Migraine Meds

 ooooh....is that a skid mark on the right?  Get that boy some toilet paper!  Yikes!!!

 

 

Today, I am thankful for migraine medication.

 

 

 

Between men who drive me insane, stalking in-laws (and an ex), neighbors who hire thugs to build fences and decks without permits, code enforcement harassers, and pissy and dishonest politicians.....I'm going to have a running headache until November. 

 

I do get my share of laughs. 

 

The neighbor hired a bunch of twenty-something wanna be thugs to build his deck.  They tried to kill each other in my front yard while I was trying to sleep and incurred the wrath of Siegfred. 

 

I yelled at them. 

 

They threatened me. 

 

I threatened their boss with a call into the city permitting department if he couldn't keep his boys in line.  Failing to pull a permit will cost him his contractor's license.  He promised me that he had it under control. 

 

Now, they're punishing me. 

 

Yeppers, the wanna be thugs are wearing bright polka dotted underwear. 

 

They aren't wearing the tight fitting stuff that the firemen pose in. 

 

They are wearing the stuff my great-grandfather wore. 

 

To top it all off..... they are sagging their pants so that the top of their waistbands huddle under the bottom of their arses.  I'm not even sure how they are keeping their pants on....

 

velcro? 

 

pins? 

 

I don't know. 

 

I just know that it is quite amusing. 

 

They are sagging their pants, so much so, that when they bend over in the wind their buttocks look like colorful hot air balloons. 

 

Of course, they have to park in front of my house.  I can't help but notice their bright colored undies poofing up in the wind. 

 

They make me laugh. 

 

I can't help it. 

 

Then,  they hear me laughing through the window and threaten to "cut" this old "b!tch." 

 

Ah......

 

Sigh.....

 

They've been hammering away in the neighbor's yard since April. 

 

I don't like going outside. 

 

Okay, that's not exactly true. 

 

I don't want to deal with them.  

They make me laugh so much so that my side hurts. 

 

I did go out once last night to perform my Tuesday full moon rite to Aries. 

 

What is that? 

 

Well, I make a big production for the neighbors so that they let me leave cat food out for the stray cats that come around. 

 

I think my ritual scared them. 

 

Yeah, thuggies.....I worship the original God of war.  He likes offerings of blood.  Oooh...did you hit your lil' thumb with the hammer?  Smear it on this candle while I light the incense. 

 

They didn't want to play with me. 

 

I'm so sad. 

 

They've actually been quite nice since last night. 

 

Is she joking? 

 

Or does she go all out just to leave out food for the stray cats in the neighborhood. 

 

Actually, here is the real deal.  Code enforcement can't site me if they think it is a religious rite. 

 

I'm such a stinker....

 

It may not be a bad thing if the municipal inspector finds his way out to my neck of the woods.

 

This ol' Libertarian promises not to whine about property rights should code enforcement want to come out and investigate their lack of a permit. 

 

If it helps, they are ignoring easements.  They've already cut the cable to half the block. 

 

My neighbors are b!tching.  They can't watch TV.  So, guess what?  I get to hear it and have to take more migraine meds. 

 

It's an endless chain of painful events. 

 

Thank goodness I'm stocked up! 

 

Love ya,

 

S. 

 

 

 

 

Angry Old Birds

Today I am thankful for angry old birds, a class in which I belong. 

Watch out!!! 

A group of idiots have been caught lying. 

It's gonna be fun exposing them. 

Love ya,

S. 

Dreams

Today I am thankful for dreams. 

Yep.

Do you want to know my dream? 

No? 

Well, that's nice. 

I'm going to tell you anyway. 

My dream is to record an album. 

I want to call it "Born Again Atheist".

And use this for the cover. 

I found that pic using the random function of Flickr several years ago.  I always meant to ask the uploader for permission to paint it but I can't find her.  So....

my dream is dead. 

But seriously....there can't possibly be a God if that poor pup is wearing such a awful and heavy sweater. 

I mean, what would Hecate say? 


Oh man....that's dog abuse. 
Oooh.....shudder....

Poor 'lil pup. 

Love ya,

S. 

Men

Today I am grateful for a few men....

Hot art teachers who like to flirt,

That old flame who is still in my life just enough to remind me why I won't ever date an artist again,

and

Mark Twain. 

It is hard to chose among them.   

Super, duper hard. 

Let's see....

The art teacher kept me from getting bored at an event.  He has a pretty smile.  I wasn't wearing make-up and had on my thick tortoise shell eyeglasses that keep me from walking into walls. 

It was probably a pity flirt.  Still....I thought about lingering but I had a flash back, so I didn't. 

Yes, I'm thankful to my ex whose very name reminds me to keep my shirt on, behave and spend my energy buying decent art supplies and donating it to the teachers.  That's probably the best way to flirt with people paid on the public dime in a cheap school district. 

I think God wanted my ex to barely be at the edge of my life because his presence keeps me vanilla.  If I do anything wrong, God will shove him in my face and he'll know what I've been up to doing.  He knows my mannerisms better than anyone else.....still...

And, I know what he's thinking  about when he makes a little tent under the table.  I will never admit to seeing that.  When I asked what he was wanting, he sat there grinning coyly and said 'nothing'....which is man-code for 'something big'.

Awkward....thank goodness it was in an ice cream parlor of all places.  I'm allergic to ice cream.  I couldn't have done anything if I tried.  Whew....

When I'm bad, he always knows.  When I'm not acting like myself and pretending to be some big bitchy big-shot, it bugs him.  He'll come out and say things I am not prepared to hear, leaving me to blush...in public...in front of other people who never see me blush even when I'm having a wardrobe malfunction and have to pull my skirt up from around my ankles in capital building parking lots. 

Yeah, yeah....he still gets on me about not eating during times of stress....still....he makes remarks about my eating disorder to this very flippin' day.  If I didn't do that, my skirts wouldn't fall off in public.  He's right.  I'm sorry.  Safety pins are my friends. 

I know.... for some stupid reason, accidentally showing my ratty panties to a bunch of politicians in September while walking away from television cameras doesn't bother me half as much as my ex quizzing me about all the other men he thinks I've slept with. 

I don't know why I care what he thinks, but I do...so I'll be good. 

I've been a tad bit too good since our 20th high school reunion.   You know what's going to happen? God is saving the heat.  I've been so cold in the past five years, I know one of these days it is all going to come back to me at once and I'll spontaneously combust.   

Keep me away from the propane tanks; it'll keep you safe. 

So....

That leaves Mark Twain. 

Mark Twain always knew what to say.  His quips and quotes help me almost everyday of my life. 

When I write, I think of this gem. 

Substitute "damn" every time you're inclined to write "very"; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be. 

The two local art teachers are damn, damn, damn, damn, hot....

but that's only because it is August and the district is too damn cheap to put in air conditioning.  

Why am I thinking about this? 

Well...

I'm putting in an application for a writing gig. 

If I get it, I'll have something genuine to be grateful for. 

Wish me luck!

Love,

S. 
. 

Redheaded women and cats do as they damn well please, so men may as well get used to it.  Don't know where I saw that....but it makes me laugh. 






.

Thankful for Pop Psychology

Today, I am thankful for pop psychology.

I'm not talking about the co-dependency and other non-existant crap spewed by wanna-be psychotherapists online.  I'm talking about the grains of psychology built into pop songs.  I swear, when musicians want their beauty sleep and are too lazy to pull all nighters playing in clubs.....we become psychotherapists. 

When we get stuck and need inspiration, all we have to do is buy a new CD. 

My abusive ex bought me one.  Yep, he's stuck in the eighties.  He still acts like he's seventeen and rebelling against his mommy (which, to be really creepy, he claims I have become). 

Ewwww...

I feel so very hot....at that thought....NOT! 

Anyway, eighties boy bought me a couple of Duran Duran CDs in a bid to get me back.  He buys me little trinkets to prove that he loves me.  I'd rather him pay for therapy but....whatever.

He did something evil to make me stay in the house we co-own until he gets around to signing legal documents.  He's drug that out for quite some time. 

Awkward.....is the word.   

Not flippin' happy but I'm not gonna focus on it.  If we get what we think about, he'll become an even bigger part of my life if I complain.  So....

I thought I'd listen to the CD. 

Ah, ha!!!  Inspiration....

I know just what to do to piss off Mr. Passive Aggressive and his dysfunctional family of thugs who think that marrying into their family makes one their slave.   I tire of the stalking, the harassment, the bizarre spoofing YouTube pages (what the heck is that about....glad they're learning a new skill now) and the Amazon.com wish-list posted under my name listing all the dildos that would rip apart a celibate woman (which isn't really saying a lot about their son). 

Maybe they're just trying to help me on some sick, weird, crazy level.  I don't know. 

I'll resume writing once I deal with this vomit   welling up inside.... eek

Better....

I'm going to start talking about the dysfunction.....online....under the pseudonym they gave me. 

That'll make them run.  I'm supposed to lie about our life.  It's great....yeah, really.  I'll write about his mommy and daddy and sissy and brother and cousins and uncle and aunt whose face obviously got stuck while she was busy glaring at me in public.  These are, by far, allegedly the most important people on the planet. 

Oh, you never heard of them?  Really?  I thought they were so important that TMZ never played with them. 

Oh...no...really?  Wow....

Just teasing....

Truth is, that no one will care what I write, except them.  If this doesn't get him to keep his promise of five years to sign the divorce papers, I don't know what will. 

I love it!!! 

Ah, rock stars....isn't there anything they don't know? 

Sing along now.....

Selling exes down the river.....

ooh, that's the only line I can remember. 

Love ya,

S. 

P.S. 

Okay, okay.....I should probably be thankful for Dionysus and his gift of wine because when I dry out and re-read what I wrote just now, it is going to be obvious that I had a little too much of that yummy grape stuff. 

Hey....it's good for my heart.  Twice over....lowers my risk of heart attack and makes sleeping alone far more tolerable. 

Cheers!