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 |   Life is rough...I have to write it out. |
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I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I start blogs.....I neglect blogs....I abandon blogs. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I started this blog....I loved this blog....I abandoned this blog. I guess it is a good thing I didn't actually hold my breath. |
Creation Saturday! From the War Chest... Come up with a myth about why clouds have shapes. Once upon a time there was an evil little troll. His skin was a brightened shade of orange and his hair had turned wild and green with age, but he had some fucking killer eyesight. He could spot the innocent little bunnies that lived in the hills around his dirt pile from a mile away. He hated them. They were always jumping around and some of them tried to eat his goddamn hair. Eat his hair!! The troll decided to take action and he started standing by his dirt pile, perfectly still, and when one would try to nibble his hair he would snatch the bunny and rip off its tail. Laughing he would launch it into the sky to forever remind the sad bunnies to stay away. |
| Man. We are an internet dependent family. We need it. Don’t take it from us or we will first band together to annihilate other people and then turn on each other. We have survived it many times. Short outages where we teeter on the edge of the break and long long long ones where we want to fucking tear each other’s hair out. Now that things have calmed down a bit as the surge of repaired service courses through our veins it is supposed to rain for another two straight weeks. Awesome. Fucking Hickville. Regardless, I gotta catch up for…I dunno…the ten thousandth time this month. Is that possible? Sure. I feel fairly confident in asserting I have both accomplished and failed ten thousand things this month, it wouldn’t surprise me to have played catch up that hard. School starts on Monday and July turned into a mad dash. Oh well. It is what it is. I don’t know how many entries ago I mentioned I was going to rock a fucking Maleficent cake out of spite. My plan changed slightly as my spiteful feelings grew. Instead of rocking what she asked for I made something totally different. I did it for free, shut up. When I delivered it, I took it out of my homemade box (Kid B is Godzilla I swear) on my way in the door. She apparently didn’t want the air to touch the cake. I delivered it for free, shut up. She then proceeded to take a cardboard box and ….tear up the cake. Tear. Up. The Cake. What the fuck? Fuck you. Ohhhh…that is making you laugh? You are laughing at the fact that you just tore the horns off the cake? You think I should laugh? Fuck you. Now, I have pissed this girl off on a different occasion…a whole other rant which still makes me so fucking shitty. So her being blatantly rude to me for the two weeks leading up to the cake and then at the party was both telling of her age and ineffective. Hi. We met a year ago…do you really think I give a shit if you are trying to hurt my feelings? Shut up. I am not cowering in the corner now, embarrassed and alone. I am not intimidated by the fact that your hillbilly husband has his gun with him in the big city nor by your father-in-law who thinks I don’t stay in my place. Let’s go fuckers. I will put you down at Monkey Joes simply by using words with more than five letters. If we can’t be friends unless I do it your way then you were fucking influenced by an evil spirit when you decided to befriend me. “No more free cakes for you.” And then she answers….”No more friendship for you.” I am a grown ass woman and therefore am capable of behaving appropriately in any given situation. I am also a grown ass woman and therefore am never going to take some stupid shit that never ends from a little girl whose dick isn’t as big as she thinks. So my knee jerk reaction was to follow up her response with a laugh and, “Deal!” Is it any wonder I don’t have friends? Shut up.
Fun Fact Friday! The "mystery flavor" in a bag of Dum Dums lollipops is actually two flavors: whatever flavor was being made until it was about to run out, and the next flavor being made. Is there a particular flavor you prefer? Or would you be satisfied with some type of chocolate instead? Dum Dums. Not my favorite thing to begin with. I am a sucker sucker. NOT a sucker chomper. If you are a sucker chomper then shame on you! Kid A…she chomps a fucking sucker to bits before saliva has had a chance to touch every surface. Dum Dums are perfect for her. I want to suck a sucker and I want it to last for longer than that. I prefer a Blow Pop. (OH MY GOD the many ways of torture I am experiencing by not turning this entire post into some weird… sucker..blow…sex post. I’m a fucking sucker. I prefer something big and long lasting like a Blow Pop.) But, the best flavor of Dum Dum is root beer. Done. If a hard candy offers the flavor of root beer, then the answer to the question is always root beer. I wish I could have a root beer barrel like when I was a kid. And putting root beer barrels in a white paper bag with the words “Old Fashioned” on it does not in any way make them the same as the older root beer barrels. If you told me you had some from the year…1982…I would eat those fuckers. Pineapple Dum Dums are also delicious but they are hard to find and if you are not careful one of those damn holiday specific wrappers will trick you into putting a pina colada abomination into your mouth. There’s always one dumb-dumb in the group. |
| So we did it. We had the sex talk. And it was easy. Not hard enough to have been right. Too good to be true. Kid A questions everything, it’s just the way she is. But she questioned nothing and no matter how much I insisted that she was free to ask anything, she still did not. Then came the next day, and every moment since. The questions have also not been what I expected though. For example, the first thing that did come out of her mouth the next day was, “Sooooo, did you and dad do sex to make Kid B when I was at school? I mean , jeez.” Her other questions have been more like, “How do you know when it is over?” and “Does it last like a minute or just a second, because who wants a penis in their vagina for longer than a second?” The end of summer is definitely proving fun.
Your prompt, from the War Chest: Recall a time in your life when you made a big change. Was the outcome positive or negative? I would change a million decisions that I have made, and I would keep a million the same. Three years ago Husband A, Kid A, and I moved into my grandparents’ house with my grandma. She had Alzheimer’s and was going to have to leave her house. It was a decision long thought out and one with a great many consequences carefully considered. What was totally unexpected was all the hidden behavior already in place. My mom had been going over two or three times a day and bringing her all her meals because she couldn’t have her stove on. And we were constantly with her, yet no one could possibly have known. The things the woman did when she was alone were…interesting to say the least. She was way worse than anyone knew and it turned out to be one of the decisions I would probably change. For Kid A and Husband A’s sakes. |
| I am often flippant about my sadness. It’s not necessarily to hide my sadness, since I fly that flag right next to the freak one… proudly, it’s just that I am flippant about everything. My glass is never half-full, never, and it’s usually because as soon as I fill it someone drinks it or spills it while I stand there and fucking watch. My sadness is eating me. It has devoured the rest of my life and relationships and has now started in on me. I am piecy, fractured…yet cannot identify with any single piece. I don’t do anything. I have allowed one issue to become so huge that it has taken over my every single thought. I can’t function in the real world anymore….I can only function within the world of this issue. It’s like a crack that you hear first. Somewhere deep inside you recognize this crackling rumble as an approaching fissure before you are able to outwardly process it, at which point it is too late and the rift explodes out of you. Leaving some things on one side and some things on the other. And even if I wanted to jump to the side that has everything and everyone I love, I just can’t gather the energy. Not the energy to jump, and not the energy to even give a fuck. Which…hello?!....only makes it worse and more urgent. This sadness is tainted with unidentified urgency. I don’t know where it comes from but I know that it is important that whatever this is get fixed before Husband A finds me rocking in the corner or some shit. And oddly enough this isn’t even new stuff. This hat is old and broken in. But I know that this one won’t end without…well I don’t know, it won’t end without something…something that I normally don’t need to happen. I don’t cook, I don’t bake, I don’t read, I don’t write. I don’t clean up the house, I don’t do the laundry. To be honest – I don’t have the slightest idea what I do. I spend a lot of time trying to do stuff, yet nothing is ever complete. If I was a single parent Kid B might be sitting in shit right now since I am not entirely sure when I changed a diaper last. Kid A says I did it when we got home from Meijer (literally two hours ago)….I can’t remember. Mothering isn’t supposed to be done on auto-pilot. It is also not supposed to be done from a fucking looney bin but goddamn if that doesn’t seem like a vacation. From what though I have no idea since I am sure to take my fucking bullshit with me.
War Chest Wednesday! Tennessee Williams once said, "When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely, it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone." What are your thoughts on this quote? I hate this quote. Few things are worse than being lonely with someone. Very few. Say that person isn’t as lonely as you. Say you aren’t as lonely as that person. Say one of you thinks you are lonely when the other person thinks it is some pussy shit. No one wants to be lonely with another person sitting there, no matter what that person’s emotional state. lonely adjective lone·ly \ˈlōn-lē\ : sad from being apart from other people : causing sad feelings that come from being apart from other people : not visited by or traveled on by many people (www.merriamwebster.com) APART FROM OTHER PEOPLE. Period. Nor do I think interpreting it as….we are all lonely so let’s be together and then it won’t be “loneliness” anymore makes any sense. Calling shit “feces” doesn’t mean it stops smelling. Even if you take a philosophical bend …well then I find the quote to be not so timely. We are not in a state of the world where it is better to be like everyone else or one where we find comfort in similarities. We are in a state of ego. One where our emotions are better, stronger, worse, more crippling, than everyone else’s. |
Talk Tuesday! Social Media...what is it going to be like in twenty years? How much more invasive can it possibly get? All I have to say about this is that I hope, with everything I have, that there is no more fucking social media in twenty years. Yes I take part in social media sites, and yes I can be a pretty active member. But that doesn’t mean social media isn’t sucking everything good out of everything. Yet, if we have to have it I hope it looks something like the episode of Doctor Who, Rise of the Cybermen, where they download the day’s news and all vital information into people’s brains via EarPods. Everyone is in a state of…suspended animation…until the download is complete. True…it is used for nefarious purposes but shit – we already do that with social media. |
Music Monday! According to http://www.factslides.com/s-Music, you don't like the original version of a song because it's better; you like it because it's the one you heard first. Is this true for you? Are you generally a fan of originals, or cover songs? Share with us a favorite cover. I am going to have to go with ….it depends on the song. I am sure that, more often than not, I prefer the original. I also admit that I don’t know many covers and that some songs I adore could very easily be covers and I would not know. Two of my very very favorite songs (I think I even used both of them for a Soundtrackers challenge) are covers and they are perfect examples of this. They are: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Which is a cover for: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] The other song (linked so I don’t go over the embed limit but still worth the click) is: Tainted Love https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDT0yn9jk7M Which is a cover of this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSehtaY6k1U Now in the second case I enjoy both versions but as a loyal child of the eighties I am gonna have to go with Soft Cell on that one. It is just…better. BUT with the first song…man…both of those versions are so great. SO GREAT. Sinead O’Conner’s version is sad. Prince’s is soulful. And they both kick ass. |
The Sunday News! As the allegations against American comedy legend Bill Cosby continue to pile up, more pieces of his 2005 deposition regarding his drugging and sexual assaulting of women are surfacing. If you are familiar with Cosby's body of work, does any of this change your opinion of him (keep in mind, he has yet to be charged with any crimes as of now)? If you didn't have an opinion before now on him, do you feel it is fair that a court deposition from ten years ago in one particular case of related circumstances should be used against someone who could now be considered a serial rapist? Here's a link with more details: http://www.gawker.com/cosby-admits-to-calculated-pursuit-of-young-women-in-17188... His entire attitude is the flippant attitude that would in fact lead others to believe he is guilty. First – let’s talk about ludes. Have you ever taken Quaaludes? There are varying effects….it is entirely conceivable to pop a Quaalude and still be in control of yourself. It is also entirely possible to pop two instead of one and be in a …..lowered state of ….thought. Quaaludes are amazing, there IS a reason they were so popular back then. What better way to relax? What better way to force someone to relax. Second – when I was younger I was drugged, raped, and help captive for eight days. There are amounts of any drug that can keep your body from doing what your mind desires. Is physical fighting the only means of denial that counts? Nope. Is it the only kind that seems to count to the Coz? Seems so. When a man carries himself with the attitude that he, in fact, knows better than others what is desired by women as a whole, when he behaves as if he has some sexual secret that allows him to take things further than your average Joe, when he carries on a conversation about guilt as if you are accusing him without the inside knowledge of his skillful prowess…all of those things make him seem slightly rapey to goddamn begin with. Skeevy at the very least and to a lot of females skeevy means danger. To me he might as well say that he is not a predator he is just a really good hunter. Time makes no difference. The deposition may have been from ten years ago but I promise you that those women still think about it. I promise you that he does too. This man is a fool. He speaks without the slightest bit of remorse for either having done these things or that these things are believed about him. He doesn’t act as though he is surprised and hurt that these things are being said about him – in fact he takes the defensive – he knows how to read people after all. He is smug and entitled. “Tell your mother about the orgasm.” Disgusting. Just go on honey and ask your mommy, everything that happened here is fine as long as you felt that little tingle.” On the flip side is my very unpopular opinion. Rape culture is something that feminists are making dangerous. It is very true that women should not be afraid to walk around. It is true that men should be taught respect and that women are not there for their pleasure alone. It is true that I should be able to put on what outfit I want without being slut shamed or afraid for my safety. It is also true that men rape. It is also true that… though I should be free to walk without fear…when someone is following you someone is following you. And it is true that if I want my titties hanging out then men are in fact going to say something or ogle. And it is true that even though these things are commonplace doesn’t make them right. However, adding my voice to the chorus of “I am not for you” doesn’t ACTUALLY do anything and it means that feminists as a whole cannot stand up and say “Women! Stop fearing! This is a man’s issue – he needs to learn! We need to teach our sons. ” That doesn’t stop shit. You go ahead and teach your son, I am going to warn my children about the sons that are already grown. Would I ever teach Kids A and B that they should not fear these things because that would be perpetuating rape culture? Never. You don’t want to be raped? Then you be aware. Yes - wear what you want. Yes - speak to whomever you choose. Yes - date. Yes - fuck. But be aware. Because while it may be his issue, you are responsible for yourself. Did I play a huge part in the circumstances that led to my captivity? Yep. Does that make it my fault? Nope. Had I been more aware might I have seen some of the things that are so clear in hindsight? Yep. Would it have mattered? Maybe. Maybe not. Is it ever a bad idea to avoid skeevy nasty dudes who think their dick does all the talking that is needed? Nope. And clearly it is never ever a bad idea to avoid Bill. |
Creation Saturday! On what platform(s) will you stand in order to be elected as the next world leader? Sell us on yourself. Oh my…it is so clear. Pizza in the cafeteria, soda in the vending machines. No more uniforms, being able to leave during study hall, and at least double the pep rallies. Wait, I was confused for a minute. I forgot, due to the current political climate, that our leaders aren’t children. I have said before that I am just not good at selling myself. I am more about my results, and if you don’t want to see them then that is your loss. I am not convincing you. (Not to mention if you sell yourself to someone then they are gonna think you put in so much effort because you want to interact with them consistently, and that for me, just simply is never true) I would run on a platform of acceptance. Ideally it would be willing, but if not then forced...fake it til you make it. I wouldn’t want to be practical. All logistical platforms are baseless without human interactions and right now humans do not understand how to interact. Besides, we don’t need another practicality based leader. Where are the JFKs??? The MLKs??? The leaders who are eloquent and passionate and inspire change on a basic societal level? Stop trying to inspire me to vote… inspire me to act. I don’t want to pay my leaders, I want to need my leaders. I want to appreciate not hate those who represent me. And failing acceptance I could always run on the idea that I would bring this fucking indulgent, fat ass, sent straight from Mt. Olympus creation to every KFC everywhere. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] I mean…I might be on my way to the Philippines right now. P.S. I am just now realizing that I said I had no interest in convincing anyone of anything and then said I would want to be the kind of leader that would undoubtedly require the greatest amount and skillfully crafted persuasion. Look at that...even I have a dream. |
Fun Fact Friday! Cherophobia is the fear of fun. What is one of your biggest fears? The worst thing ever is most certainly spiders. Why do they always have to wear those masks and conceal their identities? And the red and blue? That shit just fucks with my eyes. The fact that I can never tell when they might be about to sling a web at me skeevs me out. I just know that they always know what I am thinking, where I am, my next move….it is like they have some special “sense”. Sometimes, at night I can hear them whispering about someone named Norman and something about green. I don’t know but it seems like they are organizing. And the fucking pregnant ones send me straight for the mary jane. |
| I feel like I have so very much to say. Yet as I sit here I can only think of one thing and when I went to type it…well….it amounted to no more than a run on sentence. Yesterday Husband A and I made a bet. I don’t make many bets with Husband A, basically I only make em when I know I will win. This is because our terms are always…strong.  So for months now Husband A has been saying that we would have sex every day if it weren’t for me. We have sex a lot as it is. AND I am absolutely not the reason we aren’t doing it on a daily basis. Husband A and his utter lack of sleep …that is the reason. So anyway, we make a bet that he can’t stay awake long enough to do it every day for a month. Because I know the depth of his denial regarding the sleep issues I know I am gonna win this bet. And even if I don’t I still got laid every day. And so I forego any winnings. If I win the bet I will be satisfied with the fact that I was right. If he wins the bet he gets five on demand blowjobs, no matter the time or place and a scheduled….well….anal. Scheduled to allow for the appropriate grooming. That was yesterday. Today Husband A has been asleep since 3 p.m. He thought he would set his alarm for 7. It is now 9:15 and he has to be at work at 12. This man has slept through an earthquake that literally brought things down around him….I won the bet. Satisfaction (though mental not sexual.) Check. I have been crying in tiny bursts for days. I only get these windows of sobbing or continually dripping when Kid B is napping or engrossed in The Boxtrolls; and when Kid A is deep in Markiplier or filming her own “tutorials”. Plus, they have to be happening at the same time. And I don’t give a fuck if Husband A is there for it or not. I’m not exactly an emotion hider, after all. But today, today I cried all day. All day. I cried and I was kinda mean and it was fucking glorious. Poor Husband A. Kid A was at the zoo. Kid B took the longest nap ever (in between showings of The Boxtrolls which is orgasmic to the child.) I just cried. Cried. Cried. I might be dehydrated right now. Catharsis. Check.
Your prompt: Are you a leader or a follower? Are you content going with the flow, or do you find yourself needing to take charge? I am not a follower. No way. I love love love to be the girl that is wearing the thing or saying the thing or doing the thing that makes everyone look and say “What a weirdo.” “Why is she wearing that?” “I don’t like that girl.” I am also not a leader. I CAN lead and I am better at that then sheeping along, but I don’t care if people like what I do and want to do it too. I am not a follower and I am not leader. I don’t “take charge” but I am a controller. If we are supposed to do something together or groupy and I don’t like the way it is being done I will just do it my way. Depending on the personality of the other people, I may manipulate or even maybe dominate until it goes my way. I want to control. If I can do that from the backseat then by all means…you drive. Prompt. Check. |
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