Let's see how this feels [ March 20, 2008, 9:19 p.m. ]


Look who’s back.

Actually, I’ve never been gone..I was cheating over at myspace for a bit. But there is something about myspace that just fucking reeks of desperation. It’s like a room full of posers. You have the popular kids with their fancy backgrounds, music and pics of all their popular friends at the most popular hotspots.

Then you have me…with a few pictures of some pies I baked and absolutely no information listed for fear of someone I “work with” ever finding me. And the fact that I was supporting Rupert Murdoch made me a tad sick to my stomach.

So here I sit..wondering what the hell I can say after having gone MIA for so long.

Lets catch up with the things that haven’t changed…I’m still with R. I still have the same job. I still live in the swampy end of Lake Erie. I still scream at traffic the ENTIRE way to work. I still fucking love coffee (although I have it under control). I still have insomnia. I still like to cook. I still have the most hateful bird in the world. I still love to garden. I have hummingbirds (when the place isn’t covered with snow…and btw..we have a winter storm warning for tomorrow…again!)

The changes:

My beloved Henry died in October after a lengthy battle with lupus. I have his little box of ashes, his paw print and his favorite toy on my dresser. I think about him a lot. I still look for him sometimes when I come home or when I get up in the morning. I rarely talk about it.

We got a new cat a few months before Henry died. We thought he might feel better with a buddy. We named him Squeak. He was a rescue that had been severely abused and burned by his previous owner. He lived under R’s bed for the first 2 months. We couldn’t touch him for months. Now he’s the most loveable, affectionate cat I’ve ever had. And just like every other pet I’ve ever had….he’s a complete freak show. He’s pawing at me right now, he wants attention. I’ll post a pic when I can remember how to do it. I’m not in the mood right now to remind myself.

R’s daughter and grandson lived with us for about 6 months. She said she needed to get away from bad influences, she wanted to stop using drugs. I didn’t want her here..I didn’t want to take care of her kid. I’m not good with kids which is why I’m a fag. It’s the most perfect way to prevent fatherhood. I was able to look at the situation a little more objectively than R. I knew better than to believe anything she said. R and I fought and fought about it. He’s enabled her for years. She fucks up, crawls back and he “helps.” She promises to change and doesn’t until she needs something again. The cycle continues. It’s killing him and I can’t do anything about it. I fear for her child. Britney can lose her kids but apparently smoking crack in front of a 5yo isn’t considered abuse. I’m waiting for the day her dealer shows up and robs us..or she sells her son for drugs. I have nothing to say to her anymore. I want her sober but OUT OF MY LIFE.
Bitter…table of one?

I bought a cool motherfucking car.

The writer’s strike taught me I like Brigitte Nielsen. I learned Project Runway is a fucking awesome show (and I hate clothes and fashion). I’m sad I missed the other seasons.

I actually feel bad for Britney. I still think she’s a no-talent mess but that’s not her fault. That’s our fault. We let her think she was good. Now she’s unraveling and the entire country is holding a bucket of popcorn and gorging on the details.

War? Is there a war? They just hauled Britney off to the hospital. Lindsay is drinking again. So-and-so showed her tits!

I could give a fuck. I have real shit on my mind.

Maybe, just maybe I’ll share it.

Maybe not.

Only time will tell.

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