I posted the following in my notes on Facebook and since everyone steals anything anyone has written and Between the Lines has so many different interpretations to me I thought my latest addition to my frothing of the mouth should start here....
Epiphany # 812,112,125.025
I want world peace and its easy when your world is the combination of two buildings. I need to practice that special wave pageant winners lavish upon the crowds.
.026
People are who they are is what they say. Who the hell are they then?
.027
Accepting things I cannot change I feel is a misnomer. For example, a twenty. Well, no, not right this moment, but later after I buy some starburst, "change"
.028
I cannot change the boooo-shaaa in the Girl Power Handshake to Fuck Em Too..
.029
I don't think anyone will believe my newest family story: the one where I was actually born in China and had cosmetic surgery to look American.
.30
Be careful when dumping your kid's room in the middle of the floor, you might not see your reflection in nearby mirrors.. proving you are morphing into your mother.... nightmare
OK, that's neatly put: Faye ATE A SHIT SANDWICH and oh yes, we'd love a line longer than our leg, but we grew out of that and became socialized and grown up.
I said somewhere my family was no picnic. Guess what? I want to really mail a huge box of things I hate to my mom that includes the ugliest dishes known to man (which I shall break and shit upon), that ornament that looks like some kid decorated it, a rabbit ripped to shreds, lime green fuzzy dice and for sure a souped up copy of my biological unit complete with horns and tail and a huge fuck you written on it. Is this very grown up? NO. Do I care No.
Will I do this? No. I would not waste the postage on anything but maybe sending her a shit I took, but that's just cheap, and since I seem to be made of the green stuff, I would have to drink alot of grape soda to get a lime green shit for her...
I am losing brain cells by this digression.
I am just mad. I had to be honest with my now six year old as to why I cried all day long. I let her hear the message my Dad left on my phone. I watched two big tears roll down her face as comprehension of the fact that he didn't love me (pretty much) sunk in before he finished talking. She looked at me and shakily said that she didn't love anyone who didn't love her Mommy. I snatched up my child and swung her into the air and told her that story about rubber and glue and inside realized how lucky I am. I will somehow let him know she heard it from his lips, and he can take his ass down the road (indirect quote)
All it took for my Dad to tell me get out of his life was my mom and a hammer. You know what I realized, this goes beyond having no balls. No, it delves into the realization he is a soulless man. That made me all scared inside and the adrenals pumped thinking I escaped having my soul sucked out of me by my mother. I thought pity was reserved for people in other countries, well Thomasville is another country I guess. I know it seems so very harsh, but I love my parents, but they are these things. One soulless, the other a soul eater... which in other cultures are feared above all else. He went from demanding a picture a day to telling me I was not splitting up him and mom. What the FUCK? Since when did I go from daughter to competition? You things are sick fuckers. Today I quietly turned off the phone and took him off my credit card. There is no one on this planet worth trusting other than the cat, and that's only marginally because you know they piss in every plant, chew open the bread and tell the neighbors plainly they are starving.
On another note, I will have Big Magic back on Tuesday. This being my desktop and world. I really made the computer guy's butt suck upholstery as I calmly told him that porn is no problem, he missed out on the saga of Down and Out with Maleficent: Her theories on Sharing. Without batting an eye I explained everything from the peon computer guy that I caught turning on my webcams to my husband's texting escapades, how boots don't cover this shit, that I wear waders, and pretty much don't fuck with me because well, I own this goddamned world and am more than good to it. After thought processes cooled, I emailed him and said find me software and relax, I never look for trouble, it finds me. Like static cling. Honestly, my husband and his follies are something that needed to be addressed before this whole marriage gig stayed a true band. No Van Halen here, you know? I totally understood the whole thing, however, it doesn't change the fact that I'm not stupid either and I believe he counted on the fact I was polite. He forgot I'm a fucking lady. In a nutshell, the only thing I really don't operate well with is someone trying to sell me something I don't want. I didn't marry an idiot, nor Satan. I married my male half, I know exactly how smart he can be. I told him don't play with fire, he'd get pink elephants on parade picture mailed to him six months after the fact with the title: Top that Asshole.
We agreed that hawking should be done together, since we're both pretty damned good at it.
That makes me smile. This rant isn't about being mad at him, he's the greatest, and that seems so vanilla at the moment. I am glad that today the doghouse only includes my parents and God.
Epiphany # 812,112,125.025
I want world peace and its easy when your world is the combination of two buildings. I need to practice that special wave pageant winners lavish upon the crowds.
.026
People are who they are is what they say. Who the hell are they then?
.027
Accepting things I cannot change I feel is a misnomer. For example, a twenty. Well, no, not right this moment, but later after I buy some starburst, "change"
.028
I cannot change the boooo-shaaa in the Girl Power Handshake to Fuck Em Too..
.029
I don't think anyone will believe my newest family story: the one where I was actually born in China and had cosmetic surgery to look American.
.30
Be careful when dumping your kid's room in the middle of the floor, you might not see your reflection in nearby mirrors.. proving you are morphing into your mother.... nightmare
OK, that's neatly put: Faye ATE A SHIT SANDWICH and oh yes, we'd love a line longer than our leg, but we grew out of that and became socialized and grown up.
I said somewhere my family was no picnic. Guess what? I want to really mail a huge box of things I hate to my mom that includes the ugliest dishes known to man (which I shall break and shit upon), that ornament that looks like some kid decorated it, a rabbit ripped to shreds, lime green fuzzy dice and for sure a souped up copy of my biological unit complete with horns and tail and a huge fuck you written on it. Is this very grown up? NO. Do I care No.
Will I do this? No. I would not waste the postage on anything but maybe sending her a shit I took, but that's just cheap, and since I seem to be made of the green stuff, I would have to drink alot of grape soda to get a lime green shit for her...
I am losing brain cells by this digression.
I am just mad. I had to be honest with my now six year old as to why I cried all day long. I let her hear the message my Dad left on my phone. I watched two big tears roll down her face as comprehension of the fact that he didn't love me (pretty much) sunk in before he finished talking. She looked at me and shakily said that she didn't love anyone who didn't love her Mommy. I snatched up my child and swung her into the air and told her that story about rubber and glue and inside realized how lucky I am. I will somehow let him know she heard it from his lips, and he can take his ass down the road (indirect quote)
All it took for my Dad to tell me get out of his life was my mom and a hammer. You know what I realized, this goes beyond having no balls. No, it delves into the realization he is a soulless man. That made me all scared inside and the adrenals pumped thinking I escaped having my soul sucked out of me by my mother. I thought pity was reserved for people in other countries, well Thomasville is another country I guess. I know it seems so very harsh, but I love my parents, but they are these things. One soulless, the other a soul eater... which in other cultures are feared above all else. He went from demanding a picture a day to telling me I was not splitting up him and mom. What the FUCK? Since when did I go from daughter to competition? You things are sick fuckers. Today I quietly turned off the phone and took him off my credit card. There is no one on this planet worth trusting other than the cat, and that's only marginally because you know they piss in every plant, chew open the bread and tell the neighbors plainly they are starving.
On another note, I will have Big Magic back on Tuesday. This being my desktop and world. I really made the computer guy's butt suck upholstery as I calmly told him that porn is no problem, he missed out on the saga of Down and Out with Maleficent: Her theories on Sharing. Without batting an eye I explained everything from the peon computer guy that I caught turning on my webcams to my husband's texting escapades, how boots don't cover this shit, that I wear waders, and pretty much don't fuck with me because well, I own this goddamned world and am more than good to it. After thought processes cooled, I emailed him and said find me software and relax, I never look for trouble, it finds me. Like static cling. Honestly, my husband and his follies are something that needed to be addressed before this whole marriage gig stayed a true band. No Van Halen here, you know? I totally understood the whole thing, however, it doesn't change the fact that I'm not stupid either and I believe he counted on the fact I was polite. He forgot I'm a fucking lady. In a nutshell, the only thing I really don't operate well with is someone trying to sell me something I don't want. I didn't marry an idiot, nor Satan. I married my male half, I know exactly how smart he can be. I told him don't play with fire, he'd get pink elephants on parade picture mailed to him six months after the fact with the title: Top that Asshole.
We agreed that hawking should be done together, since we're both pretty damned good at it.
That makes me smile. This rant isn't about being mad at him, he's the greatest, and that seems so vanilla at the moment. I am glad that today the doghouse only includes my parents and God.
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