Wish Me Luck...

So, I get to work today, and it starts just like any other day. But something happened to make me very happy. The boss lady called me to the side, and told me that I need to come in a bit early tomorrow. Now, I know what you are thinking, why would being asked to come in early make me happy? Well, because the reason I am supposed to be early is so that I can bid on a job that I have been wanting. If I get it it means a two dollar per hour raise, and it means not having to weigh meat again. (Okay, maybe sometimes if they are short people.) But the point is, she came to me, which means my chances are REALLY good. Wish me luck! That is really all I have to say tonight. That's all, Goodnight.

Talk Dirty To Me...

***WARNING*** Bill Bob, DO NOT READ THIS POST, if you do you have been duly warned.



You would think after fifteen years with the same man, I would quit asking for things I know I am not going to get. Like respect, a sixty four and a half mustang convertible, and that he talk dirty to me. Hell, I am lucky to get an "I Love You, Dawn", as he comes. Now I am not saying that being told you are loved is a bad thing. But once in a while a girl wants to hear that you just love sucking her sweet tits and how good her pussy tastes. The last time I had sex with the hubby (which RARELY happens these days), I looked him in the eye and asked, "Do you want to fuck me, baby?" He actually got pissed and told me that he "made love" to me, that he has never "fucked" me. Come now, I ask you, how sexy is that response? And quite frankly, sometimes I am just fucking. What the hell is wrong with that? If I had a bad day at work, I do not want to be gently caressed, I want to be fucked until I am sore, and then left alone to sleep. Sometimes a girl wants a little ass spanking and hair pulling. Why is that too much to ask for? I don't think it is. I know what I want, and am not ashamed to ask for it, but it never does any good. So for years I have had to keep an internal dialogue going during sex. Trust me when I say that it is not nearly as much fun as hearing those words coming from someone else. I admit, that I am not any good at returning the favor in this area. But to be honest, in my experience, it usually isn't necessary. Once a man gets on a roll, it always ends up a monologue anyway. I admit that the fact that the hubby doesn't talk is probably my fault. Many , many years ago, when we first started sleeping together, I asked for what I wanted, and he obliged. I made the mistake of giggling. Now, it was not because he said anything wrong, it was because I was turned on. Yes, giggling is an honest response to being turned on, at least for me. For me, there is nothing sexier than a man telling me how sexy he thinks I am. Throw in a little hair tugging and I am yours forever. I am not ashamed to say that I want you to talk dirty to me. Call me and leave me naughty messages. Send me dirty little emails. Write me a letter and drop it in the mail to me, quick. And if you happen to throw in an "I Love You" I will still be a happy camper. That's all, Goodnight.

People are strange...

So it is now 7:11 in the morning and I am wide the fuck awake. I really should be sleeping. I have been awake since just after four this morning when the hubby finally decided to come to bed, and woke me up by moving the hair out of my face. I am thinking that if I was sound asleep, the hair was obviously not bothering me, and he should have left me alone. Because, of course, as soon as I was awake, I had to pee. And, if you don't know by now you ought to know that once I get out of bed to use the restroom, I am up for the entire day. But I am still too groggy (having forgotten to buy coffee at the store yesterday) to really think clearly, so I am not sure that I can write anything coherent. Anyway, the point is, I am awake and the whole rest of the house is asleep. I really will write that post about talking dirty. Soon I promise. Just not now. I was thinking this morning while sitting in bed watching the movie I started before I fell asleep, that I have some really odd habits and quirks. For example, I sleep with the TV on, all the time. Every night (or morning) when I crawl into bed, I pop in some DVD that I have already seen (it has to be one I have seen or I will watch it instead of sleeping), put on the captions (so I can read it till I fall asleep), turn the sound down really low (but not off), and set it to repeat. I am usually asleep in the first ten minutes. The hubby sometimes comes in and turns it off. I really hate that, because it wakes me up to not have that little bit of background noise, and flashing lights. Then I have to get up and turn it back on. (Because he always steals my remotes.) In the morning when I get out of bed, the first thing I do is light a cigarette, and sit my ass in front of my computer to check my email. (I keep looking for one from the honey, but I NEVER get one. By the way Sweetheart, I finally figured out how to unblock my email address, call me and I will tell you how.) I have a tendency to get up in the night and drink milk straight from the gallon jug. I can not leave my house in the morning without kissing my children, even though they are asleep and do not have any clue that I am doing it. I read in the bath tub. I sometimes brush my teeth in the shower. (Saving time I guess, I don't know, there is no explaining my quirks.) I keep receipts for everything, but I have no system for filing them, they are just scattered everywhere. If I ever needed to find one, I would be screwed. I always hold my pinkie up when I am drinking something. I do not even realize I am doing it, unless someone points it out to me. I can't chew gum without popping it. I always have a stack of at least ten different books next to my bed that I am currently reading. I buy the same books over and over without realizing it. I have space issues. By this I mean, I have a certain area around my body that I consider my space, and unless I Love you, it pisses me off if you enter my space. I buy movies by the dozens that I never end up watching. I own twenty six pets, which includes three dogs, two cats, one ferret, two guinea pigs, one hamster, two sugar gliders, twelve zebra finches, two parakeets, and a salt water aquarium that houses one clown fish. (All the other fish died during a two day power outage last summer.) I snore. I bake bread from scratch during the winter. (You should try my honey wheat, it is the best!) I always forward emails that say "please forward". I read HANDBOOK FOR THE HELLBOUND every day before I leave for work. I have never had a drivers licence, but have driven for years. I hung pictures of my family (and my honey) in my locker at work, so when I get pissed off I can see their smiling faces and feel better. I hate having my picture taken. I hate being on speaker phone even if the person I am talking to is the only one there. I live out of a laundry basket, because I hate folding clothes. (I do not mind washing and drying them, just folding them.) I change my hair color a couple times a year. (In fact, I am going blonde today.) I sometimes forget to check the mail for a week at a time. I hate wearing shoes, and am barefoot as much as possible. (I even got married barefoot.) I like to go for walks at two in the morning. (I take my dog Fergie with me, she is a Sharpei/Labrador mix that everyone thinks is a Pitbull.) I listen to music, and dance in the living room with my kids at all hours of the night. I sleep with at least one foot hanging out of the covers at all times. When I read to my kids, I do funny voices for different characters. I make up words to songs I don't know when I sing to my babies. I sing all the time at work. (Thank God that it is so loud and everyone wears earplugs.) Apparently, when I am angry I turn my right foot outwards. (So that if I am standing, you can tell I am mad without me having to say anything.) I cry at sad movies, or sad books. When I get drunk, I flirt with EVERYONE, men, women, whatever. I hate being alone. I leave my dirty clothes on the floor right next to the front door when I get home at night. (I pick them up in the morning though.) I drink Australian wine. ('Cause we all know they grow the best grapes, right?) I love being kissed behind my knees, and on the back of my neck. I am afraid of horses, but I would love to learn to ride one. I love riding in planes or helicopters, it doesn't matter just get me in the air. I am afraid of heights. (Two rungs up on a ladder is about as high as I can go.) I love roller coasters. I miss walking on the beach. I love to fish, but I do not eat fish. (Except sushi, and Orange Roughy.) I love Kansas City Chiefs football. I take showers so hot it turns my skin red. I don't dump my ashtray until it can not possibly hold another butt. And I love to play in the rain, except when it is freezing like it was yesterday. That is just a partial list of things that make me so weird. I know I am a freak, you don't have to tell me. That's all, Bye.

P.S. I added a permanent link to Handbook for the Hellbound right over there --> under the clock. Why? 'Cause it is my page and I can do it if I wanna.

I'm hung over, leave me alone...

Okay, so I am too hung over this morning to write a real post, so forgive me if I make no sense whatsoever and my spelling is atrocious. I had a good time last night. Went out with some friends from work, had far, far too much to drink. Danced too much. Came home and passed out cold. Slept like the dead, and now have to figure out how to make it through today at work. I had this great post planned, but I am not sure how it will come out if I write it now. I think I am still a bit drunk. So you will have to wait for the post where I tell you that I want you to talk dirty to me. Maybe I will write it when I get home. But for now, I am going to go try to find a hot cup of coffee, and sober up. That's all, bye.

I should really use my head and not my heart...

You know, I should not post when I am too tired to really think about the consequences. For example, I wanted to edit the last post but it seems like about ten people already read it before I was able to do so. After I got to work tonight, I started thinking about some of the things I said, and thought that I should just delete the entire fucking post before anyone saw it, but just like everything else in my life, it did not work out quite as I planned it. Like I have said before, what is done and all that jazz. So, moving on. Tonight was okay. We got off work on time for a change, but we will definitely be working at least a few hours on Saturday. I was starving, so I dropped by Arby's on my way home and got a corned beef Ruben. I should kiss the man who dreamed up that sandwich, but since I am sure he is long dead, that could get icky. And I did something I do not normally do, tonight. I bought myself a beer. An ice cold twenty four ounce Bud Light. I normally do not drink beer. I am a jack and coke girl by nature, but something about eating a Ruben requires the consumption of ice cold beer. And it will help me to sleep, which is something I am in desperate need of. Maybe i won't have nightmares tonight. That's all, Goodnight.

Answering questions about the honey, from all the Nazi interrogators I know...

Okay, I think the hubby has taken to reading the shit I write. The man who is always too busy for me has actually started paying attention, and even has started wanting to get frisky again. (No, you do not get the details.) I guess maybe I had better start editing myself a bit here. Wait, fuck that. If he doesn't like what he sees, it is just too fucking bad. So, today's post was going to be about me answering all those questions I keep getting asked, about "the Honey". That is still what I am going to write about. Here goes it. I have been asked...

1.) What's his name?
Answer: Tommy, you don't need to know his last name.

2.) Why do you call him your boyfriend?
Answer: Because that is how the hubby refers to him.

3.) Which leads us to question three, does the hubby know about him?
Answer: Yes, since day one.

4.) Where does he live?
Answer: Too damned far away.

5.) Are you having an affair with him?
Answer: Physically no. Emotionally, I guess you could call it that, kinda, I don't know.

6.) If he were near would you fuck him?
Answer: First of all bravo to you being so brave as to ask me that, even though we are friends, that is really personal. Secondly, I would love to respond with a "Yes, Hard, fast, and often.", but we all know that I have guilt issues, so the answer would have to be probably not unless the hubby were out of my life. (Or the hubby agreed to share, which I do not see happening as men are extremely territorial beasts, in general.)

7.) Do you love him?
Answer: Yes.

8.) NOTE*** I edited out question number eight, for multiple reasons, but the main reasons are, it was just too personal, and frankly, the answer was none of your business.

9.) Do you talk to him often?
Answer: Yes, almost every day, sometimes three or four times a day.

10.) What do you get out of this weird relationship?
Answer: Wow, that's a tough one, let me get back to you on that one.

11.) What does he get out of this weird relationship?
Answer: I have no fucking clue, you would have to ask him.

12.) Do you have a picture? And can I see?
Answer: Yes, and No. At least not unless the honey says I can post it, and after I edit the photo to remove his name from his uniform.

Well, that's about it. If you have any more questions, ask them in the comments section at the end of this post. I may or may not answer them, depending on my mood, and how personal you get. That's all, Bye.

So You Think You Know Me...

By now if you have been hanging in with me through all these silly little posts, you might think you actually know a little something about me, right? Ha, not even close. In fact, I would be willing to bet you a quarter that if I asked you ten questions about me, you would not get half of them right. Why? Well, because I am an extremely difficult person to really "get". I am convinced I am bi-polar, and I live a life that I describe as "Ordered Chaos", so trying to guess usually will land you with a wrong answer. I do not think the way most people do. I usually have about twenty different things running through my brain at any given moment. So, let us test my theory, shall we? I will ask ten questions about me, you keep track of your answers and check against the answers at the bottom. NO CHEATING, or No Quarter for you.


1.) What flowers would I prefer (if you were to buy me flowers, which no one ever does anymore ((Pity me now)) )?

A.) Red Roses Long Stemmed of course
B.) Peppermint Colored Carnations
C.) White Lilies
D.) A potted house plant

2.) What is my dream car?

A.) A 64 1/2 Mustang convertible with the 260 V-8 engine, C-4 automatic transmission, power steering, dual exhausts, fresh red paint, white convertible top, new pony interior, original wheel covers and factory a/c!
B.) A 1973 Dodge Challenger that I will restore myself and paint Panther Pink with Black Ralley Stripes.
C.) A brand spanking new mini van.
D.) I do not want a new car Betsy may be old, but I love her. (Betsy is my 1989 Ford Taurus wagon, with the broken Hatch lock.)


3.) Which would I rather eat?

A.) A nice rare steak cooked on the grill of course.
B.) A big salad, with lots of tomatoes, cucumbers, green onions, and mushrooms, drenched in a tangy Balsamic Vinaigrette Dressing.
C.) A bowl of Rainbow Sherbet.
D.) Angel Hair Pasta with a little butter and some Parmesan cheese.

4.) What pets do I own?

A.) A Blue and Gold Macaw.
B.) A french Poodle.
C.) A Ferret.
D.) Too damned many to remember them all.

5.) What is my middle name?

A.) Marie
B.) Mary
C.) Michelle
D.) Megan

6.) What gift would I most like to get for my next birthday?

A.) A Nice Big Warm Cuddly Hoodie.
B.) Expensive Jewelry, diamonds of course.
C.) Dinner at a fancy restaurant.
D.) Nothing, I do not celebrate my birthday.

7.) Which flavor gum will I drive you insane with when I pop it all night long?

A.) Big Red, it's cinnamon all the way.
B.) Spearmint Sugarless, brand not important.
C.) Juicy Fruit, the fruitier the better.
D.) Bubble Yum, there is nothing better.

8.) What is my I.Q score?

A.) 131
B.) 119
C.) 138
D.) 69

9.) What Color is my hair?

A.) Brown
B.) Blonde
C.) Red
D.) Who the hell knows we haven't seen it natural for so long.

10.) What am I most afraid of?

A.) The Dark.
B.) Dead mice.
C.) Spiders.
D.) Death.





Okay, so how do you think you did? Some of the answers were easy. If you read my blog regularly you will have seen the answers, others not so simple. Let's check the score. Question number one, if you answered B, you are absolutely right, and deserve a gold star. ( I love house plants, but I always kill them, poor little bonsai trees, three dead, you would think he would quit buying them for me.) Question two, if you answered at all, you are wrong. The answer is A, B and C. (Come on, I know the mini van seems out of place, but I am a mother, and sometimes the kids have to go with me, and I would not let them in my Mustang or my Challenger if I had them. My children are horribly filthy little beasts after all.) Question three, Ha, got ya again. The answer is all of the above. This sounds like a hell of a meal, let's eat. Question four, if you answered C or D, you get a cookie. Either answer works for me, I do own a ferret, and sometimes I forget how many pets I have. Question five, if you answered C you would be correct, but since I never told you that I want to know if you have been stalking me. Question six, A is correct. Diamonds are nice to look at, but a hoodie will keep me warm at work, and fancy restaurants mean getting dressed up and shaving my legs, it is my birthday, and I don't wanna, damn it. (By the way, it is September 26th, if you forget I will never forgive you!!!!) Question seven, B will win you a place in my heart. Though you might not want it after you have been subjected to listening to gum popping for hours on end. ( I do not even realize I am doing it, so it is not my fault.) Question eight, Ha, got you yet again. While the correct answer is there, I am not going to tell you, so there. Question nine, A, C, or D will all be good answers to this one. It is naturally brown, but it is currently red (but faded, I need to color this weekend.), and D fits because it hasn't been natural since I noticed the first grey hair at the young age of 16. Question ten, B is the correct answer to this one. I will climb out the window rather than walk past a dead mouse to get to the door. (There is no explaining it, it is just how it is. So, how did you do? Do I owe you a quarter? Leave a comment letting me know how you did. That's all, Goodnight.


P.S. I warned you a long time ago I was a few french fries short of a happy meal, you just didn't believe me.

Smiling and Serene...

Just got off the phone with my honey. Smiling and serene. I am so glad he is in my life. That's all. Goodnight.

EWW- What Smells...

So, I was talking to the honey this morning, and he told me about a guy he works with that they all call "stinky". Of course they do not call him that to his face. I also passed a man yesterday who smelled so incredibly delicious. He was wearing a cologne that brought back a lot of memories for me, some good, some bad. One of the hubby's best friends, Jeff, used to wear that particular brand, and I liked it so much that Jeff used to see me coming and would offer his neck to me like some kind of sacrifice. I could sit for hours just smelling him. And often did. (The brand is JOOP by the way.) Anyway, all this got me to thinking how important smell is to us as human beings. And the lengths to which we go to change the way we naturally smell. I got to thinking about how many products I use daily, to make myself smell good. It goes something like this. We will start in the shower, where I use Dial Pure and Natural soap. It really has no scent, but it washes away the funk of the day. I use Pantene Pro-V Sheer Voulume Formula shampoo, and conditioner. (which makes my hair smell really nummy, and while my hair is thin, it is quite long so nummy smelling hair is very important.) Once I get out of the shower I turn to my lotions. A Vanilla body lotion, and Avon Anew face lotion. (I work in the cold all day, and good moisterizing is essential.) I use either a baby powder scented deoderant, or I steal the hubby's which I really like. It is called "Curve for men". I get dressed in my clothes which were washed with Xtra Tropical Passion scented soap, and dried with Downy Simple Pleasures rose and violet fabric softener sheets. I use Crest mint toothpaste, and Crest Pro-Health mouthwash in mint as well. I then top all this off with a few well placed spritzes of my favorite perfume, Poison. (And ladies, no need to get crazy with it, just a dab on the wrists, one between the twins, and behind the knees (Trust me on this one), and you will be smelling great all day.) So that is eleven products that I use daily to change the way I smell. But hey, that is better than being called stinky behind your back. Okay, enough on this oh so strange subject. That's all, Bye.

Bitch Mode...

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An Angry White Chick's Jukebox...

Okay, so I decided that instead of clogging up this blog with music videos, I will start a new blog page with nothing but music videos. I have named it An Angry White Chick's Jukebox, because that is the name by which my honey refers to my blog, and it's cute. So, if you are in the mood for some music, pop on over to my Jukebox. And please make requests, and leave comments. I hate feeling like NO ONE reads my rantings. And besides the two links I put in this post, I added a permanent link right over there --> under my clock. That's all, Goodnight.

Rock Lobster...

So, the concert was great. I just got home a few minutes ago, and I am exhausted, and very sunburned. Fuel was great. Papa Roach was kick ass. Buck Cherry was rockin'. Hinder was wonderful. And Incubus was amazing. (except they didn't play long enough.) But, there were some things that were not so much fun today. I stood in line to get Hinder to sign my t-shirts, for TWO HOURS, and was ten people away when they said no more autographs. (I was extremely pissed.) I tried to call the honey so he could hear "Lips of an Angel" with me, and we could not hear each other so I gave up, RIGHT BEFORE THEY PLAYED IT. And, my little sweetie Luke, lost the truck keys when he was body surfing in the pit, so we were stuck. We searched through all the remnants of the pit, and found... at least 500 shoes, 50 broken cell phones, 100's of shirts, 100's of broken pairs of glasses, one pair of pants, two bras, and three sets of keys, none of which were Luke's. We finally gave up, and Luke went to the truck to see if maybe, just maybe he had locked the keys inside. He broke a window, and guess what? No fucking keys. But he did finally bring me my last pack of smokes that I had left in the truck. (After I paid some Security guy a dollar for his last cigarette.) We called and got someone to agree to come get us, and on our way to the main entrance, we lucked out and ran right in front of my sister-in-law and my niece as they were leaving. So, she brought us home. On the bright side, I had a wonderful time, right up until the end when we realized the keys were gone, and digging through all the trash looking for the keys, I found a guitar pick from guess who? HINDER OF COURSE, who else? That's all, Goodnight.


P.S. They confiscated my camera at the gates, but Luke got a few pics with his cell phone before the battery up and died on him, silly boy seems to have forgotten what a charger is for. Hopefully I will have them soon to share with you. That's all.

Going it alone...

Okay, well we put in enough overtime this week that we actually do not have to work tonight. YEAH ME! So, I think I am going to go to the River Riot after all. But, I will be going alone. How sad is that? I know tons of people who are going, so I am sure I will run into someone I know, and can hang out with, but still, UGH. Everyone who asked me to go with them, I had to tell No, because I thought I had to work. Now, all the plans are made, all the tickets bought, and I will have to pay for mine at the gate. Have I mentioned that i hate my job?

So, on a different note. I managed to get out of work last night in time to meet up with the hubby, Toni, and the baby at the midnight sale of the new Harry Potter book. Of course I missed all the fun parts of the night, like watching all the kids in their costumes, and the trivia contests and such, but I did get to see the look on the face of a young girl (probably fourteen) who was the first person in the store to get a book. She was crying, and her hands were shaking as the man handed her the book. Now, to many of you that probably seems silly, but I love seeing kids that excited over reading. And I hate knowing that this is the end. The hubby and I got two copies, so we do not have to fight over who gets to read it first. I am only just starting chapter four. That is really slow reading for me, but I was very tired last night, and really, I want to take this book slowly, as I know I do not have another to look forward to. I have sworn off the news and radio for the next week or so, so that I can not accidentally hear who lives and who dies. But, I did do something that I am not proud of. I did not mean to. Really. I just went to see how many pages there were in the book. (759 by the way) I read the last line of the book. I couldn't help it. I wish I hadn't, because it revealed so much. Oh well, what's done can not be undone. Anyway, I am going to go bathe, and actually shave my legs, since I want to wear shorts to the concert. I am going to try to sneak in a camera. If I do manage it, I will post some pictures when I get them back. That's all. Bye.

Maybe I should call in dead...Would that work?

So, I am a bit pissed off. Seems we are most likely going to be working this Saturday. I do not want to. I want to go to the RIVER RIOT ! Incubus, Hinder, Papa Roach, etc. etc. etc. And I am going to have to be freezing my ass off instaed of getting sunburned beyond recognition. UGH! Anyway, that is about all I have tonight. I am too tired to bitch too much. So, here is a song instead. This is how I am feeling tonight. That's All, Goodnight.

The trip to insanity is a five minute drive...

I won't be writing much the rest of this week, as I have agreed to work three twelve hour shifts, in hopes that it will mean we do not have to work Saturday. The hubby is trying to be nice, but so far no A.A meetings. Seems he has already forgotten that promise. Who would have guessed it, huh? Somehow I need to find the time to give the hubby and the boy haircuts this week. They are both looking a bit shaggy. I really need to learn to do a flat top. The boy wants a flat top, but the only place around here to get a good one is in Bellevue Nebraska, next to Offutt. I do give a mean high and tight though, so that is what he is stuck with until a better barber moves close to us, or someone teaches me the trick of doing a great flat top. I think I am on the verge of a break down. I really do think I am going just a little bit nutty. I am tired all the time. I do not sleep well. I feel sad a lot lately. I am lonely. I cry for no reason. Bonkers, right? Oh well, fuck it. I am going to jump in the shower now, as I have to get up and get ready for work in about five and a half hours. That's all, Goodnight.

Nothing is easy, except of course, SleepingBeauty...

So, The hubby came home Sunday night, after a three day binge in which he drained the bank account, and managed to somehow break a CV joint on my car. I asked him to leave. You would think it would be a simple thing. Splitting up. But nothing with this man is ever simple. He started begging for "just one more chance". He started making promises. He has promised to seek help for his alcoholism. He has promised to start going to A.A. regularly. He has promised that this was the "last time". He has promised that we will seek marriage counseling. He has promised to start making changes in all aspects of our lives. He has promised to make things better. Of course, I have heard all these promises before. I have heard them over and over again. I do not believe them anymore this time than I did the last fifty times I heard them. I have reached a point where I just do not care anymore. I do not care if he is here, I do not care if he is gone. Maybe if things did get better, if he kept the promises, I would start to care again. But, it may already be too late. On a lighter note, I was talking to a friend who told me that I need to see the movie "300", but first I should read a book about it. You know how I am, I did not bother to write down the title of the book at the time, thinking I could always look it up online later. Yeah well, the only problem is, that the book that is associated with that movie is a "graphic novel" by Frank Miller, and I find it hard to believe that is the book he was talking about. So if anyone knows about a book about the story of the three hundred, and I am pretty sure it had the word "fire" somewhere in the title, please let me know so I can read it before I see the movie. I also need to hop on over to BarnesandNoble.com and look for a book by Anne Rice. It is called "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty". She wrote it under a pen name. A.N. Roquelaure. It is an "erotic" novel. I have never read one, so I figure I love Anne Rice, so I will start with hers. Besides I could use a little spice in my life, and if I am not going to be having sex, I may as well be reading about it, huh? So, I guess that is all for now, except I wonder if Barnes and Noble will overnight it here. That's all, bye.

My sweetie Luke...

I just realized that I promised to tell you about my sweetie Luke in my next post, and then I didn't. I do not like to be a liar, so I will tell you about him now. First thing you need to know is that Luke is absolutely adorable. I could just eat him up he is so sweet. And if I was fifteen years younger I would be all over him, but I am not. See my little Lukey is only twenty years old. I met Luke last summer when we were sitting in a buddy's yard having a few beers enjoying the stars. The beer supplies were running low, and it was almost bar close. (The stores stop selling about ten minutes before the bars close, so we had to hurry if we wanted more.) Only problem was we were all drinking. And then appears Luke. He had just got home from work and saw us all sitting there and walked over to see if he could join us. So, being the only sober one he got nominated to run me to the store for more beer. Now it only takes about five minutes to get to the store, and in that short time, Luke told me a huge secret he had been carrying on his shoulders for awhile. (I do not know what it is about me that makes people confess their most intimate secrets to me, they just do.) See, he told me that he had left the Army. I do not mean got out of the Army, I mean left, as in went AWOL. Now, you all know how I feel about our military and it's personnel, so you can guess my first reaction. I can say I sobered up quite quickly. We got the beer and headed home in silence. When we got back, we handed off the beer and Luke and I went on a walk. I asked him why he went AWOL, and he really didn't have an answer. He started telling me about it, and the answers became clear. He was only in boot camp to start with. (Who the hell AWOLs from boot camp? You might be surprised at the numbers.) Second, he had met a girl. Now, I am one of those people who believe women can do anything that a man can do, and most things we can do better, but the military is not one of them. (Though I do have a theory that the most vicious fighting force ever would be mothers whose children are being held captive. Because I know that I would gladly enter a battle with nothing but a sharp stick against the most well armed military force if they had my kids.) Anyway, I digress. So, now I know that he is a nineteen year old kid, who met a girl also nineteen, in boot camp. He tells me about how his fiance dumped him the day he left for boot. And that he was lonely. Now I know that none of this seems like a good reason to most of you. And it did not to me either, but at least it explains where he was emotionally at the time. He also told me a bit about his childhood, and I will say it was not a pleasant one. He had just gotten out of a group home. I asked him why he joined up in the first place, and his answer was, that he had no where else to go. He had no family to take him in. No job. No money. No place to live. And the recruiters visited the group home almost daily. He said he felt he had no other choice. The girl he met had been recruited the same way from a home for girls. Again, not a good reason to abandon the military, but they really never wanted to be there in the first place. Really, if I was in, I would not want someone like that responsible for watching my back. They didn't join because that is what they wanted to do with their lives, not because of civic pride, or even because they felt it was their duty to serve. They joined because they had no where else to go. And I find that rather sad. (And poor recruiting effort, if you really want to know.) So he meets this girl, and well, we all know what happens when two young people are very lonely, and are attracted to each other, and are very close most of the day. So, he gets caught in her room, and she gets in trouble for fraternization. (No, he did not. Someone explain that logic to me please.) So the two of them just walk out one night, and do not go back. They manage to make it here to Iowa, and she finds her mother. (Someone she has not had contact with for years.) They settle in and he gets a job. But he carries the weight of his AWOL status like a brick around his neck until the night he met me. So, I of course, convince him that he has to turn himself in. What the hell else was I supposed to do? First thing the next morning, I call my local recruiting station to find out what he needs to do. You would think it would be simple. Turn yourself in to any military personnel, or even the local police, right? Wrong. First, it took two days for the Army to find any record of them. Then, when they finally did, we had three different people tell us three different things to do. I finally decided enough was enough, and just drove them over to Offutt Air Force base. We called ahead, and talked to someone who said they would take them, and make sure they got where they needed to go. Sounds good to me, as long as someone takes them before they change their minds. The scene at Offutt was kind of sad. We knew they would be handcuffed, but it broke my heart to see it. The MP's (or what ever the Air Force calls their police), were very kind, and very gentle. They allowed Luke to hug and kiss me goodbye when he asked to do so. They thanked me for convincing the kids to do the right thing, and had me fill out a three page form explaining how I came to be the one in whom they confided. And so concludes the tale of Luke. Ha, not even close. I got a call at seven o'clock the next morning. It was a man of some high rank that I do not now remember asking me to come and pick the kids up. It seems the Army had once again lost track of any knowledge of their existence. The kids were to go home, and they were put under "house arrest" until further notice. I had to sign a form agreeing to be responsible for their eventual return. For the next two weeks, I had to have them at Offiut every morning at eight in the morning, and pick them up each night at eight. I had to make calls to ten different Army bases, and received calls from even more. I spoke with people of High rank, and those with almost no rank at all. And finally, they came up with an idea. The kids would fly down to Fort Sill, they would be met at the Airport and whatever happened next would happen. Luke was fully prepared to serve some time in jail for what he had done. He knew it was a possibility. Except that is not what happened. A week worth of accepting collect calls (DO NOT ACCEPT COLLECT CALLS, SEVENTEEN MINUTES COST ME $186.00), from two scared kids, and then I received a call from someone asking me if i could come to Fort Sill, and pick them up. So off I went on a road trip to Oklahoma. A few (okay more than a few) hours and a couple of wrong turns, and I found myself sitting at an old run down building that calls it's self a bus depot. I had been driving all night, and was very tired. So Tennessee and I (Tennessee is the guy who rode down with me.)crawled into the bed of the truck to sleep awhile. The sun got higher, and we got hotter, and finally went over to a mall that was only a block away, to get out of the heat. Finally it was time for them to get there, so we went back to meet them. A military truck pulled up outside the bus station gates, and out climbed about forty young kids. That was just that weeks worth of deserters. But seeing as the only thing that happens to them for deserting is that they get an "other than honorable" discharge, I can see why so many do it. They just spend a week or so getting out-processed, and then are turned loose to live their lives. Six months later, if they have not been in any trouble with the law, they can apply to have their discharge disposition changed. I do not agree with this policy, but I do not get to make those decisions. So, now four of us are riding home in a little pickup truck, with only jump seats for two of us. It was hot, and uncomfortable for two of them. I am special to Luke, so being that it was his truck, he drove, and I got the passenger seat the entire time. (Yes, he made his girl sit in the cramped back. HA HA HA I love being special.) Luke had lost his job, so I got him hired on with my brother-in-law. He moved in with him as well, since I did not have any room to put him up at my place. He dumped the girl, and is doing well now. He got his own place, and still drops by and calls me regularly. He is my sweetie, and I know I can count on him being there if I ever need him. And he is always good for a nice long hug when I need one. I am glad I met Luke. I am not proud of what he did, and thanks to me, he is not proud of it either. Maybe someday, he will find a way to make it right. I do not know how, that will be up to him to figure out. But for now, I am just glad that my baby Luke is safe with me, where he belongs. That's all, Bye.

Que sera sera...

I just read last night's blog entry, and wow, was I pissed off, huh? I still am, if you want to get technical, but "que sera sera" as the song says. I was also pretty stoned when I wrote that. No, I do not use drugs. What I did was take some cold tablets from the vending machine at work, and then took a double dose of NyQuil when I got home because I felt like a bucket of shit. Just for the record, I still feel like a bucket of shit this morning. And the combinations of those medicines made me a bit loopy last night. Well, anyway, the hubby has still not bothered to come home. Maybe he just won't ever come back this time. It would actually make things easier for me if he doesn't. That way I do not have to go through all the drama of asking him to leave, right? But he does have my car, and that pisses me off. Especially since I didn't make it to the grocery store last night. Toni and I were going to go shopping last night, but her car started overheating and we had to pull into a Casey's Convenience store to let it cool off. Of course after that, she just wanted to come home. Toni doesn't have my sense of adventure. She doesn't do things like see how far she can drive with an overheated car before it just stops running. (Yes, I have actually done it. No, it was not funny when it stopped in the middle of the street and I had to push it. Yes, I cracked the head. No, I would not actually do it again.) So, I ended up spending seventy dollars for two Casey's pizzas, a gallon of milk, three packs of smokes, and a couple of two liters of Pepsi. At least we ate right? And the double dose of NyQuil knocked me out when I finally gave up on my honey and went to bed. So I did get some sleep. Normally when the hubby is not home I do not sleep, so that was a good side effect of my NyQuil overdose. I just wished I felt better today. I am still running a fever, but it has come down to 100.5 from the 102 degrees it was yesterday, so I guess that is a good thing. My throat still hurts, and I am so congested I feel like I am breathing through wet cotton, but hell, look on the bright side, at least I am alive, right? Okay, I am tired of listening to my own bitching, so I would assume you are too. So that's all. Bye.

The downward spiral...

Wow, you know you are having a shitty day, when your hubby just never comes home, and your honey stands you up all in the same night. Talk about being jilted. There are still a few hours until bar close, I am seriously considering getting shit-faced drunk and having a one night stand. Hey, don't get your knickers in a knot, I said I am considering it, not that I definitely am going to do it. But answer me this...WHY THE HELL SHOULD I NOT DO IT? The hubby won't care, he is not home now, and has been gone for two nights now. I really figured he would be home when I got home from work tonight, but it seems he has somewhere else he would rather be. I mean I know I took that vow and all, but it doesn't seem to be hindering the hubby in his extracurricular activities. He cheated on me two weeks before we got married. He cheated on me the entire time I was pregnant with his son. He even left me for the other woman for about six months. I filed for divorce, and the day he got the papers, he all of a sudden had an epiphany that home is where he belonged, and he begged forgiveness. Stupid and worthless as I am, I took him back. Okay, so I cheated once to "get even", but I couldn't even do that right. I felt so fucking guilty that I told him. Can you believe it? I fucked his best friend for revenge, then I couldn't live with myself. What an idiot I am. I could have kept my mouth shut, and he would have never known. But wait, here is the kicker. They stayed friends, and all the hubby said was, "How can I be mad, I did it to you first, just don't let it happen again." What the fuck? I should have known then he was not the man I needed. And just for the record, the one time I cheated does not in anyway make us even. Hell, I have six months worth of fucking other people before I even get close to even. Oh, and I get to have an "emotional connection" with at least one of them. That sounds fair to me. But wait, there's more. I get to disappear when ever I want, do what ever I want (FOR FOURTEEN YEARS), and it is all okay, just as long as I get drunk before I do it, and blame it all on the alcohol afterwards. Damn, why have I bothered to stay faithful all these years? He obviously isn't. He always claims that he was not with a woman, but he can go try to sell that story to someone who is buying it, because I am not. So lets throw in all those 24-72 hour disappearences, and I am now up to at least a year of fornicating with anyone I damned well please, and i have been faithful to the same man for the last THIRTEEN YEARS? WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING? Ok, that's it. I am going to call my sweety Luke tomorrow, and see if he wants to go out tomorrow night. (No, I am not planning on throwing myself at Luke, he is my little sweety, and I will tell you all about him in my next post.) Yep, I think I have decided. I need to get laid, well and truely, by someone who I can get to do all manner of naughty things to me, and who I do not have to face the next day. Someone who will not expect me to raise his children, clean his house or cook his meals. Someone who I do not care one tiny little bit about, so if he doesn't call when he says he will, it will not break my heart. Someone who if he stands me up, it will not leave me missing his company. Someone who's laugh does not give me goosebumps. Someone whose smile does not leave me wanting to taste his lips. Just some anonymous man I can easily throw away when I am done with him. Yep, I think I will. That's all, Goodnight.

Friday the Thirteenth can kiss my ...

I swear I should have realized this was Friday the Thirteenth without someone having to tell me, but I didn't. I should have known, because if it could go wrong today, it did. I had to go in to work early today, a twelve hour shift. No one should ever work twelve hours in a row, it just isn't natural. Anyway, after a blissful four hours of sleep, the alarm clock starts beeping at me. So what do I do? Well, I hit snooze, naturally. I looked at the time and thought, why the hell is it so early? And right back to sleep I went. Have you ever been thankful for a telemarketer? I was, at nine thirty this morning. The phone started ringing it's strange little "long-distance call" ring, and I actually picked it up, because I thought maybe it was my honey. No such luck, he is too much of my honey to call me that early anyway. He generally waits until at least eleven o'clock, and then offers to call later when he hears that I am sleeping. (What a doll, huh? HAHAHA, he is mine and you can't have him.) Okay, back from my tangent... where was I? Oh yeah, so the phone wakes me just in time to jump in the shower and get awake. No time for coffee though. Then off to work I go. I am sitting out on the smoker's patio, having that last smoke before work, when the sprinklers decide to go off, and soak the bottom half of one leg of my pants. What were they watering you may ask. And funny you should ask, because I asked myself the exact same thing. See, all that particular sprinkler head got wet, was me, and a whole shit load of rocks. Apparently they are under the impression that if they water the rocks, they can grow mountains. So, I am now ready for work, with my hair still wet from my shower, and one leg drenched. And off I go into a room where it is kept at a balmy thirty four degrees. I get suited up in all my gear (the honey says a hard hat on a woman is sexy, that is only because he has not seen us all dressed up in our gear: long white lab coats, big black rubber over shoes that make my feet look bigger than Ronald McDonald's, white plastic apron, white plastic sleeves, cotton knit gloves with two pair of plastic gloves over them, bright blue ear plugs, hair up (mostly in a bun, but sometimes in braids, and once in pig tails) under a hair net, topped off with a white hard hat that is usually dripping some kind of gravy (I do not know how I get gravy on me every night, I just do)). I walk in hoping against all hope that I get to work in the back room (final pack) since we are there as extra helpers. No such luck. On the line, scaling, is where I end up, as usual. I hate scaling. In fact, it is so boring, that I do it for hours while thinking of other things, since it requires only one brain cell to do it. Twelve and one half hours later, I head out the door to go home, on my phone (the cell the hubby got me to "keep in touch" with him) is a message saying I have five missed calls. All from home. Worried now, I call home immediately. My son answers, and informs me that his worthless father and even less useful Grandfather, have taken my car and disappeared. It is now 2:03 in the morning. I have to work again today. They still are not back, but as the bars all close at 2 am here in Iowa, I expect that they will be shortly. I will not be able to sleep until I know they are home safely. The children are all still awake, and refusing to go to bed, because they are all stressed about the inevitable argument that is to come when the hubby finally does get home. But they need not worry this time. All I will do this time is take the keys, Pull off the distributor wires (and hide one in my purse), and go to bed. There will be no fight. There is nothing left worth fighting for. The fight is all gone out of me. When I leave for work, he will still be sleeping it off. When I get home, if he is sober, I will ask him to leave. It will be hard, but I am out of options. When I was a kid I watched all the "Friday the Thirteenth" movies, and was afraid of Jason. After today, I think Jason is a pussy, and any axe wielding maniacs on the loose tonight, better be afraid of me. That's all, Goodnight.

Not a spoiler...

So, we just got back from seeing "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix". I refuse to be a spoiler for all of you who have not read the book or seen the movie yet, so all I will say is.... I really liked it. My nine year old says it was boring, that is because she is nine, and like Harry the original fans are growing up and away from the young and innocent belief that life is wonderful and all will be okay in the end. If you are not a Harry Potter fan, see this movie anyway. The fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort is worth the money. (Special effects by Industrial Light and Magic of course.) Other than that, I haven't got anything to say except that I am tired, and I am going to go to bed. Oh, and that I miss you. That's all, Goodnight.

A day in Hell...

Well, it has been a few days since I have been here. I really don't have much to say. If you have read the previous few entries, you know that all is not well here at home. You also will have figured out that the hubby is a complete nut job. And that I am a little "off" as well. That is all I am going to say about it, so let's just drop it okay? I have to leave early for work today, I am going to attempt to get my hands on tickets to see "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" tonight. The boss lady at work is very kind and is letting me leave early so I can take the kids to opening night. Wish me luck with those tickets.

I try not to steal. (It is just not in my nature to do it.) I try not to, but just this once I am going to. I went to one of my favorite sites on the net. I have told you about it before. It is a blog. The man who writes it is deliciously twisted. He is extremely intelligent, and very funny, but very crude. A friend of mine said his writing was "sick, how can you read that?" I respond by saying that she is right. Some (most) of the things he writes about is "sick". It is also morally repugnant. He also uses the word "fuck" far too often. But if like me, you can look beyond the cursing, and the almost constant references to anal sex, and scat films, then you will find the humour that is behind it all, and laugh. He likes to "push buttons". He likes to say things that will make your head spin. But he doesn't just ramble like I do, he actually writes with a purpose in mind. So, if you want to see what I think funny is (Okay, there are a whole slew of other funny things out there, but he gives me an almost daily dose of humour.) then check out his site. It is.. Handbook for the Hellbound. http://hellboundsmoker.blogspot.com/ If you do not think that you will like his humour (And I warn you now... it is not for everyone!) then I allow me to steal from him in one of his, not so funny moments, and have you watch this video. He included it in today's rant, and I just wanted to show it as well. You all know that I listen to numerous types of music, and rap is not generally one of them, but I like this song so much I just may run out and buy the CD. Any way, here it is.. That's all, Bye.

One flew over the cuckoo's nest...

After Fourteen years, it may just be over. I have said it a million times, but I just don't know how much I am supposed to take. Sometimes I think I have more pain than joy. I think the scales have been tipping in the wrong direction for too long now. And I just need to convince my heart, because my mind is screaming at me to run. I came home from work tonight, early. (A pleasant surprise I thought.) I walked up the driveway, and was met outside by my father who informed me that my hubby was drunk, again. Really and truly drunk, not nicely drunk at all. I figured out many moons ago that I was married to an alcoholic, and I thought I had come to terms with that, but tonight's performance was just one too many I think. I tried talking to him, that was my first mistake. Instantly, I was enemy number one, and anything that came out of my mouth was evil. He started yelling and cussing at me, that I can handle because I know how to give as well as receive. But, then he started throwing things, I don't know why. I really didn't say much this time, just told him to sleep it off, and apparently that is all it took. Oh, he never hits me, he threatens to, but he doesn't do it. I sent the kids to Toni's, and my father went to his buddy's house. So now, we were alone. Usually that helps to calm the situation. Not tonight. When he realised that his acting like a two year old and throwing things was not going to drag me into his drama, he stopped. Yeah for me, right? Wrong. I refused to play the game, so he upped the stakes. He started cutting. (Now for anyone who does not know what cutting is, it is where a person cuts them self with lots of shallow little cuts. It is a plea for attention. No matter what any overpriced doctor says, that is it at it's core. It is like a three year old who's mom is not paying attention, who then bangs his head on the wall. He is not really hurting himself, he just wants you to think so.) Okay, so now he is cutting. But I will not beg and plead with him to stop. I tried a few times, but that is just playing into his game, so I left the room. Since he didn't have an audience to watch him perform, he eventually followed me. He found me sitting in front of the computer listening to music, and talking to Bill. Of course that pissed him off even more. ( How dare I not watch him do what he is doing, after all, he is doing it for my benefit in the first place. UGH. The mind of a drunk never ceases to amaze me.) So since I still refused to play along, he wiped blood on my face. What the fuck? I know why he did it. In his sick mind, he wants me to feel responsible for his pain. (I may not have a PhD, but I am smart enough to understand the workings of the mind of the man I have been married to for all these years.) So, now he wants to make me an accomplice to his cutting, since I refuse to be an audience. I calmly got up, and washed my face. I sat back down, and played more music. He came and went a few times. Each time there was more blood. A few new cuts. He even added cutting his face since I was not freaking out the way he wanted me to. I ignored him. I sat using the computer and talking to my friends. He finally stopped. He realised I just wouldn't play, no matter what the stakes. He washed off the blood. He came out and handed me the hobby knife. He crawled into bed. He passed out. I wonder how long it will take him to realise, that this time, I didn't cry. (Okay, I cried while talking to Toni, but it was frustration more than anything.) I will probably just let it drop. We will go on like it didn't happen. But I swear, right now, if I had the cash laying around available to me right this minute...I would pack a bag for me, one for each of the kids, and drive until I got as far as a tank of gas would take me. Where ever we ran out of gas is where we would stay. I would start over, without him. And if I ever do it, I will never, NEVER, come back. That's all..Goodnight.

The road to self pity is paved with assholes...

Wow, I was feeling really shitty this morning. Worst part is, I am not feeling much better right now. I honestly can't say why. Well, I can't point to ONE particular thing that started me down this self pity road, it just happens sometimes. Maybe I should see a doctor, maybe I am bipolar. Or maybe, once in awhile someone could see that I am having a shitty day, and care enough to fucking be there for me. But apparently that is just too much to fucking ask for. As much as I make myself available for my friends and family in need, you would think one of them would see me crying and ask if they could help. But really, they all just go on like it isn't happening. What the hell is up with that behaviour? I am thinking the next time anyone asks me for anything, to do anything, or even just wants to spend time with me, I am going to tell them to fuck off, because honestly, I am just fed up with everyone's bullshit. The women in my life seem to only care about what I can do for them, what problems of their's I can solve. They are not capable of listening to me when I need to talk, not capable of giving back to me all that I give to them (emotionally). And all the men in my life are even worse. They want to spend alot of time with me as long as I cater to their egos and play constant cheerleader to their lives, but let me need a shoulder to cry on, or a warm pair of arms to just hold me for awhile, and they are all busy with other things, or just don't seem to notice that anything is wrong. Either that, or they just don't care. I swear, I honestly considered just leaving for work today, and then getting a hotel room for a few days, just to give myself a break. I couldn't do it though. I couldn't, because the only person who even noticed that I was not myself today was my sweet Kylie. A three year old. Not the hubby. Not my father. Not my "best" friend. No one at work. Not even my honey (he wouldn't have noticed because he hasn't called in so long, not that he would have noticed anymore than anyone else did, anyway.) No one noticed except my baby. (Yes, she is three and she is still MY BABY!) She crawled into my lap. Put one hand on each of my cheeks, looked me in the eye, and asked "Are you sad, Momma?". "Yes", I answered. She didn't ask why, she didn't look away, or walk away. She sat there holding my face, put her forehead to mine, and told me that she loved me. Then she kissed me, and cuddled into my arms, and just sat with me awhile. When she did get up to leave, she kissed my cheek and said, "You can be happy tomorrow, Momma. Okay?" "Okay.", I answered her. See, my baby understands. That's why I can't run away. Or give up. Or any of the other crazy things that I sometimes think about doing. Thank God for Kylie. That's all. Goodnight.

Have you ever...

Have you ever felt lonely in the middle of a crowd? Have you ever wondered if anyone would notice if you just didn't come home again? Have you ever just wanted to scream? Have you ever thought what it would be like to drive into a brick wall? Have you ever felt like crying when everyone around you is laughing? Have you ever just wanted to run away and start all over again, somewhere else, as someone else? Have you ever just felt like giving up? Sorry, just having a shitty day. That's all. Goodbye.

What men really want...

Okay, I already know what you are thinking. Four posts, in one day, and on the Fourth Of July at that. Does she have no life at all? Honest answer? Yes, but just barely. Okay, that is not true either. Really, I do have a life and it is filled with friends and loved ones. It is just that today was a blissfully easy day for me. I mean we did the whole barbecue thing, which usually entails three days preparation and constant work for me. But, this year, the hubby took care of everything, and I got to sit on my ass in front of this screen while he did it all. And it was wonderful. I could get used to this. I should also say that it was delicious. A nice rare rib eye. Some fresh sweet corn. A tossed spinach salad with avocado and papaya. Cucumber and onion salad. Key lime pie. And my favorite, strawberry and blueberry covered cheesecake. And boy did I eat. As I was eating I saw the hubby out of the corner of my eye, and he was just sitting there watching me. When I looked up at him, he smiled. Now, you may think that is strange, but I am used to it. You see, apparently the hubby thinks watching me eat is sexy. I have always thought he was a bit odd thinking that, until I talked to my honey and he said the same thing. Watching a woman eat is sexy? Who would have thought it? If I had known this years ago, I would have just carried around a few snacks, and got a lot more action. (Actually that is a joke, I did just fine without the snacks. In fact I think my past exploits are not a road I want to go down. How 'bout them Cubs?) So, I decided to do some research, and find out what men REALLY think is sexy. The facts surprised me. Men did not list physical features as what they find most attractive in a woman. Okay, well there were some, but even the physical features they chose shocked me. It seems that a man would prefer an overweight woman with curves over a thin woman without curves. Other physical attributes that were mentioned most often were "her smile", "her eyes" and "soft hair". There was one man who said "there breast", but since he did not appear to be able to spell "their" correctly, or know that women have two breasts instead of one breast, well his vote doesn't count. So, leaving behind the physical things men admire in a woman we come to the not so tangible things men find sexy. The list is long and varied, but I would like to start with pointing out that the hubby and the honey seem to be on to something with that whole eating is sexy thing. It seems to come in close to the top on a lot of men's lists. And now here is a list of things men REALLY find sexy. (Pay attention ladies.)

1. Intelligence (This was number one on almost everyone's list! Yeah Me, for being brilliant!)
2. Loyalty
3. Honesty
4. Maturity
5. Kindness
6. Independence
7. Femininity
8. A good sense of humour
9. Feistiness
10. Compassion

It seems that I have a lot more going for me than I ever thought. We have already discussed the fact that I can be one smart cookie, I have been married to the same man for fourteen years (proves my loyalty), I admit "to the world" all kinds of things about myself (honesty), I am a mother and wife who takes care of the finances and almost never forgets an appointment (maturity), I go out of my way to help my fellow man, and animals (kindness), I work a full time job and know how to pay my own bills, I can even do minor car repair (independence), the hubby says I wiggle when I walk (femininity) ((NOTE: The hubby says I also talk like an off-shore oil worker, and can have a mean streak a mile wide which I thought would be a turn off, he says that is sexy sometimes too)) (((does that nullify my wiggly walk?))), I tend to make people around me laugh so I guess that qualifies me for the..(good sense of humor), I am the kind of gal who wants to get my hands in on the action all the time and am usually pretty quick with a snappy comment (feistiness), and I would literally give someone the shirt off my back if they needed it (compassion). Hell, I am one great gal. According to this list, every man should be in love with me. What the hell is wrong with all of you? Why are you not sending me flowers (I prefer things like daisies and carnations to roses, just for the record) and killing each other in the street for my affection? Oh well, I guess I will have to be content with what I have. And just for those of you who are going to say things like "If that is what men REALLY want, then why do they all get turned on by Playboy and porn flicks?" To that I answer this...How many men MARRY women like that? They are sexually attracted to the "perfect" bodied women in the magazines, but they do not often choose a beautiful but vacuous (Don't be lazy.. look it up.. try www.dictionary.com )wife. There is a huge leap from what men are physically attracted to, and what men fall in love with. Men are much more likely to fall in love with their best female friend than the local beauty queen. Like Ella Wheeler Wilcox said "All love that has not friendship for its base, Is like a mansion built upon the sand." That's all, Goodnight.

My POW/MIA...

Okay, I found the site that I used when I "adopted" a POW/MIA about six years ago. I am not sure if they are still up and running, as many of the links seemed to go nowhere. But, in any case, I submitted my application to adopt another one. I asked for a Marine, but what I get remains to be seen. (I will always choose Marines, that is just the way it is, get over it.) If the site is still operating I will be building a page dedicated to my POW/MIA so watch for a new link, and maybe you should think of adopting one of your own, after all isn't it time they ALL came home? That's all.

Our Flag...

I was thinking today, about all the times I have seen the United States Flag used in ways that I thought inappropriate. So today, I thought we all need to be reminded about proper Flag etiquette. So here it is...

The United States Flag Code
'Flag Etiquette'

STANDARDS of RESPECT

The Flag Code, which formalizes and unifies the traditional ways in which we give respect to the flag, also contains specific instructions on how the flag is not to be used.

They are:

The flag should never be dipped to any person or thing. It is flown upside down only as a distress signal.

The flag should not be used as a drapery, or for covering a speakers desk, draping a platform, or for any decoration in general. Bunting of blue, white and red stripes is available for these purposes. The blue stripe of the bunting should be on the top.

The flag should never be used for any advertising purpose. It should not be embroidered, printed or otherwise impressed on such articles as cushions, handkerchiefs, napkins, boxes, or anything intended to be discarded after temporary use. Advertising signs should not be attached to the staff or halyard.

The flag should not be used as part of a costume or athletic uniform, except that a flag patch may be used on the uniform of military personnel, fireman, policeman and members of patriotic organizations.

The flag should never have placed on it, or attached to it, any mark, insignia, letter, word, number, figure, or drawing of any kind.

The flag should never be used as a receptacle for receiving, holding, carrying, or delivering anything.

When the flag is lowered, no part of it should touch the ground or any other object; it should be received by waiting hands and arms. To store the flag it should be folded neatly and ceremoniously.

The flag should be cleaned and mended when necessary.

When a flag is so worn it is no longer fit to serve as a symbol of our country, it should be destroyed by burning in a dignified manner.

(Note: Most American Legion Posts regularly conduct a dignified flag burning ceremony, often on Flag Day, June 14th. Contact your local American Legion Hall and inquire about the availability of this service.)

Displaying the Flag Outdoors:

When the flag is displayed from a staff projecting from a window, balcony, or a building, the union should be at the peak of the staff unless the flag is at half staff.

When it is displayed from the same flagpole with another flag - of a state, community, society or Scout unit - the flag of the United States must always be at the top except that the church pennant may be flown above the flag during church services for Navy personnel when conducted by a Naval chaplain on a ship at sea.

When the flag is displayed over a street, it should be hung vertically, with the union to the north or east. If the flag is suspended over a sidewalk, the flag's union should be farthest from the building.

When flown with flags of states, communities, or societies on separate flag poles which are of the same height and in a straight line, the flag of the United States is always placed in the position of honor - to its own right.

..The other flags may be smaller but none may be larger.

..No other flag ever should be placed above it.

..The flag of the United States is always the first flag raised and the last to be lowered.

When flown with the national banner of other countries, each flag must be displayed from a separate pole of the same height. Each flag should be the same size. They should be raised and lowered simultaneously.

The flag of one nation may not be displayed above that of another nation.

Raising and Lowering the Flag:

The flag should be raised briskly and lowered slowly and ceremoniously.

Ordinarily it should be displayed only between sunrise and sunset.

It should be illuminated if displayed at night.

The flag of the United States of America is saluted as it is hoisted and lowered. The salute is held until the flag is unsnapped from the halyard or through the last note of music, whichever is the longest.

Displaying the Flag Indoors:

When on display, the flag is accorded the place of honor, always positioned to its own right. Place it to the right of the speaker or staging area or sanctuary. Other flags should be to the left.

The flag of the United States of America should be at the center and at the highest point of the group when a number of flags of states, localities, or societies are grouped for display.

When one flag is used with the flag of the United States of America and the staffs are crossed, the flag of the United States is placed on its own right with its staff in front of the other flag.

When displaying the flag against a wall, vertically or horizontally, the flag's union (stars) should be at the top, to the flag's own right, and to the observer's left.

Parading and Saluting the Flag:

When carried in a procession, the flag should be to the right of the marchers.

When other flags are carried, the flag of the United States may be centered in front of the others or carried to their right.

When the flag passes in a procession, or when it is hoisted or lowered, all should face the flag and salute.

The Salute To salute; all persons come to attention.

Those in uniform give the appropriate formal salute.

Citizens not in uniform salute by placing their right hand over the heart and men with head cover should remove it and hold it to left shoulder, hand over the heart.

Members of organizations in formation salute upon command of the person in charge.

The Pledge of Allegiance and National Anthem:

The pledge of allegiance should be rendered by standing at attention, facing the flag, and saluting.

When the national anthem is played or sung, citizens should stand at attention and salute at the first note and hold the salute through the last note. The salute is directed to the flag, if displayed, otherwise to the music.

The Flag in Mourning:

To place the flag at half staff, hoist it to the peak for an instant and lower it to a position half way between the top and bottom of the staff. The flag is to be raised again to the peak for a moment before it is lowered.

On Memorial Day the flag is displayed at half staff until noon and at full staff from noon to sunset.

The flag is to be flown at half staff in mourning for designated, principal government leaders and upon presidential or gubernatorial order.

When used to cover a casket, the flag should be placed with the union at the head and over the left shoulder. It should not be lowered into the grave.

So now you know. You no longer have the option of saying "But no one ever told me." That's all.

The true meaning of the Fourth Of July...

I was planning on saying something tonight, about the TRUE MEANING OF THE FOURTH OF JULY. That was the plan. I decided to start doing a bit of research first, as I like to be accurate, if nothing else. I came across a piece that was written by John and Glenda Akins. I do not know them, I do not know how to get in touch with them to get permission to copy their work. I think they would want this message to reach as many eyes as possible, so risking possible copyright infringements, I am going to just go ahead and paste it here anyway. Like I said, I was going to write something, but I do not think I could do better with the topic than they already have. Here it is...


The True Meaning of the Fourth of July


Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.

Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War. They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor.

What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.

Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated.

But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death, if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson Jr, noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later he died from exhaustion and a broken heart.

Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.

Such were the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution.

These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education.

They had security, but they valued liberty more.

Standing tall, straight, and unwavering, they pledged: "For the support of this declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of the divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."

They gave you and me a free and independent America.

The history books never told you a lot about what happened in the Revolutionary War.
We didn't fight just the British.
We were British subjects at that time and we fought our own government!
Some of us take these liberties so much for granted, but we shouldn't.

So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots.

It's not much to ask for the price they paid.

Remember: freedom is never free.

The only thing I can add to this is that there are still men and women willing to give everything, including their lives, to defend this great nation of ours. They leave their families, their homes, their jobs, their friends so that you and I can live each day able to speak our minds freely, able to openly condemn our own government if we choose to, free to practice any religion we wish (or to abstain from practicing religion ,if we so choose), free to do practically anything we want (as long as doing so does not interfere with the freedoms of others. We can even burn our flag and hold demonstrations at the funerals of the soldiers (and Marines, and Airmen, and Naval Personnel) who died to protect our rights, if that is what we wish to do. (Of course I personally do not agree with that kind of behaviour, but I will go to my grave defending your right to do it if you want to. But if that is something you wish to do, keep in mind, I have the right to tell you EXACTLY what I think of you, loudly and crudely and without restraint.) So when you silently Thank the men who signed the Declaration, remember to also Thank all the men and women who defend you still.

A NOTE FROM ME TO ALL THE MEN AND WOMEN WHO HAVE EVER, ARE NOW, AND WILL EVER SERVE IN OUR ARMED FORCES...

Thank You!

That's all. Goodnight.

I am a geek...

Okay, I have a secret to confess. I am a closet geek. How do I know this? Well, here is the deal. I LOVE the Harry Potter books and movies. Yes, I am aware that they were originally intended to be children's books. I do not care. I have read them all, and am anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next (and last) in the series. I have even gone so far as to read quite a few of the posts on the vast number of Harry Potter dedicated sites. (And since we are all friends here, I will even admit to actually posting on one or two.) Now like all true Harry fans, I have my own theories about the last book. For example, I think Snape is one of the good guys. I think he made an unbreakable vow of loyalty to Dumbledore, and that is why Dumbledore has never questioned his loyalty. I think Voldemort inadvertently made Harry the seventh Horcrux. I think that R.A.B. is Regulus Black, and that he was not killed, but has been in hiding. I think Sirius will return from beyond the veil. I think that Harry will die in the final battle, and with his death, Voldemort will once again be mortal. I hope that Neville is the one who finally kills Voldemort, after all that would be poetic justice. The new movie (The Order of the Phoenix) comes out a week from tomorrow. I will see it as soon as I get off work. The book comes out later this month. I will be at the midnight release party at Barnes and Noble. ( I pre-ordered months ago.) See, I am a geek. And, if you understood half of what I said, so are you. That's all, Bye!