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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. |
The Wildcard Round! Winner gets a choice between a non-exclusive MB they don't have or a 10k portfolio ribbon. Says the Virtual Dice...when I get there *Smirk*. Give us the best definition of "lazy" you'll allow yourself to get away with...before it's "too much", but to where you're not right with being shamed for it? There’s a contradiction here for me. The best definition of lazy that exists is Husband A, and he fucking gets away with it. But I do shame him. The best personal definition of lazy that I will allow myself to get away with is...a whole fucking lot. If I’m working or doing something, I am doing it hard. if I am being lazy, I am doing it hard. And since I don't let anyone know shit about me or what I am doing there isn’t much shaming going on. The self-imposed depression can set in after a while of being lazy though, except it does take quite a while. Basically if Kid A gets to school and then Kid B is taken care of during the day then fuck what else should have gotten done. There are days that Kid B eating a bowl of cereal is a goddamn win for me. I guess the laziest thing I do is binge tv. Not your normal binge and not even your not so normal binge. Name a show and I have seen it at least once, I promise. Any show, I’ve seen that. However, I do not sleep. Never. Ever. So my lazy 12 hour binges don’t alter anything for anyone else. And seriously, who gives a fuck if it does anyway? Me? Nope. Okay, I went to post this and I had to come back to say HAHAHAHAHAHA, who are we kidding. The laziest thing I do is cop a buzz constantly. Period. Doesn’t matter if other stuff gets done at the same time. |
War Chest Wednesday! For the new kids in the back, these were future prompt ideas sent in by previous challengers. So, don't blame me, but feel free to take them in any direction you'd like. Whispers, or screams? Ha! Whispers or screams. Since I'm trying to get my blog legs back, I'm gonna roll old school skeason style and go with the first response that I thought of. I like to whisper the things that scream in my head. You can’t do it. You aren’t a good mother and certainly not a good wife. You can do better, it’s just never quite right. Stories, blog posts, poems, scenes. And I like to scream the things my mind whispers to me in moments of silence. Disapproval. Disgust. Thoughts riddled with anger. Inadequacies. Things I feel should have been. And just in case anyone was thinking, “I wonder if this snarly ass bitch has changed. I wonder if she has found any patience, empathy, or a drop of kindness?” I will tell you that you’d be fucking crazy to believe that. All that has happened in my absence from WDC is that I didn’t get to let any out here and so Husband A got to get it all. ALL. All Kid A’s problems became magnified and Shittown USA blew them way out of proportion. I managed to get The Sperm Cleaner off my ass (yep I totally said it that way) but The World’s Smartest Girl still plagues my existence. I made a friend and then she moved away. I made a new friend and had a job, then stopped that and apparently the friend. So basically, rest easy my friends, all is still sucking dirty dick over here in my part of the world. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Talk Tuesday! What do you do to make yourself happy, while knowing it irritates others? Oh shit Fivesixer   …my heart is skipping a beat. You had me at “irritates others.” Hmmm. Let’s see. I feel like I have a lot of these really. But I won’t go on and on…that’s irritating.  I really enjoy being a cross between Mary Poppins and a fairy godmother to the children of people who don’t like me. That way their kids talk about me when I am not there. I like to wear day-glo to the PTO meetings because I see their faces. I can tell what they are thinking. Poker faces aren’t widespread in Bigotville. I like to say yes to plans and invitations and then back out. I know I mean no…and if you knew me at all…well…you’d either know I mean know too or you wouldn’t even ask at all. I like to do things with my Brownie troop that I know will piss off this one asshole dad. He hates me and I seem to be the only person not afraid of him. I like to spit carefully constructed, well oiled lies that are maddeningly vague. It makes people feel weird and it keeps them out of my shit. I have many many pair of leggings. Not like…black yoga pants. Not like….sportswear navy blue with a bright piping. No no. I have bats and skulls and Santa and emoji and superhero and all manner of weirdo annoying leggings. I even have a pair that says fuck all over them. Every time I go to the school (no I do not wear fuck leggings to my daughter’s elementary school) I wear a pair of these ugly ass tacky leggings. It doesn’t happen every time but whenever I see a judging side eye or overhear a comment I go and buy an even tackier pair. Oh I’m sorry…these multi-colored skull leggings don’t float your boat? Get with me tomorrow and check out my leprechaun pair with the perfectly placed pussy rainbow. *Edit - Yep! You read that right. I do not wear fuck leggings to the school but I do sport a pussy rainbow. |
Motivational Monday! One of my all-time favorite quotes is from Hunter S. Thompson ..."Buy the ticket; take the ride." For added context, go here . How much does "Buy the ticket; take the ride" apply to you? Are you a "get what you signed up for" type? Or someone else? I have no idea how an addict, at any stage, could NOT be on the “Buy the ticket, take the ride” train. And an addict I have always been. In fact, my brain can’t even come up with a better explanation than what was in the prompt….you get what you signed up for. It seems like any adult ought to understand that simple concept. You get what you asked for. You get what you paid for. You get what you signed up for. I am not by nature a go with the flow type of girl. Hang on…I will wait while everyone recovers from their surprise. However, just because I am under the constant pressures of the wish to be controlling the situation, doesn’t mean I can’t stick it out or even enjoy the ride. And it also doesn’t mean I need to bitch and moan incessantly about rides I bought tickets for….I really hate when people do that. In fact…I have a timely example. 22 years ago I met Soon To Be Husband A. (Yes… it is also bugging me that I said timely and then one word later said 22 years. Too bad – read it anyway – you get what you signed up for.) I was an awful horrid person. I was mean and unpopular. I was smart and stand offish. I was unfriendly and anti-social. STBHusband A…well that fool liked me anyway. He got manhood hard-ons as I chased away other girls. He loved it as his pride shot its load all over the notes I chose to write back and forth with him while my real boyfriend was sitting right there. He loved that shit. He liked how my bitchy bullshit got us what we wanted and needed. He enjoyed my manipulative lying ass and the ways it got us high as needed. Not too long would pass before he was physically enjoying my manipulative lying ass for that matter. 22 years later and this is all the advice I have for Husband A…you bought the ticket… And while the reverse works as well, and all the things I want to throat stomp him for now but didn’t then are what I signed up for…well…this is my fucking blog…I am the one who signed up for it. |
The Sunday News! This week, Microsoft said they won't be able to meet their goal of having 1 billion Windows 10 users . I use Windows 10 and it's fine for everything I do; others feel passionately different. What's your take? Is the operating system important, or do you not care as long as the device itself still works? Well let’s see. I am not a Microsoft fan girl or anything but I do hate when people are really anti-Microsoft. I mean….shut up. Now having said that, I do use quite a few Microsoft products, and I do choose them over others quite often. But again….whatever. I use Windows 10. I have used them all. I didn’t even hate XP or Vista. I do agree that Windows 8 was suited only for touch screen users, which I am NOT. Touch screen on anything larger than a tablet bothers me more than Microsoft not reaching 1 billion users. And Windows 10 fixed that …..sorta. But my life isn’t ending and even without 1 billion 10 users, neither is Microsoft’s. Since when are small, inconsequential goals news? Yuck, the world sucks. |
Creation Saturday! The comeback of your life begins with... …an earthquake that rumbles deep within the earth’s core. Nothing to be felt at the surface beyond a slight unease that hangs in the air. But I hardly notice since my life is filled with varying degrees of unease anyway, whether my own or caused by me. At the same time the earth begins to speak, a rumor also begins. A rumor that runs through my small town like fire, as rumors are wont to do. Small minded people begin to whisper from their small minded mouths about the coming of the end. Some even dare to speak the word rapture, though quickly glancing over their shoulders as if they had muttered Lord Voldemort. Now Gaea’s outer core joins the party and begins to dance. Animals begin to act strangely, sensing the change underfoot. The small minded mouths, noticing the behavior of the animals and mistaking it for a heavenly sign, begin speaking above a whisper. Their inside voices start to use words such as…saved and heathen. I continue to trudge through my daily life, still unaware due to the normal prejudicial behavior of those around me. But now….now the miracle ball which sustains our life can no longer sustain its angry energy and it overtakes all crust restraint. The world, both symbolically and physically, shifts and changes before our eyes. And despite the evidence playing out in real time, small minded mouths scream about someone coming and powerful ascents without knowing the real truth behind their notions. Suddenly the earth opens and the bottom falls out from under my small town, population 2,234. It drops into the same earth its residents were, moments before, refusing to share. Screams can be heard all around me. Cries to a god they had refused all logic to blindly follow…unanswered. Slammed into a pool of hellfire, faces begin to float all around me, each one accusing and displacing responsibility while struggling to breathe and trying to swim through their own sin. Meanwhile, I sit back into my debauchery and comfortably inhale the condemnation. This is my fault, they knew my miscreant ways would bring down god’s white society, and they collectively move away, to continue to struggle together. Content, I begin to drift further away. I close my eyes and dream of punishments and endless torture. When I open my eyes I am staring at the same 2,230 faces, yet from my throne.  |
Talk Tuesday! What bad habit (or habits, if you're feelin' feisty) do people have that make you wish you could inflict severe punishment upon them without incurring any punishment of your own? I don’t want to see or hear you eat. I’m happy to shove the food down your throat if it helps you get done faster. I don’t want to see you pick your nose or teeth. Seriously. I hate people who never show up when they say they will. If you are…say…twenty minutes late, or god forbid, more…then you will be greeted by a very different skeason. I hate people who take their dog everywhere. It’s not a real baby. It isn’t going to die if you leave it alone while you go pick out your tampons and lettuce. Not to mention…I fucking hate dogs and definitely don’t want to see yours while I am shopping for my cigarettes and soda. I hate people who space out while holding a joint. If you can’t pass before it has gone out then you must be skipped. Relighting? Ha! You mean wasting. I hate people who show up at my house without telling me. Truly, FUCK YOU. You thought I was going to answer the door? Ha ha ha, aren’t you cute. I hate people whose self-entitlement is expressed as assumption. It doesn’t make an ass out of you and me….just you. I hate people who take fucking forever to say shit. Just spit it out already. Do you hear me Husband A and Kid A?!?!? Spit it the fuck out. (Which is an actual quote of mine, mark that shit down for my parent/wife of the year award.) I hate people who hocker. My brother-in-law does this awful half-hocker thing. He does the sucking up but not the spitting out. It is goddamn infuriating, as if the entire process isn’t fucking nasty enough. But he also has to do it every 1 to 2 minutes, I swear, I’ve timed it in immense anger, 1 to 2 minutes. (By the way….if I walked up to a … fourteen year old today and asked them to hock a loogie would they even fucking understand?) I hate people who want to spell it hawk a loogie. We are talking about the internal gathering and the expectoration of snot. I don’t want an academic etymology for fuck’s sake, urban dictionary that shit. If you say the following… “Let me axe you something, if a woof accidentally bites their baby when they are warshing them, how can they call an ambilance? Hmm, maybe I should look that up at the lieberry.”...then I hate you. These things all warrant severe punishment even if I were to suffer punishment of my own. |
| Whew. Three cakes in three days. One of which was an amazingly beautiful three layer anniversary cake with tropical flowers cascading down the side. One of which was a disaster of fucking epic proportions. I’m talking impressively grand proportions. Amazing really. I am just as proud to have created such a failure as I am the resounding success. Fuck it….life sucks and so do one in every three cakes. Motivation Monday! Author E.B. White , who was born on this day back in 1899, once said, "I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." What's your take on this? If given the choice between only being able to do one, would you rather save the world or savor it? Oh Lord. You’re driving me to drink with all this positive shit Fivesixer . Yesterday’s positive post and this save/savor shit. Where is the option to burn the bitch down? That’s a skeason option if you ask me.First of all if I have ever arose in the morning and felt torn between saving the world and enjoying every second of life then I can guarantee you I was on some primo shit because that sunny side up crap is not my go-to. But let’s pretend for a second that I arise tomorrow morning and, am miraculously a new person. Let’s pretend that I have the sudden means and somehow all the energy my spawn methodically drain from me every second of every day has been replenished. Let’s pretend that I can move past thought of how the fuck to save myself long enough to even consider a method which to employ that would save other people. And fuck it…..let’s pretend I savor shit. I am not gonna lie, I wouldn’t choose to save people. On any given day I would choose to save the world. Hey skeason…today you can feed the world’s hungry. You can clothe the world’s tattered. You can shelter the world’s exposed. OR…and consider carefully because these skeason, these, are some hardcore choices. Or you can wear those same leggings and tee shirt that you have worn for three four an indeterminate number of days. You can wipe mouths, asses, and spills for fourteen hours. You can cry, beg, and plead with the universe. You can clean, launder, organize, and then do it all at least twenty more times. You can attend committee meetings, field trips, and extracurriculars…basically filling time with unproductiveness. And then you can fall into bed thinking of all the things that didn’t get done today and will not get done tomorrow. Oh yeah…and you can INTEND to get laid. I’d choose to save the world. But on a day faced with the choice to turn my awful selfish back on the world and instead actually enjoy ONE FUCKING THING…well….what was that first choice again? Now here is what that actually means for me. I know this because I get hourly pervy heavy breathing calls from life… I would choose to savor the world and be forced to savor my stained clothes. Wiping asses. Crying. Begging. Fuck…who wouldn’t choose to prolong and savor their pleading with the universe…that’s some good shit right there. |
What's the first big news story you remember being aware of as a kid? (For reference, mine I think was John Lennon's murder, and I was five years old...but a one-sentence answer isn't a blog entry .) In 1986 I was six years old and in kindergarten. We all gathered in the play area we had, two months previously, cowered in while a tornado tore the bricks right from the side of our building. We were here to watch something on television, which was a big ass deal back then. TV in school did things like…I dunno….hamper the learning and such. We were going to experience something our fresh five and six year old eyes had not ever seen before. We were going to watch a space shuttle launch. It was going to be amazing and we would remember it forever….quite so. Instead we watched as the shuttle exploded and rained back down. I have no idea what emotions I went through, I was six. Maybe I didn’t even have any. Maybe I didn’t understand. I know my mom made sure I understood once I got home. And while mass tragedy and unfortunate malfunctions are still popular topics today there is something that is different. That day the world talked about loss, tragedy, and the kind of sorrow that doesn’t end until the one who carries it does. That day the world talked about parents, wives, children. And at the same time the world talked about journeys. Journeys of gender, journeys of space, journeys of mother fucking bravery. Each moment of loss had come from a place that began in the hope of more, and these losses would serve to teach. The world opened their hearts that day because like Time And Relative Dimension in Space…they are bigger on the inside. Now though…now we talk about things like this: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/public-hair-dress-sarah-louise-bryan_us_577c... And that shit is so damn sad. Also....are you fucking kidding me with the typo in the web address??? Come on. COME ON. |
| Well. I said I was going to get caught up. I meant it. I even wrote 20 of the 30 entries. I posted like one. Possibly two. Life sucks. It sucks up all the good shit. And when I turned on my computer and thought to myself….”well skeason write a fucking blog entry. Post it to the challenge because that is ultimately what keeps you writing in this blog with regularity.” And I answered myself with a resounding “Fuck yeah….you even have so much to say bitch…SO. MUCH.” And now I sit here and I only have vile poison to spill upon my page and none of that even wants to come out. Which I think we all know is very odd. It is usually harder to find my honey than my vinegar, though I can’t understand who wants to catch flies anyway. Here is what has happened. Life has, unlubed mind you, decided to repeatedly fuck me in the ass. But not just in a normal “oh look at me being all animalistic and shoving something in this girl’s ass” kind of way. No, no. A carefully thought out game of “oh you thought it was over? Mwah ha ha…sodomy rocks” kind of way. I certainly hope life isn’t waiting for me to cum. So fuck it. I didn’t officially sign up like I usually do. I haven’t even looked at what I am behind at. Forge ahead. Don my armor and my sword and power through without falling on it. Fingers crossed.
Day 6:War Chest Wednesday! A prompt from a previous challenger... Write about your fears...fears that you have overcome, and fears which still exist within you. So I have been sitting here looking at my screen forever trying to decide if I want to write about real legitimate phobias or if I want to get all philosophically hateful. I am having a hard time choosing. I know that we all understand, if not from my many mentions in here, then from our life experiences, that this list cannot even be a list without talking about the slyest, most evil, skeeviest thing on earth. In the universe really, but if they exist on other planets and have any alienness to them at all then I want to die just from the knowledge. (Before I say it….I do want to mention that this could be two different things for me and so I cannot include one without the other… you’ll see.) Spiders. (Clowns.) Don’t talk to me about how they eat other bugs. (Oh shit – you know you can picture an evil ass clown munching on bugs.) Don’t talk to me about having had one as a pet. (Please tell me you kept it in a tiny car.) Don’t talk to me about your best friend being one . Just do not, I don’t care nor believe that any of that could be true without some form of hypnosis. Too many legs. (Too many pockets.) Plotting against me. (That college is a front.) Silent and bitey. (Silent and bitey.) What in the fuck. I am now plagued by the thought of a spider clown. Not a clown spider because …come on….that’s just weird. Oh my god wait….can you imagine the amount of clown spiders that could pour out of a car? And fucking think of how fast a spider clown would chase you. I bet it would slobber. I know it would. |
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