Life is rough...I have to write it out.
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.
Plot a takeover...of a company, a country, your neighbor's lawn, anything. Have some fun with it.
My takeover is hostile of course.
There is this bitch in my house. This sneaky little cunt is currently engaging me in a power struggle for control of my family. My victory will be to take over my own life once again.
Oh the things I will change. I will cook my family dinner instead of haphazardly throwing together some shitty food to resemble a whole shitty meal.
I will wash the clothes BEFORE it is the actual dirty laundry that walks in and shames me.
I will diffuse the treacherous mine field my family has been traversing in tear-filled terror. I will do this by speaking to them in tones that don’t call the neighborhood dogs.
I will clean shit up. That’s all. I will just clean shit up.
I will cry approximately 97% less. Who am I kidding? My fucking tears are as permanent as gang tears. This is the one where I murdered my last bit of empathy. This one is for the drive by that took out my hope and permanently disabled my confidence.
And the final thing here, yet the first change I will make, is that I will take Husband A’s fucking phone and shove it up his ass.
|I had three goals when I woke up this morning. I wanted to go to the grocery store. I wanted a grilled cheese from Steak and Shake. I wanted to have sex.
So much bullshit went all kinds of wrong. I didn’t get out of the house before Husband A, Kid A, and Kid B were adamant about going with me. HATE taking them to the grocery store. They become these snails who hate me for moving at a normal goddamn person pace.
I got my grilled cheese but Kid B is in that stage where she sits right the fuck up next to you while you try to eat. As if we are sewn together. So goddamn annoying.
I picked an enormous fight with Husband A. Enormous. I was fine, then I was mean as hell, then I was sad. Didn’t really create a sexy atmosphere. And now, even though we sorta made up. Well, it just isn’t the same.
Fun Fact Friday!
On this day in 1954, RCA manufactured its first color TV set and began mass production. Had this never happened, do you think we would still enjoy what television has to offer us?
People always want to escape into television. People still watch black and white movies….shit I just recently rewatched Dark Shadows.
Stories are stories. That’s why E-readers are popular. Because escapism works no matter the format. (and please don’t go commenting about how you simply cannot use a Kindle or anything of the like, because you like the feel and smell of a book. We get it. I have literally thousands of books on my shelf and even more on my Kindle. It isn’t one or the other. You CAN utilize both without being less of a bibliophile.)
The thing I can’t stop thinking about is…..what does this mean? Did they not invent the color TV yet we still have computers? Did they not invent the color TV and so we were permanently stunted in our technological evolution….because I’m not sure I have ever heard all of that attributed to the first color RCA. That changes it all…and makes me hate this prompt.
Jesus. Does this mean I am just as anti-Fun Fact Friday as I was Funny Friday? Fuck Fridays apparently. Did I bitch on the other Fridays this month? I have to check…..nope. I sure didn’t. I think in reality we should know why I hate it. It’s all in the title. I’m not "Fun". I’m only "Funny" in person. These prompts are definitely not for me.
March. March is not for me.
The Wildcard Round! This week's Virtual Dice winner gets 5000 GPs!
"Old habits die hard." Do you believe this statement?
Damn, look at me catching up and shit. Is it 2017 yet? Fuck.
Nope. Old habits don’t die. We want them to, we wish they would, sometimes we even convince ourselves they have. But they don’t.
I wish there was more to say. People don’t really change. They modify external behaviors and impressions but you are who you are.
Do you think that if I started acting nice and people who met me thought I was nice on a level bordering naivety that I would be a different person? That I wouldn’t hate other people still? You’d be wrong.
Do you think that just because I haven’t purchased an 8ball in fifteen years that I don’t wish I had one on an almost daily basis? Also wrong.
Do you think that when I have beautiful manicured nails I am not still a nail biter? Just see me in a month or so. They’ll be gone.
Old habits don’t die. Yes, you can teach an old dog new tricks, but those are just tricks.
War Chest Wednesday! From a previous challenger...
What product, that used to be on the market but is no longer sold, do you think should be brought back? Tell us why.
I had this perfume I wore for about twelve years. They took that shit away.
I used to eat Smurfberries like I’d die if I didn’t. They took that shit away.
Ecto Cooler was fucking great. They took that shit away.
Fruit Wrinkles were the shit. They ripped those from my life as well.
Pudding Pops, which I have raved about on here before…I remember feeling such sympathy for those who hadn’t been able to have one. They took that shit away and tried to replace it with a subpar make it at home version.
Saturday morning cartoons, which are not a thing that used to be on the market but are better than anything that ever WAS on the market, were morphed into some bullshit idiot cartoons that don’t even play on Saturday mornings anymore.
Most of those were food items. That is because all I do is eat. I eat seven to ten times a day, and I do not mean fruit and vegetables. Don’t take my food, I might bite.
Hey, WDC is a community! Check out my friend Gaby ~ Pretending to write? 's contest, "I Heart WdC Contest" , and tell us what you like about WDC. Make some recommendations, get us more involved, and maybe find out a few things or meet some people you haven't already!
Man. This month’s prompts are KICKING MY ASS. I am so anti-social. Even on here. I have met people. I have spoken to people. I even interact with people quite regularly. Fuck...I haven't even said my real name before. That probably says too much, if not all.
I do love this site. Partly for the ability to remain anti-social though. Ugh. So here is my half-ass attempt to answer the prompt. No…here is my full-ass attempt to rose color my half-ass social life.
I joined WDC because I do that. I join sites. I don’t always utilize them and in fact sometimes I never even return. I have started at least seven blogs prior to WDC. I leave them to perish from malnourishment. I was stuck under the mindset that I enjoyed designing and creating the blogs more so than writing them. And I still feel like that is partly true. I DO love that part, yet after coming to WDC I find that I am actually able to continue feeding my blog. With a daily dose of hatred spewed through my keyboard…both my blog and my family survive.
That is SOLELY due to the "30-Day Blogging Challenge" by Fivesixer . Without the prompts some days would go by where I have so much to say that I cannot get anything out. And while it is right on up there among my favorite things to do here….it isn’t my very favorite. That would be any challenge from "The WDC Soundtrackers Group" by Jeff . ANY challenge. Which is very odd because while music is not a regular part of my daily life at all… The Soundtrackers showed me that its role in shaping me, and therefore my daily life, is actually huge. Plus…I really like to make songs dirty or rude and that works well with those challenges too.
I like "The Writer's Cramp" by SophyBells but I like to not look at the prompt until after midnight and then submit it by noon. And I also love to enter "Picture a Story CLOSED/UnderConstruction" by Cubby because I speak to people in “dust jacket summaries” in real life. I give the major points and assume you know the rest. No that’s not quite right, I give the major points and get angry at everyone for not already knowing the rest.
The first person I “spoke” to on WDC was Charlie ~ thx anon . I thought we’d be good assholes together, and while I still imagine that would be true, it has to be clear that he is a much nicer person than me. But that cannot ever be a bad thing. And at about the same time…Elle - on hiatus did the...I comment on your posts with comments that might have come from your own mind…thing. That’s always nice.
I don’t know many other people very well. I can name names but what difference does that make? Fivesixer seems to make me feel all good and comfy in my cynicism, which is fucking awesome.
But honestly, I am that girl. It is strange to think that someone who can run their mouth incessantly and with such vile intent about any topic ever would need people to talk to her rather than her talking to people right?!? Mmm, hmm something like that.
Actor Matthew Broderick was born on March 21st, 1962, and one of his most famous roles is in the move Ferris Beuller's Day Off . After faking being sick to his parents so he can skip school, he turns to the camera and says "Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career and they never doubted it for a second." Have you ever accomplished anything of significance (even just something fun) by sneaking your way out of something else?
Herein lies the problem with being a sneaky drug addict. Everything I have done for approximately 21 years has been sneaky…a lie or deception…a way to accomplish one thing or another (nothing significant though.)
I have faked being sober. I have faked being innocent. I have faked orgasms, smiles, and tears. I have faked love, hatred, acceptance, and even belief. I have sneaked money, possessions, and innocence from other people. I have built stories upon lies and topped them off with accomplished arrogance.
All leading to more drugs, more money, more risks…yet nothing of any significance. I think it would be more appropriate to prompt me to think of something I accomplished without any sneakiness.
The Sunday News!
This week during a performance in Australia, pop singer Madonna pulled a fan onstage and tugged at her shirt, inadvertently exposing her breast (after making a few tawdry remarks about the girl's appearance). The girl in question is only 17 years old. Many are outraged by this, and believe that if it were a man doing something like this, he would be ostracized and labeled a pedophile. Should Madonna face some kind of criminal charges or other repercussions from this incident?
Haha! I absolutely had to go look this up. And having the advantage of being behind I have more information than was available on Sunday.
First of all. I am not even going to read other people’s responses to this. It’s the smart way for me to go.
Second. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.
A. It is Madonna. Do you go to a Miley Cyrus concert and think you won’t see tongue? Expect to hear Jesus Loves Me? SHUT UP. Madonna has always been floating around on a underlying thread of sex. ALWAYS. Even when I was young I understood that the song meant more than I thought. I didn’t even have to know what it did mean. SHUT UP.
B. The girl’s response was not one of anger or disgust. She didn’t behave as though she had been irreversibly violated. Madonna touched her titty for fuck’s sake.
C. Her and her mother drove 200 miles to sit front row at her concert days later.
If Madonna isn’t offended and if the girl isn’t offended, then what the fuck right does anyone else have to be offended? SHUT UP. If you took your child to a Madonna concert and came out upset that you were shown a titty then you were deeply misguided to begin with. DEEPLY.
Convince us to vote for you to be the leader of your country.
Oh yikes. I am not big on convincing people of shit. Believe me or don’t. Listen or don’t. Like it or don’t. Agree or don’t.
And I guess that is why you should vote for me to lead Skeaslandia. Because I just don’t give a fuck about you. Not in a ‘leave you to squander your life away in your own filth’ type of not caring, but in a ‘your whiny ass wants and supposed needs don’t matter to me’ type of caring.
I will make the decisions that benefit the country as a whole. AS A WHOLE. Not just you (like you know you want.) I don’t give a fuck what color your skin is, who your god may be, or what type of sex you have. What medical decision you make with your vagina doesn’t matter to me at all. If you keep your cock or cut it off…more power to you.
I don’t give a fuck if your god wants you to bring your form of freedom to the huddled masses all around the world. I don’t give a fuck if you think you need a semi-automatic for protecting your piss poor business from the homosexuals that are paving your path to hell just by being alive. I don’t care if you have money, want money, share your money or do the Republican “it’s mine don’t touch it” thing with your moolah. I don’t give a fuck if you eat meat or suck dicks….I just don’t give that much of a fuck about you.
Your whiny ass bullshit wouldn’t factor into the decisions I would make for the betterment, or even maintenance, or everyone’s lives.
Oh and…fuck a running mate….it’s skeason 2016 all the way.
Fun Fact Friday!
On this day in 1899 Phoebe, a moon of the planet Saturn, was discovered. If you're on Facebook, take a look at Friends Of Phoebe . Today, just be kind. Be fun. Share a happy story. Be a friend to someone who might need a friend. Bonus points for pink and purple and cats.
Man my Girl Scouts love following Phoebe.
They entered her greeting card contest, yet so many folded under the pressure of spelling her name correctly. Because you know how hard it is to copy something that someone wrote down all gigantic and shit.
They drew princesses in castles with no hair. They drew carriages that were wheelchairs. They were sensitive and empathetic…completely out of character. And while we did it, while we scrolled through the Friends of Phoebe page checking out her pictures….her treatments, her kitties, her brother…they became much more aware of those around them and the levels of suffering that people their age are not beyond.
They ask about Phoebe every other week when we meet. Almost immediately. We keep scrolling through her page…seeing her progress and talking about her setbacks.
Then, another second grader – one that some of the girlies are friends with – had his younger brother diagnosed with leukemia. The little boy is just a few months over one year of age. All the hair he just grew is gone. All the walking he just learned to do is no more. My girlies were able to relate to their friend and show him levels of compassion I know, for a fact, they did not have before. They were able to tell their friend that his brother does have a hopeful road in front of him because they know another little girl who is currently walking that road.
All you gotta do now to market anything is be on YouTube. There isn’t a goddamn thing that happens on YouTube that Kid A doesn’t know about.
So, I’d be a little red haired nerdy girl. She’d have glasses and she’d be crackhead skinny. She would dress in shades of black and be eternally pissed off. She could have a YouTube channel where she posts vlog entries.
Your daily dose of ire.
I hate these market yourself questions. I am not good at it. There is a slight, but still existent, difference between tooting your own horn and marketing yourself. A difference I find painfully obvious when asked these questions.