Some Halloween Fun

Yeah, we had some Halloween fun up in h'yere. We actually did some things together as a family instead of letting the playstation rot Matthew's brain while we toss the baby in the swing and run away outside as fast as our little legs can carry us to smoke a cigarette and pretend like we don't hate our lives. :)

And since that doesn't happen so very often anymore, I took some pictures to remember it by. You don't see my cluttered kitchen counter, either!

Matthew was the "Hulk Guy" for Halloween this year, which was great because the costume was CHEAP!

We made little ghosties to hang from the trees outside.

Kevin, taking all the glory of being master pumpkin carver. He made me get out all the yucky stuff inside though, wasn't that nice?

My little beauty! She is such a good baby, I hardly deserve her.

Mr. Meowkins.

My ghoulish cupcake graveyard!

Oooh, we're sooo spooky and yet, so very very delicious!

Ol' Ichibod Crane stopped by. Without calling first. How rude.

Mr. Meowkins again. He's a camera hog.

So that was some of our Halloween fun. We're looking forward to going to Wichita for Thanksgiving this year and meeting our new niece who is six weeks older than Ivy. Yay.

Ok, that's it. I love y'all! I post more soon!

:)

Things are dandy here of late. A little crazy but I figured out that I'm fine with that.

A little crazy is a good thing for me.

Not in the sense that I need chaos in my life to function in life. No, I don't desire chaos. But it seems like when things are going good for me, too good, I get nervous. Makes me wonder what's around the bend.

When things are just a little bit stressful, though, a little crazy, (just a little a bit!) it's like I have something tangible to deal with. Something real, something right now and not around the bend.

Feels like it makes me stronger.

The other day I decided that I needed a new attitude. An attitude adjustment, if you will. Basically, I'm just trying to be nicer and not get so angry about things. It's hard work but I'm hanging in there.

The only other things I'd like to mention today are that I'm very excited about the election and that on The View this morning Elizabeth Hassleback had a fetus growing on her chin.

Really.

So, I know this is weird, but I was thinking about how everybody nowadays is mentally ill to one degree or another, and I started to wonder if it's always been like this. Have people always been this depressed? Did they just not talk about it?

Like back in the days of the Great Depression, don't you think people were pretty fucking depressed? It makes me wonder what the suicide rate was back then. Would you wake up one morning, look around your dust bowl and decide to just off yourself?

And farther back than that, even. Back to the ancient times, when life was really tough. Weren't those people depressed? How did the human race even survive, I wonder. How could they bare their own existence?

I said it was weird.

Sassy, Becky, Jess and Alan- thank you for your comments. I can't adequately express (having trouble with that lately) what it means to me, but it means a lot.

I apologize that it's been so long since that last post. I've been trying to catch up on everyone else's blogs. I go to leave a comment but whatever I'm about to type will suddenly sound to me like the stupidest thing in the entire world so I don't comment.

I don't know what's wrong with me.

That's it. That's all I got.

Friday Suck Fest

Last night I dreamed about an old friend who isn't a friend anymore. She hasn't spoken to me in seven years.

But in my dream we were hanging out, or trying to. Trying to escape parents that we never had in real life, so that we could run amok.

I have no hopes, false or otherwise, that this person will ever be my friend again so I wish very much that I would stop dreaming about her.

It's been seven years. That's long enough for hope to die, isn't it?

I feel real fucked up lately. I feel like it doesn't really matter what I do or say because I'm just going to fuck it up.

It feels like, the people who need me, would be better off without me because I'm just going to fuck them up.

I feel like there was one person in this world who wanted me, needed me, protected me and that person is dead now.

And has been dead.

I feel like it must be nice to be in your twenties, or thirties, or forties, or even your fifties and still have one or both of your parents left alive.

That is, if your parents are or were worth a shit.

If they're not worth a shit, does it matter?

Peoples definitions of what a shit is worth varies.

To me, it's not worth much.

I don't have anything, and yet, I have it all.

But I don't deserve it.

I'm the one that's not worth a shit, I know this, I know this.

I don't know what I'm waiting for.

I Hate All The Baby Deers In The Whole World!

Stupid, stupid baby Bambi deer!

I saw him there, too, that little fucker, he was on the left side of that steep-ass road, right where you have to start gunning your itty-bitty four cylinder if you even hope to make it up that hill, and he charged headlong into my front left bumper, flew up on the hood of the car and flew off again, just barely missing hitting the windshield, and ran his wobbly ass into the woods!

Damn, stupid baby deer! Who the hell does he think he is, trying to cross the road when there are cars coming? Looking all cute with his spots, trying to make me feel guilty when it's not my fault!

It's not my fault that civilization exists, and that I'm part of it. It's not my fault human beings have encroached on his habitat! Fuck that deer. I hate deer. They think they got it so-fucking-bad? I've got it bad! And you don't see me running headlong into traffic trying to fuck up somebody else's life!

I'm glad the hunter shot Bambi's mom! Yeah, that's right, I'm glad. Oh, it's true, I cried and cried my eyes out when I was a little girl and I saw that movie for the first time. I felt so sorry for Bambi because his mommy died! But them days are over! Growing up and having two wrecked cars in one year because of fucking Bambis put a stop to that!

Fuck you baby Bambi! You're not the only one with a dead mommy! Quit trying to kill yourself and somebody else by running out in front of cars!

You see, it really makes me angry.

I don't like all the deer around here. It makes me want to take up hunting, and the only living thing I've ever killed are plants and bugs, and who gives a shit about plants and bugs anyway, they don't have souls and they're not cute or lovable so you can kill all of those that you want to, and god won't get mad and send you to hell for all eternity for being a grudge holding bitch.

Monday Morning So Far

I was sitting outside in the warm sun, enjoying the cool breeze and Marlboro 100.

I was thinking about things, and my stomach started hurting.

That is what thinking does to me.

Then I looked over and saw an ewwy slug glistening in the sunshine.

He won't be glistening for long. It's supposed to be in the upper eighties today.

I started thinking about my hair, which always makes me feel better.

I need thicker bangs.

And some highlights.

I then started thinking about my friend and her husband who have split up.

He spent her last fifty dollars on weed, so she kicked his ass.

Then he poured bleach all over her clothes and the police wouldn't do anything about it because they're married and it's "communal property".

Now she needs a place to live and I'm hoping that when she finds one she'll take my kitchen table because I want a new one.

With some chairs.

Then I came inside to type this.

So exciting.

His First Day Of Kindergarten

Yesterday Matthew started kindergarten. Everything went very smoothly, with neither of us crying. Kevin got rained out at work so he stayed with the baby so that I could focus on the boy, which was excellent. We hung up his Incredible Hulk backpack and found his seat. The kids at his table were real nice, but I don't know about some of those other ones. Little Gustabo was looking like a little shit- oops, I mean, a delightful little boy? We'll see what happens, but if Gustabo messes with my kid, he's going down.

Today I drove him to school again, but he's going to take the bus home for the first time, too. He's very excited, but I wish we didn't live so far from his school. He's going to spend close to two hours a day just riding the bus to and fro. Before we got the car, I was totally worried about walking him the half mile to the bus stop because there was a vicious looking pit bull that lives down the road. I called the school (and the sheriff) about the dog, but nobody cared too much because the dog belonged to the COP that lives at that house. Now I don't have to worry anyhow, because I'm pretty sure that dog got shot to death when he turned on his owner (the COP, maybe karma does exist after all) and ripped his arm to shreds so that he had to spend a couple of weeks in the hospital in Springfield! Doh.

Met some other parents that seemed pretty nice, which was a bit of a surprise. It's amazing how snooty some folks get when their kids are attending PUBLIC school. I mean, really. It's freaking public school, what do they have to be snooty about?

Anyhow, that's it. The house is soooo quiet, it's almost eerie. Now, though, I'll be able to get some real work down around here! But first, I must take a good, long nap.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A Tale For You

I was a happy squirrel.






Until the day I ran afoul of an evil beastie.

Now, I am not

so

happy.

The end.

Losing My Mind At The Speed Of Light

I'm told that when a person approaches the speed of light, which is to say that a person actually could approach the speed of light somehow, they perceive things as slowing down.

Imagine travelling so fast that it seems as though you've come to a complete stop.

That's the way I feel right now. My thoughts and emotions swirling inside me so fast and furious that I feel a strange, eerie calm.

Like I'm in the eye of the storm.

It's like, some fucking Matrix shit, I'm telling you.

And it's all about...well, that's hard to say, because it's like a stinky, smelly onion with it's many layers making me cry.

This shit is gonna have to come out in segments, or I'll never be able to stop the word vomit.

For right now, though-

it's my mother-in-law. I just don't understand her. The way she is, it makes me sick.

She's not an evil person. She's not even a bad person, she's a good person. I believe this, but

but

what the fuck, Ann?

Why, why, why when I finally reach out to you, like Stephanie said I should cuz she talked to you and just knew things would be different now, why when I finally reach out to you, invite you to sit with your granddaughter and spend time with your grandson, do you tell me that you have a prior commitment on that day so the answer is "no", and don't even ask how the boy is doing or if you could come on another day, just "good luck with that!" is all you said, and that was the end of the conversation?

And it's not about that my mother-in-law has a prior commitment, except that she always has a prior commitment with that certain person who is fully capable of not feeding off of her mommy like a big baby parasite, but that she made a comment about Kevin not ever telling her anything when she calls, and that she didn't so much as ask if she could come another day, or anything like that.

She hasn't seen these kids in almost three fucking months.

And she and that certain somebody are telling Steph what a grudge holding bitch I am, and they just don't know if I'll ever get over shit, but here I fucking am, reaching out to Ann, if not the other one, and it's like I'm asking her the fucking time of day.

Fuck her. I got a clock.

But really, it has me fucked up. I can't take her bullshit anymore. She can't remember my daughter's name, she can't remember that it's not my baby with the acid reflux problem but her other granddaughter, and she apparently couldn't care less about what happens with me because Kevin doesn't want to spend an hour on the phone talking to her.

But he will talk to her. I'm telling him tonight to call her, and let her know how it really is, and if he doesn't do it, it'll be his balls.

His balls, baby. (that was Planet Terror reference)