I'm back home, tired and hungry and bored (skip the 'oh my' Dorthy) and decided staring at a computer screen for a few minutes should make me tired enough to outvote hunger so I can get more than 3-4 hours of sleep like I seem to be doing way too much lately (most of this week yet again, hooray, um, I mean damn.)
Hopefully I will not be doing any more traveling up north for a while. Of course, I also have been saying that I am gonna quit smoking any day now and that hasn't worked out very well for me yet (it's almost as if those things were addictive, but why would they sell them everywhere if they were?)
And 3 days without alcohol either which is gonna hurt my reputation as a lush if I didn't know that I will fix that Friday or Saturday night (ok, ok, so I am simply a borderline alcoholic, I just don't have the thirst in me to cross over that line, I have tried and I just have too weak of a stomach for it and too high of an alcohol tolerance.)
The silver nail polish I bought the other day (looking for something more grayish) got tested out tonight and is hella uberbitchin'. It's like I have fingertips made of tin foil but with the strength of brittle plastic (I break them often if you missed the sarcasm, lol.)
That wicked cut on my left hand's knuckle lost the scab finally (yeah, I know that is because I scratch at it constantly, lol) and revealed that underneath it was not a pot of gold, or even a pot of good coffee (almost anything other than Starbucks), but had yet another scab lying in wait to see the light of day and bask in the golden rays of the morning sun. Chances are that I am gonna have a nice scar when it heals up in another month or 2. At least it will go good with all the others (gotta love being such a clumsy girl, um, second thought says screw that, being clumsy sucks.)
(Afterthoughts)
Tired wins, zzzzzzzzzz.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Fabicklously Negatastic
That is my mood for today (and also my newest catch phrase I came up with last week.)
Monday, December 15, 2008
Obligatory Christmas Story
SIMPLE WHITE ENVELOPE
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And, as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, 'I wish just one of them could have won,' he said. 'They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.'
Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always. God Bless! -- pass this along to those friends and loved ones who you know are the givers who understand the true meaning of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
(Afterthoughts)
When I read the email that story came in it was pretty much not what I expected to find find scanning thru messages and caught me by surprise (and with some serious tears.) At least now the required touching Xmas story is out of the way, um, go team humbug. ;)
It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas -- oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it -- the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma -- the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way.
Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And, as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, 'I wish just one of them could have won,' he said. 'They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them.'
Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball, and lacrosse. That's when the idea for his present came.
That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always. God Bless! -- pass this along to those friends and loved ones who you know are the givers who understand the true meaning of Thanksgiving and Christmas.
(Afterthoughts)
When I read the email that story came in it was pretty much not what I expected to find find scanning thru messages and caught me by surprise (and with some serious tears.) At least now the required touching Xmas story is out of the way, um, go team humbug. ;)
Saturday, December 13, 2008
In retrospect...
Being half demoness (even though I'm usually a sweetie, blah *gag, gag*) it really isn't too damn surprising that I have a huge well of rage inside of me. But days like this make me realize that I will always have my half demons nature when how easy it is for me to tap into the well of rage and feel the fires that burn deep down inside of me burst into a fireball with barely a thought.
It always reminds me of this quote from the Terry Pratchett book, Monstrous Regiment.
"Good evening, gentlemen!" said the vampire. "Please pay attention. I am a reformed vampire, which is to say, I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee. It would be wrong to say that violent, tearing carnage does not come easily to me. It's not tearing your throats out that doesn't come easily to me. Please don't make it any harder."
(Afterthoughts)
Scary but so damn true. Just replace vampire with half demoness and you got me clocked pretty damn good.
It always reminds me of this quote from the Terry Pratchett book, Monstrous Regiment.
"Good evening, gentlemen!" said the vampire. "Please pay attention. I am a reformed vampire, which is to say, I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee. It would be wrong to say that violent, tearing carnage does not come easily to me. It's not tearing your throats out that doesn't come easily to me. Please don't make it any harder."
(Afterthoughts)
Scary but so damn true. Just replace vampire with half demoness and you got me clocked pretty damn good.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
My favorite Xmas song
With all the Christmas music playing freaking everywhere, I would not have the audacity to force even more of it down your throats if this one wasn't so damn awesome (and funny as hell and a bit sarcastic.) It is one of my all time favorite's for this particular holiday. Enjoy.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Reaper (the TV show, not me)
This is my current favorite show. I bought season 1 of it the other week and started watching it this weekend only to become instantly hooked. So in my general shameless promotion, here is a 5 minute trailer for it. Enjoy.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The street price of needles
Here is the price I had to pay,
For getting blood drawn today,
And I must say,
Bruise go away,
I don't want you to stay,
It's pain makes me gray,
With feelings of dismay,
What I need to feel okay,
Is a pretty bouquet.
(Afterthoughts)
OMG, the demoness side takes a 5 minute ciggy break and the girl goes all silly on us, damn crazy chick.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Santa Foamy
I got just greatest thing ever out of the blue right when I needed something special the most. About 2 weeks ago I was talking with #4's boyfriend about trying to find a Santa hat for my Foamy doll that I set out on my toolbox at work every night. Then 2 days ago I get a text to come over to the car when he picks #4 up after work because he had something he thought I might be interested in. Ended up being a good night to do that because even though it was a slick walk across the parking lot, my car was a polygon of ice from the freezing rain we had been receiving all day. Lo and behold, a tiny little Santa hat was waiting for me. He wasn't sure it would fit very well but tried it on #4's doll (I bought him one and you can see him in all kinds of awesome pics from #4's hike this summer in the slideshow on the side.) So I stuck it on the doll I have at my house for the picture (on top of my dvd's, left of a rack of videogames, right of a physics demo showing center of balance [nerd alert] and the little jar holding my old D&D dice [double nerd alert, lol.]).
(Afterthoughts)
It is sooo adorable, and the guys that walk by kinda roll their eyes but the few women get a huge smile and their eyes light up when they walk by it. And on a more evil note (I'm half demoness, remember) it is turning out to be an interesting field test gaydar because a few guys we suspect of being buried in the closet have shown reactions closer to the women's (I know it's not very accurate but damn it, somedays I'm just bored as hell at work and have to amuse myself somehow.)
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