Fuck the New Year

I started loathing "New Year" on January 1, 2006, when my mother passed away, but at least I had my children surrounding me as I faced the future and I felt like I could take on anything thrown at me. Now that I have been stripped of everything and have NOTHING but the privilege to pay taxes to further facilitate the annihilation of my life as I once knew it, I say FUCK ACKNOWLEDGING THE NEW YEAR. It's just another day of another year to face, alone and lonely, the next of many to despise the person I've become and the fact that I "allowed" the shit of the last few months to make me that way. I feel like I've lost control of the wheel of my Life and every time I try to take it back, some cock-knocker sucker punches me in the face while at the same time making ME look like the bad guy. What's the point of trying anymore? I'm just along for the ride.

Yes, things are getting worse instead of better and there are some wounds that even time will never heal.

OMFG

I was disgusted before, but now I'm just pissed right the fuck off.

Here we have in one article parents not only defending but taking legal action to allow the school to continue to use shock therapy on their children for behavior modification, claiming it teaches them to avoid prohibited behaviors (including assaulting others, according to the article). Then in another article, we read that this same school administered shock therapies to two boys on the telephone order of a former student posing as a school administrator.

• One boy suffered suffered first-degree burns.
• One boy was given 77 shocks and the other 29.
• The boys were awakened from sleep and punished for an infraction that supposedly happened hours before.
• The boys' arms and legs were BOUND during the shocking.
  
• Neither boy had been observed by staff to have been misbehaving.
• Some of the other students apparently informed staff that it was a hoax but they proceeded anyhow.
• The order to administer this severe punishment came via telephone and no one bothered to verify its source with the central office and no one bothered to verify if it was appropriate punishment for each of these boys.
  

Now, my argument as to why this shit DOES NOT work: The former student who did this probably received this same therapy during his residence at the school, yet he carried out a "prohibited" behavior (assault seems pretty socially unacceptable to me) by ordering the abuse of another student. If this type of therapy worked, this incident would never have occurred because he would have already "learned the lesson" in the past. I'm thinking about Pavlov's dogs and the bell-ringing shit here, folks. If he'd been truly deterred from unacceptable or prohibited behavior, he'd have been salivating instead of assaulting other people.

Oh, and this makes a lot of fucking sense: Police are looking into filing criminal charges against this individual, someone who is probably disturbed in the first place (else why was he a student at that school?), but NO ONE IS PRESSING CHARGES AGAINST THE STAFF WHO CARRIED IT OUT. They have merely been dismissed. They failed in their duties miserably, not only as staff at the facility but as HUMAN FUCKING BEINGS, did not do their jobs appropriately until AFTER the damage was done, and they physically and emotionally harmed another person, yet they are only "dismissed"? Where are the criminal charges against them?

This school needs to be closed down, the staff members who committed this atrocity need to be held accountable and charged criminally, and every asshole associated with implementing and perpetuating this behavior all the way from the legislature and Department of Education to the sick-fuck parents who ask for it and the judges who sign the orders approving it need to be charged, jailed, and hooked up with their own fucking backpacks. Where the fuck is the accountability here? Where the fuck is the social responsibility?

To me, this violates the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights declaration
Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment. the Declaration on the Rights of Mentally Retarded Persons, and Declaration on the Rights of the Child.

Blacker Days

It's Christmas Eve and I am still alone. My heart aches and I have a pit where my stomach belongs and a headache the size of Texas. In all my life, I never would have dreamed that someone could endure this much pain and still live, yet here I am, continuing on day by day, minute by minute, unable to leave my rooms and go out in public or even to watch television anymore for fear of evoking yet more emotional trauma by seeing children - other people's beautiful children - when I am so filled with longing to hold my own, hug them, touch their faces, kiss their noses, see their smiles, smell their hair, hear their laughter, tell them how much I love them. I feel like cursing each of these 5 senses I have been bestowed and cannot escape.

The destruction of one's soul from the inside-out is most unpleasant.

Every once in a while a thought intrudes into my wallowing and I get an inkling of what God's plan might be for me. I question whether I am strong enough, physically and emotionally, to carry it out; but I know that it's not my place to question His plan or His reasons, and that He obviously chose ME because He knew I could do the job. The hardest part is not knowing exactly what the job is I'm supposed to be doing and the interminable time that passes.

No matter what man may do to me during this life, I know that as long as I hold His light in my heart and do His bidding, serve Him faithfully and unfailingly, someday He will make everything right. I give my life to You, who gave it to me by Your own Grace.

Another WTF - State Sanctioned Abuse

As if there isn't enough of a problem with abuse of children and mentally handicapped people in this country, here we go with a case of what is, IMO, nothing more than state-sanctioned
abuse and torture: State gives center 1-year extension to use shock treatments (for punishment/behavioral modification).

This just pisses me off. If a parent or caregiver did something like this, they'd be crucified in the media, called every name in the book and a few that haven't been published yet, the public screaming for them to have this same device attached to their genitalia or something, and then they'd be sitting their asses in prison for cruelty, child abuse, and any other charges the DA could think to tack on AFTER their parental rights have been terminated. But THE STATE does it, and it's hunky-dory? Granted, it's not the state specifically that is administering this shock therapy, but it is being endorsed, encouraged, and perpetuated by the state when they allow it to continue even in the face of evidence that it has been used inappropriately - not to mention barbarically - at this particular institution. I have a problem with the whole concept of this type of "behavior modification." I mean, really. These individuals may be mentally handicapped and/or emotionally impaired, but is inflicting pain upon them - especially inconsistently and months after the infraction occurred or even while THEY WERE JUST SLEEPING - going to make them BETTER?

I am ashamed of this facility and the agencies that allow them to practice in this manner and of the laws and legislators who created those laws that don't put a stop to this immediately. And people wonder why we're called "dirty Americans." Look how we treat our most vulnerable citizens. Maybe someone should reclassify these people's mental status as "retarded" if they don't have enough sense to treat another human being with a little more respect.

God Said "No"

I asked God to take away my habit. God said, "No. It is not for me to take away, but for you to give it up."

I asked God to make my handicapped child whole. God said, "No. His spirit is whole, his body is only temporary."

I asked God to grant me patience. God said, "No. Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it is not granted, it is learned."

I asked God to give me happiness. God said, "No. I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you."

I asked God to spare me pain. God said, "No. Suffering draws you apart from other worldly cares and brings you closer to me."

I asked God to make my spirit grow. God said, "No. You must grow on your own, but I will prune you and make you fruitful."

I asked God for all things that I might enjoy life. God said, "No. I will give you life, so that you may enjoy all things."

I asked God to help me LOVE others, as much as He loves me. God said. . . "Ahhh, finally you have the idea."

'Good friends are like stars...You don't always see them,
but you know they are always there.

How Cool is This?

NCU Deaf Choir



Now maybe people can understand what I'm talking about when I say "melodies in motion."

Your Sign Lesson for the Day

This clip cracked me up, entitled "Signing for Deaf (With Translation for Dumb)":



This clip is a great presentation of the letters of the ASL alphabet, this this gentleman does a WONDERFUL job:



And featuring the same gentleman, numbers story in ASL:

It's Been a While

But after all the moping I've done lately, it's time to show you how much it means that you've stuck by my side, so I have a small surprise for you. But first, a fairy tale. . .

Once upon a time, in a long-lost land that exists now only in legend, lived a young woman who had very strong beliefs and even stronger love for her fellow man. She had dreams of making small but significant changes that would help preserve the good she knew existed in the hearts of all people. Most of all, she loved children, her own and others that, while not of her body, were of her heart because they turned to her for love, kindness, and patience, which she gave to them unconditionally. One day the evil witch noticed that this woman was happy while the witch herself was miserable, even though each had chosen to live their lives as they had of their own accord, and she decided to destroy the woman. First she tried to seduce the woman's husband and steal him away so the woman would be alone. The witch did not really want the man's love for herself and, in fact, planned to cast him aside after she was done with him; she only wanted to damage the love between the two. Alas, love proved to be stronger and the witch failed. Then she attacked the woman's children, bribing them with favors and treats so they would come to her and leave their mother, even though she did not really want them; she only wanted to watch the woman suffer. Again the witch failed. Over time, she openly attacked the family, enraged that the harder she fought, the tighter their bond became. Still the family and their love persevered and the woman thought the witch would finally leave them alone, not realizing that the witch was so furious now that she would never stop until all the woman's hopes and dreams were shattered and her life ruined beyond repair. She singled out the "weakest" of the children, a girl of frail mind and weak moral constitution, damaged by the horrors she experienced in life before finding the young woman and her family, and the witch began manipulating the girl's mind. She worked and worked until finally the girl's mind cracked and she began telling horrific stories against the young woman and others in the family, and then all the children were taken away from the woman. She was not allowed to see them and steps were being taken to ensure she never would, not her own children and certainly not those who needed her the most.

How do you think this story ends? How do you think it SHOULD end? Could something like this happen in our society today?

Anyhow. Now for your "surprise." Some while back I gave Jo a Friendship Rose. Since then I've kind of neglected the roses and the garden's grown a little wild, so after some pruning and cutting, I have some new Roses I'd like to give to a few people:

Jo gets another (you know why)
Ev
Dawn
Count (yes, I'm giving a flower to a guy)
Mrs. Count
Becky
Vanessa
Paisley
DiamondsSaphire
You've given me more than I can say, and I am proud to consider you my friends.

Once again, the only "rule" is to pass this rose on (if you choose) to someone who's made a difference in your life, made you feel better just for a moment or for a day, someone who maybe needs a little boost. Sharing our friendships with each other will go a long way towards making this world a better place to be.

In a Morbid Kind of Way, It's Kind of Amusing

$750 and much trauma later, I've decided I prefer being toothless, even if it means never eating a good solid meal again in my life. Besides making me gag and puke, dentures have reminded me of something I hated about my own teeth, specifically the fact that I have quite the overbite - when my face was all sunken in you didn't really notice it but once again my top teeth are jutting out, begging to be teased by some asshole who thinks they're better than me just because their parents could afford an orthodontist. I'd forgotten about it but it's all coming back to me now.

I know it's only a matter of time, learning to get used to having something in my mouth that takes up so much space all at once, and that eventually I will train my mind to overcome this powerful gag reflex (lot of good to have no teeth when you have a hyperactive gag, huh? I know what many men say about toothless women. . .). I have yet to try to eat with them in, since I can't even handle my own secretions, let alone food. Yeah, when I'm not gagging and retching, I'm drooling. It's a pretty sight, for sure.

I have to wonder, though, how come my NAME is printed on them, both upper and lower plates? Is that so if they're lost and then found, they can be returned? So if I throw them away, they will magically reappear in their cup? Or just to make sure the lab didn't mix mine up with someone else's, but in which case, wouldn't a temporary tag have been sufficient instead of a permanent one? Do I just ask too many questions?

Excuse me for a moment while I go clean up my drool and spend a few moments gagging.

I Think I'm Ready Now

To pass along some of these cool blog awards I've gotten lately, instead of hogging them to myself as I've done (as you know, lately I've had other "more pressing issues" that kind of take the largest part of my will and concentration to survive from day to day, so I know you don't really mind - hope you're as glad I'm still around as I am that YOU'RE still around. . . but I digress, as usual).

First of all, thank you again to DiamondsSaphire for appreciating my ability to let the mental diarrhea flow and bestowing upon me this really cool "You Make Me Smile Award," created by Bridget at And Miles To Go Before We Sleep. You made ME smile just by giving me this, much like you make me smile when I read some of the stuff you post about that makes me realize I AM NOT ALONE in this crazy world and I'm not the only one who feels the way I feel sometimes.

I am proud to pass this funky four-leafed clover on to my good buddies:

Ev - My Life Is Murphy's Law
Dawn - Twisted Sister
Jo - Life with Heathens
Becky - Tall Cool Drink of Water
Count - The Blog and Mrs. Count - SoHoS
Dazd - Dazed and Confused From Here

Keep up the great work and keep the stuff a-comin!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Next up, I was just pleased as punch to get this rippin' Be The Blog award from Dawn of Twisted Sister fame, created by Mark from Me and My Drum ". . . for bloggers who make their blog their own, stay with it, interact with their readers, and have fun!"

Please go visit Mark (should you choose to accept) and pick up the code for your own cool badge, which comes in a variety of colors:

Vanessa - Vanessa: Unplugged!
Shannon - Charming Driver
Dazd - Dazed and Confused From Here
Karly - Wiping up Snot (isn't that the greatest blog name? LOL)
Becky - Tall Cool Drink of Water
Count - The Blog and Mrs. Count - SoHoS (can you tell I really like these folks?)
Diesel at Mattress Police (even though his Nazgul friend will probably poke fun about it)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And finally, I recently received another award from Ev at My Life Is Murphy's Law: The I'm a Little Nutty Award, designed by Kimberly of PurpleFrogCat .

Thanks, Ev! I always thought I was A LOT nutty, and it's great to get some reassurance that someone thinks I'm only A LITTLE nutty! I know I'm showing partiality and favoritism here passing this one on to many of the same people as above, but they make me smile BECAUSE they're a little nutty and, besides, IT'S MY BLO-OG AND I'LL DO WHAT I WANT TO, DO WHAT I WANT TO. YOU'D DO IT TO IF IT HAPPENED TO YOU! Anyhow, I proudly pass this award on to the best bunch of "nuts" I've ever known:

Dawn at Twisted Sister (even though she already has one)
Jo at Life with Heathens
Becky at Tall Cool Drink of Water
Dazd at Dazed and Confused (who has also received this - are you seeing a theme here, Dazd?)

Karly at Wiping up Snot
DiamondsSaphire at Nonsense. . .

Of course, I still think you should just go read everything by everyone on my blogroll because I said so, and I'm the boss (again, for a couple more weeks anyhow), but it's nice to be able to give a little recognition once in a while. If any of you choose not to participate, that's also fine, I certainly won't be offended, but I just wanted you to know that I know you're there, and I'm watching you (not literally, just from my Google Reader). Thank you all again and HAVE A NICE DAY!

And Just as a Side Note

If anyone is interested, I have yet another new look around here, so feel free to take a peek if you're in a reader (but don't even think about stealing my DICK badge). Have a nice day!

Tellin' It Like It Is

That's me. I'm tired of being a good person and getting kicked around, being nice and getting stabbed in the back, keeping my mouth shut and getting punked every time I turn around without even the benefit of a little Vaseline. I might have to run my face like I did in my younger days. No one's listening to me now but they sure did then - even though 99% of the time they were either disgusted by what I said or shocked that I had "big enough balls" to say something like that. After all, someone's gotta be pretty blunt to get turned down for a job for being "TOO honest," huh?

If it's in my mind, it's probably gonna find its way out from my mouth. I can be a conniving fucker like some certain psycho/sociopaths I know claiming mental illness and not being able to help what they do - I think I'm gonna develop me a case of severe Tourette's syndrome.

Sorry, I can't help what comes out of my mouth, motherfucker, cuz I'm just a mushroom cloud-laying Tourette's motherfucker, motherfucker.

Now really, I probably really won't go THAT far (maybe) - I do have a FEW self-preservation instincts left, for a couple more weeks anyhow.

How Many Times

Have I told you NOT to cut the fucking lettuce with a metal knife? There are 3 - COUNT THEM, THREE - fucking lettuce knives in the drawer because I hate when people use metal knives on produce.

I pull the salad out of the fridge and what do I find? BROWN LETTUCE. I guess it was too hard to reach for the white plastic thing with a sharp edge to cut the damn head up, instead grabbing that huge-ass butcher knife out of the block and giving me brown lettuce for dinner.

I have 4 words for you, dear husband:


And I ain't even on the rag this week. . .

I Think I Hate Wednesday

It's hump day, right? It would be all well and good if I worked a regular 5-day week but I'm on a cycle where I'm at the end of a 10-day stretch for my main job. Now, I work other jobs that have me working every day anyhow, but it's mostly just a mental thing for me with this: TEN DAYS IN A ROW. I can't explain it. I do think it's completely awesome that when I'm on this cycle I get a 4-day weekend, even though my other jobs get in the way of enjoying that, too! Just kidding. I think it's just easier to break things down by bits: 5 days (Monday through Friday) and 2 days (Saturday and Sunday) instead of 10 days and 4 days. Maybe I'm just weird. (Yes, I know I am, you don't need to point that out.)

**SIGH**

Tomorrow I get my teeth. In a way I'm excited since I've been a year and a half with no gompers and will once again be able to eat things that don't just get swallowed. The bad part is the fact that I'm a gagger. When I had the original molds done, I puked all over the place. When I had the wax liners adjusted, I gagged and puked. When they did the final adjustment before casting the actual dentures, I gagged and puked. I know part of it was the SMELL (that wax doesn't smell pretty) and the actual teeth won't stink like that, but most of it is just the fact that I gag - period. I put food in my mouth, I gag. I put liquid in my mouth, I gag. Wind blows in my face, I gag. This ought to be fun.

Today I ordered my refill on my Copaxone. I get it through a mail order pharmacy due to my insurance, which is fine by me since they deliver it right to my door and it still costs me $40 copay anyhow. The guy on the other end of the line was very helpful. And very funny, which I really need right now. I already owed $40 for the last prescription and now I was going to owe another $40 so asked if I could just send a check for the full amount even though I didn't owe that much yet. "No problem. Do you have a check number?" Um, yeah. I'm digging around on my desk for the checkbook and keep babbling. "I think my husband has it. Hold on. . . No, he says he gave it to me, but I don't see it here. I think he's giving me a line." "Yes, he is, and we do that on purpose. I gave it to you, you gave it to me." I pause for about half a nanosecond. "I KNEW that was a man thing." "Yes, yes it is" he tells me. I still can't find the fucking checkbook, which hubby-man says he put on my desk. "You know, as soon as I'm not looking, he's going to sneak in here and put it on the desk and tell me it was there all along." "Yes, he will do that, too, and that is also a man thing" he says. Finally I just got a new book of checks and gave him a number, and it was well and good. As we were getting ready to hang up, I told the guy at the pharmacy, "You know I'm going to blog about this, don't you?" He laughed and said "Of course, but you know my name is JACK, right?" We both laugh and I shoot off "Suuuuuure, except for you already told me your name was Chris when you answered the phone." (These aren't actual quotes, just from my memory, in quotations to indicate DIALOGUE, okay?)

Hats off to you, Chris, for making my day a little brighter. We need more people in customer service departments who actually HELP their customers instead of speaking in tongues and cursing us out - you went the extra mile and made the difference.

PS: I only have a $40/month copay on this medicine, but in looking at the invoice I see that it is actually over $1740/month for this stuff. Good grief! No wonder no one can afford health care.

People Like This

Are the reason why everyone else, bad parent or good parent or somewhere in the middle, suffer at the hands of Child Protective Services and legislators who create laws requiring, in some cases, forcible "abduction" of children from their biological parents and subjecting innocent children and (in a few cases) innocent parents to months and even years of separation, irreparably damaging the parent-child relationship and leaving a path of destruction causing emotional trauma, financial devastation, and ultimate undermining of Due Process guaranteed by The Constitution, while people like this get away with MURDERING a child:

London Marie Sherwood

Here's what set me off: I got a very touching MySpace bulletin about a beautiful 3-month-old baby girl whose mother was pictured holding her and crying, having decided to terminate life support on the child whose father had abused her so severely she would never recover. It was accompanied by a (difficult to read and disturbing) note from the mother, Jessica, who had made this impossibly difficult decision and begging others to be careful who they leave their children with. Disturbed was a mild word for how I felt - I was mortified. I was going to post this case on my child abuse blog, so I started searching for more information from a slightly more "objective" source, if you will, than the mother (there's always more to the story, this I know). I found what I was looking for and about lost my shit right there. This bitch has the balls to whine about how we need to be careful who we leave our children with because she thought she trusted the man she left her infant daughter with (the baby's father, proven by DNA testing), AFTER SHE HAD ABANDONED THE BABY to this guy 3 weeks prior. This is a YouTube clip with a news report about the case:



In the current climate of "guilty until proven innocent and even then still guilty" where child abuse and neglect are concerned but "claim mental illness because you just can't help what you do when you're sick in the head," I know that both this bitch who abandoned her baby in the first place and the son-of-a-wanker who murdered his own daughter will both be excused from any meaningful form of punishment and will be offered services up the wazoo (at taxpayer expense, of course) to make them fit parents so they can keep breeding, while other parents who have done nothing this heinous (and are denied Due Process regarding their parental rights) will never see their children again and not be able to bring any more children into the world because the state would automatically remove THOSE children as well, will not be determined to be mentally ill and will receive no services PERIOD.

Yeah, great system here in this country, isn't it?

Two Weeks

For the first time in 16 years, I will not be wrapping gifts and placing them under a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, waiting eagerly for the crew to start shredding paper at 5 a.m. and running through the house screaming with glee for hours before finally settling down to thank the Lord for what we have and for each other and eating until our pants need to be unbuttoned.

Now I stare at a tree that has nothing on it and certainly nothing under it, trying not to be a dick and thank the Lord for the fact that now I have nothing and am alone. In less than 2 years I've lost my mother, my health, and my children and all possibilities of either bringing more of my own into the world or bringing others who need me into my home. For that matter, I'm well on my way to losing that home, which really doesn't seem to matter much since I don't need a 6-bedroom house when there are no children to fill it.

I've always tried to teach my children the lessons in life I felt they needed to know in order to make them better people, but recent events have shown me that apparently I was teaching them the wrong lessons - the ones that would help them survive in this "ME" society where integrity and personal responsibility take a back seat to instant gratification and not the ones that would help to ensure their place in serving the Lord for eternity:

• Treat others as you would want to be treated. Do whatever you want, look out for #1, and piss on everyone else - they don't matter anyhow.
• Neither push onto nor seek out from others sympathy but express empathy - those who deserve sympathy don't seek it and those who seek it don't deserve it. Take all you can get and piss on everyone else - they don't matter anyhow.
• Love all God's creations, man and plant and beast, and treat them with respect; He placed us here as caretakers and the well-being of all life is our responsibility. Use what you want, throw it away when you're done (including people), and piss on everyone and everything else - they don't matter anyhow.
• Work hard and earn your way in life - don't look for or expect handouts and don't think you're entitled to whatever you want just because you find that you CAN. Sit back and watch others work, live off the fruits of their labors, and then go out of your way to fuck up their lives when you don't get what you want - they don't matter anyhow.
• An honest mouth belongs to an honest heart, and an honest heart belongs to an honest soul. Sometimes the truth hurts, but a lie hurts more. Lie about everything, even when the truth works better than a lie, just for the sake of lying. Who cares if lies hurt others - they don't matter anyhow.
• God first, then family, and yourself last. Yourself first, family when it's convenient for you, and we'll deal with God when we get there.

I used to have characteristics I liked about myself and that others seemed to like about me. I've changed, though, and not for the better. I really don't like what I've become.

Hopeful is now cynical.
Respectful is now disgusted.
Smiling is now frowning and laughing is now crying.
Understanding is now questioning truthfulness.
Giving the benefit of the doubt is now expecting deceit.
Working for the greater good is now hiding in the corner for fear of being hurt again.
Willingness to be flexible is now fear of destruction.

It's like I've reverted to primal instincts and become a wounded animal. I hide in my rooms, I can't leave the house, I am afraid of other people and their motivations. I am just afraid. Somehow I don't think this was in God's plan for me but I have to keep faith in Him and have patience that He will intervene and make things right. So instead of thanking God for the "nothing" I have now, I realize I have to say thank you to the one who created this destruction, and I no longer feel sorry for you standing in the path of God's vengeance.

I Know I Ain't THAT Interesting

So why on Earth would anyone sit on my blog for 1 hour and 12 minutes? Hell, I don't even spend that much time with myself so I can't figure out why anyone else would want to spend that much time sifting through my mental diarrhea. Just kidding. . . WELCOME ABOARD MY BOAT, whoever you are, and I hope you find me at least mildly entertaining. I have my moments, although they've been few and far between the last 89 days since my life came to a screeching halt and everything that mattered to me and defined who I was as a human being was ripped away from me in a matter of hours in an event so traumatic that even receiving a diagnosis like MS was just a footnote stating "Who really gives a shit???"

It's actually beyond traumatic, being erased as a PERSON, to have your past, present, and future with all your goals and dreams and - fuck it, let's face it - YOUR LEGACY tossed in a pile, covered with gasoline and a match casually tossed on top like it never even mattered in the first place. You never existed, nothing you did mattered, and over time people will forget about you anyhow. You may as well have not even been born.

I try to comfort myself with the thought that God has a plan for me, that He will not give me a greater burden than I can carry, and that He is by my side to help me through this time in my life. I'm having good days and bad days, mostly bad, where that thought gets me through the day but really does little to soothe my soul. What makes it worse is knowing that I've tried to live a good life, played by "the rules," tried to treat others as I want to be treated and then still been fucked so hard that I may never recover but on the flip side, someone else can shit all over the rules and laugh about doing it, go out of their way to deliberately destroy someone else's life, and make a mockery of Truth AND BE REWARDED for their actions. WTF is up with that?

I've said for years that society is going to hell in a hand basket. Was I right or was I right?

Life is Shit

Life Is Shit

I ran into a friend of mine
said was gonna take some words
and make them rhyme I said you can
fool some of the people some of
the time, but you can only fool
half the people half the time

He "Yes I do believe this is
true. Would you like to go sniff
some glue? We'll fly to where
the skys are blue and look
for things both bright and true"
And on a pretty Sunday morning
a bunch of pretty Baptist girls
linked ther pretty hands and sang:

Life is shit, life is shit
The world is shit, the world is shit
and this is life as I know it.
this is life as I know it.

And in the sky I saw Richard Nixon
smoking a lacey with Mr. Dickson
He said "Son there's something
I must say I do not believe I've
found a better way" And then a
vision came and it look a lot
like Bob Crane. And Bob sang:

CHORUS

And when my friend and I were
done we went to rest upon the
sun 'cause life takes from us
the things, we love and robs us
of the special ones and puts
them where where we can't climb
and we only miss them all the time
And we sing:

CHORUS

OKAY

This is cute in its own way, but how long until the parents are nabbed for sexual abuse of some sort and have their kids yanked out of their arms - just in time for the holidays?

I know this is probably just a spoof, but filming it in the first place and then posting it for the entire world to see probably wasn't the brightest thing to do, since CPS will probably start nosing around and leading the kids to believe they were molested or worse.

Thought for the Day

THE BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF LOVE

What colour is God,
Asked the child with skin so fair
Is he white like me,
Does he have light hair?

Is God dark like me,
Asked the child with skin of golden hue,
Has he hair that's dark and curly,
Are his eyes black or blue?

I think God is red like me,
The Indian boy is heard to say --
He wears a crown of feathers,
And turns our nights to day

Each one of us knows that God is there
In ALL the colours above
But be sure of this, the one colour he is,
Is the beautiful colour of love

So when your soul goes to Heaven,
When your life comes to its end --
He will be waiting, and his hand to you
Will he extend.

There will be no colours in Heaven,
Everyone will be the same.
You will only be judged by your earthly deeds,
Not your colour or your name

So when your time comes,
And you see God in his Heaven above,
Then you will see the only colour that counts,
The beautiful colour of LOVE.

-- Author Unknown

Gotta Love It

Great post Ms. Count has here, Twas the month before Christmas.

Me, I'm still trying to figure out how the PCs can demand us to be tolerant of their beliefs when they can't be tolerant of others'. Do unto others and all that.

Forwarding Emails

I love this:

http://info.org.il/irrelevant/may02-smilepop-soapbox4.swf

I get about a gazillion emails a year telling me to forward them on, most of which can be verified as hoaxes at Snopes.com, and this is a great response.

Psychopath Test - Part II

Sorry I didn't get around to this earlier, but I was knocked on my bottom by a killer migraine and the lovelies that go along with it.

Anyhow, the answer to the test is:

Because she was hoping the guy would appear at the funeral again.

So. . . if you were able to answer this correctly, you think like a psychopath.

The email this came in claimed that this was a test administered to serial killers and that many were able to answer it correctly (whether this is true or not I cannot verify, but it's still interesting).

Anger Management

I know I've said it before, but I have to say it again: I love email. I get so much of it that is just too good not to share, I don't have time to blog it all. Here's another one that actually made me laugh, even in my present state of "being":

Anger Management

When you occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying 'Hello.' I politely said, 'This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?' Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear 'Get the right fucking number!' and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.

After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled 'You're an asshole!' and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, 'You're an asshole!' It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, 'Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?' He yelled 'NO!' and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, 'That's because you're an asshole!' and hung up.

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking Spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me. I noticed a 'For Sale' sign in his back window, so I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial,) I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, 'Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?' He said, 'Yes, it is.' I asked, 'Can you tell me where I can see it?' He said, 'Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax. It's a yellow rambler, and the car's parked right out in front.' I asked, 'What's your name?' He said, 'My name is Don Hansen.' I asked, 'When's a good time to catch you, Don?' He said, 'I'm home every evening after five.' I said, 'Listen, Don, can I tell you something?' He said, 'Yes?' I said, 'Don, you're an asshole!'

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.

Then I came up with an idea. I called asshole #1. He said, 'Hello.' I said, 'You're an asshole!' (But I didn't hang up.) He asked, 'Are you still there?' I said, 'Yeah.' He screamed, 'Stop calling me!' I said, 'Make me.' He asked, 'Who are you?' I said, 'My name is Don Hansen.' He said, 'Yeah? Where do you live?' I said, 'Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, a yellow rambler, I have a black Beamer parked in front.' He said, 'I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start saying your prayers.' I said, 'Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole,' and hung up.

Then I called asshole#2. He said, 'Hello?' I said, 'Hello, asshole.' He yelled, 'If I ever find out who you are...' I said, 'You'll what?' He exclaimed, 'I'll kick your ass,' I answered, 'Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now.'

Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd. in Fairfax.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better.

Psychopath Test - Part I

Got this in the email, found it rather interesting (and yes, I failed miserably, could come up with no answer whatsoever, so I guess I'm not a psychopath):

[The test originally was all in one email and said to scroll down to get the answer, but I changed it to give you the answer tomorrow. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, and that much blank space is just a waste of blog-o-sphere.]

Read the question, come up with an answer, and tomorrow I will give you the answer. This is not a trick question. It is as it reads.

A woman, while at the funeral of her own mother, met a man who she did not know. She thought he was "amazing." She believed him to be her dream partner so much, that she fell in love with him right there, but never asked for his number and could not find him. A few days later she killed her sister.

Question: What was her motive for killing her sister?

Week 2 of Copaxone Injections

Giving myself a shot every day isn't as bad as some people might think it would be. In fact, the shot itself doesn't hurt at all. It's just this itty-bitty needle that gives a subcutaneous injection, not a large-bore IV or blood-drawing needle like you see in the hospital or laboratory. Just a little pick, not even as bad as a mosquito bite, since it's just going a short way under the skin and not into the muscle or into a vessel. I also have a nifty device to load the syringes into to give the shot so I don't even have to "stab" myself like I do with my vitamin B12 injections.

That shit BURNS about 30 seconds after it's in, though, but that's also short lived.

These injections, given every day, have to be rotated over injection sites, using each site only once per week: One on the back of each upper arm, one on the top of each thigh, one on each hip, and the last one around the bottom of the belly, 7 all together. I've been doing those B12 injections every month for years, and needles don't bother me, so poking my arms and legs was no issue. Even shots in my hips don't bug me since that's where they inject Rhogam, and I've had many of those over the years with my A negative blood type.

My issue was The Stomach. How can diabetics give themselves injections there all the time? I was just gooey-headed thinking about it. The nurse who came to train me to use the injection device said "Oh, that will be your favorite spot." I'm just thinking to myself, "Yeah, right. Who you trying to fool, lady?" She wanted me to give my first injection there in her presence, since I thought it would be the hardest mentally, though not hardest physically. Sorry, lady, no human being needs to be subjected to the sight of my belly voluntarily. I used the back of my left arm, since that was the spot that's physically hardest for me to reach. She seemed satisfied.

Obviously, since I've started week 2, I got over myself and used that site already. I sat there for a minute, looking at my great blob of fish-belly white belly, and finally just did it. Know what? I think it's going to be my favorite spot. It's easy to see, easy to access with either my right (which doesn't work well anymore) or left (I'm NOT left handed) hands, and it's just EZ-PZ. I wish I could give ALL of them there, since the back of my left arm and right hip are hard for me to do with my weak right side, even with that doodad.

Hubby-man was somewhat confused about the reason WHY I am taking this medication (he didn't come in with me to talk with my NL, stayed in the waiting room). He asked when I was going to get better (get my eye, arm and legs back to working normally). He seemed pretty disappointed to learn that the medication won't restore my function and "fix" what's already been broken. No medication can do that - YET. This is just something to keep the MS from getting worse. I can live with that - for now. Someday there will be more, if not in this life then in the Eternal Life beyond.

Yes, I'm feeling better today, but I don't expect to get out of this particular funk until well after the holiday season. I'll be OK, though, with you by my side and God there to pick me up when I fall, carry me when I feel I can't go on, and dance with me when the time is right.

Cat Lady

Now that I have an empty 6-bedroom house and I'm lonely, I think I will start collecting cats.

Life is shit and I'm really fucking depressed.

I Need to Pay Attention

I'm so broke, I can't even afford to pay attention. Just kidding. Anyhow. . .

A long, long, long, long, long time ago (in blog-time), I got 2 new awards from two of my favorite blog-sisters, and it's long past time to acknowledge them so they don't think I'm, like, retarded or ungrateful. I truly AM grateful, ladies, just having issues (as I know you know, so I won't whine about them at this particular moment).

Thank you so much to DiamondsSaphire for this great "Make Me Smile" award, created by Bridget at "...And miles we go before we sleep..."

Thanks, luv. Glad you got some smiles, and I'm working on trying to bring the smiles back to my little spot under the sun here at Blogger.




Next, Dawn has given me this other totally cool "Be The Blog" award, created by Mark from Me and My Drum:

I don't have to try very hard to be ME, easiest thing in the world in fact. Sometimes people think I'm funny, sometimes they think I'm just too blunt and in-your-face, but I don't really give 2 cents--that's just how I am and how I have to be to stay true to myself. If someone else along the way happens to get a chuckle out of some of the crap that comes out of my mouth (or on my blog), then it's just gravy, welcome aboard, the more the merrier. I hope that's true to the spirit of this award.

Running short on time here and feeling a bit mortified that I don't have time to share these right this moment, but I know you'll understand. I'll be back later to pass them on. I think I'll hoard them for a bit longer. For now I just wanted the gals to know that I hadn't forgotten, wasn't trying to snub the honors they've given me, but more to come.

For My Sweet Ones

I miss you so much, with all my love.

Christmas Gifts.net

Lookie Here

I see I am approaching 200 posts. That's very interesting, considering I never thought I'd get through 100, let alone twice that many and considering the fact that I'm really only here to entertain myself - you guys are just being dragged along for the ride, but I appreciate you being here. Who'd have thunk I had that much shit rolling around inside my head (and in the inbox of my email....man, I get lots of stuff, and you haven't seen even a small fraction of it yet)?

With that thought, and in the spirit of the holiday season, I leave you with this:



Must be the anti-Christmas folks are at it again? I guess I missed that one on the news. Isn't this just MEAN? That poor little boy.

Someone Enlighten Me

I am confused. Maybe it's because I've turned suddenly senile recently (my "35" landmark), but I just don't get it.

My computer was fast, back in the day. It was slick and sleek and cool and up-to-the-minute for all of about 38 seconds before something better came out on the market. It's like 5 or 6 years old now and has nothing like "gig" associated with it other than storage capacity, but it was fast: It would boot in less than a minute and could burn a CD in less than 3. I could run 8 different programs at once and never had a problem. Then a "goodie" hijacked my IE and my whole computer went to shit. Eventually I said "piss on it" and did a system restore, starting with a fresh slate. It was fast again! After that, I was careful with what I downloaded, checking after each program to see if it affected its performance, and all seemed right with the world.

Now just a couple months and no additional downloading later, it's slow again. Aggravatingly slow. And I get this stupid message from time to time that my virtual memory is low and Windows is increasing the size of my page file. Being somewhat computer illiterate (I was raised on DOS and Windows was Greek to me), I sought out help online and found some XP tweaks to see if it would help. This pile of shit did speed up some, but I can't get rid of this stupid virtual memory message when I have 2 or more programs open at once. It's really enough to piss a person off when you need to have open a word processing program and a transcription program simultaneously in order to WORK and you keep getting this stupid message and nothing does what it's supposed to, the voice files babbling away on their own and no way to stop them.

Reboot. Yeah, it's fine for a while but then gets funky again. And it hates ANYTHING running Java. Now, I hate coffee too, but this piece of shit was supposed to have been built to like it, or so I thought.

Maybe I'm just expecting too much from an old dinosaur of a computer, but I don't have the means of buying anything new and don't really want to have to put all my stuff on a new computer anyhow. That's boring and takes time I don't have. Maybe I should tie it to the bumper of the car and take it for a drive like I keep threatening to do to it, said threats obviously not working since my computer just keeps "laughing" at me.

WHY ISN'T IT AS AWESOME AS I WAS WHEN I BOUGHT IT? Do Hewlett-Packard and Microsoft have a scheme going that makes their computers shitty after a couple years so you are FORCED to buy a new one and keep them in business? ARGH!

Rant over. I don't really require an answer from you, but if you've got one for me I sure wouldn't turn it down!

Gimme a Friggin Break

Sure are lots of people PO'd lately about the holiday/Christmas argument. This isn't a NEW argument, though--it's just being pushed harder by the minority against the majority, the few who want to force their own beliefs (or lack thereof) onto the rest of us and expecting us to drink the Kool-Aid (don't get me started on the Kool-Aid thing, either).

IT'S A FREE COUNTRY, PEOPLE!!! IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO HAVE CHRISTMAS BUT TO HAVE A HOLIDAY, THAT'S YOUR PREROGATIVE, JUST STOP PUSHING THE REST OF US AROUND!!! It's CHRISTMAS, you know, a celebration of Christ's birthday. If you don't believe, then what the fuck are you taking the day off for? After all, it's just another day to you, isn't it?

Anyhoo. I got this one back LAST Christmas but was not a blogger at that time. For some reason I kept it stored in my Inbox, though, so I now give it to you (to take seriously as I know some will or to take as a joke, which it was meant as, to be laughed at in realizing the lengths some people will go to in order not to offend anyone, which is JUST CRAP--IT'S STILL A FREE COUNTRY AND MY OPINION IS MINE, NOT YOURS, AND YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO IGNORE IT JUST AS I HAVE THE RIGHT TO EXPRESS IT IN THE FIRST PLACE!)

Please accept with no obligation, implied or
implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally
conscious, socially responsible, low-stress, non-
addictive,gender-neutral celebration of the
winter solstice holiday, practiced within the
most enjoyable traditions of the religious
persuasion of your choice, or secular practices
of your choice, with respect for the
religious/secular persuasion and/or traditions of
others, or their choice not to practice religious
or secular traditions at all. We also wish you a
fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and
medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset
of the generally accepted calendars of choice of
other cultures whose contributions to society
have helped make America great. Not to imply that
America is necessarily greater than any other
country nor the only America in the Western
Hemisphere. And without regard to the race,
creed, color, age, physical ability, religious
faith or sexual preference of the wishee. By
accepting these greetings you are accepting these
terms. This greeting is subject to clarification
or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no
alteration to the original greeting. It implies
no promise by the wisher to actually implement
any of the wishes for herself or himself or
others, and is void where prohibited by law and
is revocable at the sole discretion of the
wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as
expected within the usual application of good
tidings for a period of one year or until the
issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting,
whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to
replacement of this wish or issuance of a new
wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

A Powerful Message

I had this posted on my MySpace page but for some reason it doesn't show up anymore. Regardless, the message is a powerful one, whether you see it on a blog site, MySpace, or any other time you're just cruising the net. We need to remember that the children really ARE the Future of America (and every other country on the planet), and if we don't teach them right from wrong when they are little, how will they become good adults?

CHILDREN SEE, CHILDREN DO

Future of America

Stone and Sea

White-capped waves race toward the rocky shore,

Trying to escape their mistress, Wind.

Wind desires to take Stone as a lover and Sea as a slave.

Stone embraces Sea and they dance together gracefully.

Sea's delicate spray reaches toward Sun,

And Sun's smile of approval glitters as a rainbow of jewels.

The first dance over, Stone and Sea part slowly,

Touching longingly until the very end.

Jealous Wind, frenzied, strikes out ever more furiously,

Not realizing she only draws the lovers closer.

In trying to create chaos, she creates harmony.

In trying to steal another's lover, she strengthens their bond.

Reunited by Wind, Stone and Sea meet again and again,

Wild and untamed, each always reaching for the other.

Sun becomes angered by Wind's jealousy and rage.

He wants her for his own.

His face darkens as Sun and Wind battle above Stone and Sea.

Finally Wind grows tired and leaves.

Sun smiles once again on Stone and Sea,

And the lovers' touch becomes a gentle caress.

From the recesses of my mind (so yeah, it's COPYRIGHTED, A. Therrien, 2007), dedicated to my husband, my heart, my love.

Another Great Email: The Penny

You always hear the usual stories of pennies on the sidewalk being good luck, gifts from angels, etc. This is the first time I've ever heard this twist on the story. Gives you something to think about.

Several years ago, a friend of mine and her husband were invited to spend the weekend at the husband's employer's home. My friend, Arlene, was nervous about the weekend. The boss was very wealthy, with a fine home on the waterway, and cars costing more than her house
The first day and evening went well, and Arlene was delighted to have this rare glimpse into how the very wealthy live. The husband's employer was quite generous as a host, and took them to the finest restaurants. Arlene knew she would never have the opportunity to indulge in this kind of extravagance again, so was enjoying herself immensely.

As the three of them were about to enter an exclusive restaurant that evening, the boss was walking slightly ahead of Arlene and her husband.
He stopped suddenly, looking down on the pavement for a long, silent moment.

Arlene wondered if she was supposed to pass him. There was nothing on the ground except a single darkened penny that someone had dropped, and a few cigarette butts Still silent, the man reached down and picked up the penny.

He held it up and smiled, then put it in his pocket as if he had found a great treasure. How absurd! What need did this man have for a single penny? Why would he even take the time to stop and pick it up?

Throughout dinner, the entire scene nagged at her. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She casually mentioned that her daughter once had a coin collection, and asked if the penny he had found had been of some value.

A smile crept across the man's face as he reached into his pocket for the penny and held it out for her to see. She had seen many pennies before! What was the point of this?

"Look at it." He said. "Read what it says." She read the words " United States of America "
"No, not that; read further."
"One cent?" "No, keep reading."
"In God we Trust?" "Yes!" "And?"
"And if I trust in God, the name of God is holy, even on a coin. Whenever I find a coin I see that inscription. It is written on every single United States coin, but we never seem to notice it! God drops a message right in front of me telling me to trust Him? Who am I to pass it by? When I see a coin, I pray, I stop to see if my trust IS in God at that moment. I pick the coin up as a response to God; that I do trust in Him. For a short time, at least, I cherish it as if it were gold. I think it is God's way of starting a conversation with me. Lucky for me, God is patient and pennies are plentiful!

When I was out shopping today, I found a penny on the sidewalk. I stopped and picked it up, and realized that I had been worrying and fretting in my mind about things I cannot change. I read the words, "In God We Trust," and had to laugh. Yes, God, I get the message.

It seems that I have been finding an inordinate number of pennies in the last few months, but then, pennies are plentiful! And, God is patient..

The best mathematical equation I have ever seen:
1 cross
+ 3 nails
--------
4 given

Giving Thanks

As I sit here wondering "Just what do I have to be thankful for?" I find my heart breaking and my mind cramping up, thinking too much on something that should come so easily.

I give thanks for being healthy. **KAANK--WRONG ANSWER** That, unfortunately, was taken away from me rather unceremoniously with a diagnosis of MS on top of pernicious anemia and a syringomyelia and myelomalacia of my cervical spinal cord after a long and (emotionally and physically) painful loss of much of my right-sided function. I am thankful that I am still breathing and able to use my mind to figure out new ways to adapt around my so-called "disability." I refuse to give up, refuse to give in, refuse to just lie down and die, and I am thankful for having a strong will to overcome. People like me are afflicted with diseases like this for a reason: We want to find a way to beat it, and we will.

I give thanks for being surrounded by my beautiful family. **KAANK--WRONG ANSWER** That was also taken away from me 72 days ago, quite traumatically and nearly causing the destruction of my soul. I am thankful for having had the experience in the first place, even for a short time, when so many do not. I am also thankful that I have my memories and a handful of pictures to keep those memories alive inside of me. As long as I remember, they are still with me even if they are not by my side, and someday we will be together again, without sorrow or sadness.

I give thanks for being wealthy. **KAANK--WRONG ANSWER** That one was just never in the cards and one I never really put much stock in anyway. Money isn't everything, and I'd give all that I had to have back the things in life that really DO matter. I am thankful that I have a job at all in the current economic climate, one that provides for what I need and an occasional what-I-want item as well as giving me a means to keep my mind sharp and keep me learning on a daily basis. Too many have no job at all or are stuck in one that they hate.

Don't get me wrong: There really ARE things in my life to be thankful for that come to mind very easily and don't stretch my already over-stretched soul to find. First and foremost, I am thankful for my Lord Father and Jesus Christ, rejoicing in my re-discovered faith and Love of God. It's unfortunate that it took a traumatic event to turn me back to The Way, but I guess that's just what it takes for some people. I share that peace and joy and love with YOU, another part of my life that I am thankful for, my friends who have been there for me when I needed you most. You may not know how much you've meant to me and I find words escaping me now (yeah, that happens to me occasionally, I do become speechless from time to time, hard to believe but true) but just know that this gal here DOES appreciate you and all that you've given me.

Thank you again, love and peace to all,
A.

Sorry State of Affairs

When children 8 and 9 years old are alleged to have sexually assaulted an 11-year-old. Too bad we don't have some more back story here.

Interesting

Bit of history in the making (and breaking) in Detroit, Michigan. Yeah, I like history and I love old buildings, and a bit of me cries at the footage of the demolition of the J.L. Hudson Department Store (1998). I know it costs a lot of money to remodel these old buildings, but when we do this, it's history lost. Here are some more photos.

Future of America

Force these fools to work on a farm, and they'll be too damn tired to pull off this kind of stupidity. Maybe if we went back to some of the "old ways," we wouldn't have kids like this doing stupid shit like this. Teach kids morals and values, the consequences of their actions, personal and social responsibility. Reinstitute corporal punishment and put parenting back in the hands of parents where it belongs, instead of in the hands of Big Brother. This makes me sick.

Thoughts from Tim

Tim Allen, funny man:

Electricity can be dangerous. My nephew tried to stick a penny into a plug. Whoever said a penny doesn't go far didn't see him shot across that floor. I told him he was grounded.

I read somewhere that hair grows until you reach 40, then it goes in the opposite direction, into the head and out the ears, nose, and other odd places.

My mom said the only reason men are alive is for lawn care and vehicle maintenance.

Never comment on a woman's rear end. Never use the words "large" or "size" with "rear end." Never. Avoid the area altogether. Trust me.

Scientists have estimated that every person on Earth has some atoms in their body from every other person who ever existed. Yikes. This means I have atoms in my body from Buddha, Jesus, Lincoln, Geronimo, Hitler, Attila the Hun, Lassie, and Marilyn Monroe. At least now I understand my mood swings.

To get a man's attention, just stand in front of the TV and don't move.

Women now have choices. They can be married, not married, have a job, not have a job, be married with children, unmarried with children. Men have the same choice we've always had: Work or prison.

Oh, I'm Cookin Now!

Not only am I unique, I do happen to be useful. . . . . . (Just don't ask me what for, the jury's still out on that one.)


I put Site Meter on here to see who's peeking when I'm naked and following the links around to find some new friends (yes, that's how some of you got me hooked on your sites, either through your own unfortunate click onto my site or through someone else's that eventually led me to you through the wondrous invention called a BLOGROLL--we shall not name names). Some really interesting search strings have led people to My Boat but most of you seem to be fairly regular readers (you poor souls) and don't have to enter "shit her pants" or some of the others that have led people here. I can only speculate that I must have dropped in the Google page rankings since I don't get quite so many entertaining hits lately. Anyhow, I pulled up Site Meter and had to chuckle over this on my stats page:

Average visits per day: 3
Average page views per day: 5

YEAH - ROCK ON!

Good thing I'm not doing this for a living. VERY GOOD THING this is just my personal soapbox to dump some of the junk rattling around in my head, an etherspace junk drawer, if you will. I can't believe people actually VOLUNTARILY come to read this stuff, but THANKS FOR COMING BY TO VISIT! YOU'LL NOT BE FORGOTTEN WHEN I'M RICH AND FAMOUS!

Happy Friggin Birthday, Beyotch

What a way to celebrate my 35th. . . I mean 19TH. . . birthday. Instead of sleeping in, I got up bright and early to go to the dentist to be traumatized with plates and molds for a denture fitting, only to be told I need a left anterior maxillary alveoplasty and frenectomy before I can actually get my REAL teeth, so I've ordered a $740 pair of "interim" dentures, which should last about a year while I save up the other almost $2000 for the real ones. (YES, I have no teeth, thanks to a combination of heredity and MOUNTAIN DEW CONSUMPTION--don't let them fool you that oral hygiene makes all the difference cuz I brushed and flossed every day and still lost them, just like my momma and her momma and her momma before her--sometimes shit just happens, and I wasn't about to give up my Dew knowing they were gonna fall out eventually).

Later, I was talking to the lady at Shared Solutions about insurance benefits for my Copaxone injections and the phone went dead. I tried to grab the other handset before I lost the connection but it was gone. I beeped it and ran through the house looking for it. I could hear it but couldn't find the stupid thing. Eventually I found it under the bed. I should have known, that's where the phone belongs. Of course, the connection was gone. After I called her back and finished the conversation, I called up my old boss I've kept in touch with and letting her know about finally getting my diagnosis and, of course, my dental office trauma. Then THAT handset went dead. I was out of options, since the cell phone was also dead and charging. I don't need to talk on the phone anyhow.

I got a birthday card from my boss at the hospital, a happy birthday message from one of the other ladies in my department (there are 10 of us, including my boss), a happy birthday from the dentist and from the lady at Shared Solutions, and I'm still waiting for MY OWN DEAR HUSBAND to remember that today is something more than the opening day of deer hunting season and to bark at me about making sure I pay the electric bill (I didn't let the damn thing go up to $700 on my own, but he fails to take that into consideration, along with the fact that they didn't send us a bill for months when they changed our meter over then smacked us with a big-assed bill all at once). He'll get around to it, eventually, but I'd really like him to start the MORNING off with it instead of waiting until the end of the day.

Other than that, it's just a normal, regular day.

And what the hell is a frenectomy anyhow, you ask? Go read about it (mine's gonna be a "labial frenectomy," on the top.

I Got Nothin Today

But Becky's put up a good one today. Go check it out. I'd like to take credit for her work, but that would be. . . unethical. . . and not a very nice thing to do to my gal-pal there. Luvz ya, Bec!

Black Days

No words to describe how much mommy misses your sweet faces, infectious laughter, and gentle hearts. The tears never stop because of how much you are loved and missed, because thoughts of you never stop.

Q: How do you go on when the most important thing in your life has been violently carved out of it? A: Minute by minute, day by day, holding on to your most precious memories and knowing that someday you will be whole again, rather than obsessing on "what if" and "what could have been" and holding the picture of an empty future in your mind.

135 Days

It's been 135 days since the doctor's office visit that changed my life, the day I was informed my MRI scan showed brain lesions "consistent with multiple sclerosis." So 135 days, innumerable blood tests, 1 EMG, 1 swallowing function study, 1 lumbar puncture, and 1 visual evoked potential test later, I have finally gotten an "official" diagnosis: Yep, it's MS. Good thing to know it's all in my head and I just need to see a psychiatrist like I was told when my symptoms first came on.

There is no cure for multiple sclerosis. It's been studied for years and although more is known about it than ever before, no one knows what actually causes it--and, IMO, knowing what causes a disease is the first step towards finding a cure. BUT. . . there is treatment available to try to halt the progression of MS. This treatment will not repair the damage already there and will not give me back the use of my right arm and leg, but hopefully I won't lose the use of my left arm and leg and muscles of breathing any time soon.

Soon I will be starting Copaxone therapy. This is a daily injection given to try to prevent new lesions from occurring and to reduce flare-ups, worsening of symptoms or development of new symptoms. So just remember, if you don't come and visit me once in a while, every day when I am giving myself a shot, I will picture YOUR ass on the receiving end instead of my own. :)

Recall of the Week

Are they trying to kill our kids? Who is watching this stuff? If it's not food poisoning us, it's Aquadots or some other crap Big Business is peddling off on an unsuspecting public.

New Version of "Footprints"

Imagine you and the Lord are walking down the road together. For much of the way, the Lord's footprints go along steadily, consistently, rarely varying the pace, but your footprints are a disorganized stream of zig-zags, starts, stops, turnarounds, circles, departures, and returns.

For much of the way it seems to go like this, but gradually your footprints come more in line with the Lord's, soon paralleling his consistently--you and the Lord are walking as true friends!

This seems perfect, but then an interesting thing happens: Your footprints that once etched the sand next to the Lord's are now walking precisely in His steps. Inside His larger footprints are your smaller ones--you and the Lord are becoming one.

This goes on for many miles, but gradually you notice another change. The footprints inside the large footprints seem to grow larger. Eventually they disappear altogether. There is only one set of footprints--they have become one.

This goes on for a long time, but suddenly the second set of footprints is back. This time it seems even worse! Zig-zags all over the place. Stops. Starts. Gashes in the sand. A variable mess of prints. You are amazed and shocked. Your dream ends.

Now you pray:

"Lord, I understand the first scene, with zig-zags and fits. I was a new person and I was just learning. But You walked on through the storm and helped me to learn to walk with you."

"That is correct."

"And when the smaller footprints were inside of Yours, I was actually learning to walk in Your steps, following You very closely."

"Very good. You have understood everything so far."

"When the smaller footprints grew and filled in Yours, I suppose that I was becoming like You in every way."

"Precisely."

"So, Lord, was there a regression or something? The footprints separate, and this time it was worse than the first."

There is a pause as the Lord answers, with a smile in His voice, "You didn't know? It was then that we danced!"

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to weep,
A time to laugh,
A time to mourn, and
A time to dance.
Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

It's Simple Arithmetic. . . Really

I've always sucked at math. I hate math. I hate math so much, I actually spent years of my life in college learning. . . accounting. Makes sense, huh? I was so bad, everyone laughed when they heard me muttering obscenities with every equation. And in accounting, it was never the $3,000,000 mistakes that got me, either. Those are usually pretty easy to find, unless some motherfucker decided to embezzle when they found out a mathtard was keeping the books. No, my problem was the $0.03 mistakes. You got it. THREE LOUSY CENTS. I took a payroll class and during the final exam couldn't get my ledgers to balance, off by 3 frigging cents. At the end of the night I handed it in anyhow, with 3 pennies stuck inside.

The instructor was NOT impressed.

After about 3 years of self-inflicted torture in Math for Business, Algebra, Statistics, Calculus (don't ask my why I took THAT, it wasn't even on the course list and it was an entirely traumatic experience*), Cost and Intermediate Accounting and even Payroll Accounting, I switched majors to Allied Health Administration. Of course, that fucking math followed me around like a bad stank so I groveled and the Dean of my division transferred most of my accounting courses in to cover the credits I needed. I guess she figured I'd been tortured enough seeing as how I had patches of hair missing from my head. I earned that degree; the very first, in fact, since it was a new program and I transferred so much course work in.

You wanted to know that, didn't you, that I might be an administrator at a hospital? At YOUR LOCAL HOSPITAL? (*evil laugh*)

Don't worry. I'm not. Although I stuck it out and finished the program (only racking up $18,000+ in student loans by the end of my tenure as a student) I ended up not working in administration of ANY sort, health care or otherwise. I landed a job for my internship in a gynecologist's office and stuck around there until he decided to go and retire. Then I worked in a cardiology office and started up my own transcription business on the side. In all my spare time, I worked as a cashier at a general store, but the register didn't calculate change and I kept fucking it up so I didn't last long there. Now I just sit in front of my computer 16 to 20 hours a day, 7 days a week, doing transcription. There's not much math involved there, so it's all good.

Anyhow, I had a point here. I've invented a new math, and it's called Math for Rebels. It's entirely pictorial, so there's no number crunching involved and you don't even need a calculator.

Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' 'bout!

*I have a hearing impairment and read lips to help me understand what I "think" I hear. The dude who taught this class SPOKE WITHOUT MOVING HIS LIPS. He had a heavy Tanzanian accent to begin with and it was worse because I couldn't find the shapes on his mouth. He kept talking and talking, and I was reduced to tears by the end of the first class. One of my partners-in-torture found me bawling in the parking lot (smart place to be in Flint at 10 at night) and after I explained what the problem was, helped me get through the class.