My God, I’m showing my stupid

what is a graphic short story? I can do short stories, no problem, but I can’t fucking draw. I’m kind of doing my cousin’s homework. I read the book last night, it’s about the integration of Central High School in Little Rock Arkansas in 1958. Amazingly easy, but I’m thinking, “WTF graphic short story” and I can’t get a definition anywhere (Google has failed me) and I can write a short story in my sleep (I’ve got a great idea and I’ll post it here when I’m done.) The closest I’ve got is “graphic novel” and I’m like, “WTF? My cousin is in a lower level English class. They expect these kids to draw?” I love my boy, but he just struggles so hard to get through the simplest subjects at school. I’d like to see him get his diploma, at least, though. If he doesn’t, he’s going to have no chance. He does okay in his math classes, but English eludes him. So what the hell.

And he’s been having problems this year. Mental problems. His senior year. God knows I wouldn’t have graduated if my dad hadn’t helped me out, and by helped me out I mean did my homework for me. I was homebound that year, suffering serious mental illness and periodic hospitalizaions. He has come dangerously close to being hospitalized this year. I see it as being a matter of time, really. I’m going to get him probably an A, if I get the instructions right. And I’m pretty sure I’ve got it other than “graphic short story”. That should bump his average up enough to pass him.

And if I wrote the words to a song I write, would anyone be able to make music to it?

Sleep seems to be eluding me tonight

Ah, hypomania. Welcome back, homegirl. And Aunt Flo's staying for an extended visit. The cousins have also come bearing gifts. Crampy has been a particular joy this time around. OMG, give me a heated spoon and I'll remove the ovaries myself. Heated. Spoon. Moody and Bitchy have been making their appearance, egged on by homegirl mania. Luckily, Weepy is nowhere in sight. I tell you, I can be a bitch when I'm in a normal mood, but at least I feel bad about it. When I'm hypomanic, (or, God forbid, manic) I'm not just a bitch, I'm an unrepentant bitch. Add Aunt Flo to the mix and you'll have to thank my high functioning frontal lobe for the fact that there is no streets running with the blood of the innocent in sleepy Columbus, IN. Weepy will show up later, after the crash, and bring her twin brother Guilt.

I'm not feeling quite human right now. Thankfully, I don't see the insanity lasting for much longer than a day or two. I hope.

Thoughts on my own bisexuality

I’m 31 years old. I’ve never been with a woman. Not that I’ve not wanted to…OMG I’ve wanted to. But I live in a conservative, Midwestern town and it just seemed I couldn’t meet one gay female. The very few I did meet, just no. It didn’t work.

When I was single. Of course, now that I’m in a relationship I’m very happy with (with an amazing man) I seem to be the Columbus gay girl magnet.

There’s this girl who now works at Circle K (where I used to work also) who has actively flirted with me. Of course, she sees me come in with my boyfriend, but she’s still just really cool. I would guess she’s mid twenties, maybe late 20’s. She’s taller than me, stocky, but actually kind of sexy in a way that I just can’t describe.

If I were single, she is exactly the kind of person I’d like to have my first female experience with. She’s fun, cute and charismatic.

Damn my monogamous heart.

Just chilling

Still haven't turned the TV off football yet.

WTF? Maybe because I'm so accustomed to having it as background to net surfing and general fucking around on the computer because the boyfriend fucking L.O.V.E.S. it. I can handle it, up to a point. I like the local hometeam (Colts) because they don't seem to be douchey douchingtons compared to a lot of the other teams but I really think I've just developed a tolerance, kind of like a disease you've been exposed to over and over again.

People who waste air that we breathe

Just when you think the story of poor little 10 year old Zahra Baker can't possibly get any worse...it does. If you want to know the story and don't, google it. I just...can't.

Here's where my mental illness shows itself. Be warned. It's not pretty.

I do know that I have several ideas for her gaping useless cuntslime of a stepmother that involve razor blades, salt and rubbing alcohol and ALL of her bodily orifices. AND OMG WHY HASN'T HER WANKSTAIN DOUCHECANOE FATHER BEEN ARRESTED ALREADY? Even if he didn't actually kill the child, you know he knew. People like this just need to stop wasting air, seriously. If you ever have a thought of doing these things to a child, or letting these things happen to a child around you, do the entire world a favor and kill yourself now. Preferably by rolling in broken glass, taking a salt bath, dipping yourself in gasoline and setting yourself on fire. Then have your bodies dumped in a large hole in the ground so that every abuse victim in the world would have the option of taking a huge dump on your remains. After that, open it up to include everyone else in the world who had to crap. I, myself, would eat a very large mexican meal and bring along some ex-lax.

Because everything I just said in the above sentence...preferable to what happened to this child.

This guy gets off on my worst nightmare

I found this video through The Ranter's Box, who I found through Vegetable Assassin. I need to update my Blogger a hell of a lot more often than I actually do.



I don't know if I've ever shared my absolute terror of balloons. I fucking hate them. I hate them with the white hot intensity of a million supernovas. If I could take every balloon, balloon manufacturer and the technology that allows balloons to exist and fire it into the middle of a black hole, I would do a naked happy dance. In public. This guy has a balloon fetish. I have a balloon phobia. I'm not so much afraid of balloons, as I'm afraid of the bigger-than-the-world noise they make when they pop. I have been known to bust out crying, tears and sobs, the whole works, if one pops in my general vicinity. Especially before or during visits from the aunt in my pants named Flo, but not neccessarily during those times.

I have a child. She likes balloons. What kid doesn't? (Me as a kid, that's who. Yes, I was a child balloon hater.) Maybe I should say what normal kid doesn't? Because of my abnormal hatred of balloons and my mightier than thou fear of big booms, if there is a balloon in the house, it automatically gets transferred to her room. And there it stays. Until she leaves for her weekend with her dad and his family and I take the fucker downstairs and either a: let it go if it's a helium or b: toss it in the outside bin if it's not. I can't help it. It's like having a suicide bomber in your house.

Funny thing though. I can watch this video. Because the popping balloon is not in the same room with me, I can laugh at this happy asshole getting off on overinflating a balloon until it pops in his face. And I can simultaneously hope to hell he loses an eye or a hand or maybe his dingaling doing this one of these days. Maybe then people will understand what a fucking menace to society these colorful pieces of satanic rubber actually are.

I...have been so fucking sick.

It's not even right. Let's see...vomited so much from Tuesday through Thursday that I had to be hospitalized Thursday night. Saw Dr. McGillvary at Prompt Med an immediate care center. (I love her and if she ever goes anywhere, I'm going to try and get her in a heartbeat!) and she pretty much had me admitted Thursday night due to severe dehydration. I lost 6lbs in 4 days. You don't just do that unless you've lost water. A metric fuckload in other words. Though pretty much the doctor on call Thursday is on my shitlist, because she was on call, she took over my care to speak...and I honestly think I was released way too soon. I spent most of yesterday and today puking my guts up. I'm getting a little relief now. And that's pretty much thanks to my green friend. And Dr. Porter, who I saw at walk in this morning. I've been taking the medicine (I throw up everything that goes into my stomach, ugh) and he gave me sublingual (under the tongue) medicine to help with stomach pain and a compazine suppository to MAYBE help with the fucking constant vomiting. And when I say constant, omg. It's been insane!

I have an appointment my Dr. in 2 weeks. Fucking A. Honestly, if I'm not seeing some real help this time, I'm leaving her and going to either, the doctor Dad goes to...or leave Sandcreat entirely and try and find somewhere that will take my fucking insurance.

I'm really, really hoping and praying to God that I will feel so much better by tommorrow. It's Halloween, damnit! I want to go out with my kid. :(

Every single medication I've taken at home...has not worked on my vomiting in the slightest. In the hospital, they gave me Zofran. THAT shit works, but guess what my insurance doesn't cover it-unless I'm actually hospitalized. Phenergan doesn't work. I believe I threw up more after I got the shot today from the Dr that was supposed to stop it and the compazine doesn't work (though I'm taking it because I don't think it's hurting me)

Guess how many bong hits it took for my stomach to feel miles better, enough for me to eat a half a can of chicken noodle soup (mostly broth)?

Three.

How fucked up is that?

Oh, and add this to the list of shit that can only happen to me. I was taking a walk LAST Saturday, and reading my book (yes, I walk and read at the same time). This is a slow neighborhood. Not exactly watching where I'm going. All of a sudden, this 9-10 year old boy comes barreling around on a bicycle. Not exactly watching where HE'S going. You see where this is going?

Kaboom. I'm flat back on the sidewalk, slamming my head and upper back in the process. The kid lands on me, so he's fine. I, on the other hand, am still having a residual headache and massive upper back pain. The joys of getting older. Fuck. I pass out for a few seconds though because one minute I'm on the ground with the kid on top of me and the next second the kid is beside me screaming, "LADY, HEY LADY, WAKE UP! ARE YOU OKAY? LADY WAKE UP!" and my first words, "You okay, bud?" He was. I'm glad the kid is okay though. I couldn't have stood the guilt had he hurt himself too. Little fucker, however, landed on me. He was able to avoid getting hurt by landing on my squishy ass.

Went to the ER Saturday night because I thought there was a chance I was concussed, but I wasn't. Woke up Sunday morning with agony in my upper back. Agony. So I go to Prompt Med. Dr. Lovins is there (WTF? Seems everyone who quits Sandcrest ends up at PromptMed). Well, she gives me 21 Soma (muscle relaxer) and forty vicodin. I'm like 0_o. Yeah, have never been given quite that much before. I didn't even get close to taking all of it.

I must admit, Veggie, you are right.

I had a strange obsession with owning a snuggie. I love blankets, and I think, a blanket with sleeves, perfect! I'm not over the age of 65 yet so I will not be wearing the thing in public. Ever. People my age and younger do this, and as much as I thought this was going to be the coolest invention ever made, I do not think the snuggie look is stylin for the ages of 13-65. They should be forbidden public wear for those age groups.

So a week ago, I buy one. I go to CVS and bought the one that donates money to breast cancer research. That would be the only positive part of the Snuggie experience. It was bright cotton candy pink Snuggie with a pocket. I'm over the moon.

Until I get the fucker home and I realize something. Snuggies are not for short people. I am a short person. 5'3" and a clumsy mc'klutz even when I don't try to move with a 6 foot blanket in my path because I do forget to pick the fucker up. I'm glad that my superpower is that I do not trip. My elementary school was a combat zone. I had to train my brain to never trip. Not that the snotnosed fuckers wouldn't try. I'm clumsy, I drop shit and bump into shit, bump into people. I will never be comfortable in a china shop. But I do not trip.

After the age of 65, I'm going to aspire to the wear the most loud, ridiculous, bedazzled crazy cat lady clothes. Because if you live to be so old, you should be able to say and wear and do whatever the fuck you want. I don't think I'd ever be obnoxious to someone who isn't obnoxious to me, but after that age (except in extreme cases of pissing me off, then I'll let you know now) I will let you know exactly how much you suck as a human being.

The Snuggie has become my most expensive cat blanket. Jinxie loves it.



She loves Scott and will claim his lap when he gets home. But I've been going for walks lately, and Scott tells me that Jinxie will wait by the back door and cry the entire time I'm gone. We call her puppycat because she will follow me everywhere and she feels she must at least go into every room I'm in. I haven't been to the bathroom by myself in years. I have never had or met a cat that is so much a baby. And it's so funny. Every once in a while when I let her go outside with me (which isn't very often) and when she gets the urge to leave the yard (even rarer still), the timing of the cars around here is brilliant. Because she forgets that now when she goes into the backyard, she's going to see those big scary things that make big noise move, and she'll flatten on the ground, look back at me and cry, then when I'll pick her up she'll cling to my shoulder. She'll forget about being brave for while.

I'm convinced this cat is made entirely out of sunshine, cuddles, kisses and love.

OMFG I am such a moron!

I couldn't remember either the email or the password of this account. And I finally get it right? IT'S MY CURRENT EMAIL! I swear I tried that before. I have 2 google accounts though and that's probably what fucked me.

Here comes a creepy doll.


Or is this the creepiest fucking thing ever made? I'm not even a Justin Bieber hater. I'm not a fan, I find his music annoying, but he seems like a pretty okay kid. It's refreshing to see a good kid out there. Jadi likes him. I believe a lot of little girls between the ages of 5 and 12 have raving crushes on him. As a thought, every girl in my elementary school from the 4th grade down had raving crushes on the New Kids on the Block. Patty still does (Donny Wahlberg) You may want to read the tags before you go further, because I don't feel like putting in a LJ cut. To continue, everyone BUT me. I fucking hated New Kids on the Block when it was really, really not cool to do so. Like I could be any MORE unpopular in elementary school. My poor parents bought me a beach towel with New Kids on the Block on it, thinking I would like it. I had to inform my sweet, misguided parents that I really did not like them, and refused to take it to school during our infrequent swimming lessons at another school. When my peers would ask which one I liked, most of the time I'd answer, "I don't." but if pressed, I'd perversely say the name of the least popular one. Jordan I think his name was? I actually still do have the towel. I can't tell you how many times I've wiped my ass with that thing if I've been out of toilet paper. I wash it, I mean, shit washes out. And the water gets really, really hot here. But yeah, that's pretty much the only thing I use it for. /New Kids rant.

Yeah, my child is refreshingly normal. A very gifted child, I believe, but normal and very well liked by all her peers. It's hard being different. Not so hard as an adult, at least for me.

Anyway, the doll is fucking creepy. If anyone has any pictures of New Kids dolls, I think I'll spork my own eyeballs out.

Holy bloody hell do I suck!

Okay. I will make up for the way lack of posting on here. I've been neglecting the shit out of LJ too. I've just been way tired and there's just been so much shit. Most of it family. Bleh. My daughter is 7 years old now! Where the hell has the time gone? My niece is turning 6 on the 2nd of March. I turn 31 in less than a month. I need to email you and update you on all the crazy stuff that I will not post on here. Today, however, was a great day. Exhausting, but great.

I will, at some point, write a better post. Right now I'm exhausted. I'm just going to leave with one final thought. I fucking hate winter.