Yep ... still. 

See my big red nose --> =O( 

I have fever now which I didn't have the previous two weeks. *pout*  I'm more congested than I was last week *pout*  I can't seem to clear my throat.  *pout*  I've lost two pounds and am now below 110 lbs -- I'm not pouting about that but it's not the way to lose weight.  I'm not hungry.  *frown*  [Yes, Paul, I ate a little something anyway]  What the heck is this?  Whatever it is, it sucks.  =Op

I really want someone to take care of me.

I was remembering when I first started dating my second husband in 1978 ... not the beater, the cheater.  In the first two weeks I was dating him, I caught a bug of some sort.  I was soooo sick.  He called and I didn't want to talk to him.  Half hour later he was banging on the door.  I dragged my sorry butt to the door and let him in ... then went back to bed.  He took my temperature, put cool cloths on my forehead, etc.  Then, he wraps me up in a blanket; carries me out to the car and takes me to his house.  He put me in his big ol' bed with HUGE posts -- like in a fairy tale or something.  I fell asleep.  When I woke up, there he was with a bowl of soup.  He helped me sit up.  He tried to get me to eat and I didn't want to.  He held the spoon up to my lips and he said, "C'mon, little bird, open up"  The way he said it was soooo endearing ... so I did.  He took care of me like that for five days!

All through our relationship, whenever he had to coax me, he would always preface it with, "C'mon, little bird ..."  Thirteen years later he's telling me that he'd rather kill me than give me anything in the divorce settlement ... and he meant it.  I have that affect on men.  When they love me, they really love me.  When they hate me, they want to kill me.  What's up with that?  lol

*sigh* 

He was a remarkable man ... in the beginning at least.  You see how they are?  That's how they get you ... then once you're got their job is done.  Just kidding ... well, kinda.  Lots of men are like that -- they don't keep doing what they did to get there, if you know what I mean.

Funny, that I would have such a tender memory about Mr. Devil Incarnate.  Damn .. I'm must be very, very sick.  I'm so sick I even wish Mr. Man was here to take care of me ... that's assuming he WOULD take care of me if he were here.  But he's not here ... haven't heard from him all day ... don't have a clue where he is ... don't care ... dragging my sorry butt to bed ... buh-bye.

Every time I come to my blog, the first thing I look at is the Sloganizer at the top of my page. 

I found The Sloganizer on Sinja's blog, Battle Ready and immediately knew I had to have one on my blog.  It was love at first sight ... with the Sloganizer, not Sinja -- that took a couple sights.  *grin*  The Sloganizer appeals to my cocksure, "I'm incredible" Happy Bunny attitude.  I'll admit it, I think I'm special and not just because I rode the short bus to crazy school x^p  <-- (true story that I'll blog about one day)  What's so special about me?  C'mon!  Have you met me?  No?  That's kinda sad. 

*snicker* 

Maybe I should have entitled this entry, "Warning: smartarse blogging.  (Hmmm ... could be the title of a future blog.) 

Before I so rudely interrupted myself, I was saying, I adore the Sloganizer.  It makes me laugh and laugh because I'm just a fun loving girl ... and I'm fun ... and I'm loving ... and I'm a girl. Three out of three!  SWEET! 

Some of my favorite slogans so far:

The Incredible, Edible Friday
Come to Friday and let's get it done!
Friday comes to those who wait.
Leggo of my Friday!
I'd sleep with Friday.
Feel the magic of Friday.
On the eighth day, God created Friday
Friday, better than chocolate.
Friday's blog, tested and mother approved.
I was a Friday's blog weakling.
Fall for Friday
The world's favorite, Friday's blog.
Friday's blog because I'm worth it.
Friday's blog, the secret of women.
Every Friday has a story.
You know when it's Friday's blog.
Friday's blog keeps going and going and going.
Step into the light with Friday's blog.

Slogans by: Sloganizer
   The Advertising Slogan Generator

So far, this is my favorite ... I think it says it all:  Ooh la la, Friday!

I'm telling you this stuff is addictive. *reload, reload, reload*

We hear about unconscionable acts all the time on the news.  People gasp and say, "OH, but isn't that awful?" and go about washing dishes or channel surfing or blogging.

As a society, we are so detached and desensitized.  The news is full of horrors going on every day.  Some of the highest rated shows on television, like CSI, show gruesome things that many of us [notice, I said us - me included] have become very curious about.  Seeing an autopsy has totally lost it's "Ewww!" factor.  But there are crimes that we as a society cannot and will not give cursory attention ... crimes against children.

Last night it was reported that a six week old baby girl, Diana Nelson, of Bogalusa, Louisiana was in a coma after having been beaten about the head, burned with a cigarette lighter and her tiny little body riddled with Xanax.  I cried then, I'm crying now.  This precious darlin's short life ended so brutally.  What kind of monster commits such an atrocity?  In short, a family friend, the babysitter.

I'm often heard to say that I'm sugar and spice and sometimes nuthin' nice.  People don't know what I used to be capable of.  Under the influence of drugs, I'm sure I'd like to spill the blood that bitch.  Clean, all I can do is cry. 

Baby Diana breathed her last this afternoon after being removed from life support. 

I must warn anyone reading this ... if you don't know about my issues with God and would be easily offended if I said anything against him, close this page down now.

I wish I could pray.  I wish I believed in a God so that I could believe praying would do any good.  Poor tiny soul.  Did she even know what was happening to her?  If there is a God, was he merciful; did he take her little spirit out of her so that she wouldn't experience the savagery of what was happening to her?  See, I want to pray.  I do.  I hate just sitting here blogging about it.  I'm angry, I'm hurt.  Of course, this precious little angel didn't deserve this. So why?  WHY!? 

I know someone is going to tell me something about free will - blah,blah, blah.  Bull! I don't buy it.  I'm not going to apologize for any of this and my Christian friends know that I respect their faith -- and they respect my pain and anger.  They pray for me too, which I truly appreciate.  I just can't forgive Him.  I won't.  Who am I that it would matter whether or not I forgive Him or not?  A  frickin' nobody.  My hand is written on His hand, my ass.

Miracles happen all the time!  I don't' believe that God has a hand in miracles if he can't save his most precious.  Or those who are good and faithful servants, like my mother.  Yeah, yeah ... did anyone think I forgot about what happened to my mama?  I still contend, that if the power of the Lord could part the motherfrickin' Red Sea, then why can't the power of the Lord have eased my mother's pain or STOPPED that animal from not only taking Baby Diana's life but torturing her in the process.  This infuriates me. 

You know the worst agnostic there is, is one who used to believe when an event so egregious occurred that it toppled their faith.  So it must not have been faith in the first place?  Whatever.  If there is a hell, I'm bound there, I'm sure.  I'm nearly certain that if there's a heaven, God isn't going to call me to his throne, shake his finger at me and call me a willful child. Okay ... enough God bashing.

Now I'm going to bash the media -- those bastards.  They thought it was news worthy to broadcast a picture of Diana's itty-bitty little burned leg -- so tiny it was almost lost next to the hand that was pointing out the injury. 

I don't guess it matters how much I rage, or cry or write about it -- there isn't any amount of any of those things that's going to make this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach go away very soon.

Too sensitive to live among wolves?  No, I think this rage is justified. 

I found a fun thing over at Fliva.  It's a widget that asks you lots of questions.  You answer them, seriously or humorously and post it on your blog.  Then people who come to your blog can not only read your witty answers but ask you witty questions to which you'll give your witty answers.  Go ahead ... ask me anything ... you know you want to.  Nothing wrong with my ego today.  Example Q&A ...

Q.  What is the perfect invention?

A.  It's a toss up.  Perforated toilet paper or velcro

I'm going to be putting a permalink my Fliva in the side section so that it can be accessed at will.  =^]

I feel a little tired today.  I think I have a Humpty Dance hangover.  =^p   And, I still have that darned cold.  This is going on three weeks.  Ugh.  I'm going back to bed.  Yay!

I've been visiting a site called Freaking Fabulous who posts the most beautiful collection of Flickr photos.  This one is just awe inspiring.  So much so I had to post it.  What an eye, this photographer has.



In case you hadn't noticed, the ring casts a heart-shaped shadow on the pages of the book.  *sigh*

I was looking through some old files and look what I found!  It's the Hump Hog!  Yeah, baby!  Annnnnnd ... The Humpty Dance!

Maestro, a little chair dancin' hump music, please

   

 

Warning: Profanity free, a little suggestive, BIG FUN to chair dance to!  Disclaimer: No hogs were harmed in the making of this post.

Dear Cybersurfer -

I'm so sorry to disappoint you.  I apologize for the inconvenience.  I don't know how you ended up here after you searched for "xxx child ass".  Were you looking for a child posing with an ass as in donkey?  Maybe a child in an ass / donkey costume?  Or maybe a "child" donkey?  Or maybe a child just being an ass as in being unruly?  Was the "xxx" a wild card in the search?  Surely you weren't literally looking for triple x rated child ass. 

You nasty monkey! Get the hell off my blog and don't touch anything on the way out!

p.s. Ever heard of an IP address?  Wanna know yours?

......................................................................

Now watch me get hits from people looking for a nasty monkey ... EWWW!

9:05PM CST  Went to Perverted Justice site to see where I could forward the IP to ... waiting on a reply.  Not sure they can do anything.  It may not even be the real IP but according to StatCounter, it originated in Canada.

When I logged on tonight, the Sloganizer read, "Friday takes care of you."  My first thought was, "I would if I could."  There are people in my life -- online and offline -- that are going through some tumultuous times.  I've embraced them with my heart but I wish I could do more.

Did you know that when you cry, I cry?  Did you know that when your heart aches I want to ease your pain?  Did you know that I feel protective of you and would shield you from despair if I could?  Did you know that I want to nurture you ... spoil you ... make you laugh ... make your life better in some small way.  When you're sick I wish I could be there to take care of you.  When you're hurting or scared or just blue, I wish I could just hug you and say, "It's okay.  Whatever you feel right now, it's okay.  We'll get through this together."  I feel this way because ... because I love you.  Does that seem like a strange thing to say?  Understandably so ... lots of people seem to throw that word around a lot these days, but I truly mean it.  I hope that doesn't scare you because truly, I don't want anything from you.  You gift me with so much already. 

Does this all seem cryptic?  If you think I'm talking to you, chances are, you're right.  I haven't made any secret about the women that I think "totally rock".

I'm not used to this, sharing about what I feel in the core of my heart.  I know that there are people who think I'm sappy or lame or whatever.  Maybe I am.  I just don't care anymore. 

My mother used to say that I was "too gentle to live among wolves".  I believe it's from a James Kavanaugh poem.  (Actually, pretty funny, my mom quoting James Kavanagh.)  What she was saying is that my heart is tender.  I'm easily hurt.  I'm too sensitive.  But it's exactly that thing that makes me too sensitive that makes me so sensitive to others.  It's exactly that sensitivity that makes me love fiercely and steadfastly.

Paul McCartney wrote, "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."  I hope so because my heart seems to be making a lot of love lately and I just don't seem to be able to stifle it or hide it -- nor do I want to.  I may not have a brilliant mind, but I have a brilliant heart and I refuse to hide that any longer.

So, I love you -- get used to it.

"When you've got Friday, flaunt it."  -- Sloganizer

Transferring pictures from my camera to the computer, I came across a picture I obviously didn't take or consent to have taken.  The culprit could have been only one person.

ME:  (yelling)  MR. MAN!

MR. MAN:  (entering the room)  What are you hollering?

ME:  What's this?

MR. MAN:  (glances at the picture and then back at me)  Your best side?

ME:  My best side ... funny.

MR. MAN:  Well, it may not be your best side but it's my favorite side.

ME:  Why would that be?  You're always saying what a narrow ass I have.

MR. MAN:  Because when you're like that, you're quiet.

ME:  Phhht!  Get outta here!

image clickable

If the camera is in plain view, it's like Mr. Man bait -- he can't resist picking it up and snapping pictures of me in my least attractive moments.  He came home, found the camera on the kitchen counter and snapped this picture.  Actually, I had been on the phone with Paul that afternoon and as you can see, it wore me out.  I was curled up in my recliner having a nap.  My pants aren't really that low -- they're unbuttoned.  What?  Don't you unbutton your pants to get comfortable?  Oh, and no cracks about buttcrack ... that's only the small of my back ... I can't help it if I'm bumpy.

By the way, Anjelle, I was nippy which is why I'm all curled up.

Excuse my mess while I fine tune the layout.  In the meantime, here's a couple of St. Patrick's Day prezzies for my wonderful friends.  I have the luck of the Irish, I'm telling ya!

a little Irish moon