The police stopped by to check on me. They said I was fine. After the medic injected something in my arm. While the cops held me down. He said I’d feel better in a few minutes. After they cleaned the blood and drool from the floor, they packed their gear up and removed the handcuffs and leg irons. That should have turned me on. They handed me a bill for emergency services on the way out the door. Carrying a six pack of my beer. And the eight ball. Why did they take the razor blade and the mirror, too? I put my handcuffs and leg irons back in the Black Room, hanging next to the flog. I was even feeling pretty good, despite the broken teeth. Only then did I find out. Fargin iceholes. They took my last straw. I wonder who called them in the first place.
28 December 2006
This hasn’t been a good afternoon. Sigo’s grandfather died Sunday, so she left on the plane today for the funeral and won’t be back until Sunday night. Work is as dead as it can get, hardly a phone call, and when it is, its usually a simple fix. Normally, I can work with figures and formulae all day long and once I’m involved in it, the day flies by. Not today. I knew something bad was coming when I woke up this morning. After the alarm woke me, I was wide awake, with the gut feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. I’m still trying to locate the source of the impending alarm. This is not a figment. When I get this gut wrench, there’s usually a major problem following in its footsteps. Self fulfilling prophecy? Usually not – it usually comes from an outside source, not something I do or have done. The Sigo made it to her destination ok, so no plane crash. Always a good thing, that surviving a landing deal. I feel like I’m getting pushed back into a dark corner. Pinned in the blackness, unable to move. Screaming and clawing to get out. Can’t. Won’t. It’s a terrible world out there.
27 December 2006
This one is a challenge of my own making, and those readers who wish may consider yourself Tagged for same. Just leave a comment saying you accepted and complied. ;)
Five Things I missed this Year
- My Dad
- The old Sigo I once knew
- Every Day off Between Christmas and New Years
Five Things I wish I’d missed this Year
- a house full of screaming youngin’s when the migraine is kicking in
- talking to Ex-Sigo for any reason
- back problems
- That Stupid, stupid, stupid, sorry ass deer that I DIDN’T miss
- The Crocodile Guy’s Death. That was a true loss to many.
Five Things I Actually EXPECT to happen Next Year (no wishful thinking, please)
- taxes to go up
- gas to go up about 40%
- a hurricane to hit the Texas Gulf Coast
- The Sigo and I to be history if things don’t change in the next 6 weeks or so
- To get a raise
Five Things I Wish/Resolve to Happen
- Exercise better and more regularly
- The Sigo and I to turn back the clock and figure it all out and fix it
- To get a BIG raise
- To quit smoking, shortly after the $1.00 per pack tax increase – those fucking cigarette Nazi’s
- To continue to post semi regularly to this blog and keep up with the growing number of “Friends and Lovers” blogs, as Fringes would put it.
24 December 2006
I have a confession to make. I am not really sure why I am here. AM I here? Yes, this much I know for sure. Well okay, I am relatively sure at least. Am I glad to be here? Yes, to be asked to be a guest blogger is a bit of an honor. Not exactly, an oscar, an emmy, or a Pulitzer, but it is a start. Why am I here though? Why me? That one is a toughie for which I do have a few potential possibilities to ponder.
Theory A: Michael Has a thing for big bird and Oscar.
You ever watch that show Sesame street when you were growing up? Come on admit it you did….Maybe you are like me errrrrrrrr I mean a friend of mine and still watch it now……Anywhooo,,,,,,,remember that game that had the song playing in it that went "one of these things is not like the others,,,,,can you tell which one it is?"
In that game there would be several objects. For instance, there may be 4 different flower pots filled with tulips, roses, gardenias and the like. Mixed in for good measure you would see one Charlie Brown Christmas tree-esque like stick standing up out of a pot. Children across the nation watching the show could be heard pointing at the screen and screaming in unison, THERE it is! THAT is the thing that is not like the others!
In another version of the game perhaps there would be several shiny new sports cars. Their Engines would be revving, the paint would be gleaming. The chrome would be casting off a sparkly shine as the sunlight bounced off of it. Some where in the middle of all these sports cars would sit a jalopy. An old pickup truck with bald tires, the bumper hanging off, and the words "wash me" carved out of the layers of dirt by some witty young teen. Once again, children across the nation would point and scream 'there it is!' the jalopy doesn't belong!
Hello, I am brilliant donkey. I have followed along in this week of guest blogging just like you have. While doing so I have been trying to figure out what exactly Michael has been up to. So, what am I doing here?
And then it hit me,
Brain: "oh shit!"
Me: "what? You think you got it figured out?"
Brain: "One of these things is not like the others!"
Me: "No we are NOT watching sesame street again, Focus damn you!"
Brain: "Maybe Michael is a fan of the show too!
Me: "What? So what if he is? What the HELL does that have to do with anything?
Brain: "Think about it,,,,,4 guest bloggers, all female. You? You stand up to pee."
4 guest bloggers, all hotties. Then there is you…..in the words of Paul Riser …. "not so much."
4 guest bloggers, all submit great writing. You? Ha! Are you starting to get the picture?"
Me: "ummmm no not really."
Brain: "Okay Forrest, try to follow me here,,,,So he has had a week of fabulous guest bloggers. You have been able to enjoy posts from the likes of Mist, Fringes, Roadchick and KB. What might they all have in common?
Me: "okayyyyy, and your point is?"
Brain: "I hate to break it to you but ummmm THAT is why you are here,,,,YOU are the jalopy, YOU are the Charlie brown Christmas tree!"
I was just about to argue with myself on the point when I saw the neighbor kid 3 doors down point and scream "Briliant donkey!, BD doesn't belong!"
Michael is way overworked.
Maybe Michael needs a break,,,,,a vacation,,,,,, he must be tired from the sudden increase in work. Last week from what I can tell he came up with an idea. Sure he wasn't the first to come up with the idea of guest bloggers but to string together a full week of them is best I can tell, a bit unusual. Like I said, it was a good idea in principle. Hell it even got off to a good start.
But any good idea has its road bumps along the way.
No matter how much time you spend planning something out whether it be a vacation, your stock portfolio, how to invade another country, eventually something tends to come up that you hadn't considered before. I suspect perhaps this is what happened with Michael. Let us replay shall we?
To start things off He brought in Mist1 who got the ball rolling with a great post. She was like the first guest on Letterman or Leno. Michael's version of Jerry Seinfeld, Larry the cable guy or some other top name comedian. Safe to say she did not disappoint. Follow that up with the likes of Fringes, and Roadchick and KB and….
Site hits take a monstrous leap…..
Comments go wayyyyyy up…..
While all this seemed like a good thing ahead of time, he failed to consider the down side of it. It was a clear cut case of 'the best laid plans of mice and men' if you will.
Clicking 'publish comment" 400 times a day is hard work! He must have looked up carpel tunnel syndrome on web md and read that in some cases it CAN be fatal. With that he asked himself what he needed to do to slow things back down a bit. Rereading Mist's post he saw the answer staring him in the face. A cooler! That is where I come in. Cut to my upcoming commercial:
"Hello, I am Briliant donkey. Having problems with too many people visiting your site, leaving pesky comments that require publishing, and god forbid answering?"
"I can help, using my patented system of jokes no one other than me gets, boring topics, and loads of useless information I can drive your traffic back down to much more manageable numbers. But don't take MY word for it. Consider this testimony from none other than my mother. She writes,
"my son likes to tell people that he only has 3 readers and one of them is me. Truth be told he has 1 reader, I just use an alias from my work computer and the one in the bedroom as well. Give his system a try, let him guest blog on your site and all your troubles with comments, will disappear before you know it."
Perhaps I am here to save the day? To be the hero. To follow the clues that noone else can see. I welcome you to CSI brilliant Donkey!
I suspect that something is amiss in the world of blogland. If you have followed along in this week of guest blogging maybe you caught it too. I strongly suspect that Mist, Road chick, Michael, and even Fringes or KB have been……gulp …..kidnapped and are perhaps being held against their will. Maybe they have even been replaced by imposters or alien life forms! I am not sure what is going on but I know something is.
The first clue, well the first TWO in fact were cleverly disguised in mist's post. Do you see it? In her post she closed by saying:
"Ps: thanks for letting me be here today Michael. I promised that I would keep it clean."
First of all, the real Michael would never ask someone to 'keep it clean.' Second, and perhaps more convincing is that even if he DID, the real Mist would never EVER comply. This to me was a clear, though cleverly disguised message saying 'the real mist and Michael are not responsible for this post.
The next clue can(or could have) been found in the comments made by fringes and Road chick. Some where in there fringes yelled at Roadchick for leaving the liquor cabinet almost empty. Keyword=almost……
No self respecting, self proclaimed, redneck chick EYE know would have left a single DROP of liquor or beer in the cabinet unless they were forced to leave quickly…….and at gunpoint.
Finally, Fringes talks of pretty much 'the ultimate woman' one who doesn't nag about silly things like socks left on the floor. One that doesn't get upset when you come home late from 'work' with the smell of liquor on your breath. KB, finished things up by talking of a place that doesn't really exist. A gap……..or a void of some kind. Aha! "avoid"! Now I ask you….How much more clearly could they have said
"this is a dream"
"this is NOT reality, stay away,,,,,,send help
Something is awry in blogland. Hang in there You all(that's 'yall' to you Chick) . I have called 911 and as soon as they quit hanging up on me help will be on the way!
Thanks for the invite, Michael and the killer marquee as well. It was fun, and an honor all at the same time. I would apologize for the length of the post but A) you know I am ALWAYS wordy B)remember I get paid by the word and C)The only way I am capable of NOT posting wordy posts on MY site is to do them on someone else's.
Have a great Xmas dude and thanks again for the invite.
23 December 2006
22 December 2006
Wyoming does not exist.
Now, I know many of you out there must be wondering if I took my meds today. Yes, actually I did. But it still doesn't change the fact that Wyoming doesn't exist. Who the hell do you know from Wyoming? Have you ever actually seen a Wyoming license plate? Hell, whens the last time you heard something about Wyoming? NEVER!! Because it simply is not there. Its a myth, kind of like Big Foot or Area 51, except not real. Not to mention its an almost a perfect rectangle. What state is symmetrical? Only Wyoming. That place is only a figment of the government's imagination.
Its actually a goal of a mine and a friends to prove this one day. We'll take a massive road trip around the country and document it all on video. One of our goals for this trip is to leave some illegal immigrants in Wyoming and see if we get a black hole effect from it. That, and steal a Mountie's hat some how. This trip is to be called "Through Darkest America: With Bong and Roach clip." Anyone who's read Stephen King's Desperation will get that joke. If you haven't read it, then that's probably for the best. Old school Stephen King can be psychologically damaging in the wrong hands anyways.
On a totally random side note: Did you know that in post-Katrina Mississippi, to get an apartment you must make 3 times the amount of the rent? I just found that out. How fucked up is that? I make roughly 1600 a month, and 3 times the rent is 1575. Whooo, I squeaked by on that one. If I don't get this apartment, I'm going off my meds and killing that creepy apt. manger. She had a goatee. It was massively creepy. I'm not sure I want to live in a place run by the bearded goat woman.
But on the plus side, I'll be back into my own place, creepy landlady or not. I don't care if I have to sleep on the floor with a blanket and pillow. I don't care if I have to eat ramen for the next year. Hell, I don't even care if I have bugs.
I'll just ask Mist for The Cleaner's number. Maybe he'll take extra to bite my Ex.
21 December 2006
The 'chick, as a guest blogger. It's kind of like house-sitting, y'all. You get to poke around, open closets, see what's hidden under the mattress, watch cable, reprogram the Tivo, AND eat all the cookies. And the owner? Can't say a damn word about it. Not one word - after all, YOU were Left In Charge.
Gypsies in the Palace, y'all.
Anyway, that is not what the 'chick came here to tell you. What the 'chick came here to tell you is this:
SHE HAS BEEN DIVORCED FROM THE NOW-FORMER-MR.-ROADCHICK FOR EXACTLY SIX YEARS - TODAY. (And it's his birthday - how's that for a great big karmic kick in the ass???)
This is the story of going to court.
It took about six months to get to court because the ex had left the state and had to be contacted by mail and be given time to respond by using smoke signals that had to be relayed down the mountain by friendly Indians.
Anyway court day finally came and the 'chick went to court wearing her about-to-be-a-free-woman best although she did make a concession to the Seriousness of the occasion and wear panties. Friendage went with the 'chick and the two huddled toward the back of the courtroom and waited for the 'chick's name to be called.
After about 36 hours, it was the 'chick's turn and she went up to the witness stand, was sworn in, and took a seat. (As it turns out, the front of the witness stand was solid wood so the panties really weren't necessary.)
Her lawyer instructed her to tell the judge (HizzHonor) why she wished to be divorced.
And so, she did, and this is what she said:
YourHonor, about six months ago, the soon-to-be-former-Mr.-Roadchic
YourHonor, the 'chick was somewhat stunned by this news, but not really. And she was not heartbroken by this news because, really, there is a limit to what one 'chick should have to put up with during the course of a 12 year marriage.
HizzHonor broke in here to ask some questions - where was he now, had he been back, what about Rockboy?
The 'chick answered all of his questions and then - THEN - the meaning of living in a small town was driven home forever.
A lawyer, sitting off to the side, who had nothing to do with the case at all, said:
GAL! I know you! Your ol' man used to work up at the city, didn't he? Lawd, chile, that story went round like a fire in a hay barn. It was all we tawked about for weeks!
The 'chick was shocked.
The 'chick's lawyer was shocked.
HizzHonor was most definitely shocked and instructed to lawyer to hush up his mouth right now since it wadn't none of his bidness, now was it.
But, there were giggles in the courtroom that day. Giggles from all the other soon-to-be-divorced, thankful that there was a story, worse than theirs, with comedic three-part harmony that could be related to friends and relatives that were unable to attend, due to their own bond hearings.
HizzHonor, perhaps in sympathy, perhaps because the ex didn't bother to make the trip in for court, awarded in the 'chick's favor.
The divorce was granted.
It was the best gift she had ever given herself on his birthday.
Now, Patient Reader, some of you may be wondering if the now-former-Mr.-Roadchick is still with his Innernets lover. The answer is NO. They broke up around Halloween (weeks before the court date) and the 'chick received an email telling her that he was sorry, he made a mistake, ready to come home now, etc.
The 'chick, with the milk of human kindness flowing freely through her veins replied:
So sorry that it didn't work out for you. Just remember, your parents are always there for you.
And that concludes the 'chick's guest entry. Michael, thanks for the chance to snoop through your drawers and use up all your Sharpie markers for this post. And next time? Leave the key to the liquor cabinet and the 'chick won't have to break the lock.
20 December 2006
Let me admit something big here in my guest post that I hope will not come back to haunt me in my own space: I have yet to be in a stable long-term relationship. Yes, I have two kids, but flies can have offspring and flies have never seen one episode of Dr. Phil. So the biological ability to have children means nothing in the long run of long-term stuff. They are, I suppose, my longest relationships next to the 38-year on-off relationship I've been having with my parents.
I think the main reason I don't stay in relationships very long is because I have no desire to kick butt or get my butt kicked over whose turn is it to fill the cars with gas. I'm not fighting over who lost the ATM card. I have no beef with socks on the floor. My nonchalance is very often mistaken for a distant, noncaring attitude. It's not that I don't care, I'm only confused why these things are mistaken for such a big effing deal and why you would think I don't love you just because I didn't yell at you for coming home from the office at 3 a.m. You said you had to work late, I believed you, I ordered a pizza, watched two movies and went to bed at midnight.
You weren't shot at with any caliber gun and your clothes were still in the closet (or on the floor of the bathroom, if that's your preferred storage location) when you tiptoed in the door after seven or eight cocktails. It was bidness, you proclaimed in harmony with my light snoring, challenging me to say anything different. I shifted slightly in my sleep, asked only that you brush your teeth before passing out in the bed next to me.
When I awoke, you were gone. Closet empty, bathroom floor wet and bacteria-filled. You were crushed that I cared not enough to accuse you of hanging out with the office slut. You thought I thought you weren't attractive enough for the office slut and you were insulted. Once again, I've ruined a relationship by never raising my voice.
Calling my sister, I don't even ask her what's wrong with me. I know what she's going to say. She'll quote the Bible then tell me I'm sleeping with the wrong kind of man. Neither of us has any idea of the kind of man I should be sleeping with, but so far, I'm zero for one hundred on my other choices.
I think next time I shall try wearing a watch. So I can keep track of time more diligently. When you are one minute late, I shall let you know that immediately and in a very loud voice. Men seem to like that. When you come home drunk and missing your underwear, I perhaps will yell things like: Do you think I'm stupid?
The neighbors will tell the police as you are placed in the back of the cruiser ("Watch your head, sir.") that you and I fight constantly. That I provoke you into hitting me. That you hit me in front of my kids. I will kiss you goodbye and promise to bail you out in an hour. You tell me to leave you in jail because the bail money is rent money. I tearfully (tears are good, right? Tears are emotional) ask the officer to release you to me. That you didn't mean it. It's just that, last time around, you thought I didn't care about you because I didn't yell enough and accuse you of lying to me enough, so I was giving us another try tonight and who knew the police would respond so quickly to one little 9-1-1 call? How did they get past the guards? This is, you know, a gated community.
From your cell, you use your one phone call to ask me to marry you. I scream into my cell phone, "That's more like it, motherfucker!"
My throat is sore from all this yelling and I think I'm showing signs of having had a small stroke. But if this is what it takes to get and finally keep a man around, no more calm and mellow and seeking a peaceful center for me. Bring it on, man. Bring. It. On.
19 December 2006
Last month, I guest posted at Fringes blog about the ant that was living in my shower. Everyone knows that ants have a sophisticated communication system and are avid bloggers. Almost immediately, the ant in my shower, was joined by his friends.
I decided to give that whole "Do No Harm" policy up.
I stood on the edge of my tub and attempted to smash the ant and his buddies. Of course, I slipped and was nearly knocked out. As huge fans of slapstick, the ants rejoiced. I reconsidered the "Do No Harm" policy.
I shower on an as-needed basis (perhaps that should read a$$-needed basis). I broadened the definition of as-needed to avoid any more unpleasant experiences with ants and my slippery tub. In the time between showers, I created an elaborate plan to rid my shower of ants. I ruled out Raid as I also have a "No Inhalants" policy (do you know how hard it is to get a gold spray paint ring off delicate facial skin?). I needed professional help with the ant invasion. I enlisted the services of a spider. We negotiated a fee and contracts were signed.
He came silently in the night and built a web in the corner of my shower. Within 24 hours, ant carcasses littered the floor of the tub.
Ants are not that bright. When they see ant carcasses, they move in to investigate. This is why I am higher on the food chain. When I see a street littered with human bodies, I run the other way. Then I call my ex-boyfriend's Parole Officer to see if he's been making his appointments.
The spider worked quickly. He was a cruel, yet efficient killer. After slaughtering much of the colony, he captured a final ant. He wrapped it in silk and whispered something in it's ear-like orifice. I don't know what he said to it; it was between The Cleaner and the ant. He set the ant free. It disappeared through a tiny crack.
The spider took down his web. "Incinerate this," he directed me. "You won't be having ant problems anymore." And then he was gone.
I have showered three times since he left. Once, I even used soap.
PS: Thanks for letting me be here today, Michael. I promised that I would keep it clean.
18 December 2006
Here at the Cardiac ER, we’re always trying to find something new and exciting to entertain our readers. We (that is, my and all of my multiple personalities). So this Christmas Season, we give you the gift of our current must read Bloggers as Guest Hosts here at the ER for GUEST BLOGGER WEEK. Starting on the 19th of December and going through the 22nd, Mist1, Fringes, Road Chick, KB (Strange Occurrences), and BD of Briliant Donkey will be hosting one main post a day each day. If you don’t follow these blogs, you seriously need to take a little look for yourself. There are links to each one in the blog roll at right. Each one has a different style, a different interpretation on life, and a widely different sense of humor to share with you. It is our Holiday Gift to all of you. Please enjoy.
19DEC2006 – THE MIST1
20DEC2006 – FRINGES
21DEC2006 – THE ‘Chick
22DEC2006 – KB
23DEC2006 – BRILIANT DONKEY
Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah to all of you. I’ll be throwing my comments in , but for the most part, I give you these intriguing writers to brighten your Holidays.
14 December 2006
13 December 2006
TEN THINGS TO PONDER FOR 2007...
#10 Life is sexually transmitted.
#9 Good health is merely the slowest rate at which one can die
#8 Men have two emotions: Hungry and Horny. If you see him without an erection, make him a sandwich.
#7 Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day; teach a person to use the internet and they won't bother you for weeks.
#6 Some people are like a slinky... not really good for anything, but you still can't help but smile when you shove them down the stairs.
#5 Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in the hospital dying of nothing
#4 All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.
#3 Why does a slight tax increase cost you two hundred dollars, and a substantial tax cut saves you thirty cents???
#2 In the 60's, people took LSD to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.
AND THE NUMBER ONE THOUGHT FOR 2007... We know exactly where one cow with mad-cow-disease is located among the millions and millions of cows in America, but we haven't a clue as to where thousands of Illegal immigrants and Terrorists are located. Maybe we should put the Department of Agriculture in charge of immigration.
I just got another two email posts lost in Purgatory. They’ll probably be winging down to Cardiac Hell in the next week, looking all out of place for the timing. Nuts and Bolts! It picks the most bizarre times to bail out. At any rate, the most important part of one of the posts is challenging my reader from Victoria, Melbourne, Australia to take the 6 Weird Things challenge, posting them on my site if they do not have their own blog. We’d really like to hear 6 weird Aussie things, because what we consider weird may be par for the course there, and vice versa. This is the closest thing you’ll get to a written invitation, because I absolutely, will not beg. Ok, I’m begging. Love to hear from you.
12 December 2006
Now that I’ve finally caught up on my Weirdness task, here’s a subject that we can ALL jump on the bandwagon about, emotions stirring, anger flaring, the huge gulf between men and women opening like a huge chasm between us (or maybe we’ll find out that its just a crack in an ant hill, but somehow, I just don’t see that happening.) Ready Set GO!
Gooooooood Evening, Ladies and Gentlemen!
Please arm yourselves from the tables in the aisle, and step forward into thissa here cage. Everyone squeeze in now. Freddie, be a good man and lock that door, now.
Thissa here’s the rules, people.
We want to know, as accurately and pinpointed as possible, where you draw the line in a, yessss, lets call it a long term relationship, not a one or two date dealybob.
So again, we want to know, down to the very head of a pin, where you yourself draw the line on CHEATING on your selected other.
We want the physical addressed (touching, holding hands, kiss on the cheek, kissing, throwing in some tongue with that there kissing, heavy petting, heavy petting to orgasm (with or without removal of clothes), oral, or all the way)
We want the emotional addressed, to (does looking in appreciation count, looking in lust, thinking lustful thoughts, fantasizing elsewhere, the intent, etc.)
And finally, we want those damn Gray areas covered in depth (Emailing (and to what extent), cyber flirting, cyber sex, cyber emotional attachment???, INTENT (yes, again, because this here Ringmaster feels that intent has a great deal to do with establishing the line), hiding actions, covering up, etc.
Thank you, Ladies and Gents. At the sound of the bell, all other rules are off, and we want to see BLOOD in thissa here cage!
DING DING DING
I’ll give my answer in two parts, because it is necessary to distinguish between my completely internalized definition, and what I’m willing to acknowledge for the sake of avoiding complete psychotic separation from society. My inner standpoint is that emotional involvement is the final determiner of whether you are cheating. Release for the sake of release with no emotional involvement, be it something you pay for (no, I haven’t yet, would only do it with a high price Escort, and I ain’t got that kind of money), a friend with fringe benefits that also has no emotional involvement, etc. I know what you’re thinking. That means you could do almost anything, in fact, anything, if there was no emotional tie involved. Yep, you’re right. But she could too. Problem is, most fems can’t, so that severely limits those options anyway. You’re thinking, “This guy either isn’t serious, or he really is undergoing a psychotic detachment from society”. My answer to that is the same as it always has been. You all like the rollercoaster, even if you’re living it vicariously through me. If you didn’t, Lord knows you wouldn’t be reading still, cause you’re sure not hanging around for the quality of my writing, and damn well not for the quantity. So that’s my true feelings on the matter.
I’ll now give my thoughts on where I stand as it pertains to practical, practicable reality. Emotional involvement as in anything other than a close platonic friend, online or otherwise, automatically counts as the big C. Cyber flirting, Cyber Sex, Online chat don’t count (No emotional involvement hereafter referred to as EI). Touching – depends on intent. Kissing denotes EI, so it counts. Anything above that – depends on the knowledge AND consent of the Sigo. If the Sigo treats me to a night at the Strip Bar (not an unknown occurrence) then NOTHING that goes on there counts, because of Knowledge and consent. Looking, ogling, flirting, lusting, fantasizing, porn – don’t count. Those don’t qualify as acts of intent. The Sigo knows I flirt, and she knows that I am almost exclusively visually stimulated, that’s all it takes, so none of those act as intent, they typically meet the Knowledge test, and finally, above all, any fantasizing I do about anyone, past present, or fantasized future doesn’t include EI, its PURELY sexual at that point. Covering up or hiding. There’s fems that I correspond with. More fems than males, to be honest, via email, for the most part. I have an email that she doesn’t know about. Without a single exception, the fems that I correspond with, there’s no EI. They are online friends or sometimes very good friends. Because of the specific nature of the Sigo’s jealousy triggers, however, I don’t broadcast the fact, I don’t discuss it with her, and I wouldn’t acknowledge the existence of the other account for her to peruse every conversation, because when it comes down to it, I’m not going to screen my interactions with people that I talk to just because she might see it and get pissed off. Is that cheating, no. But I don’t have anyone IRL that I can spill my guts to. So it happens with net friends. And I wouldn’t give her a tape of a conversation blowing off steam at her to an IRL friend, any more than I’d voluntarily give her copies of online conversations where the same happens. I talk to online friends about a lot of things, including plans I’m implementing and actions I’m considering. Even if those led to cheating, they in themselves are not, because it isn’t the “target” I’m talking to, but just to friends. But this entry is long enough. I’ve honed the knives, and placed my neck in the cage. Come on, let’s hear some shots one way or another. You might actually score a blow and convince myself or another reader differently.
Thanks to Yahoo for their trigger for this entry. Let’s hear from the peanut gallery now. Come on!
I regrettably, unforgivably erred in leaving out my other Australian regular. So please, will Mr. or Mrs. Victoria, Melbourne, Australia, please come on down, you are the next contestant on You’ve been tagged. And a brief reminder of the rules – You can post the Six Weird Things about You in my comments, if you do not have a blog. But you have to respond, one way or another. Don’t be shy, you’ve been hiding too long. Come on out into the light. I don’t keep it bright, you’ll be okay. LMAO. But seriously, those of us in the States would be VERY interested in hearing 6 things about you that a fellow Australian would find weird, because 6 normal things about you might sound weird to us.
Tagged again. Glad it gives me some subject matter, at least. Things have been far too out of whack this past two weeks, on so many different levels, to try and organize my thoughts enough to post.
So here you go BD, better late than never…….
SIX WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME
1) Quite the opposite of BD, I like my food organized. Call it Anal Retentive, since we’ve already determined that that is one of the diseases that I have a lifetime subscription to. Everything is always separate on my plate. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll clean up the mashed potatoes with what’s left of the Turkey on Thanksgiving, but not too much else. I eat mixed candy by color. Skittles, Mike and Ike’s, and yes, even M&M’s. What, they are all made of plain chocolate? That isn’t the point. They have to be separated by color. And eaten one full color at a time. I once tossed a girlfriend out of my house, because she thought she’d be cute, and toss some hot tamales in my big bowl of Mike and Ike’s. She didn’t come back over until she had a full new big bag to replace the bowl that I tossed in the trash can.
2) Much like Road Chick, don’t mess with my organized, anal retentive morning schedule. I get to the office, start one pot of coffee, make my expresso and start that, then make the second pot. As the second pot is going, I smoke a cigarette. Interrupt anywhere in that cycle, and you do so at your own risk. Want me pissy all day? Just go ahead and call me in to a morning meeting before that happens. Its on YOUR head.
3) As those of you who have remotely followed the Cardiac ER will know, I am a 40 year old sex crazed, deviant, pervert (in the best light of each, of course). Haven’t found a fem who could keep up with my drive, yet. The Sigo managed, barely, for a year and a half. Then fell to the side of the road, exhausted, beaten, demolished. Yes, you know these facts, but I’m not THAT weird, so I have to use every little one I can think of.
4) I don’t know if its that weird, but someone will think it so. I’m capable of complete and total concentration, to the exclusion of the outside world. We’re talking total here. If I get involved in something, you practically have to slap me to bring me out of it. It’s good and bad. If I’m in to it, then I can get a whole lot accomplished in a short time. The bad is that, I tend to get insanely irritated from one moment to the next if you manage to break through that barrier. It’s also bad because my kids don’t understand that, and think that I am ignoring them at times. They’ll understand soon. My five year old son is already doing it with TV and with drawing.
5) It drives me nuts to have my feet covered when I sleep. It has to be below 40 degrees Fahrenheit before I’ll cover my feet, for the most part.
6) I drive everyone else nuts when they drive with me. Whatever speed I determine I am going to go, I keep it right there. To me, it just means constant adjustments on the accelerator. Since I know what I am doing and expecting it, I don’t even notice it anymore. Meanwhile, everyone else in the car is getting whiplash, because without some warning, to them it is just like a rough start when you pop the clutch in first, forward, back, start, stop. Hate it for them.
So there it is, my 6 freaks. Part of this meme is to pass it on to six others, and then notify them on their blog that they have been tagged. I’m in a limited circle of bloggers, so BD listed most of those that I would have listed. But I have a couple – so if you are listed, consider yourself tagged.
Debra from Barmaid Blog – Deb, if you want to do this, you can post in the comments here as your site is also a meme free zone.
KB – Did you really think that I would leave you out in the cold on this one?
My Regular from Perth, Australia. You KNOW who you are. You can’t ghost any more. You can post them in comments here, if you’d prefer. You just can’t hide any longer. LMAO ;)
08 December 2006
I happened to be browsing the horoscope section today. It takes me a little longer than most, because I’m an Aquarian on the Pisces cusp. I was born in the evening of the transition date between Aquarius and Pisces. Up front, I’ll tell you that I don’t plan my day off horoscopes, especially the daily load of poop that comes standard on most homepages, these days. You know the ones. I can pick your horoscope and you could pick mine, and it wouldn’t make a difference because they are so general and so positive. They actually did a test somewhere, and I don’t know where I read about it, a long time ago, but they put like thirty people in a room and made a general horoscope prediction (a long one), and when they were finished, there were 24 or so that stated that the description was dead on what was going on in their lives right then, and completely applicable to them. That’s a pretty good sampling, when all astrological signs were represented in the group. Yet it managed to apply to all of them. That is the problem with most astrologers and horoscopes – most of them are only for public consumption, its all good new with a few vague warnings tucked in, etc. When is the last time you read a horoscope in a national newspaper or online that said “Grab your ankles, your lifeline ends today.” or, “Take Heart, the financial ruin that occurs today will only last for 11 years and 12 months, and then you’ll be back up and strong again.” I mean, a “good” astrologer these days is nothing more than a really good author with a great knack for making the most generalized bullshit sound like its describing your daily life. “You are having problems with a relationship, today. Wait a day, and things will improve.” So after Manny goes home afterwork pissed, gets drunk and beats the crap out of his wife, waiting a day will be better because he’ll be sober with a headache and her damn mouth will be swollen shut. BINGO, I’m your astrologer for the day! For you married folks out there, the fact that you are married means you are having some kind of relationship problem, whether with your Sigo, their Mom, Your mom, or the flaming kids. Now that we took care of the married ones, we’ll take out about the singles, because any single in a steady dating mode with another, looking for a steady dating mode with another, or just looking and hoping for that special “another” will believe that that refers directly to them. We’ve pretty much got everyone covered, because for those that follow horoscopes and believe in them, if it doesn’t apply to them, they’ll search their whole recent life or current situation to see where it does apply to them. Come on, admit it. You read your horoscope once in awhile, and though it could be the other side of the world off base and wrong, you’ll still come up with something in your current life that you could apply the message to. Oh, no, you little fibbers. Don’t tell me when you read up above “You are having problems with a relationship, today” that your brain didn’t immediately hop to focus on ANY relationship that you might be having the slightest bit of trouble with. Uh Huh. Thought so. So I’m the kind of person that will take a look, keep it in mind, and in a week or so relook it in my head, just to see how accurate it might have turned out. The day an astrologer or fortune teller tells me I’m going to lose a hundred and fifty bucks out of my wallet is the day I’ll pull out the one fifty and hand it to them, because if they’ll give you accurate bad news, then they probably know their shit, and it will be worth every bit of the $150 to find out the truth about what’s in store for you in the next month.
So anyway, I’m browsing, and I come up with this –
“You've got a lot to say -- but you might have a hard time finding someone who wants to hear it. People are totally wrapped up in their own weird worlds right now, so you may need to turn to your blog.”
How fitting. Just what I’ve been doing for exactly the past week. How Dead On! So take a look at your horoscope today. How well does it hit with your situation?
And if you get the chance, and want a much more realistic look at today, try http://www.skywatchastrology.com/ - Skywatch Publications. They are a bit more dead on and thorough. You might even get some bad news……………..
07 December 2006
I’m guessing that the folks who don’t know me better were shocked out of their skulls by the Nightmare deal. Return visits from the regulars dropped dramatically after that post. So FYI for everyone, the Sigo is alive and kicking, and the entry was just that, an entry. Fringes can verify that there’ve been no breaking news stories in our area regarding a dead female hanging by her entrails from the bed post. So let’s talk about site traffic patterns for a moment. I have some surprising patterns with my traffic, and since most of my traffic comes through Barmaid Blog, I would guess, just percentage wise, that she’s seeing something similar. On a Monday, when you think everyone would be having a typical Monday and busting their rear ends to start the week right, I usually get the largest traffic. It trends steadily downward thru Thursday, then jumps again on Friday. One thing to note is that a great deal of the regulars and traffic from Barmaid still hits on Saturday and Sunday. I wouldn’t have figured that one, because most of the readers I see visit during the workday. So they must be taking it home to read, too. I can understand the jump on Friday, as everyone is burning time for the weekend. I don’t get Thursday. And to top it off now, the slow Thursday just tipped over at the top of the Rollercoaster and took a vertical dive. This has to be attributed to “Nightmare”.
As I’ve mentioned before, I get traffic from all over the world, even some unexpected places. I guess we get in the mindset at times that a lot of countries elsewhere don’t have the internet, or something similar. Take for example, I have an occasional visit from Nova Scotia. Honestly, I’m not ignorant, unschooled, or geographically challenged. But those words bring to mind fishing shanties, empty freezing coastlines, “The Perfect Storm”, and fur clad people cross country skiing, tied together by ropes, in a blizzard, just to get to the cafeteria. Am I wrong? Of course. Do I know it’s not like that at all? Of course. Doesn’t stop the initial image though. Same with visitors from Indonesia, only its jungles, mud, and rusting Japanese Zeroes from WWII, skeletons still intact. I know, I know, too much “LOST” on TV. Sue me.
So here’s something: I know at least some of you have offtime activites away from the computer. I watch some shows regularly. Now, I don’t want to start a Nielsen TV Series Rating Site or anything, but there’s some shows I watch, and some I don’t. This year there’s been two that totally replaced a couple of other shows that I used to watch. I’m hooked on Heroes. As unlikely as it seems, especially for an avid football fan, I heard some chatter before this first aired, and decided to DVR the thing on opening night. I’ve seen every single one this season on Monday night, whether I saw it a little later or not. Monday night football went straight to the dumpster, and that isn’t me.
I also thought I’d take a look at Jericho. Nuclear holocaust themes have always interested me. Not because I’m morbid, but simply because as an early reader, growing up during the cold war, I read several books that made an impact on me. Even through High School, where “A Canticle to Leibowitz” was required reading in Literature class, and I had read “Alas, Babylon” about four times by the time I graduated High School. I mean, hell, the movie “Wargames” was like the Hacker Handbook back then, and expressed all of the fears that everyone had about truly moving into a computer age. I read one Nuke War book that I have, to this day, never been able to find again. It was about the aftermath, as the hero (w/ the girl) left Chesapeake Bay on a catamaran after a nuke attack, and the troubles they went through. Despite many searches, I’ve never been able to even locate the title of the book, much less a copy of it. If you’ve read it, and it would have been late 70’s, let me know, so I can get the title. So I really like the Jericho series. I’m guessing, because I like it, that it probably won’t last through next season. Haven’t heard any scuttlebutt about it, so it can’t be doing that great.
So what are your favorite shows this season? (LOST fanatic here, though I didn’t go into detail). Let us know.
I would guess that this particular Tarot affinity hits far closer to home than I'd care to admit. Tag it forward, folks.
You are The Hermit
Prudence, Caution, Deliberation.
The Hermit points to all things hidden, such as knowledge and inspiration,hidden enemies. The illumination is from within, and retirement from participation in current events.
The Hermit is a card of introspection, analysis and, well, virginity. You do not desire to socialize; the card indicates, instead, a desire for peace and solitude. You prefer to take the time to think, organize, ruminate, take stock. There may be feelings of frustration and discontent but these feelings eventually lead to enlightenment, illumination, clarity.
The Hermit represents a wise, inspirational person, friend, teacher, therapist. This a person who can shine a light on things that were previously mysterious and confusing.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
05 December 2006
I wake up in the night, sweat rolling into my eyes, breath rasping in and out of my chest, heart pounding. My eyes unfocused, I still see the blood splashing in front of me, spraying out of so many gashes in my body that I look like a Christmas Tree Fountain. My hand grips convulsively, still trying to maintain a grip on the knife… the knife that…. yes the knife that I was protecting myself with. Protecting from what? I still can’t focus, can’t get the blood out of my head. I start to panic, writhing on the bed. In the dark, I raise both hands to head and to chest. Wet. Wet with blood. Damn the light. I can’t see shit in here. Somewhere in the room, I hear a creaking, screeching, nails on chalkboard squeal. The first crystal clear thought that enters my head, a little East Indian, no legs, dirty, covered with a disgusting blanket, knuckling his way through dark streets, his small board on wheels, creaking, squeaking. Oh God, no, that was in X-Files. I sit up, twisting my head back and forth, trying to see. Blood still pours from my forehead, chest. There is a person next to me in the bed. I can feel them. Skin cold, not moving. No, no, no. What is happening to me here? I’ve got to get to the light. I reach out for the bed lamp, grasping it, knocking it over in my panic. The sick sound of a light bulb blowing. The sound of my heart in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. I lurch out of the bed, trip, drop to the floor, crushing the corner of the headboard into my temple in the process. My brain lights up with spotlights. I crawl across the floor, stumbling and falling across Lord only knows what, piles of something, no time to even get an impression. My nose breaking on the door jamb lets me know its time to get up. New Blood, more Blood. I literally pull myself up the jamb, reaching for the light switch. Heartbeat calming, nightmare fading. I find the switch, turn it on. Blood covers both sides of the bed. Covers the Sigo. Covers the knife protruding from her back. Covers my body completely, mingling with my own from hundreds of small cuts in my own body. This isn’t a dream. I’m not sleeping. This is happening