Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
Category: Life

"The question is not whether euphio works.  It does.  The question is, rather, whether or not America is to enter a new and distressing phase of history where men no longer pursue happiness but buy it." 
-Kurt Vonnegut
"The Euphio Question"
(1951)

Currently reading : Welcome to the Monkey House By Kurt Vonnegut Release date: 1998-09-08

6:19 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

not ironic, just incongruent to "the norm"
Current mood: frustrated

I figure that I’ve been partying it up a bit too much lately, so I decided to blow off my friends and stay in tonight
you know the drill, do some reading, get some food, and watch some seriously crap tv until I pass out and get a good night’s rest

when this failed and I found myself tossing and turning in my huge ass bed, I decided that my (and most everyone else’s) old fail safe (masturbation) was my best hope
~as I began to piece together the refrain of the song that was nagging my subconscious away from the climax that might have sent me into a blissful sleep of sordid dreams, I became painfully aware of the irony that it would have powered were it not for the fact that the whole damned thing is just so in line w/my pattern of luck...
I could not make my own self cum because I suddenly had/have Billy Idol’s "Dancing With Myself" stuck in my head
damn you Billy!  I hope take your rebel yell, your bottle of peroxide, and go fuck yourself
...just not to completion

2:51 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

nonsense

It's been a long time since I've had to sleep with a knife. 
Honestly, there is no reason why I should have to tonight. 
Things have been good, really good. 
But, for tonight I want to sleep w/my knife and I know that it will make me feel that much better...I wish that I could explain it but, you would never understand. 

3:36 AM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

quothe
Current mood: cynical

"And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,"

Currently reading : A Confederacy of Dunces (Evergreen Book) By John Kennedy Toole Release date: 21 January, 1994

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What’s the name of that fucking game? It’s called what the fuck
Current mood: silly
Category: Blogging

Fucking hell.  Why is it that every time I come up w/a brilliantly witty blog I manage to accidentally switch pages and erase the whole fucking thing?  They're never half as good the second time around. 



~So last night was the night of the pussys. 

I went to Q for the 1st time on a whim w/some great friends from the Mag. 
It was close to what I expected. 
A fat woman and a midget dyke butchered some Indigo Girls (my bad, I hate to offend, I should say "little person"), I played one of the shoddiest games of pool in my entire career w/a cute little man-child, Kristin and I attempted to dance (I was still too sober to manage successfully), Chris F sang it up right, and I managed to swindle a free drink out of a beefy bartender in hot pants. 
We returned to the Mag where a young woman w/HUGE tits enquired as to whether the few of us would mind if she pissed on a bush in the courtyard. 
I suggested she take care to not roll backward into her alcohol infused power stream. 
She opted to knock over then back onto the bird house in the stead of my interjection.  Poor birdies. 

Later a different girl decided to sit atop a table directly across from me and a few, in a long skirt, occasionally posing hers legs in a very patriotic manner,  coquettishly revealing her wirey beaver. 

Further in the evening, the former flaunting female sat back on the bench and gave a couple of silly gay boys a brief lesson in the anatomy of roast beefery. 
As a result, the boys have never been surer of their sexual orientation. 

So we retired to Mr. F's where their was good wine aplenty, and enough green and icky to keep the conversations silly. 
For example, I had a 15 min. debate with one of the previous silly gay boys about the similarities of giving a blowjob and imbibing and nice and beefy red wine. 
Harmless flirtation abounded, Chris and the boys cooked, I minced garlic (I really wish I'd remembered that before I decided to flick the ole' bean this morning), Kristin was fabulous, in all, good times were had. 
As the night came to a close however I managed to open the wrong door and was woefully flashed another glimpse of the former, latter offending crotch monkey. 
Once I revived from writhing in sheer gutteral laughter, I decided it was definately time to call it a night. 
 I closed my evening after feasting on some left-over greenie beanies, gravy, and rice, and passed out in my giant, comfortable ass bed, with my pussy Molly at my feet, my pussy Hogan on my hip, my pussy Kitty-bu tonne curled inside the blanket near the safety of my own meat monster. 

I must admit, I too have never been surer of my appreciation of the cock in all of my days.  I don't see how you straight guys, lesi's, and part-time pussy lickers do it. 


An Ode to the Super Roast Beef Curtain

If the beef curtains are slathered in the horsey sauce, it's GO time. 

If however, they drip of the ole' Arby's sauce, it's no time. 
~Unless of course you're dealing w/a junior vegetarian, in which case you can always squeeze in a bite between the buns~

*but always remember
If you find yourself a Beef n Cheddar, it's WHOA! time. 


Enough of this Tom Foolery.  I'm through burning my mid-afternoon oil w/this ridiculous recantation of my last evening's events.  It's time to crisp my schwaggy little roaches. 

Currently reading : The Feminine Mystique By Betty Friedan Release date: 1964

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"and then, I bring him tea" -Memoirs of a Geisha
Current mood: chillaxed ;^)
Category: chillaxed ;^) Games

variety is the spice of life
i like to dip my feet in until my toes are good and wrinkled
given time, pumpkins will abound

7:09 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

murder most foul
Current mood: morose
Category: Life

So I'm entering this blog because I've recieved numerous questions about some recent bulletins and after rewriting several similar replies and only recieving more questions I've decided to simply post this so that I may direct all further questions here. 

Where to begin? 
Fuck it, you'll get the whole story. 

In May of 95, my maternal grandfather died suddenly in his home. 
Over the corse of the next couple of weeks it occured to me that I had missed a lot by not really getting to know any of my grandparents on a more personal level. 
I now had only one left and she would be staying with us until she could get used to the idea of living on her own for the first time in her entire life.  That ended up taking 6 mos. to a year. 
We grew very close over that time and I learned that we were very similar individuals. 
Unfortunally, a major life change usually sets off Alzheimer's disease in an individual and after about a year there was no guessing left to whether or not something was seriously wrong with my grandmother. 
We looked after her as best we could.  My mother always tended to be in a bit of denial about her mother's condition but, I always seemed to realize just how bad off she was becoming. 
By my 21st birthday she couldn't usually remember who I was and was going through a "mean phase" with her disease. 
In May of 2002, I spent a weekend with her out of concern. 
I spent one last night in my parent's house after that and have lived here ever since. 
It became alarmingly clear that my grandmother had gotten way beyond the point of caring for her self.  For about the next 9 mos., I cared for her in every imaginable capacity. 
It got to be too much however, I lost a job and had to drop a semester's worth of classes as a result before my mother finally stepped up and took over. 
Grandma stayed with my mother until a serious infection nearly killed her two years ago.  As a result she lost much of her mental capacity that she had left and my mother was left w/no alternative than to move her into the nursing home that she worked at. 
Grandma had her ups and downs but remained the spunky little woman that everyone had always easily fallen in love with. 
By July 4th of this year, she was wheel chair bound and sometimes had trouble forming sentences.  Others, she might knock your socks off with a perfectly timed as well as smutty quip. 
That night she was bouncing crackers off of her nurses foreheads and squabbling over whether she could stay in her sweater when she was put to bed. 
The next morning she was found completely unresponsive...so were 3 other women on her floor. 
It was eventually concluded that my non-diabetic grandmother (along w/the other 3 women) had been injected w/a high dose of insulin by someone working the 3rd shift at the hospital. 
She recieved substantial brain damage as a result of her diabetic coma.  Though she got better physically and there was still a bit of the old grandma left in there (before giving my grandmother her last rights, father introduced himself to my mother telling her that she could call him "father Peter;" my grandmother laughed audibly before we even got the joke) it was still too extensive to keep her alive w/out violating her living will's advanced directives. 
Over the course of the month following the injection, we stayed w/her as much as we could.  Sunday night (the 5th), mom and I stayed with her throughout the night.  I had brought in my record player and we sang to her to help calm her through her struggle.  By 10:30am, we watched her final attempt for breath.  I waited a moment then checked for a pulse or heartbeat and removed her oxygen after it was clear that both were gone. 
Her wake was Thursday and her funeral Friday.  My uncle had suggested not even having either because he didn't believe anyone would show.  The place was packed.  Even the hospital staff were in a tearful attendance from her nurse aides to the administration to the elderly security guard.  Family flew in bearing kringle from all over Wisconsin.  She looked absolutely beautiful.  She was always a very stylish woman and would have been exceptionally pleased by her final appearence. 
I chose the music for the funeral itself.  "I'll be seeing you" sung by Dina Shore, a Glenn Miller, and a Benny Goodman classic followed by Frank Sinatra belting "My Way."  There wasn't a dry eye in the house. 

So, I've finally lost one of the most important women to ever touch my life.  I will never forget my tenacious little grandma, and I will always love her.  Today mom picked up her ashes and the two of us took her to a movie (kinda weird, I know).  When we get the proper recepticle, we will mix her asher w/my grandfather's and give them a good shake every once and a while for "a good time" as directed by my grandmother. 
So that's pretty much the story. 
If I'm not the best w/keeping in contact on a regular basis right now...I'm so sorry -(CCF), but I've very heavy concerns on my mind (that or the task of trying to keep them off).  I still love you all the same, and greatly appreciate your concerns. 

Currently reading : Make Love the Bruce Campbell Way By Bruce Campbell Release date: 22 August, 2006

7:19 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

a way with water
Current mood: annoyed
Category: Blogging

My pool sucks, my pool sucks, my pool sucks, my pool sucks! 

I'm a water girl, always have been, always will be.  Lived a block from a beach as a toddler, spent as much time out of every summer as possible at a pool, lifeguarded for 4 years, and was even the lead supervisor @ a waterpark for a season.
I live about a block and a half from a metro parks pool.  Admission is $2, hours are 10-6.  Since this house has been in my family since my 60 year old mother was 11, it's safe to say that I have been going there since I was swimming in soggy diapers.   So I suppose what I'm getting at here is that I find it necessary to qualify myself to bitch (forewarned is fairwarned!). 

Much to my dismay, I have not been in the water since my family went on a cruise back in January of 06.  Even though I got to play in beautiful waters, even kiss a sting ray(that's what Steve really got wrong, even the bulls are interested in at least a little foreplay), it left quite a bit to be desired because my intelligent ass that knows much better, managed to get a tan so pink on our 1st day at sea that other guests were literally stopping and gasping at me everywhere that I went.  
It's cool though because I got to share a car ride to and from Florida and a room  with my parents who refused to let me out of their sight off of the boat.  Oh yeah, and we all got chased by killer bees at a zoo in Belize.  But that's a completely different story. 
I shouldn't whine all that much, I did have a hot Moroccan that waited on me hand and foot at every dinner that ensured that I had my own special meal that we would work out at the end of dinner the night before. 
Of course, he was engaged to the chef that would be preparing those dishes, and my father is an excellent tipper. 
But, I was probably one of the hottest women on the entire ship...considering that everyone else cruising had already made it to their Geritol years. 
So I got to swim, but the whole thing was a bit of a let down. 

Last summer was a complete bust.  I suppose that's what happens when you date a guy that can't and won't fucking swim.  I know I could've gone on my own, I have plenty of times before.  But, he worked so much that in order to see him, I had to wait until the early hours of the morning and was up for nothing but sleeping during the day. 
My own damned fault, I get it. 

So, this year is supposed to be different.  While I still have no one to swim with, at least I'm not holding out for a goofy looking schmuck.
Only problem, my post break-up binge lasted way too long and since I haven't had school or a job, I hadn't been waking until 6-8pm. 
I have been trying to rectify this but it's been a slow process.  I know, waa waa waa. 
Any damned way, I've finally got myself to 1-2pm. 
So I've planned to go to the pool all week but, fiddle-farted around until it was too late to go.  Today, I was going to go. 

I got my suit on, got my shit together, and headed down to the pool.  At one fun point during my walk, an SUV full of pot smoking, corn rolled (with beads) douchebags almost ran me over as I was crossing w/the right of way.  Of course they were going to the pool and I ended up walking past them again with that ever so fragrant smell wafting my way, begging me toward it. 
A fleeting thought entered my mind that perhaps I might be able to schmooze them out of a little bit of super ichey green and sticky. 
C'mon, I'm not some fiend but, I've been about as dry as a $3 post-menopausal whore that just worked a double on the day shift along the stretch of 95 that runs through Death Valley, California on a mid-August day. 
So, as my Pepe le Pot schnoz inhaled my way in their direction, one of them noticed me and they all began to laugh!  Fucktards.  So, fuck them, I went along up to the pool. 
As I approached I could think of nothing more than dipping into that piss laden hyper-chlorinated water.  Would I ease in or practice my swan dive off of the low board?  It didn't really matter, I just needed some serious refreshment after my crap journey through my skanky-ass neighborhood. 

Here's where my real irritation came in.  When I attempted to pay for my admission, I was informed that the pool was closed.  The reason?  This is what I was told:  "there ain't no chlorine in the poo."
So I ask you, what kind of ghetto ass poo is so incompetent as to actually run out of chlorine.  I don't mean that they had to shut down because the chlorine levels were too low and the ph was really off.  No, I mean that they had to shut down because when they finally noticed that the levels had gotten so low that the pool needed to be shocked (which shouldn't really have to happen in the 1st place), the guards discovered that there was no more chlorine in the entire fucking pump room. 
This is a big fucking pool!  How in the hell could they make such a boner fucking mistake?  I've been there in recent years and I know that their gaurds suck balls at best (eating a big mac and fries on the stand, rescue tube unravelled on the ground while patrons assist struggling poor swimmers out of the pool etc, etc, etc).  Okay, so I admit, I have become a lifeguarding snob after working with Ellis and being a boss, but the kind of shit they pull is absolutely ridiculous. 
Furthermore, this big ass pool is almost always packed tighter than Oprah Winfrey's girdle, and the skin across Joan Rivers' face combined with literal busloads of small children. 
Considering what I already know about the caliber of the employees here, a goof like this should probably be expected.  It's like locking Keith Richards in a room full of blow for five minutes and expecting him to not come out looking like a giant powdered doughnut.  But this doesn't just reflect the guards, it reflects the maintenance workers, head guards, supervisors, management, metro parks, and the Jefferson Co board of health department's failure to provide adequate safety for it's patrons. 

So tonight I'm going to swing by my local corporate discount superstore and pick up a garden hose, a baby pool, and a raft (a little nair might not be a bad idea either) because you never know, tomorrow I might just get lucky and get in one full brest stroke. 
If not, at least I'll be able to cool off and work on these pale ass kabuki looking legs of mine that only a geisha girl would dream of.
I swear I can tan, and well.  I'll get a picture up as proof. 

Until then, I think I'm just going to sit here and continue to pout like a toddler sitting in a corner while all of the other kids get bubble gum ice cream and laugh. 

Currently reading : Animals in Translation: Using the Mysteries of Autism to Decode Animal Behavior By Temple Grandin Release date: 02 January, 2006

3:33 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Drunk n' Dialathon
Current mood: devious
Category: Games

Oh what a tangled web we weave. 

I set a new all time personal record for drunk n' dialing last night.  Or should I say early this morning? 

A review of my call records has informed me that I dialed eleven poor souls between 6 and 7am. 
"I'm so sorry."  -CCF

My original intent on phoning someone was because I had landed myself in a situation where it was in my best interest to play sober and make it to my car and take off as quickly as possible.  The purpose of this of course was to avoid a disgusting sap that was insisting I leave with him and stay at his place to avoid the drive. 

Don't give me that bullshit either, he was not being caring and nice, he was being a sleaze. 

So yeah, after making my escape with a vivid portrayl of a much more sober version of myself, I quickly realized that hey, I was only pretending to be sober.  I can't drive.  But I was. 

So I worked my way through my phone list in order of nearest proximity to my jeep vrooming by. 

My radious began as a matter of blocks.  However, the last two people that I phoned lived in Indianapolis and Cincinnati. 
Somewhere along the way I forgot my original intentions and just got phone happy. 

Those of you that have seen me intoxicated know what a chatty Kathy I can be. 

Apparently last night I was a very social drunk. 

I never seem to want the night to end. 

I dreamt that some guy was admiring my feet last night.  I suppose it was a Peggy Hill sort of a thing.  But, it was weird all the same. 

Note to self:  for future reference, do not take lithium with bourbon. 

Isn't it terrible to realize that you can most easily relate a situation in your life to a cartoon charector? 

A close inspection of my forearms has revealed 2 things to me. 
1, Moles are weird.  2, I can hardly see many of my scars...hooray!

I really need to get out more. 

Currently listening : Good News For People Who Love Bad News By Modest Mouse Release date: 06 April, 2004

1:06 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Damn I'm smooth
Current mood: sleepy
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

The last time that I was out to my parent's house, which I only visit once every 2 or so months, I swiped a few bottles of Guiness from the fridge that my mom keeps filled for me.  Yeah, I know.  She even gets mad at me if I don't "eat it all up fast enough."  My crazy is definately hereditary. 

Anywho, Santa only knows how long they sat in that fridge before I took em' home w/me.  I know they have been in mine for over a month.  

So, I crack open a cool bottle of Guiness.  I squeezed a few drops of green food coloring into a pint glass from the micro-brewery that I used to work at. 

As I am pouring my stout, I notice that the drink looks absolutely flat.  Disheartened and 3/4 the way full, and I decided to give it a shot and wrecklessly pour the stout into the middle of this water-like beverage w/absolutely no head what so ever, and voila!  That thick milky foam immediatly sprang from the dark depths of my Guiness. 

So it turns out that I don't have flat stout, I just poured it so well that it appeared that way.  This is all because I kick some serious fuckin' ass!!!  

1:23 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment