Ok, when you go to brush your teeth, grab the liquid soap and NOT your tube of toothpaste- then, actually spend 2 minutes with your toothbrush before you figure out your mistake... you really need help.
Shit, that was very bitter. I think I'll pass on the O.J. this morning.
Pollen count is over 5,000 - no rain is coming here EVER. All the other parts of the country it's flooding, but nothing here. I have a headache that nothing will cure. The Masters needs to be over soon.
I'm at a point where I wish I could lick my ass to get the soap taste out of my mouth.
Shit, I really did miss that turnip truck.
Gotta go. I have one potential renter, but the job still gets done - and at MY standards. I won't be home for 36 hours, at least. Then I'm going to sleep so hard, the dead will be envious.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
My Evil Twin has Arrived
... shit, and it's going to be a one-night battle between Gabriel and Azrael.
This so sucks; timing, work, health, the works... what the fuck did I get myself into? I'm choking. Hormones, Masters, blah, blah ---- oh and some dumb mother assmunch dumped another cat on my door step with the balls the size of Texas. So, it doesn't cost much to get him neutered, it's just another pain-in-the-ass chore that needs to get done.
Speaking of "neutered", I'm going to get that pedophile's computer cleaned off next month and see what monkey-boy was really doing. Then I might change my plans; instead of going to Los Roques - maybe Grand Caymen would be a better idea - snicker, snicker, perhaps Joe can give me directions.
Sadly, I think I have to make sure my passport is all-good since apparently the new law says you need a passport to go from St. Thomas to Miami now. ---For fuck sake, I remember a time I brought a killer brick of hash from A-dam back home and nobody thought twice- sorry Mummy, but confessions will come faster the older I get.
I have to remind myself that even though I thought this a crap day, I had my professional evaluation today and to my surprise, I didn't get fired. Yup, as a matter-of-fact, I got the 4 out ot 4. What that means with money, who gives a shit? I'll piss it away like I did this Master's gamble. What really throws me though is that they really do think I'm working. Maybe I should consider it "stress-pay".
It's 5 days before the tournie and I don't have a renter. What the hell was I thinking?
Oh, and I found out that the meds the Doc put me on cause me to lose potassium like nobody's business. This can only mean charlie's in the future - especially at night when the potassium levels are at their lowest - and just about the time you happen to be asleep with two cats on you - even if one is on Prozac and the other on Valium. Trust ME ---- they still jump at the same velocity. Somebody call NASA.
Night, night, love to all. A sad song just came on and I am hoping I can snooze without "Pan" dreams or "Masters" nightmares.
This so sucks; timing, work, health, the works... what the fuck did I get myself into? I'm choking. Hormones, Masters, blah, blah ---- oh and some dumb mother assmunch dumped another cat on my door step with the balls the size of Texas. So, it doesn't cost much to get him neutered, it's just another pain-in-the-ass chore that needs to get done.
Speaking of "neutered", I'm going to get that pedophile's computer cleaned off next month and see what monkey-boy was really doing. Then I might change my plans; instead of going to Los Roques - maybe Grand Caymen would be a better idea - snicker, snicker, perhaps Joe can give me directions.
Sadly, I think I have to make sure my passport is all-good since apparently the new law says you need a passport to go from St. Thomas to Miami now. ---For fuck sake, I remember a time I brought a killer brick of hash from A-dam back home and nobody thought twice- sorry Mummy, but confessions will come faster the older I get.
I have to remind myself that even though I thought this a crap day, I had my professional evaluation today and to my surprise, I didn't get fired. Yup, as a matter-of-fact, I got the 4 out ot 4. What that means with money, who gives a shit? I'll piss it away like I did this Master's gamble. What really throws me though is that they really do think I'm working. Maybe I should consider it "stress-pay".
It's 5 days before the tournie and I don't have a renter. What the hell was I thinking?
Oh, and I found out that the meds the Doc put me on cause me to lose potassium like nobody's business. This can only mean charlie's in the future - especially at night when the potassium levels are at their lowest - and just about the time you happen to be asleep with two cats on you - even if one is on Prozac and the other on Valium. Trust ME ---- they still jump at the same velocity. Somebody call NASA.
Night, night, love to all. A sad song just came on and I am hoping I can snooze without "Pan" dreams or "Masters" nightmares.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
My Friday - Yup, Yet Another Augusta Trip
First, I must say, I am no techie (or however you spell that). It's a beautiful Spring day and I'm am inside (albeit windows open with breeze), fighting with a piece of equipment smaller than my hand. This fucking digital camera was on it's way to flush-ville, until I - yuup, ME - figured out what I was doing wrong.
Christ, this is so fucking stressful and I do NOT like gambling. I have to get these new pictures to the folks that wrote me on Thursday. For fuck sake, my email wasn't THAT depressing, but people came out of the woodwork on Thursday. The only problem is most of the only want it for Sat/Sun or Thur/Sat or Wed/Friday. What happened to people who came for the entire tournie? I've got to find out how they sell tickets now. We used to just get them and pass them around. I always wanted to leave early on Sunday so I could watch the final round on TV, because it's insane. So, I'd pass my badge off to whomever was crazy (I was very popular at 2 in the afternoon on Sunday - ah, the Salad days). Now, I hear they command $5-6K for a badge. I'm not sure if that's a day or the week? Oh, and nobody seems to want to go to the Par 3 anymore, and THAT, my friends, is the second best day next to Saturday. Once the tournament started, we were expected to behave, but you could always have a good time at Par 3.
Shit, I'm getting so old now that I'm blogging stories of shit I did 25 years ago. Oh, and my Daddy told me yesterday that I'm "no spring chicken". Fuck - thanks, bunches Daddy.
Good visit, though, even though another one is scheduled for Friday, even if I don't get it rented. I don't want to leave a job unfinished regardless. Besides, he's beginning to understand the comfort level you can have in a home that is warm and he's willing to put some effort into it now. Shit, what a stubborn one he can be. I think he likes the fact that his kitchen appliances aren't fire hazards anymore. I should be ashamed for letting it get that bad, but that would be one of those Catholic nuisances I don't have time for right now.
I might actually go lay in a chair in the yard and take a nap once I get these emails sent. I've been losing potassium, thanks to my meds, which is why I'm getting the mean as charlies at 3 in the morning. I just found that apriocots and tomatoes put bananas to shame with their potassium levels, and PowerAid just put out a low sugar energy drink with 35mg. Of course FDA suggests 35g, per day, but I too tired to do that math.
Anyway, here is what I sent to Daddy last night, which should contain some other inform that I didn't feel like repeating. Some of it maybe redundant to the two of you who read my blog. The "new" photos suck so badly, but I'm not a camera or techie.
As I said, one more trip, regardless of a renter so wish me luck. I really wanted to go to Florida this week, but maybe when I get back from California, I can go.
Hey Daddy,
Just wanted you to know we made it home fine. The sun was a bit difficult for the first hour, but it was very pretty as it set over Lake Ocone.
Here's the site for that movie I was telling you about. I forgot to mention how haunting the music is so turn up the sound.
You will need to go to Enter the Labyrinth", then "Video" trailer. Cool website, also.
http://www.panslabyrinth.com/
Also, I looked at your print out of the cruise. What a great deal that seems to be! Do you get off at all ports of call or do you have specific ones you choose? I've been to Calvaccheia (sp). Kim and I boarded a ship we thought was going to Corsica, but it turned out to be a ship to Sardinia. Interesting surprise once we realized they were speaking Italian, not French and since neither of us spoke Italian... a long, funny story.
Anyway, as a reminder, the windows downstairs are open and will close. Also, I think the ceiling fan in the upstairs bedroom is on reverse (winter mode), you may want to check and see.
We'll call this weekend. Don't forget about "Planet Earth" on Sunday night at 8 AM. You can go to
http://dsc.discovery.com/ (and click on the first video) or go to
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/
and scroll down to "New View of the Animal Kingdom". That's where you can see some of the amazing clips.
Talk to you soon. Thank you for everything. If you have any questions with Ms. Loretta and need my input, just call.
Love you,
me
So here are some of the newer photos I'm going to send out. Flat rate, no negotiating, I'm too fucking tired. Again, if you didn't see his house before all this started, you just couldn't appreciate the difference.
Christ, this is so fucking stressful and I do NOT like gambling. I have to get these new pictures to the folks that wrote me on Thursday. For fuck sake, my email wasn't THAT depressing, but people came out of the woodwork on Thursday. The only problem is most of the only want it for Sat/Sun or Thur/Sat or Wed/Friday. What happened to people who came for the entire tournie? I've got to find out how they sell tickets now. We used to just get them and pass them around. I always wanted to leave early on Sunday so I could watch the final round on TV, because it's insane. So, I'd pass my badge off to whomever was crazy (I was very popular at 2 in the afternoon on Sunday - ah, the Salad days). Now, I hear they command $5-6K for a badge. I'm not sure if that's a day or the week? Oh, and nobody seems to want to go to the Par 3 anymore, and THAT, my friends, is the second best day next to Saturday. Once the tournament started, we were expected to behave, but you could always have a good time at Par 3.
Shit, I'm getting so old now that I'm blogging stories of shit I did 25 years ago. Oh, and my Daddy told me yesterday that I'm "no spring chicken". Fuck - thanks, bunches Daddy.
Good visit, though, even though another one is scheduled for Friday, even if I don't get it rented. I don't want to leave a job unfinished regardless. Besides, he's beginning to understand the comfort level you can have in a home that is warm and he's willing to put some effort into it now. Shit, what a stubborn one he can be. I think he likes the fact that his kitchen appliances aren't fire hazards anymore. I should be ashamed for letting it get that bad, but that would be one of those Catholic nuisances I don't have time for right now.
I might actually go lay in a chair in the yard and take a nap once I get these emails sent. I've been losing potassium, thanks to my meds, which is why I'm getting the mean as charlies at 3 in the morning. I just found that apriocots and tomatoes put bananas to shame with their potassium levels, and PowerAid just put out a low sugar energy drink with 35mg. Of course FDA suggests 35g, per day, but I too tired to do that math.
Anyway, here is what I sent to Daddy last night, which should contain some other inform that I didn't feel like repeating. Some of it maybe redundant to the two of you who read my blog. The "new" photos suck so badly, but I'm not a camera or techie.
As I said, one more trip, regardless of a renter so wish me luck. I really wanted to go to Florida this week, but maybe when I get back from California, I can go.
Hey Daddy,
Just wanted you to know we made it home fine. The sun was a bit difficult for the first hour, but it was very pretty as it set over Lake Ocone.
Here's the site for that movie I was telling you about. I forgot to mention how haunting the music is so turn up the sound.
You will need to go to Enter the Labyrinth", then "Video" trailer. Cool website, also.
http://www.panslabyrinth.com/
Also, I looked at your print out of the cruise. What a great deal that seems to be! Do you get off at all ports of call or do you have specific ones you choose? I've been to Calvaccheia (sp). Kim and I boarded a ship we thought was going to Corsica, but it turned out to be a ship to Sardinia. Interesting surprise once we realized they were speaking Italian, not French and since neither of us spoke Italian... a long, funny story.
Anyway, as a reminder, the windows downstairs are open and will close. Also, I think the ceiling fan in the upstairs bedroom is on reverse (winter mode), you may want to check and see.
We'll call this weekend. Don't forget about "Planet Earth" on Sunday night at 8 AM. You can go to
http://dsc.discovery.com/ (and click on the first video) or go to
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/
and scroll down to "New View of the Animal Kingdom". That's where you can see some of the amazing clips.
Talk to you soon. Thank you for everything. If you have any questions with Ms. Loretta and need my input, just call.
Love you,
me
So here are some of the newer photos I'm going to send out. Flat rate, no negotiating, I'm too fucking tired. Again, if you didn't see his house before all this started, you just couldn't appreciate the difference.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
It's Gone
yeah, that would be my noodle.
It's 4 AM. I woke up to the worst charlie cramp on the planet. I didn't think my old ass would have to worry about this type of issue, but I was completely mistaken. Also, when you shoot out of bed, jumping around like Bozo the Clown at 3:45, somehow cats interpret that as "breakfast time". Don't ask me the correlation, I'm not Stephen Hawkins.
Well, I finally reduced myself to the "whooos-me, pity" level when it comes to renting the house. I cannot tell you the pathetic story I put on the web about renting the house, but it seems to have worked - knock on wood. At this point, I'm ready to shoot myself in the foot --- oh, I forgot, I already did that when I chose to take on this little endevour. Oh well, when both feet are in the water, you better know how to tread.
What's that joke - oh... a SCUBA diver is swimming around the ocean at 20 meters and sees another diver in the water with no SCUBA gear. Amazed, the SCUBA guy dives another 10 meters only to see the second diver next to him. Another 10 meters down, the SCUBA writes on a note pad, "How the hell are you down here so deep without gear".
The second diver writes back, "I'm drowning, you asshole".
HMMMMMMM, why does this sound so apropros?
I have to go to Augusta tomorrow morning. I cannot tell you how not-excited I am about this. That being said, Daddy is very happy about the improvements to his house and that should be enough to keep me floating for another year. In reality, it's not about the money, it was about accomplishing a goal that I may have set too high. But, tarot says today:
"The Earth moves between impetuous Mars and taskmaster Saturn as the tension builds between wanting to speed up and needing to slow down. Recently, we have driven ourselves harder and faster, only to bump into walls. When we tried to retreat, however, circumstances pulled us back into the game. Today, we reach a critical mass and either push through or fall back. And with the Moon in stubborn Taurus, we may unsuccessfully attempt to just hold still."
Not to sound too pagen, but I really did feel an energy pull during the Spring Equinox the other evening. Now I just have to deal with green... everything trees, plants, pollen, everything, so I should be bitching about that soon enough.
The good news? The prozac AmberGrace is on is a bitch to give her because she's not quite as stupid as I thought. She knows I spike her breakfast with it and she refuses to eat it. That means, well, you get the straight shot and considering I have a larger brain, walk upright on two legs and I'm at the top of the food chain, I will win. No contest, no question. The valium is not working with the other cats, so I guess I'll take it --- just kidding. I'm depressed enough with out the use of pharmaceuticals.
Oh, and it appears as though I did not kill Emmett after all. That dog/cat food recall did not include any of the food I feed my animals. God just really wanted him even more than I did, but it still stings to think about my Little Man- maybe that's the point?
Oh, and I attempted to make a friend some brownies, but they landed in the bottom of my oven. What the hell is the matter with me? For fuck sake - I know how to bake godam brownies. Yesterday was not my day, but my fish, Bubba, still loves me.
God, please help me make today a better bet.
It's 4 AM. I woke up to the worst charlie cramp on the planet. I didn't think my old ass would have to worry about this type of issue, but I was completely mistaken. Also, when you shoot out of bed, jumping around like Bozo the Clown at 3:45, somehow cats interpret that as "breakfast time". Don't ask me the correlation, I'm not Stephen Hawkins.
Well, I finally reduced myself to the "whooos-me, pity" level when it comes to renting the house. I cannot tell you the pathetic story I put on the web about renting the house, but it seems to have worked - knock on wood. At this point, I'm ready to shoot myself in the foot --- oh, I forgot, I already did that when I chose to take on this little endevour. Oh well, when both feet are in the water, you better know how to tread.
What's that joke - oh... a SCUBA diver is swimming around the ocean at 20 meters and sees another diver in the water with no SCUBA gear. Amazed, the SCUBA guy dives another 10 meters only to see the second diver next to him. Another 10 meters down, the SCUBA writes on a note pad, "How the hell are you down here so deep without gear".
The second diver writes back, "I'm drowning, you asshole".
HMMMMMMM, why does this sound so apropros?
I have to go to Augusta tomorrow morning. I cannot tell you how not-excited I am about this. That being said, Daddy is very happy about the improvements to his house and that should be enough to keep me floating for another year. In reality, it's not about the money, it was about accomplishing a goal that I may have set too high. But, tarot says today:
"The Earth moves between impetuous Mars and taskmaster Saturn as the tension builds between wanting to speed up and needing to slow down. Recently, we have driven ourselves harder and faster, only to bump into walls. When we tried to retreat, however, circumstances pulled us back into the game. Today, we reach a critical mass and either push through or fall back. And with the Moon in stubborn Taurus, we may unsuccessfully attempt to just hold still."
Not to sound too pagen, but I really did feel an energy pull during the Spring Equinox the other evening. Now I just have to deal with green... everything trees, plants, pollen, everything, so I should be bitching about that soon enough.
The good news? The prozac AmberGrace is on is a bitch to give her because she's not quite as stupid as I thought. She knows I spike her breakfast with it and she refuses to eat it. That means, well, you get the straight shot and considering I have a larger brain, walk upright on two legs and I'm at the top of the food chain, I will win. No contest, no question. The valium is not working with the other cats, so I guess I'll take it --- just kidding. I'm depressed enough with out the use of pharmaceuticals.
Oh, and it appears as though I did not kill Emmett after all. That dog/cat food recall did not include any of the food I feed my animals. God just really wanted him even more than I did, but it still stings to think about my Little Man- maybe that's the point?
Oh, and I attempted to make a friend some brownies, but they landed in the bottom of my oven. What the hell is the matter with me? For fuck sake - I know how to bake godam brownies. Yesterday was not my day, but my fish, Bubba, still loves me.
God, please help me make today a better bet.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Cracking
Or at least I think I am. It's either that or my mental energy has overcome my physical energy. In other words, I have been exerting more energy to my imagination and wishfullness, but not enough to getting my ass off the computer and go organize that once comffy (how the fuck do you spell that?) place in my basement. So much shit has been moved around and back and around from Florida to Atlanta to Augusta to Atlanta to Augusta.
I tried to chill in a bath last night - the weather is nice and it helps whatever shit muscles I have left. So, for S&Gs, I open the Williams-Somoma "HOME" catalog. This is good stuff, but I have to say, I much prefer my bohemian collection of dumpster items - I shit you not.
There was a table in the catalog that looked exactly like the one we dragged out of Florida, but this one was finished and had brass accents. OK - When I'm 60, I might do that but in the meantime, I just like the one I have with the scratches and nicks. I've always believed in the "character" of the piece and MAN this table can tell a long story.
I was up until 2ish last night because I kept thinking of stuff to do on Daddy's house. I have another renter who happens to be from Atlanta and his brother is coming from London, plus their partners. We've had some good e-talks and since I posted a "only mature party people" item in my add, he's assured me that they are only into Master's for G-O-L-F and BBQ (and the man knows how to use proper English!). Sadly, he wrote last night and said he found another house about a mile closer, but seemed really greatful for my BBQ place suggestions. Then I get two more ads, one from StubHub?? Don't ask me, but as I understand it, they are a ticket broker. The other from a guy saying his kid has leukemia and he's part of the March of Dimes group looking to take kids to the Masters. Why does my cynical self have a problem with this one? Let me count the ways.
First, this could be total horseshit and these are a group of college kids looking for all night keggers in Daddy's backyard.
Second, if this does turn out to be a real charity case, am I supposed to give them a break on the price and cut into my projected profit? Shit, where did that guilt-feeling coming from all of a sudden --- oh yeah, Catholic school. It will pass.
OK, well, I just wrote back the chemo-kid's dad. I guess I can call it that because I just went through hell with my Mum going through chemo and she's not eleven years old. I didn't rip them off, but since Make-a-Wish is paying for it and the kid is hosted by Aaron Baddeley, maybe this will allow me to break even. Holy shit, what a stress this has become.
I guess we'll see if I made the right decision when I get to hell.
There is so much shit to do at Daddy's, I'm getting nervous. I wish to hell I could get ahold of some of the folks I've been trying to call all week, but nobody is calling me back.
I think I might steal one of the cat's Prozac pills. Just kidding - I'd only take the Valium.
On another note, I'm going to California in three weeks to VACATION. What the fuck is that? I don't know, but I do know that if I work it out, Tech will pay for the whole thing and the best part ---- it's all legal. "But what will you do", I was asked. Hmmmmm, let me think? Palo Alto-Sheraton (king suite) hotel-pool-spa-shopping-eating-reading ... just what will I do??? Sadly, I'm thinking of dragging a laptop out there and working (a little) just so I don't have to burn my leave. Besides, I can handle my job if I'm sitting by a pool with a Mai Tai in one hand and the Pacific Ocean a 30 minute drive away.
Shit, I have so much to do, I think I'm having an anxiety attack.
I tried to chill in a bath last night - the weather is nice and it helps whatever shit muscles I have left. So, for S&Gs, I open the Williams-Somoma "HOME" catalog. This is good stuff, but I have to say, I much prefer my bohemian collection of dumpster items - I shit you not.
There was a table in the catalog that looked exactly like the one we dragged out of Florida, but this one was finished and had brass accents. OK - When I'm 60, I might do that but in the meantime, I just like the one I have with the scratches and nicks. I've always believed in the "character" of the piece and MAN this table can tell a long story.
I was up until 2ish last night because I kept thinking of stuff to do on Daddy's house. I have another renter who happens to be from Atlanta and his brother is coming from London, plus their partners. We've had some good e-talks and since I posted a "only mature party people" item in my add, he's assured me that they are only into Master's for G-O-L-F and BBQ (and the man knows how to use proper English!). Sadly, he wrote last night and said he found another house about a mile closer, but seemed really greatful for my BBQ place suggestions. Then I get two more ads, one from StubHub?? Don't ask me, but as I understand it, they are a ticket broker. The other from a guy saying his kid has leukemia and he's part of the March of Dimes group looking to take kids to the Masters. Why does my cynical self have a problem with this one? Let me count the ways.
First, this could be total horseshit and these are a group of college kids looking for all night keggers in Daddy's backyard.
Second, if this does turn out to be a real charity case, am I supposed to give them a break on the price and cut into my projected profit? Shit, where did that guilt-feeling coming from all of a sudden --- oh yeah, Catholic school. It will pass.
OK, well, I just wrote back the chemo-kid's dad. I guess I can call it that because I just went through hell with my Mum going through chemo and she's not eleven years old. I didn't rip them off, but since Make-a-Wish is paying for it and the kid is hosted by Aaron Baddeley, maybe this will allow me to break even. Holy shit, what a stress this has become.
I guess we'll see if I made the right decision when I get to hell.
There is so much shit to do at Daddy's, I'm getting nervous. I wish to hell I could get ahold of some of the folks I've been trying to call all week, but nobody is calling me back.
I think I might steal one of the cat's Prozac pills. Just kidding - I'd only take the Valium.
On another note, I'm going to California in three weeks to VACATION. What the fuck is that? I don't know, but I do know that if I work it out, Tech will pay for the whole thing and the best part ---- it's all legal. "But what will you do", I was asked. Hmmmmm, let me think? Palo Alto-Sheraton (king suite) hotel-pool-spa-shopping-eating-reading ... just what will I do??? Sadly, I'm thinking of dragging a laptop out there and working (a little) just so I don't have to burn my leave. Besides, I can handle my job if I'm sitting by a pool with a Mai Tai in one hand and the Pacific Ocean a 30 minute drive away.
Shit, I have so much to do, I think I'm having an anxiety attack.
Friday, March 09, 2007
A Very Sad Day
Well, it looks as though a seventh baseball player has just died from his injuries in last week's bus crash on I-75. This accident really sucker-punched me. Maybe it's because these were just boys (and some adults). Maybe it's because they were on their way to Spring Break and a ball tournament. Maybe it's because if you knew the area and saw the photos, it would destroy your idea of what is physically possible in the world today. Maybe it's because these folks came from an exceptionally religious university and it makes the irony and my beloved Job -once again- questionable on mystical levels. Kinda like when that wacko shot up all those Amish children. What the hell?
My heart goes out to the parents of these boys and the children of the bus driver and his wife. I don't know how I would survive a loss like this, but I'm just a puss.
I do have one beef, though. If the NTSB and the Georgia DOT don't do something about that fucking ramp, I'll nuke it. I've driven it a thousand times and I still can get confused. A tourist, in the dark, probably half asleep - it's no wonder. I mean, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to know the design of that ramp is total shit. I would imagine the same asshole that designed the I-20 ramp at the Connector designed this wonder of road travel.
My mentor, the late, great Marchant, must be rolling in his grave.
My heart goes out to the parents of these boys and the children of the bus driver and his wife. I don't know how I would survive a loss like this, but I'm just a puss.
I do have one beef, though. If the NTSB and the Georgia DOT don't do something about that fucking ramp, I'll nuke it. I've driven it a thousand times and I still can get confused. A tourist, in the dark, probably half asleep - it's no wonder. I mean, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to know the design of that ramp is total shit. I would imagine the same asshole that designed the I-20 ramp at the Connector designed this wonder of road travel.
My mentor, the late, great Marchant, must be rolling in his grave.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Things are Looking UP
You know the day will be a good one when your tarot tells you:
"Get out your phone book and schedule yourself a social engagement or two, because charming Venus is in your 11th House of Friends. You will be happy to be with others, for this isn't a day to idly sit by and watch someone else have all the fun. Jump into the nearest gathering and start enjoying yourself as soon as you can. If nothing exciting is happening, then create the party yourself."
Shit, create a party for myself? Every day is a party for self. Like my mantra always declares - me me me me me.
Actually, I've been so godamn tired since the last Augusta trip, I really don't feel like partying. Just sleep. I wish I had a hammock because the weather is lovely and I hate napping inside. I just keep thinking about that little sailboat.
Seems as though personal, local connections work very well.
My Augusta-best-friend, "Dolly-Nicky-for-your-Dicky" (actually, she'll be 39 in June so I really shouldn't call her that anymore) just told me where to go for local friends for help. Sadly, she recommended me to a lady that just divorced another high school friend. HMMMMM, me thinks small towns are a little scary and Irish Catholics DO get divorced.
I am so tired of thinking of Augusta. I'm so tired of thinking of South Florida. However, my best friend has just told me that she is due (i.e., spittin' out a critter) on St. Patrick's Day, which is when I plan to be in-town again. I guess if that winds up being the day, I'll be at St. Joe's with her and LORD a lesson will be learned by yours-truly. DO NOT try to tell M-EEEE about karma!
For FUCK sake, just a non-drama moment might actually feel pretty good right now. When I get to Florida at the end of March, MY ASS WILL SNOOZE FOR A WEEK!!
Speaking of snoozing, it looks like AmberGrace and the Prozac are making friends. Maybe I should say that the Prozac and MEEEEEEE are making friends. Kitty is getting sleeeeeeepy - as am I.
Ciao
"Get out your phone book and schedule yourself a social engagement or two, because charming Venus is in your 11th House of Friends. You will be happy to be with others, for this isn't a day to idly sit by and watch someone else have all the fun. Jump into the nearest gathering and start enjoying yourself as soon as you can. If nothing exciting is happening, then create the party yourself."
Shit, create a party for myself? Every day is a party for self. Like my mantra always declares - me me me me me.
Actually, I've been so godamn tired since the last Augusta trip, I really don't feel like partying. Just sleep. I wish I had a hammock because the weather is lovely and I hate napping inside. I just keep thinking about that little sailboat.
Seems as though personal, local connections work very well.
My Augusta-best-friend, "Dolly-Nicky-for-your-Dicky" (actually, she'll be 39 in June so I really shouldn't call her that anymore) just told me where to go for local friends for help. Sadly, she recommended me to a lady that just divorced another high school friend. HMMMMM, me thinks small towns are a little scary and Irish Catholics DO get divorced.
I am so tired of thinking of Augusta. I'm so tired of thinking of South Florida. However, my best friend has just told me that she is due (i.e., spittin' out a critter) on St. Patrick's Day, which is when I plan to be in-town again. I guess if that winds up being the day, I'll be at St. Joe's with her and LORD a lesson will be learned by yours-truly. DO NOT try to tell M-EEEE about karma!
For FUCK sake, just a non-drama moment might actually feel pretty good right now. When I get to Florida at the end of March, MY ASS WILL SNOOZE FOR A WEEK!!
Speaking of snoozing, it looks like AmberGrace and the Prozac are making friends. Maybe I should say that the Prozac and MEEEEEEE are making friends. Kitty is getting sleeeeeeepy - as am I.
Ciao
Yet Another Trip
but hopefully I can consolidate the last two Augusta trips. Man, I've hated that drive for 30 years and I've been back more times in the past two months than -sadly- in 10 years.
Only if you saw Daddy's house before, can you appreciate the fact that the tomb now looks like a home. I forgot to get the dining room, though and that turned out to be really nice - well, nice - it will take some more detail to get it to look "really" anything.
The best part is that patio furniture. So you can only spend 5 months a year outside in Augusta, but the backyard has always had so much party potential and ironically, as soon as I get the furniture set up, I'm too godamn tired to party.
All the other stuff was done using 'borrowed' pieces (all from our buddy pedophile's collection) and the one piece that really gnaws at my craw is that floral couch. Blah. Oh and speaking of some of his other shit, I have someone who is going to hack into his harddrive and see what's on that bad bitch. This will be like the discovery of Titantic. I'm almost afraid ---- shiver.
Anyway, the furniture part is finished, now the only real "construction stuff" is to burn those screen doors, replace the front door (it's a Zen thing for me), and oh yeah, teach that piece of shit oven who the boss really is!!! Fucker. It will be in scrap metal before the end of the month.
Daddy IM'd me and said he was "speechless" and the house looked "awesome". He still thinks we're doing this just for him --- only good things can come of that, right? Just kidding. It looks like -if I'm lucky - we break even, but I guess there's a small part of me that pittied anyone who went to Daddy's house and suffered the dark, dusty house. Maybe this will help him feel more at home.
Well, enough. If you know me, my quirky Daddy and his cave, you know this took an act of Gabriel to try to put this together-- but hell, I didn't get bored!
Now I get to work on my house again -- WHHHHHEEEEEE!
Only if you saw Daddy's house before, can you appreciate the fact that the tomb now looks like a home. I forgot to get the dining room, though and that turned out to be really nice - well, nice - it will take some more detail to get it to look "really" anything.
The best part is that patio furniture. So you can only spend 5 months a year outside in Augusta, but the backyard has always had so much party potential and ironically, as soon as I get the furniture set up, I'm too godamn tired to party.
All the other stuff was done using 'borrowed' pieces (all from our buddy pedophile's collection) and the one piece that really gnaws at my craw is that floral couch. Blah. Oh and speaking of some of his other shit, I have someone who is going to hack into his harddrive and see what's on that bad bitch. This will be like the discovery of Titantic. I'm almost afraid ---- shiver.
Anyway, the furniture part is finished, now the only real "construction stuff" is to burn those screen doors, replace the front door (it's a Zen thing for me), and oh yeah, teach that piece of shit oven who the boss really is!!! Fucker. It will be in scrap metal before the end of the month.
Daddy IM'd me and said he was "speechless" and the house looked "awesome". He still thinks we're doing this just for him --- only good things can come of that, right? Just kidding. It looks like -if I'm lucky - we break even, but I guess there's a small part of me that pittied anyone who went to Daddy's house and suffered the dark, dusty house. Maybe this will help him feel more at home.
Well, enough. If you know me, my quirky Daddy and his cave, you know this took an act of Gabriel to try to put this together-- but hell, I didn't get bored!
Now I get to work on my house again -- WHHHHHEEEEEE!
Monday, March 05, 2007
Did I Say ONE More Augusta Trip?
How fucking wrong can you be? I'll be lucky if I don't have to make 2 more runs, just as long as I don't have to move any more furniture.
Two more trips, once to replace the oven and once to do get the landscapers in. The oven was something I was tooling with, but since the pizza and I had a disagrement and the pizza won - yep, the oven is a goner. The rangetop has to go also. If I AM afraid of cooking in a kitchen - especially when you walk in and find the smoke detectors sitting on the counter next to the dead batteries - well, let's just say that was NOT my turnip truck.
Note to self - don't let your neurotic cat sit on your lap whilst you try to write. Something about Prozac makes her particularly licky and her breath smells akin to her asshole. Did I mention that my life rules!
Anyway, this trip to Augusta was interesting.
Pictures will come as soon as my half-dead ass has a nap and can get my noodle working again.
I have a lady in Tennessee who is interested in renting. Of course, I'm trying to break even with the cost, but after spending 2 nights at Daddy's house, shit - in all fairness I should give the house away. There's definately something to be said about preventive maintenance. It could be worse, though, but the oven issue has got me thinking again.
I told her that I can give her the best times to go, the best routes to go (you can even walk on a good day) and all the insider things - that should go a long way considering I remember the "true" tourists that used to come and they were completely clueless. We used to joke about them - now I'm inviting them into my house. Shit, I'm getting old.
Time for a nap. It's actually cold and the down comforter looks inviting.
Alas, wish me luck on this little project. It has kept me sane enough to function since December.
Two more trips, once to replace the oven and once to do get the landscapers in. The oven was something I was tooling with, but since the pizza and I had a disagrement and the pizza won - yep, the oven is a goner. The rangetop has to go also. If I AM afraid of cooking in a kitchen - especially when you walk in and find the smoke detectors sitting on the counter next to the dead batteries - well, let's just say that was NOT my turnip truck.
Note to self - don't let your neurotic cat sit on your lap whilst you try to write. Something about Prozac makes her particularly licky and her breath smells akin to her asshole. Did I mention that my life rules!
Anyway, this trip to Augusta was interesting.
Pictures will come as soon as my half-dead ass has a nap and can get my noodle working again.
I have a lady in Tennessee who is interested in renting. Of course, I'm trying to break even with the cost, but after spending 2 nights at Daddy's house, shit - in all fairness I should give the house away. There's definately something to be said about preventive maintenance. It could be worse, though, but the oven issue has got me thinking again.
I told her that I can give her the best times to go, the best routes to go (you can even walk on a good day) and all the insider things - that should go a long way considering I remember the "true" tourists that used to come and they were completely clueless. We used to joke about them - now I'm inviting them into my house. Shit, I'm getting old.
Time for a nap. It's actually cold and the down comforter looks inviting.
Alas, wish me luck on this little project. It has kept me sane enough to function since December.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
A Prozac Nation
No, I don't mean the movie.
Acutally, I mean
my fucking cat.
Yessirreeeee! I have to go to the doctor and pick up a prescription for Prozac. Sadly, this doctor is a vet and the Prozac is for AmberGrace. On how many levels does this suck? Let me count the ways...
First, she has no physiological illness, "physically, she's the healthiest cat I've ever seen", so says the Doc.
Second, I'm not sure I can handle a mental illness in a fucking cat. How does this happen?
Third, apparently they will hand out Prozac like vitamins if it's for a cat, but if I go to the doctor, I have to feign death to get an aspirin.
Lastly, why me, God? Kiss my ass, Job.
On another note, two girls in sunglasses robbed a grocery bank in Cobb County Monday. Now they have become the Bonny and well, Bonny of Georgia. I have to ask, though, if these girls didn't have on a disguise, didn't try to run out of the bank and the godamn GBI still can't find them, it doesn't make them brilliant - it really makes the GBI look like total fucking idiots. Just my opinion.
Oh and speaking of idiots, the Georgia Legislature was set to vote on changing the no booze on Sunday law. Ain't it funny that Georgia is one of three states (out of 50) where you cannot by alcohol on a Sunday. No surprise here, folks. The bill stalled thanks to the snake-handling, retarded, Republican sub-committee (OK, so maybe they don't actually handle snakes).
Time to go lay back down until traffic and the storms die. Actually, there are raspberries and cream waiting for breakfast. That should help ride me through those monster nightmares about "Pan's Labyrinth". All I can dream about is straight razors and eating forbidden grapes. Maybe I should revisit Job.
Acutally, I mean
my fucking cat.
Yessirreeeee! I have to go to the doctor and pick up a prescription for Prozac. Sadly, this doctor is a vet and the Prozac is for AmberGrace. On how many levels does this suck? Let me count the ways...
First, she has no physiological illness, "physically, she's the healthiest cat I've ever seen", so says the Doc.
Second, I'm not sure I can handle a mental illness in a fucking cat. How does this happen?
Third, apparently they will hand out Prozac like vitamins if it's for a cat, but if I go to the doctor, I have to feign death to get an aspirin.
Lastly, why me, God? Kiss my ass, Job.
On another note, two girls in sunglasses robbed a grocery bank in Cobb County Monday. Now they have become the Bonny and well, Bonny of Georgia. I have to ask, though, if these girls didn't have on a disguise, didn't try to run out of the bank and the godamn GBI still can't find them, it doesn't make them brilliant - it really makes the GBI look like total fucking idiots. Just my opinion.
Oh and speaking of idiots, the Georgia Legislature was set to vote on changing the no booze on Sunday law. Ain't it funny that Georgia is one of three states (out of 50) where you cannot by alcohol on a Sunday. No surprise here, folks. The bill stalled thanks to the snake-handling, retarded, Republican sub-committee (OK, so maybe they don't actually handle snakes).
Time to go lay back down until traffic and the storms die. Actually, there are raspberries and cream waiting for breakfast. That should help ride me through those monster nightmares about "Pan's Labyrinth". All I can dream about is straight razors and eating forbidden grapes. Maybe I should revisit Job.
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