Copycat Crap!!

Ok, well I am fairly pissed. I had a fight on IM with someone a while back who knew my username that I like to use everywhere and they have done something down right evil…..evil I tell you. I am seething but I also know there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. It also explains why I have been getting some weird emails.

And just so you know, yeah I must be an internet dork to be fighting in IM with someone I have never met irl. But dammit things were good in the begining. She was nice we seemed to have things in common and it was entertaining to rag on VH1 shows.

I am not going to get into what the disagreement was about, we are equal parts wrong, but our weird friendship ended then. It’s what she did after that, that I am so pissed about. She went to some pretty disgusting websites and registered the same username that I like to use. So now when you google that certain username you get some weird results. One of the benign results is a sarcastic comment about how guys should be macho or something on an article about a video game that you pee in a urinal to power it (If your curious, she seemed to run with the urine theme and sign me up to some freaky-deaky websites). 

I am glad I don’t know her in real life, I would hate to have to ride past her in traffic and have her throw rocks at me or something. Seriously, this is some petty crap and I needed to vent. *And beware of people you meet on Yahoo! Answers…they can acutally be nuts (*add sarcasm).

 

Update: After getting curious once again about what she may have put out there under the guise of me, I search and found out she likes to reveal personal details (they can be found on myspace, but that page is private so…….) and she likes to pervert those little details and turn them into stories that are blown out of proportion. Maybe there’s even a little hate when she mentions my soapbox. Who knows, maybe this whole thing started because she deems me bossy?

Craptastic!

I must say the ultra deep discussion I had with my sister about clothes was definitely blog worthy. It started off with theorizing why the hell were polo shirts invented? I have my theories and I still am not sure why they exist.

Now I know everybody has seen that person walking down the street or in a store just oh-so-casually strutting their stuff in a pair of rumpled khakis and a striped polo shirt with a stupid embroidered animal on the chest. I have wondered for years if the polo was a conspiracy started by the office casual coalition. It seems to fit the description of the standard office casual or casual Fridays look.

My theory is that they needed a cousin shirt to the tee that was a little more formal and able to multi task as a weekday friend and weekend warrior. That’s where the annoyingly thick ribbed collar comes in. Honestly it’s not what I want callousing my neck all freaking day. And the little placket of three buttons, is that for the big headed person who has trouble with tees, but doesn’t like the formality of wearing a button-down? Or is it for the creepy over-weight tan men who have chest hair that would make Bigfoot proud to prove that they are not old and still sexy? Or is it for that weirdo throw back to the 70s guy to perfectly frame his ginormous gold chain on a perfectly coiffed rug of brown chest hair? Can you tell chest hair kinda creeps me out? And I married an Italian, go figure.

The discussion soon turned to wondering if other countries have the polo shirt obsession that we have, do they wear them too? Can I go to Paris or Rome and see countless guys walking down the street in the ultimate prep school uniform? Seeing as most foreign guys that visit my neck of the woods wear what I’ve deemed the ultimate Euro tourist uniform, I’m doubting it. Every single one I see that doesn’t have kids following behind seem to wear super dark form fitting jeans, beige or tan slim fitting sneakers that have elastic or velcro closures and a white, floral or striped fitted button down shirt. So either the polo wearing guys in other countries don’t like to travel to Central Florida or they don’t exist. Which leads me to the philosophical thought of “If a foreign tourist wears a polo and no sees him, does he exist?” ponder it. Or not. I don’t care.

Now you might wonder what the tourist guys with kids following behind you, that you know only came to go to Disney are wearing. Well that one is simple. Pair of too-short to be American mesh soccer shorts, a tee with their favorite soccer team in it. They can wear their favorite tee here without being harassed seeing as the majority of Americans never catch on when the tourist talks about their favorite football team. The American will sit there with an image of Big Ben in the background as the British “football” team tosses around the pigskin. The similarity between American football and foreign football ends with the fans, you know the bare bellied guys with slogans, numbers and colors painted on their body? That same tourist dad will also be wearing the same type of shoes as the non-dad tourist, but his will be dark colored for that authentic “soccer” look. He will also being wearing the latest in fanny pack fashion.  Sometimes I wish wearing them were cool, like when I’m in the 2 hour line at Animal Kingdom to ride Kilimanjaro Safari and both my kids are whining that their legs are tired and want to be held, but my ginormous purse is too big and heavy to hold said kids in my arms.

With that being said, I love the tourist, they bring much needed money to this area and keep people employed so that they can feed their kids and buy them polo shirts. And I know if I was to go anywhere outside of my area I would be ridiculed for the way I dress. The whole florida casual beach-bum look doesn’t translate well in Rochester, NY I found out a few years ago after getting more than a few strange looks and smirks. Who would have thought converse sneakers and snow were a bad combination? My feet thats who.

Can I have an antacid please?

Festival season has officially arrived in Florida,  This past weekend was the Grant Seafood Fest and St. Katherine’s Greek Fest. I attend both annually and sometimes in the same day. This year was one of the “same day” years seeing as we had plans to take our cranky boat out on the river on Sunday.

I not so patiently waited Saturday for my husband to get home from work around 1pm and after a doing the let’s get ready to go battle with both the kids we set off around 2:30. Grant isn’t all that far from our house so we got there soon, and to make matter better for us it was starting to rain, so we had an easy time getting in and finding a parking spot. It also only took us a record 1 minutes to get our tickets to get food and drink.

Well, this year like every year past, the food was excellent and I bought a matryoshka ( I collect them). I always get the fried shrimp, fried clam strips and my favorite the fried scallops. The only improvement I would recommend would be to use sea scallops instead of bay scallops, but I understand they have to keep cost down and the bay ones are still tender and sweet.

I love to browse through the craft area, it’s like a small flea market of sorts, people from all over the state come and show their homemade thingie-ma-doos. The coolest one by far was what I could only describe as the most rednecky (Which I am in no denial that I am one). They call their shop Tire Swings and Garden Things and they had the most bad ass tire swing of all, it was cut to look like a rocking horse.  They also had a dragon, bull  & motorcycle, the “Redneck Hammock” &  “Redneck Chair Swing”, and multiple planters & bird feeders in about every color you could imagine. My personal favorite of the planters was the flamingo one. All the swings and things are made of recycled racing tires (great for the environment!) and were cleaned spotless. Both Joe & Lauri who make these wonderful creations were extremely friendly & helpful. The swings and things can hold up to 400 pounds as well too.

After leaving and trying to head home (my husband is easily distracted now by any boat on the side of the road with a for sale sign) we realized how late it had gotten and hightailed it home so our youngest could squeeze in her nap.

Now home, we gave our seafood about an hour to digest before we set out again to the second festival for the day, St. Katherine’s Greek Festival. One of my favorite of the year. As usual on our way there as we neared the church we could hear the Greek music and knew that the Odyssey dancers were already doing there thing. The Saturday night crowd was thick as usual, but the lines move fast. The only thing I would suggest to improve this one is to have more seating, it is a bit of a pain to be balancing 4 gyros and 2 cans of soda while trying to guide 2 preschoolers through the crowd. I usually bring the biggest purse I have so that I can stuff everything away in it and make navigation a little easier. The food was outstanding! I cannot stress that enough, I am a huge lover of Greek food and look forward to having a gyro and a bowl of loukamades every year. The have a small room that they devote to their bazaar, some of the things are expensive item that I wouldn’t think most people would have the cash on them to buy (but then again maybe their set up to take credit cards or something, I honestly have no idea). This year the guy who sells the matryoshka’s was there, he wasn’t last year, so I didn’t being enough money to buy another one. I was a little bummed. A little bit later the Odyssey dancers started up again, I will forever remain in amazement at how high they can leap in the air. It is really amazing. If you do go, be prepared for it to be extremely loud. I happen to enjoy the ear splitting music coming from sometimes rusty sounding speakers. Also, you must get out there and dance with everyone. They do the traditional style dancing where everyone is in a circle holding hands and you do these step while rotating the whole circle, it is a lot of fun. And don’t be worried if you don’t know how, enough people know what they’re doing and will get everything moving, just fall in line and watch what they’re doing.

Needless to say, by the end of the night, the worst heartburn I have ever had set it. It was agony, but worth it.

Ants are salty little fellows

So last night after I returned from my outing around 3am I decided to get on the Internet for a little while before I went to bed. First thing I did was get two eggrolls on a plate and a cold soda to snack on while I browsed (I didn’t eat dinner earlier so I was starved).

Lately while the weather has been warming up I’ve been noticing these large ants that don’t seem to be interested in anything but trying to find crumbs getting into the house. They are in fact one of the reasons why I was out so late, I had to get to Wal-Mart to get some bug spray. Other than the fact that they are nasty little insects crawling in my house they don’t seem to be doing any harm, no one has been bit and there are no huge ant nest anywhere.

Well just as I was I finished the first greasy eggroll, I was instantly thirty and reached for my soda. Just as I took a huge sip I could feel something swimming in my mouth and could taste something extremely salty. Needless to say, my monitor was bathed in soda as I forcefully spewed it from my mouth. After a few swipes of my tongue I found the offending critter. A big nasty ant that was obviously injured from it’s not very well thought out plan to scout out my can of soda.

I inspected the little thing for any lost body parts and found out it was missing a leg. Double gag. So I quickly ran into the bathroom and started searching my mouth for the leg. I couldn’t find it. I am at this point so grossed out I can’t function. I used everything, a toothbrush, floss, tongue scraper to find the leg. I failed. So I commenced on sterilizing my mouth in hopes it would help me forget the awfulness of it all.

It hasn’t worked, here it is the next afternoon and I am still convinced when I swallow I can feel something stuck. I know it’s totally psychological because of my extreme disdain for anything with more than 4 legs.

Just so you know, I smashed the ant as soon as I was done inspecting it and ants are really salty. And I will never leave an opened can of soda even slightly out of my sight again.

UPC & The afterlife (as in finally seeing the light)

Sometimes after reading some of the blogs I visit regularly, I get inspired to branch out from their topic and write about my own experiences or opinions.  This opinion is coming straight out of my experiences being raised in a UPC/Apostolic church and consequently going to their school.

The summer before I turned 5 a new family moved across the street from us and had a daughter who was my age and a son who was my brother’s age. Soon the daughter and I would be inching down as close to the edge of the lawn on opposing sides of the street to yell out typical 4 year old questions like “What’s your name” , “How old are you” & “Will your mommy let you come over and play with me”. After sometime of constant pressure from both of use, our moms gave in and met each other. And thus began the most blissfully perfect time of my childhood.

After our parents become friends I started attending Sunday school with my friend. Soon after my Mom began attending the church, and hear that they were starting up a new school. They touted it as “The School of Tomorrow” with a good solid Christian education and a work-at-your-own-pace learning system. Now ideally I guess it was so people who were fast learners wouldn’t become bored and those who were slow wouldn’t feel left behind and could still attend school the next year with their same friends. All in all though, the system is a failure.

At the tender age of 5 I was enrolled in the first year of this school. I was one out of 10 students of varying ages and only 1 of 2 in kindergarten. We wore homemade navy blue Swiss dotted skirts, white long sleeve blouses and a hideous red ribbon tied in a bow through the collar (kinda like a patriotic throwback tot he 70s).

I started to notice that I didn’t see my non-Apostolic friends as much. Because somehow in the eyes of the pastor, you had to protect your kids from the influences of the secular world. Which I guess meant the 5 year old boy down the street was going to get me pregnant and start smoking crack with me? We soon were not allowed to go to the movies (Because we all know how much porn & abomination kids movies contain, right?), watch TV (I don’t know about you all, but Scooby-Doo always made me want to worship Satan) or have a Christmas tree (all those demons……well you get the point).

I always felt alienated from other people I saw in the stores & neighborhood. They were different from me, and I stood out like a sore thumb. I had long frizzy hair that I was forbidden to cut, I couldn’t use make-up to at least hide my horrendous acne when I had pictures taken and my clothes were something out of a Laura Ingalls Wilder nightmare. Who wears heavy skirts down to your ankles and long sleeves in the Florida summer? I did. And so did all my Apostolic friends.

Whenever our school went on field trips to a public place (i.e. Science Center, Disney World) we were mocked and laughed at. It was beyond humiliating. At our school I do believe we had more teachers that hadn’t graduated high school than those who had. Most of them should never had been around kids. Including one male who seemed to be a little too flirtatious with the teen girls. Another one who I know for a fact never received a diploma, was the biggest racist, discriminating idiot ever, and she put my sister through hell on earth just because she didn’t fall into the delicate little princess category like all the other girls. Anyone who finds something wrong with a little girl who’d rather play sports than giggle with Barbie Dolls is the Anti-Christ themselves!

The overbearing sexist themes in everything we were taught were pretty disgusting too. The girls-only Home Ec. class would bake up some drudgery so that way they could feed it to the boys who got to go hang out at the beach and surf! In our PACEs (As the Accelerated Christian Education curriculum is known) were filled  with sexist and racist themes from grade 1 to 12.  Basically all females were steered toward the ideal careers of Homemaker, Librarian, Seamstress or Secretary (Pretty much only if you hadn’t managed to snag yourself one of the oh-so-desirable men we were supposed to serve).

Just so you know, I am not in any way exaggerating, I’m actually giving a tame version here.

We were also taught as females that we should *OBEY* our husbands, and taught disgusting 1920-ism like if the men are in a discussion we should just listen along unless on of them pretty much dumbs it down for us and asks us to join in.

*Note: When I got married, I had the Female who married us omit the obey part from both our vows, as I see this as a demeaning term to use in a relationship (Love, Honor & Respect cover the necessary bases).

In the middle 90s as an older teen, I started questioning some of these beliefs about my religion, first quietly only to myself then more vocally. Which kinda bit me in the ass, because I soon was labelled a rebellious one & bad influence for basically having a mind and opinion all my own. I still to this day firmly believe that any religion or lifestyle that ostracizes anyone who questions it, or voices opinions or concerns has something wrong with it. To my that falls into cult-like behavior. I eventually attended my first semester at public school and had an eye opening experience. I saw what other kids were like, I made friends who came from all different backgrounds and religions, I got my first real boyfriend. And I decided that I would never let myself to be blind like that again. I would be more aware of warning signs when participating in a certain group.

Unfortunately being raised the way I was has greatly affected my adult life, and not in a good way. Every time I hear gospel music, I’m taken back to those cold Thursday morning sitting in “Chapel” listening to my pastor scare the mess out of us kids with his terrorizing stories about Masons, Druids, Demons lurking in the shadows & how little babies would burn in Hell if their Mom or Dad wasn’t saved. And then he would put pressure on all of us to receive the “Holy Ghost” where we were supposed to pray and start crying and then start talking in “tongues”. I felt comfort in the fact that I wasn’t the only one faking it so the adults would just leave me be and stop laying the guilt trip on me.

*I just saw this Video and this guy totally reminds me of the insanity & contradiction that came over my pastors pulpit:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDxcyqeRc-4

If your a Christian then are you not supposed to love thy neighbor as thyself or something like that, instead of judging and mocking people?

Hometown Craziness & Fun

Last night on one of my treks to the almighty Wal-Mart to replace the malfunctioning musical birthday card I bought for my daughter, I spotted someone driving down the road that I have never met but have seen countless times. I do not think I can do him justice with my descriptions of this man, but I will try, you see he owns a certain eye catching car that has me in wonderment and amusement at the same time. I have wondered for years what the man behind the wheel must be like, and who knows maybe one day I will find out. I call him the Alien Cop.

The Alien Cop has driven around my hometown for a while, I’m not sure when exactly he first was spotted or if he’s been here all along. But he drives around in a grey 1980s style police car, complete with the blue bar on top (I hear it actually works) and some badge looking emblem on both door panels with a label denoting him as the local Alien Investigator (I do mean extraterrestrial). It also appears that he is wearing a uniform of some sort that matches his grey & blue car. Now the first time I saw him, I panicked thinking he’s got the ultimate serial rapist get-up going, in the dark of the night your not going to be able to tell that the flashing blue lights and uniform behind you isn’t official, especially if you’re not from this area. But after years of not hearing about any rapes or crimes committed by someone impersonating a cop, I’ve relaxed a little. But on the flip side, if ever I do see another blue orb flying over Wal-Mart I know who to call (seriously there was a blue orb flying over Wal-Mart once, and I am not the only one who saw it, but I think it was probably from the Air Force Base).

After seeing the UFO guy it got me thinking about all the other people I see around town pretty regularly who kinda stand out.

Take for instance, The Bird Guy, and no, he doesn’t look like a bird, I’m not into making fun of someone appearance unless that’s the affect they’re going for (i.e. clowns). This guy has also been around for countless years….he drives a moped putting through the throngs of traffic in the older areas of Melbourne. What makes him stand out though is his unusual adornment. He has a helmet, with the oddest thinks glued to it…like a bird and nest. He also has flags and other odds and ends on his helmet and bike. I’m gonna have to ask him if I can take a picture one day so maybe you can get the full affect.

Moving right along, to the lady by the mall…I call her Athena because she likes to belly dance on the street corner. I’m not sure if she’s fully loaded on some serious mind-altering substances or if that just her. But she gets out there in a long flowing hippiesque skirt and short belly shirt and just goes to town rolling that belly around. She’s not half bad, but it’s still a little odd.

Now there’s a special one, whom I seem to have great disdain for. He drives around in a white car (recently replaced with a small white pickup) with a huge wooden cross standing up on his front bumper. All over his car in red lettering is scriptures, from the typical John 3:16 to some I don’t think I read in my ultra-crazy Christian upbringing. The biggest thing about him that offends me is he has what looks like and old p.a. speaker from a school affixed to the top of his car that he blares some really old-fashioned Christian music through. Now I can see where he’s coming from, he obviously has serious faith in his beliefs and dutifully is recruiting as per the Bible or whatever Church he belongs too. But when I’m driving down the road I don’t really want to hear awful music coming from a rusty sounding speaker. I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I got a sudden urge to broadcast Tool from my cars rooftop. And yeah, I know, there are plenty of people who play there music so loud you can feel it rocking your ovaries, but they’re just as bad.

Continuing on the Christian broadcasting vehicles, its seems Jesus Guy (yes, that’s what I call him) has some competition, recently I’ve seen a rival in a red truck with white lettered scriptures painted all over it driving around (Or maybe he’s on of Jesus Guys recruits).

I have wondered what it must be like to be one of these people, and then wonder how much crap they take from other people who aren’t so tolerant of people who are different. I seen way to many people yell things out of their car window at the schizophrenic guy who walks to the neighborhood convenience store every day to get the paper and a soda.  And if they can be so cruel to someone who doesn’t have a choice to hide his true self, then I wonder how they are to someone who chooses to display their freakishness for all to see. It’s not like we all don’t have something about us that could make us stand out in a crowd and be considered a freak, most of us just choose to tuck it away into a dark private corner where it we won’t be called out on it by the insecure.

I think it takes some serious backbone to be out & proud with all your weirdness.

New Boat & Rescue at Sea

Well, we got a new boat. New to us that is. It’s nothing spectacular, just a small 15 foot jet powered boat with a green canopy top, but it fits out needs for the time being. We bought it with plans to take it down to the Key West for our yearly vacation, it’s perfect for the shallow water and multiple sand bars down there.

Sunday we decided to take our boat for it’s maiden voyage, with My husband, my brother, both girls and myself we set out around 2:30pm and it was a rough start after we got out of the no wake zone, because we weren’t sure how to get the boat going at full speed. About 20 minutes later we were flying down the Indian River. It was great, I haven’t been out on the river since I was a teen. It was slightly cool & windy, but very sunny, so we were all very comfortable. Hindsight would have told me this wasn’t going to be the case later on.

Soon we arrived at one of the islands and waded through the water to shore. I had forgotten how much I loved going out there. Next thing I know I’m immersed in finding shells with my daughters and taking beautiful pictures of the water-worn roots and trunks.

It started to get later and the sun was slowly coming down to the horizon, so we decided to start back to the marina. It was a nice ride back and just as we were nearing the mouth of the creek where the marina was, the engine sputtered. And then it sputtered again….damn, we are now floating about 200 foot from the mouth of the creek and there isn’t a boat around. There also isn’t an anchor on board (Tip#1: Always have an anchor). We sat there dumbfounded for a moment, and then My husband and brother started scrambling to try and start the motor…..well, after opening the engine hatch we soon realize the gas gauge is malfunctioning and we are completely out of gas.

All we could think was “Now what?”. So we started by calling our insurance company (We have marine towing insurance through them), of course we had to go through an automated message that eventually put us on hold playing that music from the caveman airport commercial by Geico, and intermittently saying “Please stay on the line, your call is important to us” (Tip#2: Make sure your insurance company is reliable). Well apparently it wasn’t important enough to answer within a 2 hour time period. Yes, we were on hold with them for two hours. When it hit the hour and a half mark, my husband decided to use my cell to call the Palm Bay police department directly and ask what we should do and if there was any way they could help us. Because we were floating south on the river we had spotty service and had to keep calling back. They finally told us they would call us back after making a few phone calls. Finally we started receiving calls from different Police and Fire agencies in the area (Tip#3: Get a marine Radio).

Now just so you have  a feel for the conditions out there, the temperature was dropping, the wind was picking up drastically, and we were all soaking wet. My husband and brother were wearing denim shorts and short sleeve cotton shirts, the girls were in pants, short-sleeve shirts and hoodies, and I was wearing a pair of cotton bermudas, a t-shirt and a light hoodie. To sum it all up we were freezing and it wasn’t getting any warmer. Just darker and colder(Tip#4: Bring rain ponchos & emergency blankets).

Just as we were losing the last bit of light from sundown, we finally got a call back from the Indialantic Fire Department (It may have been Melbourne Beach, something about the cold makes my brain unable to properly function) telling us the were going to launch a rescue team and wanting to know what landmarks to follow to find us. Well, we gave the them landmark of Port Malabar road which was about a mile from where we had first called. So after a few more calls from the Palm Bay Police and several other agencies to make sure someone was on the way and to check our condition, we settled down and finally relaxed knowing we would be rescued shortly. Or so we though….(Tip#5: familiarize yourself with the area in the river i.e. landmarks, marinas, island names)

About 45 minutes later we get a call, wanting updated landmarks, they couldn’t find us! Yikes! It took us a while seeing not much on land was visible…but were estimating that we hadn’t drifted too far. Boy were we wrong. We got another call asking the same questions, and also asking if we could see the search light. After scanning the northern horizon I spotted a dim light and started yelling that I could see them. When they finally reached us, we realized we had drifted all the way to Grant. If we had continued to drift we would have made it to land in about 2 more hours as long as the current didn’t change, but who wants to sit out in the freezing cold waiting? Not I.

When they got there, they weren’t sure they could tow the boat, but decided to try. I am so glad they did. We were all basically in the first stages of hypothermia and probably wouldn’t have been ok if, we had to make two trips to get us all off of the boat. I’m glad they did, seeing as at this time were were out there for 3 hours drifting.

After a ride that seemed to last forever, complete with waves washing over the side of the boat and icy winds, we made it back to the marina and finally were safe. I remember one of the guys who was on the rescue boat asking me how long we were out there, I couldn’t even answer at the time, I was so cold I couldn’t think or even reason. Let alone figure out an estimate on how long we were out there (tip#6: Keep track of time if you can when stranded). All I can say, is I will forever be grateful to them. Hell, if I knew how to get a hold of them I would make them a huge pot of chicken dumplings or a lasagna to show how grateful I am.

It’s been five days, I’m still recovering from the wind burn to my cheeks and lips, and still feel a little dehydrated, but I have learned an important lesson. From now on before we ever take a new boat out, take it for a few test runs through the creek first (tip#7: Don’t bring the kids until you know that everything is in working order).

Spiders! Spiders! Spiders! Everything is Spiders!

I hate spiders. I don’t know why they exist. I see no practical use for them except to terrify me. Their is a huge (and I mean, with legs included, bagel sized) spider in my kitchen. I am trapped in the media room, from which the only exit is through the kitchen. I can go running waving my arms like a lunatic hoping it doesnt jump on me like I usually do, or this time I can win my spider battle. The broom is in this room, so I have a weapon, but I have to plan out how I will use it.

Will I just throw the broom at it? No, not enough control, I could lose my only weapon. Then what would I do, cower in the coner ’til someone else comes home? Not this time I tell you! I will be successful. I think I will take the broom, careful hold it out at arms length and swing at the spider knocking it to the floor where I will beat it into oblivion!

On second thought, (or actually second look) that’s a pretty damn big spider, I think I will do as I always do, and sit here rocking back and forth trying to console myself with the thought that one day they will invent super-jumping-spider-eatin’ cats. And I will be the first to own one.

I hate spiders.

Mania, my constant companion

Here I sit another night, tinkering away at my one million and counting projects. I just got back from an extemely satisfying shopping trip and my mood can not be better. Just to let you know *sarcasm alert* , as I know everyone is so curious about what materialist items I obtained. I got a cool $25 rug and yes it is a 5×7 and not a bathmat, I got an rad retroesque throw pillow for my living room (I’m redecorating), I bought shoes for both girls and Ava also got a neat striped teired dress from Target. I also found a few other items I would have liked to buy but didn’t have the time seeing as usual I was pretty much ushered out of the stores due to closing (Why hasn’t EVERYTHING become 24 hours??). Nothing it seems could ruin my night.

Nothing except my continuous mania that doesn’t seem to ever end. No matter how many pills I take, no matter how much sleep or exercise I get, it seems to last forever. And it comes out of nowwhere. So I am so sure it’ll be another late night (morning) where I don’t get to bed until about 4 fucking a.m. then hop out of bed around 7:30-8 a.m. when the kids get up. Start making breakfast before I can think, get them changed and something to drink, and then off to do my stupid little things around the house, but never acutally accomplishing anything. Seriously, if you  know me, then you know the state of “my side of  the bedroom” it’s been in that state for over a year, and I can’t seem to ever get everything  folded, swept, dusted or put away!

And what sucks is we’re supposed to be christening the S.S. Don’t Sink Sunday and I know I’m gonna get an earful from Jimmy when he get home from playing tennis about how I shoulda had such and fucking such project done by now, and then can I please do it now. I mean what the fuck? How freakin’ hard is it to put everything away in your closet without just piling it all in and shutting the door? But no, I can’t get it done. Maybe I should vent to my Psych about this instead of my barely read blog and he’ll “up the dose” again. But hell, between the Bipolar & ED how many fucking  more meds can I take?

So now I will take to wasting the rest of my night editing and formating the rad pictures I took in during a period of extreme mania and madness today of stupid things outside. Including the exact second before my cat fell out of a tree . Yeah I know, not right to laugh at the poor defenseless creature, but seriously she’s ok and it was fucking funny!

Or maybe I’ll make another necklace for myself, I had fun doing that last night! And I made an awesome bracelet, I just have to tighten up the jump on it before I can wear it.

Oh well. I’m done ranting and stressing. Please don’t commit me after reading this

Wow, I need a life.

This is my first post here, and I’m realizing after reading so many other blogs that I kinda need a life. I can write about my interest I guess, but birds, space, art, & the criminally insane can only take me so far.

Actually, I probably could write a lot with that. But mostly I’ll just be ranting about how weird, lame, funny or depraved I think something/someone is. Sometimes I’ll be funny and somtimes I’ll be mean, but hopefully I will manage to stay on track.

Maybe I’ll just be one of the crazy people who dedicates my whole blog to one celeb or person………maybe not. I’m not a fan of restraining orders.

*Caution to the educated: I am not a fan of spell check, and therefore will have some mistakes. Not only in spelling  but in general editing!