At Loose Ends

This post was written on what I think was a Saturday, but I know it was the 11th day in the month of April in the year of 2009.

If I am not working on five different sites at the same time, PLUS pimping the hell out of myself, I am lost.

Seriously.

This past week I have been slow, which for me means only two current clients needing anything.

But I get all panicky when I have down time instead of enjoying it – dumb ass.

BigD is home for a whole week. That insane scream you’ll hear on or around Wednesday from the Midwest will be me:

“GO BACK TO WORK!!!!“

The man gets on the nerve, y’know?

First we have the incessant channel surfing. Now, channel-surfing in and of itself is okay, but you have to hone the craft. You CANNOT surf six channels and keep any kind of sanity about what you’re watching. Also, the sanity of anybody within three rooms is at risk, which may put your LIFE at risk.

Put the remote control DOWN and step away from the sofa or the television gets it.

Also … dude, seriously you are nearing fifty years old, the bread and the sandwich eat are in the same place they have been since we got married twenty-some fucking years ago. Make your own sandwich at lunch time.

I make the big, Sunday breakfast-in-bed and the four course suppers four nights a week – come on, pull your weight.

I must admit, though, that I will be really happy to have him home til about Wednesday. I HATE when he’s out of town, I sleep for shit and I miss him so much.

Will I ever get over feeling like a fourteen year old about him?

I have discovered “On Demand”, my own television viewing will never be the same.

“Rescue Me” started last week and for the next 22 weeks I will be in FDNY heaven. I want to have Dennis Leary’s babies.

“Southland” has possibilities, as does “Harper’s Island” (Harry Hamlin’s character the first to go – REALLY?)

Let’s see, what else?

Oh yeah, still fat.

I am actually starting to get a little panicky about this shit. I have relied on my mother’s pretty fucking spectacular genetics, but y’know, if she had lived to my current age, maybe she would’ve started going downhill too.

It’s really hard though when you walk up a sweat four days a week AND cut your Pepsi consumption down to ONE FUCKING bottle a week and you actually seem to GAIN fucking weight.

Gah … whatEVER.

Randomness …

This post was written on what I think was a Wednesday, but I know it was the 4th day in the month of February in the year of 2009.

Actually, what this is gonna be is one great big, fucking bitchfest.

Hmmm … where to start.

Glasses, $357 – check. Fuck you Walmart.

My head hurts, my back hurts, my knees hurt, my wrists hurt, my fingers hurt – MY FUCKING ASS HURTS. I am well and over this feeling like shit deal.

I should die, already. Fuck me.

The dog? Fleas – uh, maybe, who the fuck knows? Spoiled or bladder infection? Who the fuck knows? I know that a vet appointment is in order. I’d like to finish the bitching first please, before I have to start hunting someone down to drive my stupid, useless ass and that of my poor dog to a vet. Fuck the dog and fuck the vet.

Which reminds me – get a fucking driver’s license already.

Get over being pissed at the county and the fat-ass cop who gave an old fucking woman a drunk driving ticket and our asshole friends who either a) get off with a warning even though it’s the bazillionth time they’ve been pulled over or b) can mange to drive after revocation without being terrified that they’ll get caught.

Just get the hell over it and get your fucking driver’s license back.

In the meantime, fuck the county, fuck Officer Fisher and fuck my wastrel, drunken friends.

Fuck the Internet, or Time Warner Cable or this useless fucking computer – whichever of the three are making it nearly impossible to get any work done today and yesterday.

Oh! My “best friend“!

Yeah, you. You said you’d take me to the eye doctor on Monday. I called you on Sunday to remind you – no answer. Let’s not forget the fucking interview you have at the salon where my sister works, where I put a good word in for you.

Yeah – fuck you.

The extensions have to go. I have enough pain without those fucking things pulling at my scalp.

Beside, who gives a ripping shit? I am old and no one cares what I look like, including my asshole of a husband who hasn’t laid a hand on me in three weeks and who can’t manage to say ten words to me when I call him on the phone.

Of course, he CAN manage to sit on the phone with my brother’s wife for a fucking half an hour on Friday night … whatever.

Fuck him, too.

And the extensions.

The only thing I don’t have to bitch about is my job.

Well, there’s something new and different.

I gotta go …

You’ll Never Put a Finger on Me

This post was written on what I think was a Saturday, but I know it was the 6th day in the month of September in the year of 2008.

I hope that the following continues to be indicative of the worst I have to bitch about, lol.

The mouse on my desktop took a shit yesterday AND the cats chewed through the power cord to MY laptop … WTF? Cats? Mice?

Anyway, the little barstids only chew on MY shit. MY charger cord, MY laptop cord … wtf? And why the HELL don’t they electrocute themselves the way it happens when that cat on the cartoons chews on cords.

ZZZZZZaaaappppppppp! All hair standing up and legs splayed out, burnt to a crisp.

Oh all right, I don’t really mean that.

But still … shit.

BigD and I went to an “old time” rock show last night. Head East, Nazareth and April Wine. I don’t know the last time he and I went ALONE anywhere, let alone to a rock venue.

Uh yeah, we didn’t drink … we didn’t party … and we were by far NOT the oldest farts there. Seriously. The last time I saw so many bald heads, saggy boobies and flabby bellies was at one of the kids’ middle school parent-teacher conferences.

I am NOT kidding. Support stockings, wide bra straps slipping out from under lunch lady smock tops … my gawd, this is my generation.

:: sigh ::

Nazareth sucked a bit, except for Manny Charlton who is now fat and bald and looks like a school janitor, but whose guitar skills are STILL in-fucking-credible.

April Wine, the apparent “headliners” of the evening and my personal favorite of the three, were SO incredibly SUCK that we left after three songs. I was disappointed – I couldn’t even stand to wait around to see if they butchered “You Could Have Been a Lady” as badly as they did “Enough is Enough“.

However, Head East kicked some major ass and that, along with the fact that BigD enjoyed Nazareth, was well worth the $20 ticket fee.

Plus, I saw some big ol’ biker wearing a Kid Rock T-shirt – that was a grinner.

So, this afternoon we have a big birthday party to attend … good thing we got our old asses home early last night because I have a feeling that tonight is gonna go an all-nighter.

Ta, mes bébés

Gimme an “F” … gimme a “u” … gimme a “c” …

This post was written on what I think was a Thursday, but I know it was the 10th day in the month of July in the year of 2008.

… ah, FUCK IT!

Okay, then where to start?

Ack.

I really want to scream and bitch like a crazy person; I REALLY want to cry (I can feel the pressure building up in my chest). I REALLY want to throw something against the wall or onto the concrete of the patio just for the satisfaction of hearing it shatter.

I would dearly love to strangle any number of asswipes who have made my life so FUCKING miserable over the past three weeks.

But I won’t do any of those things.

Right now I’m going to go wax my eyebrows, then I’ll come back, a bit less stressed and explain WHY I’d like to do some MAJOR damage to property and life.

Friday the Thirteenth – Whoo – ooo – ooo

This post was written on what I think was a Friday, but I know it was the 13th day in the month of June in the year of 2008.

I just this minute realized that it’s Friday the 13th. Either my life is so fucked up that I don’t realize that I’m being cursed or it’s so wonderful that I can’t have bad luck.

Whatever …

The truth is that everything is going so well (yes, that would be why it’s been a bit since I’ve updated, but here I am) that I’m nearly afraid to stop and think for any amount of time for fear of bolloxing something up.

The job goes well – God, I love being my own boss and working from home. I’ve been my own boss in the past, I ran my own nail salon for three years, but I had to drive every day. Honestly, this getting up and slopping to work in my jams is AWESOME. Well, not so much for BigD, cuz I look like a slob most of the time.

I really gotta do someting about that.

OTOH, he can’t bitch cuz I make a fairly decent wage.

Which brings me to the point that he DOESN’T bitch. We’ve been getting along so well that again, I’m almost afraid to even bring it up for fear of ya know – jinxing it or some damn thing.

TheBoy could get his shit together a little better, but we’re working on that – or he will be working on finding another place to live.

TheBug is moving on in life and being more responsible and adult – waah-ah-ahhh! Breaks my heart but makes me proud and happy at the same time. I miss her living here, a lot.

Okay, breaktime is over – back to work.

I am hoping to actually have most of this weekend off, dammit!