Veteran's Day

I come from a generation of little patriotism. One that relates Veteran's Day more to advertised sale events than to soldiers and one that remembers most of Presidential affairs and mishaps since it is what was plastered all over the TVs. I remember Desert Storm as a teenager but barely more than the fire fights at night that looked more like fireworks. It seemed distant, and well, like a TV show. The violence of mainstream media has numbed us to tragedy in real life. News of the war blends away into the gray of over information and political agendas. Even the coverage of the war in Iraq now seems more like arguments between our leaders. Lost almost completely from sight and thought are the ones who have given up life as we know it to do without question what they are told. Fighting for choices made for them and going into everyday with the chance of not coming out of it.

Living with Mr Man has completely opened my eyes. He served in Vietnam and faced those same every days before I was born. I realize that whether it was WWII or Vietnam or Iraq, it's all still the same. What our soldiers do in the line of duty and endure, our cushy pampered asses can't even imagine. And they do it to keep our obliviously happy lives just that way. So from a converted open eyed child of the 70's....Thank You.

Joe Typical Monday

Today we spent the day on the boat. No particular destination, just bloody marys and lunch. The waterway is full of big boats heading south for the winter. At one point I asked why you have to be 70 before you get to kayak in the Keys....Mr Man said he didn't have the answer for me. That was the only question that he couldn't answer...and he doesn't always wait for a question asked to tell me stuff. I love that he teaches me things...random smartness that only he would have the patience to pass along...the kind of things my strange sponge mind just latches on to and I remember forever. I love love that we can spend the day together and talk non-stop or we can putz down the water at sailboat speed and just BE. And I love love love that he has no need to try to break me and change me from the quirky weird little girl that I am.

Odd Planetary Alignment in the Fur Kindgom

First let me start by saying that this time change is ruining my life. All I want to do in my non-work spare time is sleep. Sleep late...nap...work...bed. Actually I'm pretty sure I've had this exact same issue every year about this time. It's like girl hibernation or something. No matter how much I sleep it's just not enough....not like barely not enough...more like no fricking where close to enough. And it sucks. I don't feel any better now that I've shared that but I can move on. Still tired though.

Am I the only one that's noticed that squirrels are in heat? Maybe its just in my tee tiny corner of the world but the horny flirty squirrels are running a muck all over the neighborhood...I'm pretty glad its not just in our yard. I would hate to be know as the people with the exhibitionist squirrels.

And its deer fucky season too. I've seen them at night coming home and even in the day time running around in neighborhoods. Nanners man Curly rolled one over the hood of his car on a busy main road last week. Worried about the dented hood or left behind deer hair??....No. He was worried about his bike that was on the rack on the back of the car. As deer spokes person I will pass along their official statement.

Dear Curly,
Deers don't have thumbs so there is no real worry of gangs of rouge deer yutes* distracting you by throwing the short straw holder in front of your car while the others jack your mountain bike off the rack. Plus we prefer girl bikes...our hips don't really allow the flexibility for the high leg throw required to mount a boy bike. And we prefer beach cruisers...you know, no hand breaks...back to that damn opposing thumb issue.

Sorry for the inconvenience,
The "They" counsel of deer

*reference to My Cousin Vinnie...its only funny if I don't have to explain everything.

On to other furry impressiveness. Roger and Beaver has both stepped up their game as of late. My super passive, let every dog at the dog park molest him dog has finally had enough and has scratched his paw line in the sand. Mr Man, fending for himself the other night heated up a frozen dinner. After he was finished the gave the little plasty bowl to the dog to lick clean. (note- highlight of dog day) The ruler of the house, aka the cat, has recently developed a taste for biped food, so of course as self appointed world leader she headed over to get her a little bit of whatever the dog was going on about. (I've actually seen her eat out of his bowl while he stood back looking like WTF?...yet do nothing) But then it happened. Fueled by his frozen dinner remnants he sprouted kahunas and GROWLED!! "BITCH this is beef chow fun FUCK YOU!!" Apparently Beef Chow Fun gravy is something to growl about...hence the fun. I have never been so proud...I only wish I could have been there to see it...kinda like missing first steps I suppose.

Lastly, in the Beaver update. A few weeks ago we went to the Panthers spanking...I mean game and met Nanner and a friend. Of course Beaver made the trip so that he could tailgate with us. He was spotted and approached by tailgate neighbors (as any celebrity would have been). These guys, despite being Bills fans and kind of not knowing it was a 4 o'clock game, were cool guys. They'd been tailgating since 9am which may kinda sorta explain the approaching of the Beaver...but none-the-less they wanted their pictures taken with Mr GQ.

Noteable quote of the day "Holy shit...it's only 2:30...I've got to get my life together". Mr Western Shirt and the big guy admitted to being life partners...but in a non-gay way. Beave just dug the attention...although they thought he might want to consider a first name change...

One Year or Eighteen...

This week marks the one year anniversary of my exit from main stream corporate america. It was one year ago today that I found out that I no longer had employment, insurance, income or security. I'm sure I was scared and freaked out, but looking back I honestly don't recall it.

This week also marks what would have been my 18 year anniversary if I'd have stayed on the merry-go-round to hell that was my first marriage. I remember more about my "feelings" from that day, I would classify it as dead between "You can't fucking tell me what to do" and "RUN!!!" Hind sight says I should have gone with Door#2, but alas I was much more of a rebel at the time vs. an intuitive decision maker. Still having a strong streak of both I am happy to inform that they have pretty much flip flopped as of late.

Daddy's birthday is next week. He would have been 64. Seems hard to believe that he's missed his last two. Time marches on...and at an alarming pace. It doesn't feel like I've been "getting by" for a year nor does it feel like I am old enough to have been old enough 18 years ago to make dumbass matrimony choices.

Looking back life is made up of warm and cold spots. The warm spots are the people and times and things that make you smile every time your thoughts drift their way. The cold spots are the idiots and stupid ass crap you cross paths with that make you seriously question if maybe your mom smoked crack when she was pregnant with you...because there's really no other logical explanation to why you subjected yourself to the shit. Fortunately and unfortunately I have a lot of both. I have to admit the cold spots only make the warm spots feel warmer. And I'm a stronger person for having survived and made my way through the tough and not so smart times.

Fast forward one year?? It feels good to know I've found a travel partner to venture down the road with, but where that will be...I have absolutely no clue...and that's Awesome. Right now?...the water is warm come on in.

It's My Own Damn Fault

To borrow a Buffett line. If it's not some one's already shitty marriage falling apart or some one's devastated broken heart, it's someone all alone and martyring over everything...and some how it's all interrelated and has a common axis. It's all my fault. I'm one important center of all blame, all powerful muthafucker. How is it that one damn person has that kind of impact? For once everyone stand up and be fucking accountable. Your marriage falling apart might have more to do with never working, cooking, cleaning or putting out. Your devastated broken heart may have something to do with jerking off to Internet porn and soliciting strangers for a good discreet fuck and the ignoring of me in the meanwhile. And all alone may be exactly what I have been the majority of my life, so don't be surprised when I stay in the shell when dealing with death and family. I obviously could rule the world, if according to all of them, my magic wasn't being wasted on evil. WTF. Leave me alone.

Enter stage Cold Bitch.

The Great Mayo Bust

Very similar to the 55 pack of oatmeal conquest, I recently won the battle with 3 jars of mayonnaise that Mr Man had in the fridge... Duke's regular, Duke's light and Miracle Whip. Who needs a different mayonnaise for different applications and situations...really now. You have to know me and if you do, you know that I am the kind to share my progress any and every time I find myself standing in the refrigerator door. So finally after much ado I/we manage to finish off all 3 jars...to be replaced by ONE jar of Duke's Light. Only because its stupid to exercise and take 45 vitamin and supplements a day to keep cholesterol down then just shoot it in the ass with the mayo...you don't have to agree cause I know I'm right. Much grumbling ensued from one Mr. Man to which I reply something along the lines of "Really..shut up you'll get use to it."

So then it happened, busted. I picked up a grocery receipt that was lying on the counter just to see how much was spent (I try to keep up with my turn/his turn on groceries and stuff). There is was in black and white...proof of condiment betrayal behind my back. Duke's Regular artery clogging mayonnaise. I shriek, of course, because its what I do and yell "OMG you bought regular mayo!!!" Mr. Man says nothing, turns and runs full out to the laundry room, slams the door and makes his best 2 year old attempt at hiding. So as I'm beating on the body blocked door yelling "I can't believe you...where is it??" I hear snorting from the other side. It took a while but I found it...and yes he had actually hidden the mayonnaise from me. His response to all this, "Well if you weren't being so nosey I would have gotten away with it". I am obviously some Hitler like kitchen tyrant. Some where along the line he has also snuck another jar of Miracle Whip into the scene. So here we are back at square 1 with 3 jars of mayo in the fridge. Completely goes against my minimalist way of life. Let it be known there are also 3 jars of the same kind of pickles in there too. Anyone care for a pickle coated in mayo and oatmeal??

While I'm on the subject...remember that refrigerator that I cleaned remnants of a dead body or something out of? Well lets just say I shoulda left it dirty. The freshly fully remodeled rental/for sale house got broken into last week. Ok, the house was empty...wtf? Let me clarify...its EMPTY NOW...they jacked my fucking refrigerator. Bet they would've left it if it still had body parts and kool aid all in the bottom of it. Just a note to anyone who's thinking of a possible career in fridge jacking...do me a favor and bring some damn hand trucks with you so you don't f-up my new floor next time. And btw just so you are fully informed, there's no insurance for thievery on rental policies thankyouverymuch.

Now for the visual update portion of the show.

Obviously miss priss needed an unobstructed view...

He no doubt knows who rules the roost.

"Alright you stupid biped...put that damn camera down...you're screwing with my chi"

Dwight Yoakam, Hermit Life and Alligator Shoes

Big happenings here in the small town to report. Last week I took Rogo dog out for his morning poo and across the street from the house there was a car haphazardly pulled off the side of the road and a golf cart. The chick from the car was on the phone and I figured, had broken down. She kept trying to make eye contact but me being the hermit in training that I am and master eye contact diverted avoided it. After poo success and return to the house, Mr. Man asked what was going on across the street, to which I replied "Dunno, think the car is dick down". And he was all like "well why's the law out there?" Upon nosey inspections I realize that we now have the previously assumed dick down car, a golf cart, two unmarked and one marked police cars and a small gathering of bored neighbors. Several dudes with guns were tromping around in the high weeds looking for something. Still we remained inside. Then we see that the chunky eye contact girl has a small audience and is pointing up at our house and reliving some sort of a story. I give the all clear for Mr Man to go get into the mix, so he does.
After he hears what the pointing is about he comes back to get me. It seems that an ALLIGATOR CAME OUT FROM UNDER MY SHU!! (Note to the unknowings - The Shu is what we all lovingly refer to my sticker ridden Toyota Matrix as.) So I join the party from a distance and just hangout in the driveway to watch the master alligator captors. They used one of those loop on a stick thingys and got him around the neck. He was maybe 3 foot long-ish. The really high tech portion of the capture and relocation process was when they rolled the neighbors trashcan down and chunked the alligator in for a ride. An old guy drug the can into the back of a pickup and off they go with the old dude sitting on the tool box behind the cab and one Mr Alligator taking his, what I would assume, first car ride.
The chunky girl left and the neighbors went in and life resumed normal. It just never would have occurred to me to call 911 over seeing an alligator...but that's why we're all different I suppose. I figured he had some where he was going and could handle it on his own. Beaver had a whole different story about Alvin the Alligator which is just too bizarre to share, but I am seriously considering writing a series of children's books...clean talk and all.

Country music's 50 sexiest videos were on way too late and I was on rum number 40something and got sucked in. Can you believe that a back in the day Dwight Yoakam video is still in the mix? I saw him on something recently and he's still wearing the same damn jeans...number one how does he get them on and number two does he buy them in the little boys department at Sears or what? I have a Dwight Yoakam story that I still tell. Back in my previous life when I was married the first time for about a minute and a half...I really can't explain that one AT ALL. I was 18 and I'd recently been granted my I can do anything I want card and I intended to play it. And play it I did. Unfortunately I had no prior gambling experience and wound up the loser with a loser in a Chevette and a 2nd shift cotton mill job knocking down about $120 a week. There's a lesson that my parents never taught me that would have come in kick ass handy on this one. It's called classes. There are different classes of people and you do best to stick within your class. Not that I don't think that we are all human and put our undies on the same way and should be treated with respect and all. Just that maybe you shouldn't marry say a 30 year old that sleeps on a mattress in the floor in a room with all of his old enough to be outta mama's house siblings. (Including one over 500 pounder...how that one got up and down to that floor sleeping arrangement is still beyond me) For a while his daddy did a stint as his uncle and vice versa. But I was firmly squatted directly in the center of my rebellious years and tended to do more things based on what I was told that I would not do than anything else. At least that's what I'm going to blame it on and I'm sticking with my answer. Did I mention that I was wife number 3!!!
But I digress...Somehow ole Dwight got lost in the fruckus there didn't he? I don't remember much about X round one but I do know he hated country music. So when the Dwight Yoakam concert was scheduled me and my friend Phyllis bought us 2 tickets for girls night out. This went over like a terd in a punch bowl...there may have been a few jealousy issues...along with a loose marble or two. So about a week or so later he announced that he and his younger brother had tickets and wanted to bum a ride..."Umm no...get your own way...its a girls night". We were near the bitter end of this train ride folks. Before the concert could roll around that bitter end showed its ugly face. But shit happens and we carry on. Phyllis and I were sitting in our seats awaiting our skinny man in tight jeans when I hear someone say "fuck" and look up to see none other than little brother with thank god someone else in tow. Yep...their seats were RIGHT BESIDE OURS!! I'm pretty sure that would have been a violation of the restraining order in any state. Needless to say we went for drinks and wound up way far away bogarting seats in another section. Still...freaky right? And still I prove that my life on paper looks like ass.

In other happenings my unemployed partner in crime has gone back to school (I still don't know why I call myself unemployed...I've never worked so damn much in my life). Nanner's going to learn to do facials and skin treatment and rip hair out of nether regions. On the second day of class they were banned from using razors (on anything) so that in 3 weeks there would be plenty to practice on in Hair Removal 101. Can you say lap cat?? I did tell her we may have the answer to my "if left unattended would my armpit hair crest my elbow?" question. http://earthyedgyunfiltered.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-am-possibly-weirdest-person-i-know.html
Since her classes are all day and I work the night shift (at least not in a cotton mill) my circle of communication is down to one Mr Man. Which officially makes me one step away from hermitism. Speaking of hermitism...while watching the rolling channel guide on mute I see a show call The 650lb virgin...wow...ya reckon.