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 |  Breaking the laws of blogging, one entry at a time. |
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Wanted: For repeated blog faux pas, including, but not limited to: Obsessive ranting - guilty on 92 counts. Repeatedly beating a dead horse - guilty on 17 counts. Unnecessary use of curse words - guilty on 142 counts. Boring daily recounts - guilty on 45 counts. Pointless entries - guilty on 214 counts. Contradictory statements - guilty on 72 counts. Recounting toilet actions - guilty on 15 counts. Overdramatization of insignificant things - guilty on 152 counts. Overreacting to meaningless gestures - guilty on 22 counts. Unnecessary temper tantrums - guilty on 75 counts. Cruelty towards animals, superiors, peers, and inferiors - guilty on 146 counts. Repeated bad grammar, spelling, and opinionations - guilty on 214 counts. Suspect is considered armed and dangerous. Do not confront directly, instead call the authorities and slowly back away. Do not provoke suspect, as she is easy to agitate. The best action to take is to smile and nod. Any other response could lead suspect to rant and rave for days without ceasing. REWARD OFFERED FOR CAPTURE Dead or alive. Offending evidence: ![Merit Badge in Journaling
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| Oh my God, what a joke. I should have taken the Democrats up on their offer to drive me to my voting precinct. Besides the fact that I had to park on the school lawn since the parking lot was full, I got in there and was told that my precinct was changed, despite my insistance that I never received any notification that my registration was being changed to another precinct. They told me to go to the church down the road from my house, that I could've walked to. I drove all the way back over to the church, which, thankfully, had no wait, and filled out the voter's application. When they looked for my name on the list, it wasn't there. I just about went off, because by then I was tired of the run around I was receiving. I asked to speak to the overseer, because I wasn't going to drive all the way back over to the school to be sent somewhere else. Thank God, they have the lawyer at every precinct to make sure that things go as smoothly and legally as possible. She called the clerk's office and verified that I was supposed to be at the school, then handed me my application slip and told me that if they tried to send me back, to ask them to look me up on their list because it should be there. Back to the school. Back to the fucking lawn. Back to trudging across the parking lot through the misty rain. Back to the fucking seemingly endless line. I get in there, and they tried to send me back to the church again. I told the lady that no, I wasnt going back to the church. This was my third attempt at voting, and they were going to let me vote there. If she didn't believe me, she could check their list. She checked the list, found my name, and then asked me for the application I filled out at the 19th precinct. I had left it in the car. Back out past the seemingly endless line, across the parking lot in the misty rain, across the muddy lawn. I get my fucking application and go back across the muddy lawn, in the misty rain, through the parking lot, and back to the seemingly endless line to wait again. I SWEAR TO GOD, if this wasn't a very important election, I would have given up after going to the church and being turned away again. I did, however, verify that Jason's name was on the 18th precinct list and called him to give him a heads up about all of this precinct shuffle crap. He wouldn't have gone through the same trouble that I did. He would just come home and say forget it. At least I only have to do this once a year. Otherwise, I would have a "fuck my civic duties" attitude. There were already a few others who had the same problem who just gave up. It took me nearly 3 hours, mostly driving back and forth between the school and the church, but I got my vote on. If you didn't, there's no way you could have a good excuse not to after what I've been through today. |
| My God, I don't know what to write about what without a prompt and all. Yes, the latest round has come to an end and the judging commences. What do I do now? Surely I can't write about something when not prompted! That would be absurd. We all know my life is inside of the box and boring, anyway. The Democrats called 3 different times to ask if I had a ride to the polls to go vote. The first call I thought, "Wow, that's pretty cool of them to offer me a ride." The second call, I thought, "Wow. They really want to make sure that I'm able to vote." The third call, I asked the woman if they kept track of who they were calling. She said that they did. I told her that's odd, because I'd gotten called THREE times asking if I needed a ride and all THREE times I had said I didn't, so was I going to get another call tomorrow. She apologized for the bit of disorganization that apparently put me on three different lists. I was hoping they'd call back. Then I could ask them for a ride. Might as well use their gas money, right? I'd also see if they would watch Ethan while I went and voted and also take me to the grocery store. Might as well take advantage of their generosity while I can, right? I did hear on the news that they're going to be going door-to-door today, asking people if they need a ride. I guess I'll need to get my letter back out and tape it back to the door when Ethan's taking his nap. I can spit on Democratic headquarters from my house, so it's pretty certain that they'll drop by for a visit. Reminder to myself to refill that bucket. Regardless, my mother-in-law is coming her sometime around 11 so I can go vote. Gotta do my civic duty, right? Especially since, *knock on wood*, I haven't gotten called to Jury Duty in the past 5 years. I like bragging about it, given that J's mom has been called each and every year, but I'm sure that my string of luck will eventually come to an end. J has told me that he's voting for DeVos. He also told me that he's voting for his best friend Joe. He also decided to vote for our dog, Storm. This was all in the span of about 45 minutes last night. He and Jay's debut novel is out now!  tricked me into staying up till 11 last night. They were conspiring, I know it. But it afforded me the excuse to sleep in until 8 this morning, rather than waking up at 6 with J.Like I said, I have no prompt with which to work, so I have nothing interesting to say. |
Leading entry: "Invalid Entry"  I hate hugging, in many ways. I'm uncomfortable with being touched, especially by people I don't know. It goes along with being sexually molested as a child, although most of those feelings were worked out in therapy as a teenager. Even when I gave up my virginity to Craig, I didn't cuddle with him afterwards. I just sort of pushed him off me and went to get a towel out of the laundry basket, pretending like nothing happened and that I wasn't bleeding out of my vagina. Then I got a phone call, and continued on like nothing had happened, even though I was distraught inside. I'm not a cuddler, either, unless I'm in that certain mood or you're my child. There's nothing like cuddling with a baby to make you rethink your whole opinion of cuddling. The scent of baby shampoo and the innocense of their faces when they sleep is enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. Staying at other girls' houses was a rare thing for me, unless it was a slumber party, or I was going to stay with Betsy. At a slumber party, we were all strewn over the floor of one room or another, in a sleeping bag. The sleeping bag would usually add that needed barrier to keep me from being nervous about being touched. Betsy was the only person in my life that I was comfortable with, though we both knew how to stay to our own side of her twin bed when I slept over at her house. I had no worries with Betsy. It's only lately that I've really been cuddly with Jason. He's almost surprised by it, having reserved himself to having married an ice-queen when it comes to pillow talk. I've always been fine spooning, as long as the blanket stayed between us, and he moved once I got too hot, but I can imagine he hates cuddling in a manner that makes him have to speak to the back of my head every single time. Last night, in fact, while watching Desperate Housewives (which, by the way, elizm446 was a pretty decent episode - no soap opera-ish-ness this time - it was pretty shocking to me), I made J put his laptop down and come lay with me on the couch. My legs have been hurting since Saturday, when I decided to try to run in the cold, didn't cool down appropriately, and ended up with that muscle burn thing going on, and when they get cold they hurt worse. He sat on the couch with me and rubbed my right thigh, which is the worse of the two in relation to the pain. I was really just using him for his body heat and the massage, but men are men and always want to go the next step. I was too tired. He was not pleased. That was the end of cuddling for the night. Sometimes I hate that a lot of the ways that a man touches a woman makes me feel dirty, especially when they shouldn't. Don't touch the back of my head. Don't touch my arm that way. Don't touch the side of my face. Don't put your arm around my back. Don't put your hands on my hips like that. It's all dirty, and I am not a dirty-kind-of-girl. |
| In the hospital, after I'd given birth to Ethan, I had many visitors. Some were family and friends, some were nurses, doctors and other hospital staff. Jason stayed with me for a lot of the time. I was horribly overwhelmed with exhaustion. I had been in labor for three days, afterall. During the second day in the hospital, after all of the hub-bub with Ethan's birth certificate and social security number applications, photographs, and whatnot, Jason decided to go home for a shower and a snack. He wanted to spend some time with the dogs and decompress a bit, though he promised to be back after only a few hours. Once he left, I felt even more overwhelmed. Jason calms my nerves, most of time, unless I'm trying to pick a fight with him. I think the nurses were watching for him to leave, because not more than ten minutes after he left, I received another visitor, even though I was trying to catch a cat-nap between attempts at breast feeding. The lady was dressed in a tweed suit with a skirt. It was February, afterall, and if one was going to wear a skirt it ought to be a warm one. She had her hair in a bun, and was wearing those black shoes that I can only associate with Catholic nuns. A pair of glasses were perched on her nose, a chain draped from either earpiece and joined around her neck. Despite her obvious conservative demeanor, she was quite pretty and put me at ease with her smile, even though she was a complete stranger. She sat in the recliner closest to the bed, her eyes shining. "My name is Natalie," she said. "I'm a social worker." "I see," I replied. "It's customary for us to come to every woman's room to ensure that she feels safe going home with her husband. If you feel like you're being physically or mentally abused in any way, please let me know, and I'll do anything I can to help you." "No," I said in an almost nonchalant manner. "I'm fine. My husband is one of the nicest men I've ever known." "If you're afraid to tell me because of what he'll do to you, you don't have to worry." She smiled, disguising the fact that she was pushing me to tell her about my nonexistant abusive husband. "Our hospital security can ensure that he doesn't return to your room if you're threatened by his presence." "Uhm... ma'am." I smiled, appreciating her position and the fact that they try to give an abused woman an easy out of a bad situation. "My husband isn't abusive, but thank you for caring enough about my son to try to help us with a problem that doesn't exist in our household." Natalie smiled, and gave me her card in case I changed my mind about whether or not Jason was abusive. (And if he had so much as returned fifteen minutes past the time he had specified, I may have done just that.) She then excused herself and left as quickly as she arrived. Jason returned not long after that. I told him about my visitor while he was gone. "Good Lord." Jason chuckled. "Do those nurses have radar that tells them when the husbands leave?" When Dawn had her baby, the same thing happened. Dan left, the social worker showed up less than ten minutes later. I'm beginning to think they bug the hospital rooms. |
| I received some help on my upgrade from a very good friend, but I don't want to have to rely on someone else when the time comes for me to renew again. I'm not asking for handouts. What I'm asking for is to let me review you in order to exploit the review incentives. If you decide to give me a donation because my review is so stellar, I have no problems with accepting donations for that reason and that reason alone. Let me repeat myself: I am not asking for a handout. I am only asking for someone who seriously would like some feedback on an item to help me out by pointing me to the item that you'd like reviewed. I'll get the review done as time permits and the mood strikes me, because sometimes, even though I need to, I just don't feel like reviewing. And most of the time, I don't feel like trying to find stuff to review. Anyhow, if you want one, go here:
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| I've been really stressed out the past few days. I hadn't heard back on the one interview I'd had almost a month ago, Jason and I have been at odds. I want a knock-down-dragout fight and he won't give me one. I need to take all of my feelings of how unfair and against-me that the world is on him, but he won't let me, instead brushing my bitchy and angry comments off and giving me kisses on the cheek. What I want him to do in these situations is to comment back, to say something hurtful to make me more angry, to do something that can further escalate what I'm trying to start. He won't, though, and it's really been frustrating for me. Finally, Friday night, I kind of talked to him about it. I told him that I blame everything that is going wrong on him, that he never should have gotten me started with the whole baby mode thing, and that I felt like our marriage was suffering because of his stupidity and ignorance with how my emotions worked. He apologized and agreed that it was all his fault, then continued watching Dr. Who on Sci-Fi. This pissed me off, because I would have at least liked him to get emotional or something, but he didn't. So, I decided to go to bed, because I wasn't going to sit there and try to get him to ask me to explain any further. He should know that I want to discuss it further. Men are supposed to be mind-readers like that. I got up, went to the bathroom, washed my face, and did all of the stuff that I do to get ready for bed. I shut off the bathroom light, and went into the hallway. The hallway light was already off, the kitchen light was already off. Without the bathroom light, it was awfully dark in that hallway. Since my eyes weren't adjusted to the darkness yet, I was basically working my way through the hallway by memory. Our bedroom door is always open. By always, I mean when we're home, unless the dogs have been bad and jumped up on the bed when they know they're not allowed on the furniture, or unless we haven't needed to go into the bedroom after being away. I went to walk through the bedroom door so I could go to bed. BAM!!! The noise reverberated through the house, sounding like a gun went off. I stumbled backwards, feeling the sting on my eye and nose. I backed down the hallway and into the kitchen, where I plopped haphazardly onto the floor. "What the fuck was that?" Jason asked, incredulously. "I think I forgot to open the bedroom door." I said, while rubbing my face. It was then that I decided to stop taking myself so seriously. I wanted to pick a fight, so I did. The only problem was that the bedroom door won. |
| Whether or not marijuana is legalized in this country, I hold a no-tolerance policy for any kind of chemical vice in my house, and even though marijuana could eventually become legal, it will always be an illegal substance in my household. Carrying or possession may be a petty offense now in some states, but it would be a fast track to the death penalty under my roof. Not that I would kill someone. They just wouldn't be welcome here ever again. It is one of those things that I feel that strongly about, and I'm sorry if someone else thinks that I'm blowing my perception of drugs out of proportion based upon my own personal experiences. Drugs are bad, mmmmmmmmkay. - Mr. Mackey from South Park |
| Leading entry: "Invalid Entry" As the product of a drug addict, I don't know if I would want the option for marijuana to become something my mother could legally buy, otherwise she would probably buy it way more often than she already does. I'm not saying that everyone who smokes an occasional joint is automatically a drug addict, but marijuana is a proven gateway drug into harder drugs. My mother, for instance, has also been addicted to prescription narcotics. My friend from growing up, Lindsey, started with marijuana and eventually ended up addicted to crystal meth. A girl that I went to college with smoked pot all of the time and ended up a heroin addict and killed herself from overdose. Not that I haven't smoked a joint in my day, because I have. I don't like the way I feel, I don't like the way it smells, and I don't enjoy any moment of it. I could get the same feeling off of a Tylenol PM, to be honest. And not that I think that legalizing it would be a bad thing. We might end up with less addicts who transition to other drugs because marijuana is easily available. I doubt it, though, because the body will build up a tolerance and it will become more and more difficult for the user to develop that "high" feeling that attracts so many to smoke it. When I first started smoking cigarettes, they would give me a buzz. Not only from the nicotine, but your brain is also deprived of the oxygen it needs in order to function properly, so it gives you that nice fuzzy feeling. After a while, though, I stopped getting a buzz whenever I smoked a cigarette, because my body built up a tolerance. Of course, I'm a person who tries not to rely on chemical vices. I don't drink often, even though some of you might think I do. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. Hell, I won't even take Motrin or any prescription medication unless I'm desperate, so the chances of seeing me take a toke off a bong are slim-to-none. I do believe marijuana for medicinal purposes is OK, though. When someone is suffering, they should be able to use anything within the realm of possibility to relieve that suffering. If my mother-in-law had a relapse, God forbid, and she wanted to ease her nausea by smoking down every few hours, then I wouldn't judge her for it. I do, however, judge people, like my mother, who sit in their kitchen spending what little money they have on cigarettes, beer, pot, cocaine, or whatever vice they choose, in leiu of taking care of their responsibilities. When priorities are thrown off kilter by an addiction, that's where I draw the line. This whole subject is an uncomfortable one for me. I hate drugs. I hate what they do to families. I hate what they do to peoples' lives. Whether or not the vice is legal, addicts are still addicts and will still exploit their addiction as much as they can. |
| I'm sure that you've heard of or seen MJF in this pro-stem cell research ad that aired in Missouri and several other states: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9WB_PXjTBo And, if you haven't heard or seen Rush Limbaugh's response of the commercial: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GvFlUJc2QW0&mode=related&search= So, now that you know what the hell I'm talking about, along with the opinions of a few others, because that was the best and longest video I could find of Rush's reaction, let me give you mine. I'm am so tired of conservative assholes, like Rush, who know nothing about medicine or very much about life in particular. They parade around, saying that everyone who is a democrat is wrong, or anyone who is a liberal is wrong. Nevermind the fact that he sounded like an absolute idiot and was without a clue as to what he was referring. Just because the fat bastard is a pill popper makes him an automatic expert of everyone elses' medications, I suppose. And he doesn't have Parkinson's disease, so he ought to know whether or not MJ was faking. The only thing he accomplished was making himself sound like an even bigger dick crackle than I already think he is. I find it interesting that he says Democrats are explioting Fox, when 2 years ago Fox did an ad for a Republican for biomedical research. Fox isn't being exploited. He has his own mind and his own ability to make a decision as to what he chooses to partake. He is trying to help find a cure for Parkinson's disease, which is obviously destroying him. But no, that fat bastard can't believe the possibility of someone being sick and speaking out on a cause because he feels it is just. Instead, that pill popping low life takes it upon himself to mock and mimic Fox and call him a faker. Then he doesn't even truly apologize when he is proven wrong. Fox handled this with the grace and eloquence of the gentlman that he is. All he cares is that stem cell research is being discussed. If that means that he gets to be the butt of a few jokes, he's fine with it. It reminds me why I can't stand conservative assholes. They think that nobody should have the right to decide what to do with their own private matters. If women want to donate their eggs for embryo research, then who in the fuck are you to criticize them, Rush? Because she's going to destroy potential human beings? Well, last I checked, this world was overpopulated anyway, so if a woman wants to give up her eggs she should be able to. Yes, I know. I've made another political post. Sort of. Actually, I wanted to bash Rush Limbaugh, because he's a goddamned closet cum guzzler who pops pain killers because he's afraid to admit it. If he'd finally cope a fucking clue that he's not God, then maybe he'd figure out how to be a real human being. |
I found it in mood indigo  's journal. Yada, yada, yada. It's long an monotonous, but I'm waiting for my pot pie.*No kitty, that's my pot pie! No kitty that's a bad, bad kitty!* 1. What is the date and day? November dritter zwei tausend sechs 2. What is the time? sechs neunzehn am Abend 3. What time did you awake? sieben morgens 4. What did you eat for breakfast? Vitamine und Apfelzider 5. Was it tasty? unglaublich geschmackvoll 6. What did you do first thing? ignorierter Jason 7. Who was the first person you spoke to? Jason würde mich nicht ihn ignorieren lassen. 8. Did you work or go to school? Ich blieb Haupt- und dem Baby gewartet, um zu wecken. 9. What kind of mood have you been in all day? Zynisch und gehässig. 10. Any particular reasons for that? Ich bin immer zynisch und gehässig. 11. So what did you get up to today? Jason, der versucht, meinen Ansatz zu küssen. 12. What has the weather been like? Kalt, windig und sehr Michigan-wie. 13. What clothes have you worn? Blaue Hosen, eine Strickjacke, eine Behälteroberseite, Büstenhalter, Schlüpfer, Sportsocken und Tennisschuhe. OH- und Schlüpfer, auch. Nicht Kommando. 14. Jewelry? Ich ging Kommando mit Schmucksachen. Nicht meinen Hochzeit Ring glätten. 15. Make-up? Nein. 16. What friends or acquaintances have you seen? Ich ging zur Arbeit Jasons und sah seine Mitarbeiter und seinen Vater. 17. Did you see a boyfriend or girlfriend? Sicher, wenn du meinen Ehemann als mein Freund giltst. 18. Who have you been most annoyed with today? Mein Ehemann. Er ist ein Arschloch. 19. Who or what has made you laugh? Mein Sohn bildet mich Lachen auf einmal oder andere immer während des Tages. Er ist so nett. 20. What did you eat for lunch? Burger King Whopper Jüngeres mit Käse und keinen Zwiebeln. OH- und eine Limonade. 21. Any alcohol today? Nein. 22. Did you do anything you weren't supposed to? Nein. Ich nicht sogar beschleunigte von meinem Haus zur Arbeit Jasons. 23. Argued with anyone? Ich versuchte, mit Jason zu argumentieren, aber er wies meine Argumente mit seinen Küssen zurück. 24. Watched any movies? Nein. 25. TV? Ich paßte Dr. Phil auch wie Shannon auf. Aber das ist über es. OH-, die Nachrichten, auch. 26. What music have you listened to? Einige Oldien im Auto, während ich fuhr. 27. Have you traveled anywhere? Zur Arbeit Jasons wie ich sagte. OH- und die Bank und der Scrapbookspeicher. 28. Is today a special day for any reason? Jason erhielt die Bezahlung einer Extrawoche, weil er nicht seine Ferienzeit verwendete. Gehen wir! 29. What shops have you been into? Ein Scrapbook Speicher und ein Walmart. 30. Have you bought anything? Zwanzig Dollar Wert der scrapbooking Versorgungsmaterialien und sechzig Dollar Wert des Lebensmittelgeschäfts und der Pyjamas für Ethan. 31. Have you had dinner yet? Nein. Meine Topftorte kocht, während ich schreibe. 32. If so, what did you have? Halt die Schnauze. 33. What are your plans for this evening? Möglicherweise ich Willensscrapbook, möglicherweise ich habe Geschlecht, und dann möglicherweise gehe ich zu schlafen. Das einzige definitive ist Schlaf. 34. Do you think today has been a good or bad day? Weder gut noch schlecht. Er ist über Durchschnitt gewesen. Nichts großartig berichten. Anders als den Buchstaben zu den Anwälten, der scheint, ein Erfolg gewesen zu sein. Ich muß ihn häufig versuchen. Oh hell. You don't read it anyway, so why do you care what it says? I've resolved to start brushing up on my German is all. If you really want to know, go to Google and translate. Unless you speak German. Then just tell me if I said what I meant. LOL. |
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Whatever you do, hang in there, he'll be sleeping like a big boy in no time!