ACK!!! I’m going to end up posting like a zillion times today. I might even have a story to tell. But, I dunno my life is so boring. I actually have a story to tell. It happened when Dennis and I were coming back from getting diapers and formula for Hayley.
Now, I was planning on washing laundry on Wednesday and going to the store Thursday night, but that kind of fell through, huh? So Dennis and I had no clean clothes to wear today. Except things that we normally don’t wear to the grocery store. Since our car is totaled, we had to take his father’s car. A Cadillac. Which wasn’t too bad, except I was wearing an extremely short skirt, a halter top, and Dennis was wearing an Italian pin-striped suit. Anyone else hearing porno flick music yet? No? Well, what about when my knee was hurting, so I asked to ride in the back seat?
*Bow-Chicka-Wow-Wow*
Of course, we got pulled over coming home. The cops thought I was a prostitute and Dennis was my pimp! *laughs forever* Then the cop asked in a low voice, how much for a half and half with the red-head.
O-o
No worries: Copper didn’t get his three way. The good thing that came out of today was that Dennis and I took pictures of ourselves as “pimp & ho”. They’re on Facebook, if you’re curious.
Some people claim I am a good photographer. I have been snapping pictures since I was nine years old, with an old 110 mm crap-tastic camera that I didn’t cry too hard over losing at the fair later that year. Then I progressed to a 35 mm camera. Then the Advantix. Finally, in 1999, I got my first digital camera, and I’ve been known to have taken over 10,000 photos since going digital. I have many books and boxes filled with photos. Somewhere in between the fancy cameras, I had some Polaroids, which gave me the sweet taste of instant feedback on my photo taking ability.
The pictures I feel I take the best are the ones of nature. Still photos.
Naturally, my monkeys never sit still long enough for anyone to take a good photograph of any of them. At least once per year I splurge on a new digital camera. I pay about $500 for a new camera every year, and to me it’s worth it. The one thing I love more than taking photos is taking better quality photos. Let the prints show what I saw through the lens.
At dusk today, I photographed the sun. Perfect theme for August, right? Of all thirty photos taken, less than half came out right, and out of that, only four are good enough to post here. The rest are here.
The photos are raw, unphotoshopped, and I do not have any fancy lenses or features on my Nikon.
Another reason I don’t prefer to photograph people over nature/still photography is because I always manage to capture people in their most awkward moments. As evident below.
Maybe I could get a job as a professional blackmailer? *grins*
Yep, I know that’s going to end up on my harasser/content thief’s website with some kind of snarky horseshit. I really do not care what she steals from me anymore. Anyone who only gets 300 hits per month is a nobody on the web, and if she thinks that by stealing my photos and making comments that my kids, husband and family dog are ugly, that I am going to give her hits, she’s wrong. So please, don’t comment about that anymore. I no longer care. Besides, I’m sure her n00dz are a million times better than photos of my ugly face, kids, husband, dog, and life. Just ask her!
I’m doing loved-link-backs on my site sometime today. If you have a public blog or site, and want a link back, just leave me a comment or message and let me know if you have a button or want a text link. I’m going to try to do them later on tonight, but I’m still groggy from getting my wisdom tooth yanked today.
Funny thing: The dentist did not have any packing gauze in his office, so he asked me if I had anything to pack the socket at home, assuming that because I’m a nurse/graduated from biomed, I have all this medical stuff at home. I hate it when doctors assume that. So… I nodded. “What do you have? This is a huge hole.” “I got some free tampons in the mail back in April. They’re Super, so I could use those.” His face was getting red. “Uh, you might want something more flat.” “Oh. They sent me free pads and panty liners in with the tampons too.” Now his face was beet red. “I mean medical packing gauze. Do you have any?” Needless to say, the good doc doesn’t have a sense of humor.
It appears that I have a “secret admirer”. They started emailing me on August 8, 2010 (coincidence?) and they always use a fake/untraceable emailer. I cannot respond to their emails, though I have a good idea who is sending them, so I’m just going to post them here. Seriously, I know she’s just craving attention at this point (sorry, no link back today. I will, however, continue to edit your comments so they point to your website because I feel you should stand behind your lies, even if they are lies. At least you believe them, right?), and I know she totally ripped these messages off from another anonymous emailer site. I figured that out when I got the first one. See, I know how to use Google. Google is not an Ultimate Secret to me. I also know this person spends waaaaay too much time on the internet because of their lacking flesh life, so naturally, it was the first place I decided to check. But for your amusement, here’s another Pathetic Installment of Pathetic Attempts At Trying to ‘PWN’ Me. Enjoy!
August 8, 2010 23:11
I read your blog and I have to say something to you.
Hey you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever saw. Your beauty is not only exterior but interior as well. I fell for you years ago, but because of your relationship, I kept my feelings quiet. You can do so much better than your current boy. I use boy because any real man would be so lucky to have you, he would do anything to make you happy. Please consider leaving him. He doesn’t deserve such a beautiful and fine woman as yourself. I will always be close by, ready to wipe your tears and kiss your soft lips…Whenever you are ready I will be waiting.
How sick is that? Some stranger who met me through my website? Honey, I’m flattered, but I think you’re a woman pretending to be a man, trying to trick me into something else for you to post on your web o’ lies.
The emails continued yesterday while I was sleeping:
August 9, 2010 4:02
I know i should not have e-mail you again but I love you so much i just cant hide my feelings for you I really do hope you change your mind.
August 9, 2010 15:33
I wish you were not married. I would love to fuck around with you. You are gorgeous. Your sexy hair makes my heart pound. That yummy ass gives me the biggest hard on I have ever gotten. I bet you taste great too. I probably could lick that clit of yours all night long. . . if only you were not married. I’m hard now just thinking of you.
When I didn’t respond (because I couldn’t!) I got this gem in my inbox:
August 10, 2010 16:09
Dang youre ugly You nose is huge How can you walk around in public and show that thing You also got those eyes on the sides of your head like a frog No wonder you dont got any friends now You are snotty and most people don’t want to be around you cause your a hypocrit phony and a slut everybody knows
See why you are a loner now cause you been mean and nobody wants you around go away already
you should seriusly get some work done on your big snowzer nose or else cover it up or hide
Wow. Pissed while I was at the dentist’s this afternoon? Attacking my nose? What the …? Am I supposed to sit at the computer and wait around for this person to email me from a fake remailer because they want attention on my blog? Links back? Hits? Am I supposed to put my life on hold to cater to this person’s lack of attention in the real world? Christ on a cupcake. This same person has been making regular attacks on me all week. I’ve been choosing to ignore them and not give them any more hits because they clearly have enough emotional and psychological problems in their life that have gone untreated.
I’m also well aware that the person probably didn’t research their methods of attack properly and expected me to reply with something like “OMG! I am srsly gonna leave Dennis 4U, anon on the web who fell in luv with me through my blog, even tho I dunno who U R!” so they’d have something to mock on their own site. Sorry it didn’t work out for you. I’m a bad person to troll or attempt to troll because I just don’t fall for it. I’m also smarter than this person gives me credit for; I’d never fall for an “online lover” email. C’mon. You’re middle-aged and you’re sending these things to someone young enough to be your daughter. I know it’s you. Your IP shows up at least 10-40 times per day here to see what I have to say, but in reality, you’re a better cure for insomnia than Ambien.
In accordance with my job, I have to have a physical and psychiatric evaluation. It’s pretty standard, but I have a bad feeling that it may go bad. I’m going to be honest: I am depressed and the medication that I am on is no longer helping me. I feel trapped. I feel isolated. I feel as though I am just a machine who is ordered to clean, wash, tend to the kids, and be ready for sex whenever it’s demanded of me. That’s no way to live. I hope when they do these tests, I don’t lose my job. I’ve worked hard to get where I am today. This is where I want to be. I don’t understand why I’m so unhappy, if that’s the case.
I have a flight in a few hours to go see my friends. I put in for three days off from work, from tomorrow through Monday. I’m happy to be going to the convention later on, but I am still uneasy about leaving home for the few days. The family therapist says I need this trip. We’re going to leave the kids in the care of my husband’s younger brother. Speaking of him, I had a very weird dream about him last night. It was knocked up a few notched of awkwardness when we were cleaning the bedroom out this afternoon. He was helping me make my bed, and my navy blue vibrator was tucked in the sheets somewhere. It tumbled out onto the hardwood floor and started vibrating. I grinned, grabbed it, and switched it off. “Um, I think I should take out the trash,” my brother-in-law said, and turned and left the room. I’d really forgotten that thing was in the bed somewhere!
I think I made some progress. I cleaned out my desk. I threw away some things that I have been holding onto for over ten years. They’re of no use to me anymore. I have more to go through, more to toss out, but for now, I feel as though I’m headed in the right direction. After I cleaned out the desk, I cleaned off the shelf above the desk. More stuff tossed out or put away. It’s empty now. A little sad.
Now it’s time to pack and head out. I will try to update, but there’s no promise. I want to take pictures, but for some reason, my camera cards won’t hold more than 20 pictures at a time. Is there something I’m doing wrong? They’re 8 and 16 GB cards and the pictures are 10 Mega Pixels. Advice?
Le Festival de Solstice d’ete
There’s a Summer Solstice Festival tonight, to celebrate The Longest Day. I remember attending one several years ago, and I had a sudden pang for the apple stands. They serve juice, cider, sauce, melt-in-your-mouth chips, whole apples, and several other natural, unsweetened apple goods. I want to go just to dance in the moonlight with fireflies twinkling around me.
I don’t think I can convince my husband to go tonight, though. See, he’s mad at me right now. XD His older brother was singing a bad parody of Me Again Margaret, only he was singing it about my husband, and the story was that he was getting perverted phone calls and discovered himself, sexually, at the age of 28. It’s old meme around here. His brother has been singing it for going on six years now. It’s really no big deal. But when he started singing it today, I burst out laughing. Of course my husband failed to see the humor in it. Huh. These are grown men in their 30s and 40s. But I am the immature one? Ok. It was totally worth it, though.
Maybe I’ll go to the Summer Solstice Festival by myself tonight.
Le dîner Est Sur
Remind me to hurt whoever is behind the database on Dreamhost. I can’t do shit today, concerning my blog. It’s pissing me off. Almost as bad as the traffic on the side streets here.
But I blame that, mostly, on my already-foul mood and the fact that my dad’s car has no air conditioning and I was hung over. Now that I’m home and have no where to go, the sun is hiding behind the clouds and the threat of rain is heavy. The bad things started the night before my birthday. I’ll start from the beginning.
Around 10pm on Sunday night, Chloe came to me as if she were going to give me a hug, but when she got on my lap, she puked buckets of sticky spaghetti on me. She puked two more times before I rushed her to the bathroom. Out of frustration, I flopped a feather bed in the tub and told her she was sleeping there. I showered in my bathroom and went to bed. A thunderstorm was rumbling by outside.
I woke up at 4am on my birthday because I had a wet top sheet in the bed. For those of you who weren’t following my blog in April of 09, my water bed mattress exploded (the second one in three years) and I broke my knee trying to drain it. So when I woke up to a wet top sheet and the fitted sheet drenched at the corner of the mattress, I assumed that the mattress had a leak in it somewhere. I jumped out of the bed, tried to wake up Dennis, with no success, and raced downstairs to get the siphoning hose to start draining it, assuming that he would be pissed that we’d have to spring for a new mattress. I couldn’t find the siphoning hose, just the old hoses from the washing machine. It was pouring rain outside now. For some reason, I went back to bed. I turned on the light. Dennis was still sleeping good, the wet stain on my side of the bed had turned into a puddle. Fuck. I unplugged the bed. Just then, I saw a drop of water fall from the ceiling. The bed wasn’t leaking, the ceiling was! I was so happy the ceiling was leaking! Weird, I know. But it’s going to be cheaper and easier to hire someone to fix the roof rather than buy a new water bed mattress, drain our mattress, haul it away, and fill up a new one.
The ceiling in the bedroom leaked before, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before hand. For the time being, I put down a towel, and drifted back off to sleep. I woke up an hour later, water logged, and had to get up and put a bucket down on my side of the bed. Then I had to put my feather pillows in the dryer because they were soaked.
My birthday went by pretty uneventful. Chloe got well, and became a terror today. She’s been pinching her little siblings, and then poured Vitamin Water on my desk, so I had to go and buy a new modem today. She’s on perma-punishment until things calm down. It’s nothing cruel. She just can’t hang out with me while I play on the web and watch Saw movies (she doesn’t really watch them; she usually “writes” in her diary, but the menus of the DVDs played all day yesterday). Baxter is still alive. We can’t find a vet to put him down. He doesn’t seem to be suffering, just weak. Lethargic. With a scar on his face. He eats, he sleeps, he pisses frequently. I guess if he were a human, he’d be in his 60s or 70s, so he’s earned the right to be a sleepy, hungry, pissing old man. Other than that, he’s not cold or has weak lungs (rats tend to get weak lungs). His colour (in his tail and paws) is good. He doesn’t have any abnormal, offensive smells. Still, there’s one more vet I want to try, in the next town over. They closed at 6pm today, so I’m taking him tomorrow. If nothing else than for a check up.
I ordered a custom dessert for dinner tonight, but I was four minutes late getting to pick up dessert for dinner, so they canceled my order. FOUR MINUTES and they CANCELED a PRE-PAID order and told me to come back TOMORROW. WTF?! I blame that on the bad traffic here. Every bridge and highway to the bakery is torn up, and there are “detour” signs everywhere. Plus I got lost and had to drive through the back roads home. I chose to take my dad’s car rather than my Ninja because I didn’t want to balance boxed brownies and cakes on my lap while speeding through these back roads. Guess that was a fool’s error. It’s ninety-eight degrees here and that’s multiplied by the greenhouse factor when you’re in my dad’s car because the air conditioning doesn’t work, so the windows are down. There goes the UBV/UVA protection from the windows. I had to buy a 100+ SPF waterproof sunblock so I wouldn’t die of sun poisoning from riding in that car. Three days ago, I rode as a passenger in it, and my arms were so sunburned they blistered, peeled, weeped and turned deep red. Now they’re covered in freckles. I don’t have “normal” freckles. They’re little brown rings. My freckles don’t have centers.
I got my birthday present(s) today. They came in a day late, and I have a couple more on the way. Mostly books. 
Although I did get sex last night. Drunk sex is better for me lately. But only if I get drunk with the booze mixed with Coke (soda, genius) and before Star Trek comes on. Star Trek is better when you’re drunk.
Bitch, bitch, bitch. Complain, complain, complain. I’m not aging gracefully, am I?
Actually, it has to do with me being off the narcotics for a couple of days. I can’t take anymore until Monday. That’s a long ways off when you’re going through withdrawal. I can’t even say that I’m thinking clearer because I’m not.
I’m uploading birthday pictures to Flickr. All of you who are spectators need to add me as a contact. I don’t bite, much. 
Plus, I have several pictures that are members/friends-only.
In the meantime, I’m going back to dumping the tables in MySQL. It’s driving me nuts that I can’t do anything with WordPress because I get errors or it flat out lies to me and says one thing is done, but that doesn’t show up on my site and when I log back in, it’s back. Be it a comment that is not screened or an entry that I was told was deleted is still there. Unlike Greymatter/MovableType/Blogger, I can’t just log into FTP and delete the page manually. It’s stored in the database, and I hate dealing with Plesk databases. Think warm thoughts for me. 
This afternoon, my husband asked me if I wouldn’t mind changing the sheets on the bed, if I had time, that is. Seems that they’re gritty from him eating cheddar fries in the bed, the dog dragging dirt in the bed and sand from Chloe. So sleeping on that bed is like sleeping on sandpaper.
But I was in a bitch mood today, so when he asked me that, I replied, “Oh, I don’t think I’ll have time to make the bed today. I have to go out and sell myself on the streets to get that money for my mom. Oh, and I’m already behind a day. Sorry.”
He just stared at me for a second and then walked away. The bed is still unmade.
Jamie aka: The being known as Wonder Girl, 30, mother of four, wife to one, she is a senior biomedicine student who is learning to fit in in the world around her. After nearly three decades on this planet, she still doesn't know where she belongs. Best friend of Matt, sarcastic, spoiled, apathetic, kutie brat, babe. Just your average woman, living in a not-so-average world, surviving by her incredible super power of being able to see right through you while
accomplishing more tasks than you ever thought imaginable. She is the being known as Wonder Girl and she is speaking, I believe. More? Aren't you brave!
