-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.