World...I want you to know I try...
When Eric and the other people in my life tell me that I'm supposed to control my violent temper and be passive and non-violent like they are, I try...I reeeeeally try. But when I see....the amount of shit I have to deal with for no real reason (paraphrasing, here), I. just. go. BERSERK!!!
Well...I'm about to, anyway. If I let myself give a shit, which I'm trying not to do. Much. I mean really...I have plenty do to, without any added stupid, needless crap. Ya know? First of all, I haven't been saying a whole lot here lately. That's kinda buggin' me. I miss TBT. That's really buggin me. The house is still mostly under control, so that's one thing not being a pain in my ass and Eric is also being cool, so there's another. However...there are still the (expletives deleted) dogs. The other day, Eric brought in a small tub of (early) Christmas cookies. We got to look at them, at least. The dogs ate the cookies and half the container during the night. (See what happens when I act 'normal'? If I had been UP, like I usually am....siiiigh.) The next day, I set a small Tupperware container with two corn muffins in it on the counter. Then...I went outside. When I came back in, not only did I no longer have two corn muffins, I also had a Tupperware container with chewed edges and HALF A LID. Then, there was the butter, AGAIN. I swear to God Himself, if I ever catch one a these assholes....I'mina kick some dog ass...big time. You'd think they were fuckin' starved or something. Nope. Full food and two water bowls 24/7. They just do it for revenge, I think. Didn't get to go for the ride? PEE!!! on the front door. Somebody wouldn't share food? EAT IT!!!! the minute they leave the room. Keep fuckin' with Mommy? DIE DICKHEADS!!! I am officially declaring my capacity to tolerate this shit without violence to be maxed out. Then...there's been AOHell. Ick. I hate AOHell. I have Earthlink back now. End of this story... Then...there's this 21 lb. turkey in the fridge. This'll be the second year in a row and probably the last, that I'll be feeding people I'm not related to by any means. Whatever. It's most likely the last year I'll be doing it here, anyway, because I believe we'll be moving to a place right across a field from here by February. Which is fine, except for Bill. He about turned himself inside out chasing after this one guy who quit, yet with Eric, it's like it's no big deal...which is really pissing me off. This asshole has no clue how much improvement Eric has made in his overall herd health, milk production or pregnancy rate. And, if he DOES know, he should be painfully ashamed of himself for fuckin' Eric over like he does. Anyway....I have more shit to make, create and prepare than I have in....about a year (heh.). Supposedly, Thursday, there will be approximately 8 people eating here starting from around noon-ish to God knows when. This is because George has taken off for Virginia in the Firebird and will be back Thursday night with his and Eric's son. His kid is in the Coast Guard and is moving or something. At any rate, I've got extra people, which is fine and extended hours for all this, which I don't mind much, either. What I do mind is the fact that there were two messages on my cell phone, according to Eric at 6:30 this morning, from George, informing me that MY car broke down and his cell phone was dying and that I needed to get ahold of his kid for him. (We all have inter-connected Nextel cells.) These calls were placed at 2:30am. Again...had I been UP... I haven't responded to any of this yet. First of all, if he was still stuck, he'd have called by now, or if his kid hadn't seen him yet, he'd call. Secondly, George knew the car was having some kind of problem before he left. It kinda hitches and chokes its way up long hills....whatever. He knew it. And, he works on cars, too. Anyway, he left for Virginia in spite of the problem because his kid is graduating from something and moving and he just HAD to be there. Then, he kills the car and sudddenly it's mine? (Deeeeeep breath...) Pfft. You broke it, you bought it, punkass. I have enough to do, cooking dinner for an assload of people, half of whom may not be here now because you killed THE car. Dork.George is a sweet person, for the most part, but he does this kinda shit alla time. Know there's a problem and push on anyway, only to have to fix it at his inconvienience, along the side of a dark road or in a divorce lawyers office. And, no...I have no idea why. Wally used to ask me that alla time..."WHY does he DO that?" Like I'm supposed to know. So...here I am. Quoting Billy Jack and breathing veeeery deeply every five breaths, or so. I'm not gonna go off...I'm just not. Oh...then there's my goat. Or, to be more precise, my lack of my goat. I can't find him anywhere. I went out yesterday searching for him and managed to fall in mud and be covered. God, was I pissed. On top of which, I didn't find my boy. Damn it. Now...Bill bitches about my goat constantly, saying he smells and shit. AND Bill lets A.W.A.T.A.W's come here and kill things. If I find my goat dead, I will not be responsible for my actions. And...there WILL be actions. Lots of them. Promise. If my goat is dead...I'd like to see anybody try to stop me. Okay?
Billy Jack, indeed. Any-freakin-way...I'm not quite sure which direction to go, here. What to do first? Hmmm. I guess I'd better check on George then maybe take a hike across about 3 or 4 fields to the back house and see if Goat-boy is there. Then, I could come back (if somebody MAKES ME) and tweak the house and start making stuff like the potato and the maccaroni salads and the coleslaw. From scratch, I might add... After I have another cuppa coffee and another few minutes of peace in the 'library'... Just by the way...something I've been told a million times that I wonder about constantly....
People always tell me women treat me like shit because they're jealous. May I ask...OF WHAT????
What about any of my life, except for Eric, is worth being jealous and shitty about? Are you people (women) on LSD or something? Fuck, man.
Comments
1
I don't hate you. Although, yes, I think I am jealous. You have a life. You are a great writer. And you have absolutely no qualms about beating the shit out of inanimate objects when they piss you off.
Posted by: drc at November 26, 2003 11:06 AM (gVrSh)
2
Okay...that last one made me laugh...Thank you.
I have a life, alright...*shaking head*
And, you think I'm a great writer? Thank you, Love. That's very sweet of you. I'll keep it in mind.
I have a life, alright...*shaking head*
And, you think I'm a great writer? Thank you, Love. That's very sweet of you. I'll keep it in mind.
Posted by: Stevie at November 26, 2003 11:11 AM (TQmPa)
3
Hon, all I can say is Happy Freakin-Thanksgiving! You have been an inspiration and a truly good sister-friend. If I were the jealous type, maybe I could muster up some jealousy for ya, but you know it's just not in my nature. It's all gonna work out great, and I'll bet you don't even end up having to kill anything! Love you, girl!!!
Posted by: AmyVegas at November 26, 2003 12:22 PM (lBFdX)
4
Thank you, Darlin'...And, boy, do I understand Vin, now.
I'm gonna try not to kill anything, but...there's these guys outside beating on tin, making a new roof for the silo, so it's gonna be touch-and-go fer a while...lol.
I'm gonna try not to kill anything, but...there's these guys outside beating on tin, making a new roof for the silo, so it's gonna be touch-and-go fer a while...lol.
Posted by: Stevie at November 26, 2003 12:25 PM (TQmPa)
5
Yeah. You need to pay attention to your writing skill. (Of course when people tell ME that I immediately freeze up and stop writing. Yep. Happy to help :-P)
And uhm... sublimating anger doesn't do anybody any good. Besides...
Ain't that what blogs are for? :-P
And uhm... sublimating anger doesn't do anybody any good. Besides...
Ain't that what blogs are for? :-P
Posted by: Mad William Flint at November 26, 2003 01:34 PM (a9buH)
6
Damn girl, OK here's what you do, take a deeeeeep breath, hold it and let it out s l o w l y. Walk to the door , open it and scream FFFFFUUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKK. Now don't you feel better.
Posted by: Grey Biker at November 26, 2003 02:22 PM (NSDSY)
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