We can file this under More Shit That Annoys Me.

Dear Evette Holyfield,
 
      I'm having an issue with the design of the medal you're supposed to be receiving for keeping your legs closed, especially since you "don't have those desires". I started sexing it up when I was 15 (that's ELEVEN YEAAAAAARS AGO) & I can assure you that, despite my efforts, I have yet to sleep "with the whole world".


Dear People Who Interviewed Her,

      Is there a reason I'm supposed to give a fuck?


Is this really a day in age where people must constantly be validated for being themselves, which SHOULD require little to no effort? I mean I understand that if you're queer in the deep south (been there) that being yourself is a struggle. I understand that if you're a Christian in the Middle East, being yourself is damn near deadly. THOSE are fucking struggles. I know there are loads of other examples, but fuck you, I went with those.

People who go on (& on & on & on) about "still" being virgins, or not ever smoking or doing drugs, etc etc should be smacked repeatedly with a rolled up newspaper for at least one good 10 minute stretch. GOOD FOR YOU. I DON'T GIVE A FUCK, AND YOU'RE GODDAMN ANNOYING!


I did 2 miles today. My under-ass-cheek/hip is swollen now, but doesn't hurt any more than it did -le sigh- In relation to diet & exercise; today I realized that for most of my life I've been using the phrase "I'm hungry" erroneously. Maybe you've been doing it too. Earlier I vocalized to the empty house that I was "SO FUCKING HUNGRY"...before realizing that I was full. I'm not hungry, I want hand-to-mouth movement to replace smoking. I want something to do. I may be restless, bored, & unfocused; but not hungry.

Hence, KNITTING! I'm currently knitting mah Mama a hat & matching cigarette holder (because when you're 53 & in a nursing home, you deserve every vice ever) using Lion Brand Homespun in Amethyst...

No, I didn't crochet that. I used the pic to show the colourway. You can actually buy that nifty infinity scarf here.



In other BREAKING NEWS, I officially want a chihuahua. We can blame Jenna & Marbles.

PLZ TO GIB LUBS?!

Today dawned bright & lovely. A bright, cold morning.

Perfect for the jog I shouldn't go on but am anyways.

I shouldn't because while doing my 3 miles yesterday, I felt a sharp, sudden pain under my right ass cheek which extends around my hip. I did my own research. Since it's not in the hamstring area, it's apparently either Ischial bursitis, Pyriformis Syndrome, or BONE CANCER (! O.o !)

I'm chalking it up to nerve pain due to not stretching. We'll see how this works.

Why am I risking certain bodily damage? Well...

I still have no form of government ID. If this is bad, I'll need to go to a doctor. Doctor's require ID. It's manipulative, yes, but I've already tried the more straight-forward methods of asking, pleading, & begging to be taken to request another SS card. Then a birth certificate. Then an actual state-issued ID.

You never know how much you need that shit until you ain't got it.

Shit I've needed an ID for in the past 3 months:

• Reestablishing ownership of my hacked gmail account (got around that with my awesome fucking photographic memory)
• Having & keeping my fetlife account deleted
• Keeping an open facebook account (I also have no cell phone)
• BUYING FUCKING BOOZE (the night guys at the gas station are obviously blinded by my radiant beauty & are rather missing the bags under my eyes & the fact that I try to buy microbrews, not a 30 pack of Beast/wine coolers)
• Since I'm still jobless, attaining minor government aid

Like I said, manipulative. And yes, it bothers me. But if at first, second, & third you don't succeed, try a different goddamn approach. Giving up is no longer an option.

I'm actually stoked to give myself permission to still walk (no jogging for a while) as I've grown quite fond of my regime. It's nothing complicated & certainly not expensive. Hopefully someone as broke & dependent as I am will stumble across this & be able to do some good for themselves as well.

Also: Hey ex-ish husband! You DO realize that the absolute highest point of EVERY day is talking to my children, correct? THEN KEEP YOUR FUCKING PHONE CHARGED!

Your god dislikes your face

So I did 3 miles today. Why 3? 'Cos the heavens fucking THREW DOWN on my ass. Rain, that is.

And now the plumbing (which had been backing up a bit when boyfriend decided to fuck with it on Thanksgiving, & has now gotten to the point that we can't run ANY water except in the bathtub) is utterly, utterly fucked. If I have to piss, I do it in the tub. If I have to do anything else, I have to walk to the gas station. Unfortunately it's raining balls.

Of course he hasn't transferred the title on the truck yet. Of course he hasn't renewed his goddamn tags. Of fucking course.

He said last night that he's becoming less attracted to me since I started losing weight. Guess how many fucks I give?

I weighed 255 pounds for fuck's sake. That's the most I've ever weighed without being pregnant. I had/have piss poor circulation, restless leg bullshit, a lot of difficulty getting up & down, pitiful self-image, & a varicose vein creeping along the back of my left knee. And even though I'm large-framed & carry my weight better than a lot of people (if I do say so myself) I was a goddamn whale. I'm now a smaller, more lithe whale. Maybe a Beluga.

Thass hawt

If me GETTING HEALTHIER is making you LESS attracted to me then A: You need to sort out your fucking priorities & B: This really never was ever going to work ever.

-sigh-


My trademark lunch has become a Spring Salmon Salad

• 3oz (about 2 handfuls) of Spring Mix Salad (I use Dole because it's actually cheaper than hellmart's version)
•  50ish (a bit over 1/3 cup) grams of Canned Alaskan Pink Salmon (less mercury than tuna)
•  4 tbsps of Kraft Lite Balsamic Anything Dressing
•  Salt & Pepper to taste

Directions: Toss & eat.

It sounds effing atrocious, but I was surprised. Spring Salad has arugula in, which tastes bittery-peppery. I much prefer it to bland old iceberg. I was also very reluctant to just toss in canned meat of ANY sort, but after all morning with naught but a Slim Fast shake, 2 cups of green tea & 3 of water, I needed MEAT.

I do the Slim Fast bit for breakfast & dinner. I coast on green tea (I'm liking Lipton's White Mangosteen Peach) V8 & water. I munch on Frito Lay's Munchies Flaming Hot Peanuts. I give 0 fucks about what you think of my peanut consumption. Neither does the lil' dude on the packet.

So earlier boyfriend's ex called to tell him that his daughter will only be spending weekends here now, since she (the mom) needs the daughter to babysit her younger son. Boyfriend is understandably fucked up about it.

I'd love to be a cunt right now. I'd love to throw the fact that an actual divorce would = an actual custody arrangement which would = this not happening in his face like he did to me so many times. I'd love to say something like "Yeah, I know what it's like to be without my kids. Sucks balls, dunnit?"

But I can't.

Because no matter how big of a bastard he is, he does love his child. He does support her. He does spend time with her when she's not being a teenager & holing up in her room.

I don't wish having a person's child taken on anyone.

My family...well, to clarify: My Grandmother, my Mother, my Sister, & Myself...have always been a slightly morbid lot. We're the kinda guys that laugh at funerals, etc. Literally. Many was the time in my youth that I heard my caretakers say "When I die, just wrap me in a sheet & throw me in the Saline (river)"

In the depths of my depress-y days, I think about what will happen when I die.

I've decided I want a natural burial, i.e. wrap me in a sheet & throw me in the river/hole in the ground. Yes, I am an organ donor. I have no idea which organs will be in working condition (def not my corneas or liver) but some poor soul may find them useful.

"Shroud the cat" gets me every time.

Updates? I cooked a massive dinner on Thankgiving, mostly in the toaster oven, & got shit for consideration. I've been keeping up my exercise routine, trying to ration my food consumption into weight-loss conducive portions. Yesterday the lower part of my ear was ripped from my head because I spit gum in douchebag's direction. It hurts.

For the record, the major reasons I haven't left is because A: I don't want to burden people that I've repeatedly burdened by making the same. Fucking. Mistake. B: He owes me shit that I may actually have a hope in hell of collecting sometime in the near future. C: I don't like being stranded in the cold w/ no phone/phone numbers/car/anyone I know within 6 hours/325 miles of me.

Shit's fucked.

Oh well.

Keep "Calm" & Drink High Life.

Mother-eating-bitch-titties.

I've never had flowers bought for me. I've never asked for/been given diamonds and/or expensive jewelry in any form. I've been taken to a NICE assed dinner TWICE EVER, both times by guys I wasn't even dating. 'Cos they're motherfuckin' gentlemen. I don't get manicures or pedicures regularly. My last manicure was actually 8 years ago. The last time I "got my hurr did" was over a year ago. My purse cost $14 & came from Hellmart. I own 4 WHOLE pairs of shoes (I have a few without mates. Go fig.) Most of my wardrobe consists of the items of clothing I wore in between pregnancies that were stretchy. I own ONE pair of jeans (which I despise, 'cos in my excitement over a pair in my size with a $13 price tag, I neglected to note that the legs were tapered. AKA: Your Mom's 1980's jeans. Guess what? I wear 'em anyways.)

...

So to hear from boyfriend that I'm "Materialistic & uppity" was a bit of a shock. Nay, a laugh.

According to boyfriend, I have no family & friends that care enough to call/visit, so since I'm at this point completely dependent on him, I should feel lucky that someone is willing to meet my basic needs.

Now before you start, he has a point. I am dependent. I have no job yet, and few prospects. I have no car, no phone, even no computer of my own. I am lucky to have a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear & even entertainment.

I am lucky to have the basics.

What I am NOT lucky to have is a relationship in which the bread winner buys himself expensive electronics, new clothes, & high end bath & body products while I get the bare minimum. His theory being that when I "pull my weight" (because I need to pull a paycheck in addition to cooking for/cleaning up after/doing laundry for him & his daughter) that I can then have "the finer things in life".

Look assmonkey...just look.

I'm past caring how materialistic I sound. You have a laptop, a desktop, an Xbox360 & a Zune, not to mention a studio full of instruments & 2 bookshelves full of rare & collectible DVDS. You make WELL over minimum wage. I have jack. And you owe me over $18K what with my much-newer-than-any-vehicle-you've-ever-owned year model HYBRID having been auctioned off due to your $1200 ineptitude.

If you love me the way you say you do, you'll want to do things for me. You'll want me to be happy.

I am not happy with 3-inch roots showing. I am not happy using Prell from the flea market. I am not happy looking like a goddamn hobo. I am not happy when you react to me like I'm fucking Paris Hilton for wanting clothes that fit.

If we were dirt fucking poor, fine. But we're not. All the bills get paid, & even though I have to nag you to fucking death to go shopping, food is in the kitchen (not hominy & beets, btw.)

I am not high maintenance. You are fucking cheap.

Why am I listening to Ke$ha songs repeatedly? Am I ILL? I don't have a fever. WTF is up with me & pop music lately?

Why does my cat think that she's been created to provide lumbar support? As I speak she's nestled into the usually empty space between my lower back and the back of the broken computer chair.

I have a loose exit strategy. It depends on either my building a luxurious dirigible, or winning the Powerball (really it just depends on my finding work. Which without a vehicle in a farming community seems like a long shot. The resumes have been sent anyways.)

Boyfriend asked yesterday if we'd stopped having sex because I no longer find him attractive. Narp. Not even close. Boyfriend's indefatigable bangability is kind of how I wound up...boned in the first place. 10 point double entendre!

I have made a list of shit I plan on cooking for Thanksgiving.

Turkey Breast in a Bag!
Mashed Potatoes
Stuffing
Spinach
Corn something
Apple & Mixed Berry Pies (Maybe a Sweet Potato)
(Toaster) Oven Rolls
Baked beans w/ cocktail weenies & bacon

That's all I'm fucking doing. Anyone wanting anything else can make it themselves. That seems like a decent list for 3-5 people. Me, Boyfriend, Boyfriend's offspring, Boyfriend's brother & sister-in-law. Wheeeee.

(First Thanksgiving without my children for the epic motherfucking fail.)

Dear Dread Lord Cthulhu, if you can see your slimy way to somehow re-relocating me back down further south, not an hour will pass that I don't sing your eldritch praises. Or you know, play this song a lot.

I used to read 'The Eldritch Alphabet' to the kids every night before bed -sigh-

Oh, product plugging.

One N Only's Moroccan Argan Oil Treatment is a permanent fixture in my hair product arsenal. After 6 months of spaced out processing, my hair is still HAIR, but has a texture that I like to call "thirsty". This oil is a bit jellified, so as not to be wasted as much as some Moroccan Argan oils I've tried. Slap it on while my hair is still damp, & my mess turns silky smooth overnight. It also works for calming down my darling daughter's naturally curly frizz & acts as a detangler.

 (Kali is nomming at the tag that is usually inside the back of my pajama pants /fp)

Gratuitous Batrachia!

 

Gratuitous Gaga :3

I can't help it. The hipsters can bawl about how "UNORIGINAL AND UNTALENTED" she is. Shit's catchy, plus she's way hotter than Madonna. Even 'Like a Virgin' Madonna. Sue me.

Her music also makes me feel marginally better about...life. Fuck off.

-sigh-

I guess I should explain the sitch betwixt me & boyfriend, & why I'm such a cunt about it.

In 2009 my husband cheated on me with his ex-fiancee. We'd had our issues, some of which included me flirting with other men via teh intarwebz. But I didn't cheat on him. I had opportunities, I had motive. But in the end, he was the one who couldn't keep it zipped up.

Fast forward getting kicked out of his parents house & him leaving me & the kids with nowhere to go, moving into a trailer on my own, reconciling, moving back in with him & his parents, him provoking me into slapping him during an argument (by backing me into a corner) which he then used as an excuse to beat the shit out of me & then call the cops because he had a scratch on his face. I plead guilty to domestic battery. I was broke & by then unemployed. What other option did I have?

We were sat down one night afterwards by his parents & told that they were the king & queen of the castle, & we were the slaves (verbatim.) That didn't sit well.

I then moved in with a very good friend of mine. It was during the transition that I met boyfriend over the internet.

I know, I know.

We talked online & on the phone for 4 months before I made the leap & moved 6 hours north (kids in tow). For the first few months everything was spectacular.

Then he became super fucking controlling & a major asshole. Examples: Expecting me to carry housework & a full time job while he fucked off on the computer, citing gender roles when confronted. Behaving caustically towards all of the children (even his own.) Pitching fits whenever I got homesick & wanted to visit my friends & family. Dropping me off at work in MY CAR, using it all day, forcing me to call when my shift was over, bitching about how late I got off (closing shift at a gas station that closed at 11. Also he had his own vehicle) and more than once not answering the phone, forcing me me to walk 2 miles home. Etc, etc.

So I left. And came back. And left. And came back. Repeat 3 more times.

Shit was getting retarded. We were starting to throw punches during fights due to him not giving a goddamn inch, twisting arguments to make things my fault, & me not standing for that shit, never backing down. Once he even tried to say the next day that we had taken totally opposite positions in the fight than we actually had. Manipulative as hell.

The last time I left, I had thrown a photo album of vintage porn across the room because he hadn't called to say he wouldn't be coming home for lunch. He hadn't even answered when I called, turning his phone off after the second call. I asked why. He said "I'm earning the money, I can do what I want WHEN I want."

Album throw, me tackled in the hallway with his legs wrapped around my neck in a fucking MMA style hold until I blacked out. I ran into the kitchen, he chased me, threw the microwave at me knocking me over, kicked me in the stomach & ribs repeatedly. I ran to the bedroom to call the cops, he ripped the phone from the wall. I pegged him in the head with said phone, he smashed my jewelry box. I ran outside with my cell & called the cops.

Blah blah blah, cops, report, escorted back to the state line.

Moved in with ex & his parents again (they offered). Lapsed on my car tags, lapsed on the speeding ticket I'd been paying off. Got put in jail on Labour Day after getting pulled over. Ex's parents kick me out, call boyfriend & tell him to come get me because I have nowhere to go. Also tell me that I'm no longer allowed to take my children from their house. Unfortunately, my homestate treats children as property. Who's got 'em owns 'em.

I had nowhere to go.

I didn't want to be a burden to anyone else.

So here I am.

-whew...drink-

A heads-up to any man who may enter my life in the future, if any other man ever does:

I am not morning sexy. I have bad breath, eye crust, & a full bladder.

7am is NOT when I want to fuck.

I swear I'm not one to post a bunch of BS about my sex life...usually. But goddammit. I don't like waking up in the first place. I HATE waking up to you expecting me to be fucking joyful about your manmeat rubbing against my brown eye (which reminds me, I need to take a shit.)

Don't get me wrong, occasionally a little spontaneous wake up sex is nice.

BUT NOT EVERY GODDAMN-ME MORNING. Not even twice a WEEK asshole. That "little smile" you mentioned seeing this morning? I was imagining kicking your nuts into your ribcage.

-sigh-

I haven't wanted jack fuck to do with sex of any form lately. I'm severely pissed off at least 75% of the time. I can't stop thinking about...shit. I'm more angry than I've ever been in my entire fucking life, all day, every day.

 

Yep. Just like that.

Still no job leads. I've applied fucking everywhere you can in a town roughly the size of Fordyce. Even if I DID get hired, how the fuck would I get there? I have an appt. with my college adviser tomorrow. Doubtful. SOMEONE hasn't put his truck in his name yet, and his tags are expired. Therefore, me driving it is fucking dangerous. So I don't. And he has made NO EFFORT whatsoever to do any of the above. I fucking swear he's holding me back on purpose. He said not long ago: "I consider myself successful. I've accomplished everything I set out to accomplish, & now I'm just enjoying life."

...

YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS?! What fresh fucking crack are you smoking?!

You're the only one employed. Your mother badgers you into paying her credit card statement monthly because you've used it in the past to pay bills (why can't you get your own goddamn credit card?! You're fucking 35) & you've been doing this for 2. Years. Did you buy a fucking YACHT?!

The bugs are back in the kitchen & you haven't done shit about it. 

You won't turn on the central heat because the house is so poorly insulated that turning the heat on even moderately will run the electric bill up to around $400 per month. 

The oven has never not once worked. When I bake I do it in a goddamn toaster oven.

I have to BEG you to fucking spend money on groceries. We got into a fight the other night about it. "There's nothing to fucking eat" I said. "There's canned beets & hominy" you said. Beets & fucking hominy.

You act like you're doing me this huge goddamn favour every time you buy me jack shit. You patted yourself on the back for the better part of an hour last night for buying me a $2 bottle of nail polish.

You pitched a fucking fit because I told you I didn't want to cook buttered noodles for Thanksgiving. Maybe I'm a food snob, but the idea of butter & egg noodles doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. When I offered the alternative of Alfredo noodles, your response was "We're not fucking Eye-talian."

That's another thing...is the name of the country pronounced "Eye-taly"? No? THEN YOU'RE MISPRONOUNCING THAT SHIT AREN'T YOU ASSHOLE?!?!

You automatically write off everything I say because all of the women you've ever been with have apparently been complete retards. I can tell from the look of shock on your face every time I manage to prove you wrong about facts & pronunciation. That is, if you don't pull out your old "She makes a statement, I say "No" repeatedly, no matter how many facts she has to back up her shit." Denial...it ain't just a river in Egypt.

I'm sorry that I'm about 100 times more booksmart than you. I'm sorry that I aspire to more than living in a roach motel with your museum of "highly collectible" things that all seem to be worth infinitely more to you than I am. I'm sorry because at least that last part coupled with our toxic history likely means that we can never be happy together.

...Well not really.

Blerglesnooch.

I variate between biding my time (until what I have no idea) being mad enough at the position I've allowed myself to be put in until I want to rip my eyes out (again, no idea why eyes. DRAMATIX!) & "D'awwww maybe this WILL work out :3"

My heart says :3 but my head says...

:|

Actually my head says Grumpycat.

Incidentally, Grumpycat's real name is 'Tardar Sauce'. The fam calls her 'Tard' >.< I shouldn't be giggling.

Also, Poopkitteh.

  

 Fuck I feel ya there.

I re-read 'The Shining', re-read 'Farmer Giles of Ham', re-read 'Breakfast of Champions', & stumbled upon 'The Eyes of the Dragon' which I've actually never read. Therefore, readin' it.

OH OH ALSO...those 'Life is Good' shirts that are only occasionally acceptable? Meet a parody that's inevitably appropos, the Death is Good line. Fuck. JUS.

LAST ALSO...am I the only person in the world to have been subjected to Alejandro Jodorowsky's 1973 film 'The Holy Mountain'?

Now before we get started on...this, let me say that I love offbeat movies. Movies that challenge our perceptions of reality. Movies that make you fucking outright SQUIRM for psychological as opposed to visceral reasons. I loved 'Brazil', I loved the Retrofit of 'Dr. Caligari', J'ADORE 'Dellamorte Dellamore', & I even fucking loved 'Blood Sucking Freaks'. 

I also understand that everyone who starred in this...fillum...actually spent 3 months simmering in mystical horseshit stew, even going so far as to live together communally for the last month previous to filming. I get it. I do. I also get the fact that mushrooms & LSD were used in production.

After watching even the trailer, is there any goddamn-me doubt?

After viewing this "opus" in it's entirety, all I had to say was:

There is a scene in this movie in which an old, withered, nude, half-bearded man baths a neophyte in breastmilk expressed by the severed heads of fucking ocelots.

That sums it up rather spectacularly.

Lana Del Ray...the new composer of the Soundtrack of My Life.

Meet My New Boyfriend: TheMadViolinist

So today 2 memories are haunting me.

#1: "Your father knew exactly what you were & that's why he left."
From boyfriend, after the aforementioned smacking around after the "details" comment.

#2: "Those of us who believe in god know we'll see her again someday."
From father, after being told about the death of my Grandmother. His FIRST FUCKING COMMENT, no less.

I'll dismiss #1 as stupid. I was 8 when my Mom & father divorced. My father has had minimal interest in my life since, & has met his grandchildren twice in 6 years. None of this stops him from having significantly more to do with my sister's life. I should point out that I am an Atheist, & that my father & sister are christians. My father once told me that my sister has nothing to do with me due to religious beliefs. Apparently the same holds true for him.

#2. #2 is one of the many reasons in my "Why I Don't Worship an Invisible Man" arsenal. Not only is it possibly the WORST time to attempt to convert someone, but using MY GRIEF to attempt to change my personal beliefs is not only fucking cowardly, it's EVIL. Yes xtians, for as EVIL as you think I am, I have NEVER NOT ONCE attempted to undermine a person's sense of self in the depths of grief by using that loss to say "I know you're praying to god for comfort right now, but you can take that & $1 and buy a fucking canned coke."

So to my father, to my ex father in law, to every single goddamn individual who thinks that their way of thinking is so goddamn superior that they tried to make me somehow feel worse for not believing in THEIR GOD..."When you get to heaven may the devil be your judge."

Theme Song of the Moment

Fucking....fuck.

Boyfriend comes home last night all sweet as piss and makes dinner AND dessert.

*fatgirlgasm*

I know it doesn't make up for the bullshit. But it sure as fuck makes it about 1,000 times easier to ignore said bullshit & keep pretending that everything's fine.

Here are recurring memories that make me doubt this relationship:

"WHEN YOU HAVE CHILDREN, YOU GIVE UP SLEEPING IN."
yelled at me for sleeping in one day, & obviously overlooking that his daughter also lives here, & that he was sleeping in every weekend.

"Maybe my Mom was right."
REALLY?!

The day he called me at work to bitch at me for "neglecting my womanly duties" while in the background I hear the sound of things breaking, explained to me as the dishes he was throwing away. THROWING AWAY. As opposed to just fucking washing them, throwing them away.

At one point early on I went xmas shopping for my children w/ my ex & lied to boyfriend about it because I knew how he'd react (all pissily.) He found out, guilt-tripped the fuck out of me, said if I didn't delete my ex from my (now non-existant) FB account that he would dump me. I did. He acted like everything was kosher. A few months later I found out that, since I had lied to him about "going out w/ (Ex)" he had asked an ex-gf for nudie pics. Which she sent. The kicker to all of this was that, the day the ex & I went shopping for the kids, was also the day I told him I was moving back in w/ boyfriend. It was also the day the ex threw his wedding ring out of the window of my (then) car on the interstate.

Once upon a time, I got pissed at boyfriend and threw his photo album of ancient smut across the room. He responded by putting me in a choke hold with his legs until I blacked out. He then wrecked the house & beat me up. Afterwards on the phone, his response was "I was well within my rights to defend my possessions." Later it was "I know people who say you should be dead for trying to destroy my things." His THINGS.

The most recent would have to be when he was badgering me incessantly about my infidelities & I asked him, cattily, if he wanted details. His response was to smack me in the face repeatedly, breaking my glasses & bruising my eye so badly that he took me out to buy makeup to cover it, my hair 1/2 in my face the entire time.

"You don't know what you want. You're just a scared little girl. You're a spineless shit."

Ah, amour.

Don't feel sorry for me. I keep coming back, although the last time was out of my control. I think I'll talk about that tomorrow. Maybe later. I have High Life.

2 rants, which, oddly have almost nothing to do w/ anything aforementioned or each other. Ish.

-Ahem-

Rant #1: "Nice Guys"

You know, I'd always known that there was something (everything?) insidious about a man who would hang around me so long as he (thought he) could fuck me. But DrNerdLove seems to sum it up accurately (see 'silveragent's qq about 1/2 way down.)

At what point did being nice specifically to get into my (pajama) pants after I told you firmly & succinctly that I wanted NOTHING romantic from ANYONE at that (this?) point in my life become in any goddamn way acceptable? I hear you whining al-fucking-ready. "But, but I thought I could convince you that..." NO. Just fucking NO. I don't want your dick, & there are 1,000 fucking reasons. Numero Uno being that at this point in my life I am UTTERLY INCAPABLE of being in what could in any way be construed as a healthy romantic relationship. I try to be nice. Really I do. Pinky promise.

But in the end you push me to it don't you? NO ain't good enough is it? So I have to resort to being a cunt, just to get you to stop calling/texting/haranguing me 24-motherfucking-7. And then...

"You just can't deal w/ someone being nice to you."

*Mind. Fucking. Implodes.*

Assmonkey, I can't deal w/ someone who expects booty in lieu of actual fucking friendship. Troo fax.




Rant #2: My Current Relationship


Now I may feel differently about this later, but really...

You want me to move out of state, take my children away from a fairly extended family (on their father's side, which despite the fact that I DESPISE some members of it I see as a blessing, as my family is neither extended nor close) change my ambitions, my hair colour, my body hair sitch (ok let's just sum that up into 'Overall Appearance') smack me around, ignore me, berate me, take $2K from my mother that you spent on fuck knows what as opposed to RECLAIMING MY FUCKING CAR, the only possession of ANY value I had, & which was left to me by my late grandmother, & interrogate MY ASS as to why I was up late (read: all night)?

REALLY MOTHERFUCKER?!

Ok, perspective for the sake of fairness.

I DID kind of slalom on foodstamps. I DID slip into a severe drinking/depression funk due to being SO far away from my family & friends for the first time in my entire life.

To cherry the sundae, I DID cheat on you. Repeatedly. I know you don't believe it's because I was trying to forget you, but I honestly kind of figured that w/ how toxic & volatile we were together, anything to make me STOP loving you was for the best. Everyone around me agreed. And no, NOT just the people I boned. However, hindsight is 20/20, & I now see that I might've accomplished my goal using the much more straightforward & far less self-destructive "Nuclear Option" (read 'masshole93's qq again in the above link.)

But W.T.F.

If you couldn't handle that (& I had NO FUCKING REASON to think you would try, NO ONE should have to) then you should have...LEFT ME WHERE I WAS. Yes, I had nowhere to go at the time. Yes, I felt like a bag of smashed assholes atop 1,000 fuck pies due to JUST being released from jail for driving on a suspended license & subsequently having my children taken from me by aforementioned extended family.

They have women's shelters for a reason. That night, I was one of those reasons.

The fact of the matter is: If you'd left me to my own damn devices, I'd be employed at the Simmons Bank who sent me a 2nd interview notice soon after I arrived here. I'd have my car, & I'd see my kids most likely weekly. Yes, I'd probably be staying on B & J's couch. But I WOULDN'T be 6 hours away from EVERYONE, unemployed, broke, carless & so depressed that every day walking into traffic becomes steadily more tempting.

I love you, I love you, I love you. But some days it seems like it'll be my undoing.



-Whew-

On a happier note, YAY OBAMA! I would've voted for you, if I'd been able to get to the polls. I said that I wouldn't, but yesterday I was so fucking terrified that we'd have been in the vice grip of the Rominater for the next 4 years...so yeah. Yeah I fucking would've.

Scary shit, yo.

Not voting after all. Read so much about both candidates I am officially confused, paranoid, & no longer give a shit. Sue me.

I worry about what these votes will mean to my children. I worry about what they will mean to my uterus.

And then I stop worrying. In the end, what is being paid for to occur will occur. If the US is going to go all Mad Max, MY ass w/ absolutely no interest in politics whatsoever isn't going to make a dent.

Also, I have children to raise & an education to get, dammit.

-sigh-

Fuck.

I started reading 'The Shining' for about the elebenty-gazillionth time. It's funny how even horror novels act as a literary blanket for the bleak & chilly landscape of my mind.

I've kind of lost any concern over my current relationship. I just can't bring myself to care.

Last night I completed a Care One Credit report. Even w/ my student loan paid off I still owe over $8K. Zowie. If I made payments of $357 per month I'd be debt free in 2 years, assuming that I accrued no MORE debt.

Tooty-Fuckin'-Fruity.

I'm still unemployed, btw.

So it pretty much took me 'til today to come to grips w/ the second. The Xmas season & Thing 2's birthday, however, loom ominously.

I know I'm a cunt, worrying so much about my own feelings on these holidays. But the fact of the matter is that they're ridiculously spoiled by their paternal grandparents where they are, so I have no need to fear them going without anything. At all. Even things that small children shouldn't have (e.g. 52" television in their bedroom) by most stretches of the imagination.

(That includes mine. I personally believe that children under 15 have no business w/ an iPhone. But hey, wtf do I know?)

-sigh-

I've enrolled for the online winter semester at the local community college. I plan on going to vote tomorrow, for no other reason than that Mitt Romney scares the shit out of me. I'm well aware that it'll make little difference, but fuck you. I try.

I have fleeting dreams of getting my refund + income tax & moving back to my home state, to one of 2 towns that offer Funeral Science as a major.

I have these dreams because of a load of BS concerning my significant other & me. More on that when I feel like breaking down completely.

-doublesigh-

SO I sit around browsing websites full of things I can't afford, & bide. I bide a bit.

-Waves languorously, Blue Moon in hand-

Call me Necro. No one does. This is my 234,543,967th attempt at blogging. Unfortunately for you, due to my disenchantment w/ physical journalling, thissun just might stick.

There must be half a damn billion teenage/twenty-something/old enough that being described in such a fashion should shame them bloggers who whine & piss & moan about what a rotten deal life has handed them. I honestly don't know, I don't read that tripe. YAY ASSUMPTION!

I'm not one of them.

My life could be called a polished turd at the moment, but I assure you, fair reader, the fault is 99.999999% this bitch's.

I was told by someone once that I should write about the BS that's been my life for the past...damn near 20 years where people could actually read it, as my example should serve as a warning to others. Also, I love schadenfreude. I love it so goddamn-me much that I'm presenting it to you like a fucking early solstice present.

-Swig-

No, this isn't "Oh poor Necro." Sometimes it may toe that line, but as you may or may not see, I have my reasons. Let me assure you (YAY ASSURANCE!) that everything here is factual to the absolute best of my recollection, which depending on my alcohol consumption, may be a titch foggy.

Aight.

Imagine this is one of those movies where you start at the end. I don't want to delve right this fucking second. In fact, this whole damn fiasco may go in reverse, 'COS I FUCKING FEEEEEEL LIKE IT :D

-Ahem-

Today is my daughter's 6th birthday. It is the first one I've ever missed. I am 6 hours away from her. No, I am not the father. I am her Mother. The one who baked her for 9 months in my hellwomb, delivered her via caesarean, & have barely spent an entire 24 hour period away from her since 2006.

Why am I not there, you may wonder. Well...

1. I am (as stated) 6 hours north of her, damn near as the crow flies.
2. I have no vehicle at this time.
3. My significant other's vehicle is bullshit.
4. I am completely fucking broke.
5. Her father & I are (obviously) not together.
6. I haven't the power of apparition/teleportation/time travel.

Someone shoot me (gratuitous self-pity).

All I can think of is how her hair smells, & how we fit perfectly together like a human jigsaw puzzle when we hug & snuggle. Of how her favourite word is "Gollyfluff" because we watched 'The Sword in the Stone' too goddamn much. Of how she would adore my eye make up today because it's purple & silver (I did it for her, even though she'll never see it.) Of how when she was born, & I was up w/ her all night because I tried SO HARD to breastfeed (not enough milk, it lasted about a week) I would hold her in my arms, her dark eyes staring into mine, & say:

"That old doctor told me I was supposed to have a baby, but lookee here! I had me a widdle baby bunny. What on earth will I do with a baby bunny? I'll hold her, & squeeze her, & love her forever to pieces."

Forgive me, Angelbunny. There is no imaginable way that I don't love you, & there is nothing I wouldn't give to be w/ you right. This. Second. And every single second of every single minute of every single hour of every single day for the rest of every single life.