Wednesday, May 18, 2011

One thing I know for sure, I shouldn't be left "In Charge" of anything.

Too bad though, because now I am.

I am Overlord. Id gave me power.

(check it out. hehehe.)

It's sooo pretty...
(no touching!)

You may now bow to my whim.

Now straighten up.

Now bow AGAIN...

good dog.

As you may well know, all power comes with the burden of responsibilty. My burden in accepting this hastily thrown power is to create new laws. That is correct. I am overlord!

You will obey.


T-shirts for everyone. Across the chest of your T-shirt, you will advertise in BOLD LETTERS, the one thing about you that is most likely to annoy me or possibly piss me off.
For example: Do you drive down residential streets with your bass turned up, inflicting your bad taste in vibrating music on all those around you? Your T-shirt will read "BASS ASS".
Do you plan to call me in the middle of dinner or an hour after bedtime? "PHONE JERK".
Can't pronounce my name, and don't want to take the time to learn how? "NAME SHAME".
Everybody will wear BLUE T-shirts. My favorite color.


Because it is summertime, those people who are lucky enough to own lawn mowers will mow a neighbor's lawn at least twice this season. I don't care which neighbor. It could be the hot, single mom with the SUV or it could be the guy on the corner selling smoke, or it could be the cranky old lady with the two yippy dogs. Pick a lawn. Mow it. Move on. No, you do not win a prize. Generosity is its own reward.


Suicide bombers. Give it a rest already. Selfish Jerks.

And NOW, the burden of passing the crown.
Gosh, if she hadn't given it to me, I would give it to id .
And nobody else wants this weight on their shoulders.....
What to do, what to do....
I suppose I could really piss off the Misfit Mommy . She's terribly busy starting TWO new businesses while still running the first one. She really knows how to be in charge. She'd be a GREAT Overlord.

Or I could have given it to my Wiccan Friend just to see what she'd come up with, but she recently deleted here ENTIRE blog! (Can you just imagine? the horror!)


No blog deleting. It makes me sad.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Please, No Visitors

Why is it so cold in here?

The sky is so blue, and the wind is relatively calm today. I can see the sun through my window. It shines so brightly, and the leaves on the trees are so green. Everything on the outside seems so pleasant.

So why is it so cold?

The air conditioner isn't running, and anyway, it's set to a cozy seventy-eight.

But I'm cold. I need a cuddly blanket to keep me warm. I need to put on socks and find a little space heater. I need to curl up under my comforter and pull my knees into my chest and breathe warm air into the little cave of my bed.

And why is my face so hot?

And why is it so hard to swallow?

And why is the blood rushing through me suddenly so unbearably loud?

My eyes hurt.

My jaw hurts.

Hell, my hair hurts.

I think.
I might.
Be sick.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Meaningful Conversation

We live in a very interesting neighborhood. One block northwest is a saloon, one block south is a middle school and a very popular park, two blocks south east is a mixed-martial arts academy. There seem to be churches everywhere.
Somewhere nearby, there is an old folks' home. The only reason I know this is that the residents are always cruising up and down our street in their little mobile scooters, one right after the other. They choose our street because we are one block off Old Rt. 66 (more popularly known as 6th Street, if you happen to live here). It's a busy place, so, rather than to brave the onslaught of traffic and possibly face their (untimely?) deaths, the old-timers find their way safely down my street and then turn down to 6th Street when they think they might come out close to where they need to be.
This makes for great people-watching and fascinating conversation.
There's a man, for instance, I call Cane. I have named him that because he walks with a cane and a big, ugly dog past our house every single day, no matter what. Snow, rain, heat or wind, Old Cane comes tap-tap-tapping down the street at the same pace, wearing worn out sneakers and a crooked smile. He's always unshaven and his clothes fit poorly, but he's friendly. He apologizes that his dog is so friendly, but it doesn't bother me much, and he always comments about the weather.
He doesn't visit 6th Street. He goes to see my neighbor across the way. I have made up a story in my head that he's my neighbor's uncle and they shoot the bull for about a half hour everyday, sitting in lawn chairs and talking about Aunt Griselda's pee-can pie and Obamacare and the War on Terrorism. I want to believe how nice it is that they're holding strong their family ties, and they make a habit of spending quality family time together. However, in all honesty, I think he's actually just buying a little "smoke" (if ya know what I mean). I mean, nobody likes their shaggy old uncle and his smelly, noisy dog quite that much.
Today, Old Cane said the weirdest thing to me as he passed by.
"Flood's comin'!"
I wasn't sure I heard that right, since the sky is a nice cerulean blue, big white puffy clouds cheerfully dotting the sky today. I asked him, "Sorry, did you say a flood?"
"Yep!" He reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a plastic zip-lock baggy, which I thought for one horrible second was going to be marijuana, so I closed my eyes. (If I don't see it, I can't be a witness.)
But it was cigarettes. Not Marlboros or Camels. They were the sub-generic cheapazoid cigarettes-American Eagle, or some shit like that.
"I'm ready for it," he announced. I smiled and nodded, happy that I hadn't been exposed to his illegal drug habit, and confused about why he thought a flood was imminent. But he just smiled back at me, offering no explanation, content with the knowledge that his cigarettes would survive the disaster.
I came into the house and halfway listened to his cane tap-tap-tap down the street as I checked the weather forecast.
No Rain This Week...
Just in case, though, I put my Kindle in a zip-lock baggy.
I'm ready.