice that answered back answered in Vietnamese. Then, he was held and hurt and tortured and fucked with for s-e-v-e-n years. His name is Lt. Col. Joseph S. Abbott, USAF, Ret. He's one of the sweetest, gentlest, nicest people I know and what was done to him and every other man stuck over there is an abomination and should NEVER be forgotten. Ever.
I'm not real willing to forgive it yet, either. Maybe when all the Nam Vets do, I will..but until then...no. Until I can watch "Dear America: Letters home from Viet Nam" without crying....no. Until every single one of our guys are accounted for AND HOME....no. Until my heart doesn't break every time I think of the horror our guys got subjected to...no.
So, I doubt it's gonna be any time soon.
And, until then, I guess I'm just gonna hafta be highly uncomfortable when people from there come here.
I do, however, love that when they do show up here, they get treated to the sight of our POW-MIA flag.
Yeah, that's right. I'm one of those flag waving, still pissed off Nam Vet supporters and if ya don't like it...LEAVE AND NEVER RETURN.
Nobody here is gonna miss you, anyway. M'kay?
Good.
(Lord, I do believe that mighta bothered me a little more than I realized.) And, guess what, after alla that? I'm really not in a bad mood. Matter of fact, I just got done sobbing my way through the Roger Miller special I taped offa TNN a coupla years ago. Roger Miller just IS the essence of my Pop-pop to me. When I hear 90% of his songs, it whisks me back to childhood, to my Pop-pop's house. The sounds, the smell...my Pop-pop being there. (Ah fuck...here I go again.) And, when Dean, Roger's son, sings "Old Toy Trains"...oh, Jesus, my heart. It just shatters all over again. Man, I miss my Pop-pop bad.
Hell, I miss my Dad, too. (Hi, Dad...I love you!) I can still see my Pop-pop sitting at the kitchen table, eating green bell peppers, smiling, laughing, bullshittin'...he was such a great guy, my Pop-pop. I can only ever remember being mad at him once, when he was burning, I think it was gypsy-moth nests outta his trees. I was a little kid and was mad because he was killing the caterpillars I wanted to collect, keep, take home...play with. I was like that. I loved bugs. Still do. Snakes, too. I just didn't understand why he'd be wanting to kill all those cool caterpillars. I got over it.
Another thing I remember is him trying to convince me there's no difference in flavor between a green and red bell pepper. Yeah, there is. I don't like the red ones. He fed me a piece of each with my eyes closed and was surprised when I could tell the difference.
I also remember him standing behind my first pickup with me, in his driveway, talking to me about jobs and how important integrity is when you're working.
I remember finding a draft of a letter Pop-pop was writing to his insurance company because they'd raised the rates. He wrote and said he just wanted to thank them for the improvement his health was about to get. Thanks to them and their high prices, he said, he was certain he was going to be healthier from them forcing him to start riding a bicycle everywhere he went from then on.
Whatta card....lmao. Oh, God, I love that man.
Twenty-two years...and I still wind up in tears. Twenty-two years and the smell of Avon's Wild Country still makes me almost turn around to see where he is. The sound of a baseball game on TV, the smell of Swisher Sweet cigars, hearing a lawn mower or a moped...all these things and more make me hurt like he just died yesterday.
Anything EVER happens to my Dad and y'all better pray for God to give Eric the strength to save me. He'll need it.
I think part of the reason that it still kills me about Pop-pop is that, thanks again to my idiotic mother, I didn't get to spend as much time with him as I'd have liked to. AND, I was forcefully seperated from my Dad for, oh...just about 22 or so years, so....ya know? And, yeeeessss, I know there are people who'd say that it wasn't 'forcefully'. Well, it sure FELT and seemed like it. Sometimes, it still does.
I doubt Kim is aware of every minute that she's gotten to spend with my Dad that I didn't, but I am. Painfully so.
I also kinda think that THAT plays a large part in my 'mental head-shit'. The depression, the feeling like an unworthy piece of shit, feeling fat and ugly and all that. It's not the WHOLE cause, but it is a part of it, I'm sure.
Is it even remotely normal to be almost 41 years old and still cry because ya can't just go get a hug from your Dad? Is it 'normal' to be almost 41 and still need your Dad as much as I do? Owing to the facts of this case-the lost years that I can never get back and the damage I did to myself over it all-can I even ever BE 'normal'?
Twenty-two years and I'm still not over losing Pop-pop. Can you even imagine what it's gonna be like inside of me when Dad is gone from my life again, this time for the rest of forever? I can't.
(Kim, Honey, I wouldn't want your karma for all the money, big houses, huge TV's and hot tubs in the world. The ONLY good thing about that karma is that I don't really hate you anymore because of what you've got coming to you...ooofa. Just enjoy the ever-lovin' hell outta the life you're living right now, because, some day...you're gonna feel exactly like I do right now and have for all these years. Only difference'll be that I'll be able to tell you EXACTLY why you're being 'put through' it, if ya even hafta ask.) Still not in a bad mood, here, believe it or not. Matter of fact, it seems that two of my cats are on kitty-crank or something, because they're cracking me up, flying around here, running up the back of my chair, across the keyboard and just EVERYWHERE!!! Lunatics. Well. Whew. I sure sound like I'm not too happy right now, don't I? But...I swear...I'm not in a foul mood at all. Just a little raw, is all. And, that's probably because of the Roger Miller thing, which always leads to Pop-pop, which always leads to Dad, then to 'lack-of-Dad', then to Kim, but this time...to feeling calm and level as opposed to wanting to take her head off, like usual. Not sure exactly why that is, but it is the truth and it's also good. Either this blog really is helping me with this kinda shit, or I'm growing up...or a little of both, maybe. That's not to say I wouldn't move back in with my Dad in a skinny minute if Kim went away, cause I would. I just don't feel a need to hurt her anymore, cause she's gonna get it all back, anyway.
And, boy is THAT gonna be a bitch. I won't need to add a bit to it, either, but I do reserve the right to watch. I reserve it and deserve it.
So there...ppttttbbbb. Okay, off to the 'library' for a while, then on to cleaning a bit. Heh. Who'm I trying to kid...I'll probably be back here too. Huh?! What?
Oh.
I think I hear my Tequila Rose hollerin' for me.
Buuut...I have my doubts as to how well it'd go with the cup of coffee I have sitting here...and the pot I just made, so...we'll see.
In the meantime....
Peace, y'all.
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