Dan poses an interesting question. Here's my response.
I saw a program about this via Netflix. I believe it was from the National Geographic Channel.
Knowing that Carmine coloring is made from Cochneal insects doesn't particularly bother me, and I thought I could probably eat the grasshopper burger that they showed on the program and not be squicked out by it.
I could eat scorpions because they're rather similar to crustaceans, and I do eat shrimp and crab. But when you said cockroaches? Forget it, I'd die!
Dan has other great topics to discuss as well. I've really enjoyed his Vlog. Do check it out!
If you're looking for a new routine, here's one that you might enjoy trying.
I like this guy's personality, and if you're like me and like old school rap, the soundtrack is great! He has a lot of free workout videos that you can pick from.
Obviously, I will never be as strong and fit as Mr. Roberts. I'm pushing 50 real hard, and I have back and joint problems. But I've learned that there is no reason to feel ashamed about modifying the routine. If I were to do "Burpees" I would end up in the ER with my back thrown out. Instead, I would probably do one leg at a time, or do pushups instead.
There are exercises for everyone, regardless of your level of fitness, and regardless of your size. Don't let haters stop you from doing something good for yourself. So sayeth the evil fat broad with the snarky attitude. I will keep exercising until the day that I can't. Because I actually do enjoy it.
Here is a playlist for you from The Times. It's a time machine to the early 1980s. This band did not get much airplay in the U.S., at least not in the part of the country where I was living. Maybe in New York or L.A. or places like that. I honestly don't know.
Cultural jokes are not racist jokes. We should be able to laugh at ourselves a little. This does not mean it's ever okay to make mean jokes at another's expense.
For instance, I'm a fat person of East European descent. I laugh at fat jokes if they aren't mean spirited. Usually such jokes are made by fellow fatties. I also enjoy a good European joke, if I can find one. Polack jokes are the most prevalent, but some of those can be mean spirited. Please remember, it's one thing to have a little fun. It's another to be mean at someone else's expense. Which is why I hope that Daniel Tosh falls into a pit of flaming sewage and dies horribly. He is a pathetic, nasty little man who never grew out of being a school yard bully. But enough of my lecturing. Let's enjoy the routine with Maz Jobrani!
Happy holidays to all! Let's hope that Daniel Tosh's heart becomes several sizes bigger and he learns to be a nice guy. I'm not holding my breath, though.
Dahlings, the light bulb has gone on! I thought it had burnt out, but nay, there is still juice enough to produce an idea or two. I just realized that with this Posterous system, I can publish posts to multiple blogs, including multiple Blogger blogs! So now you can find me in multiple places. Choose one or more to follow the Tempest!
Pardon my crass language, Dahlings, but You Tube has a butt ton of videos about the Geminids. Do click the link to get your Science on.
The image was found in this nifty article. I learned that most meteors are caused by a passing comet, but the Geminids are caused by an asteroid. This makes them slower moving than most meteor showers. Who knew? Well... I didn't.
Bullet for a Vampire: Ye Gods, was this awful. The mobsters were funny in their way, but overall, the acting was as wooden as the stakes. As for the "home movie" at the beginning, it went on way too long. Don't try to be poignant when you know you're delivering schlock.
The Town that Loved Pizza: Amusing in its own awful way. Looks like a bunch of students got drunk on cheap beer and decided to make a movie.
The Garden Tool Murders: This is the most enjoyable of the lot. The action seemed to flow more smoothly.
Demon's Day: This one played like a video from an understandably forgotten, not particularly talented, and extremely cheesy hair metal band.
To be kind, this was a lower than low budget production. They worked with what they had available.
On the positive side, the people involved obviously enjoyed themselves. There are some potentially excellent character actors. They had heart, you have to give them that.
In honor of the fact that we're all going to eat flaming death tonight at midnight, here's a bunch of videos about our evil, evil galaxy! These were created by Cosmic Journeys.
BRITTNEY: The special effects were cheesy as hell, and not in a good way.
EMRALD: Still, it was infinitely more watchable than the last film we reviewed. The acting was better and the cinematography was superior.
BRITTNEY: It was slightly more true to the story--but to the wrong story. This was "The Shadow Over Innsmouth," not "Dagon." Although of course Lovecraft's "Shadow Over Innsmouth..."
HPL: Deep ones don't have octopus tentacles for legs!
EMRALD: Lovecraft's "Shadow Over Innsmouth" did not include creatures with octopus tentacles for legs.
HPL: To quote that fellow Robert Olmstead, whom I interviewed for my investigative report, entitled, of course, "The Shadow over Innsmouth..." Well, let me just read you the passage wherein he describes the bus driver, a Deep One hybrid.
(clears throat)
"His age was perhaps thirty-five, but the odd, deep creases in the sides of his neck made him seem older when one did not study his dull, expressionless face. He had a narrow head, bulging, watery-blue eyes that seemed never to wink, a flat nose, a receding forehead and chin, and singularly undeveloped ears. His long thick lip and coarse-pored, greyish cheeks seemed almost beardless except for some sparse yellow hairs that straggled and curled in irregular patches; and in places the surface seemed queerly irregular, as if peeling from some cutaneous disease. His hands were large and heavily veined, and had a very unusual greyish-blue tinge. The fingers were strikingly short in proportion to the rest of the structure, and seemed to have a tendency to curl closely into the huge palm. As he walked toward the bus I observed his peculiarly shambling gait and saw that his feet were inordinately immense."
HPL: You see, dear ladies, he had feet. Feet! Not octopus tentacles! And listen to this, my friends. This is from my investigative report, entitled Dagon. The poor fellow who gave me this information asked not to be named, and I respected this wishes. Just listen a moment.
(clears throat)
"Of their faces and forms I dare not speak in detail, for the mere remembrance makes me grow faint. Grotesque beyond the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer, they were damnably human in general outline despite webbed hands and feet, shockingly wide and flabby lips, glassy, bulging eyes, and other features less pleasant to recall. Curiously enough, they seemed to have been chiselled badly out of proportion with their scenic background; for one of the creatures was shown in the act of killing a whale represented as but little larger than himself."
HPL: Does this report make any mention of octopus tentacles?
Emrald: Well, no, Mr. Lovecraft. No octopus tentacles.
HPL: Feet, my dear ladies. Webbed feet. Feet are mentioned. Feet.
Emrald: Absolutely, Mr. Lovecraft. Feet.
HPL: Do you know what else was not mentioned in my investigative report, dear ladies?
Brittney: Let me guess. Sex-crazed octopus creature hybrids with staring eyes.
HPL: Yes. And Dagon is not an octopus monster in a well which tears women's arms off in its lust to impregnate them with its spawn.
Emrald: Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Lovecraft?
HPL: I would, my dear. But could you add a little something--extra to it? If you take my meaning.
(Cuzzin Hildy-Bob enters room)
Cuzzin Hildy-Bob: Howdy, gals! Howdy, Mr. Lovecraft! Would y'all like a nice cup of my special Xmahannukwanzyule Shine Spiced Cider?
HPL: That would be the very thing, dear Cuzzin Hildy-Bob. Thank you so much! Have you seen this film? It's a travesty, my friend, an absolute travesty!
Cuzzin Hildy-Bob: (calls into hallway) Hey, Virgie, better make Mr. Lovecraft's a double!
Coming up next:
Brittney, Emrald, and Mr. Lovecraft review the film version of "Herbert West, Re-Animator."
Merry Xmahannukwanzyule to all the Lovecraft Groupies. We found a whole bunch of Lovecraft videos to share. So don't say we never gave you anything. --Brittney
If you've had enough of money being taken from civilians' mouths to feed the greedy military industrial complex, join us on the Left Leaning Liberal Lounge Lizards page on Facebook.
I'm an open-minded person, but I'm also a skeptic. I don't buy every theory that comes my way. I never did buy into the "2012 Doomsday" theory. Nasa's scientists don't either.
And then there's this. I'll give it credit for providing some pretty cool disaster porn.
Let's just say that I had a bit of a nervous breakdown on the home stretch.
My novel did not start out smoothly. I really had no idea what I wanted to write about.
I decided to write about the lunar aspect of H.P. Lovecraft's dreamlands after being cued by Bon Scott to think about the title to one of my favorite AC/DC songs, "What's Next To the Moon."
Really, I did. I don't care if you believe me or not. I'm telling the tale as it happened. If you choose to believe that this is merely my own perception or delusion, fine. I refuse to debate it. I can't prove that it happened. Conversely, no-one else can prove that it didn't.
Let's move on.
The story seemed very "piecey" at first. It seemed more like a bunch of short stories than a cohesive novel. It didn't start to gel until about halfway through the month.
It also started to get really personal towards the end. Particularly on the last day. There was a convergence of sorts, and it opened some old wounds.
I had been turned on to the series "The Vampire Diaries" by my writing sister Tempest LeTrope and Mister Sister Adam Everhard. It becomes obvious that uncontrolled vampirism (the "Ripper" mode) is a metaphor for drug abuse. There are parts of the third season that are really hard to watch. Not because of the violence or "horror" aspect, but because certain of the character Stefan's behaviors reminded me of what I went through with my husband.
In the last segment that I watched, Elena (Stefan's girlfriend) says to Damon (Stefan's brother) that they may have to let Stefan go.
That is what I had to do with my husband.
It isn't just the aspect of watching someone you love destroy themselves. Not every addict is abusive, but with the inhibitions blurred by consciousness-altering substances, anyone has greater potential to become abusive, either verbally or physically.
My husband mostly became verbally abusive.
In the seven years that we were married, he got physical with me a total of nine times. He never beat me, and I was never particularly afraid of him. His physical abuses tended to take the form of slaps or pushing.
The verbal abuse was another story.
When my husband was doing heroin (he did cocaine as well, but less often) he became a different person. He thought that he was invincible and thought that he had been blessed with special gifts. He was a talented artist, but his real motivation was his next high.
When I met him way back in junior high, he was one of the cool kids. I wasn't terribly popular, but I garnered at least fake acceptance from the "cool" crowd when he brought me into the circle. He was a good-looking guy with dark hair and dark eyes. He always had a mischievous smile. I thought he was cute, but I was already crushing on someone else.
Our friendship turned to romance in our sophomore year in high school. Everyone thought we'd be the couple to beat the odds.
At that point, he was only smoking pot and drinking at weekend parties. So was everyone else, me included. I didn't see any kind of problem.
He joined the Army right after high school. It was the mid 1980's, a peacetime setting, so I wasn't worried. He wanted to learn a skill, to get some money together for college. It made perfect sense. He did his four years and came home, and we got married.
At first, everything was great. A little over a year after we married, I was pregnant with our daughter. There started to be signs of trouble. He stayed late after work a lot and came home smashed. Initially I suspected that he might be cheating. I guess I could say that he was, but not with a woman at this point. The women would come later.
When I found out about the heroin, I demanded that he give it up. He did for a time, after our daughter was born. She was eight months old when I got pregnant with our son. Once again he started shooting up. He claimed he was only smoking pot, but I knew better. There was yelling, throwing of dishes, lots of crying on my part. He started calling me names, telling me that I was holding him down, being the "bitchy wife."
We had been married three and a half years and had two kids when he started fooling around with other women.
I tried to hold things together, tried to believe that he could kick the drugs, tried to believe that if I just loved him enough, I'd be able to bring him back from the edge.
In the end, I made the decision to walk away.
I told him that he couldn't see the kids until he got clean and stayed clean. He got mad and called me an evil, fat bitch. He said he didn't know how he could ever have been so desperate as to have sex with me. He said it to hurt me, but it did cause me to lapse into bulimic behavior, which I struggled with on and off for the next six years.
He would stay clean for periods of time but always eventually relapse into his old habits. I never let him have the kids overnight. When he was clean, I trusted him to take them to or pick them up from school.
I dated for a little while after my marriage ended, but always managed to pick guys that were far from ideal to bring around my kids. One turned out to be scary enough that I almost considered getting a restraining order. Luckily, he moved out of state.
I stopped dating fifteen years ago and see no reason to resume, even though my kids are adults now. I hate it when people tell me "not to give up" because the "right guy" could be around the next corner.
He's not.
So, to wrap things up...
The little experiment that started as a frustrating hodge-podge turned into a massive emotional bleed-out at the end, and I almost cashed in my chips.
I've decided that I'm actually going to try and organize the story into something cohesive. It does have potential.
I listened to a lot of HIM while I was writing the story. I also listened to AC/DC, of course. I listened to Morcheeba, and Korn, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Loreena McKennitt, Enigma...
I want to share the HIM album Love Metal. Because yes, I do. It's gotten me through a lot of really tough times.
Thanks for letting me Bogart the Blog, Sisters and Misters. We will return you to your regularly scheduled insanity tomorrow!
Seeing any one skin color as superior to any other is folly. There is one race: the human race. Skin color variations developed as a means of survival in various environments. It is long past time to lay aside notions of a "superior race," for there is no such thing.
All rite evry buddy, lissen up!!!! The Cheese Mistress went and maid annother new blog that is suposed to take the plase of the other blog's. Well, she thot she was bein sneeky and keeping it from me. BRITTNEY and EMRALD new about it all allong. I don't no if DOO DOO GIRL new about it becuz she is all ways stone'd out of her hed.
Well I found out about this new blog and I through a tempar tantrum untill the CHEESE MISTRESS agread to let me half axcess to it. So now you can find me on my mane blog, on my Possterus blog, or on the new blog!!!! This is grate for you becuz now there is moar of me!!!!!
Even Dr. Schitz wants to strangule the CHEESE MISTRESS!!!!
Hear is a webb site that Dr. Schitz reckamend's. It is all about Thy Royd's. The Cheese Mistress could not find her Thy Royd meddasine this morning so she was all in a pannick.
I don't no why he does not just take my addvise. May be if the CHEESE MISTRESS had her fat thy royd remmoved, she wood not have such a fat butt. I am ASSumming that the Thy Royd is in the butt becuz the CHEESE MISTRESS shure has a fat one!!!!
Enny way, how much can you trust the advize of Dr. Schitz??? He was marryed to a Suck You Buss Demon for, like, six years. And now he is ingajed to marry a Parra Medick from the Horrible Dislopian Future. I don't no if she is a demon or not, but if she like's Dr. Schitz, she must be a Blast Femous Heething.
I have been watching The Vampire Diaries on Netflix. Tsathoggua and I give it two thumbs up. While the target audience is teenage girls, the show is far more Buffy the Vampire Slayer than Twilight.
My son adds the caveat that Buffy the Vampire Slayer contained far more vampire fighting than vampire fucking. Angel did not come along till later in the Buffy series. While there is some vampire slaying in The Vampire Diaries, the focus of the show is the romance between Elena and Stefan and the rivalry between Stefan and Damon.
Although the question does arise of how the holy hell a 162 year old being could abide being around high school kids, even if Elena is quite emotionally mature, the romance between Elena and Stefan comes off as far less creepy and psychologially abusive than the romance between Bella and Edward. Elena is also a better role model for teenage girls than is Bella. While she experiences depression following her breakup with Stefan, she does not become non-functional.
Overall, the series is well constructed without too many cringe-worthy lines. However, I find the need to beg the question of why the "good guy" vampires in modern times don't satiate their need for human blood from blood banks rather than relying on animal blood. As well, since it isn't necessary to kill a victim to feed...ah well, I'm not going to dwell on it.
If vampire fiction is your thing, give this show a go. It is a lot of fun.
Hello friends. As a young girl, I was raised Catholic, and I was actually quite devout, although I was rather unconventional in my beliefs. This led me to be ostracized by some of the members of the church. In turn, this led me to question the organization to which I had so long been faithful, although not without question.
I eventually left the church and started studying the older religions. At this point I would call myself a Pagan, although I do take wisdom from other sources as well. I still study other tomes, including the Bible. However, the King James bible has had many chapters removed from it. This book that so many take literally has been abriged, primarily for political reasons.
I have a bible which contains the Lost Books. It makes for very fascinating reading. It is one of my favorite books.
I wish to share the videos from the History Channel, which talk of the Lost Books of the Bible. I hope you will enjoy them too.
Ermahgerd, the horrible sight of Ke$ha when I go to the video--it's atrocious! I don't want to be a bitch or anything, but damn, that eyeshadow and that lipstick totally make her look like a coked out zombie.
Thorns is a very cool song written by the band Demon Hunter about the topic of self injury. It might bring some comfort to someone who is suffering.
I have a history of self mutilation. It is a very complex issue. It can be correlated with conditions such as borderline personality disorder and bipolar disorder (both of which I have) or with abuse. My parents were not physically abusive (there was sometimes inadvertent psychological abuse, because they were very perfectionistic.) I was bullied mercilessly in school. That was the trigger, in my case.
I don't believe in everlasting damnation, as it happens. It it makes no sense to me that a divine creator would condemn its creations for not believing in it. I don't think that a benevolent higher power has the egotistical need for worship. That would be on par with me flushing my fish down the toilet because it had the audacity not to call me by a certain name when I fed it.
Any higher power worth its salt would be too evolved to require worship from lowly beings like ourselves. The Bible was written by human beings. It is partially a historical account of life at the time when it was written. It is fallacy to try and take it completely literally. Just my humble opinion.
Why is that freak of nature Ke$ha's horrific visage posted alongside this cool (Christian) metal video? How dare they! She looks like a feckin' zombie!
I know a lot of people think that Christian and metal don't go together, but if that's what floats their boat, I'm cool with it. They do have a very good sound.
What I don't like about Ke$ha and her ilk is the fact that she is just a spectacle. No actual talent, just flash and shock value. Ho hum.
I didn't really feel like it was appropriate to put this in the previous post, but my mother in law died a few months after suffering a stroke. You know how strokes are supposed to be things that happen to fat people? She was a tiny, skinny woman. She stood barely five feet tall and only weighed about 92 pounds. So by the logic of the anti-fat brigade, should she have not lived forever?
I'm five foot six and weigh closer to 292 pounds. I'm a nurse, so I know the importance of keeping an eye on certain basic readings. I'm doing fine. My doctor says I'm doing fine. He's a wise man. He says the only time weight is a concern to him is if there are sudden marked increases, which generally indicate fluid gain. Fluid gain comes on with issues such as kidney dysfunction. It's sad, but my doc is in the minority.
My cousin has lost about 30 pounds working out in the therapy pool at the facility where she works. Having worked in health care for many years, both of our bodies are pretty beat up. I'm going to ask the rehab center affiliated with our hospital if there's any chance I could work out in their pool after hours. If not, I think I'll take my cousin up on her suggestion that I could use the pool at the facility where she works. They allow the public to use it for a fee.
Here's something to note. My cousin was not TRYING to lose weight. I will not be TRYING to lose weight. The thing that sold me was not the weight loss, it's the increased flexibility and range of motion that she's been going on about. Flexibility is so important and so underrated. It's always the last quality addressed in exercise, but is as important as strength or stamina.
Certainly it's more important than "being skinny." As a nurse, I end up seeing people who become "skinny" for life and health threatening reasons all the time. Sudden weight fluctuations in either direction are always red flags. Weight measurement should be used for catching problems like endocrine dysfunction of other health concerns. It should not be used as a means of berating people.
Seeing as blaming and shaming always work so well, you'd think that other health care professionals would get a clue, right? So many times I find myself facepalming at the idiot remarks made by my own kind. They make them while I'm sitting right there, not intending to hurt me, but simply out of ignorance and brainwashing.
Maybe you can never be too rich, but you can sure be obsessed with being too thin! The poison of our thin-centric society is more than obvious. Eating disorders in young people, particularly young women, are more rampant than ever. Now that is a serious problem, but people are putting on their blinders. As long as these girls are skinny, they're healthy. Right?
It's time that we start berating the douchebags who think that insulting fat people is okay. Those who use mean humor are not funny. Let's quit stroking their limp egos.
My body happens to look a lot like the body of the larger woman. My husband, who stands about six foot two (took after his father in the height department) and weighs around 175 pounds, has no qualms about touching my body. He is not a "chubby chaser." The woman he was with before me was a model. She had a body that women in this society (myself included) envy.
We ended up together after he broke up with her. We worked together and had been friends for nearly three years. He asked me if I'd be his date to a fund raiser that he was involved with and I said "sure." That evening, we both realized how much we really enjoyed being together and decided to try another date, this time to the Museum of Natural History, which is something we both love.
We were walking through the minerals exhibition and he took my hand. I hoped that he wouldn't let go. We bought tickets for a show at the planetarium, and partway through, he asked if he could kiss me. He didn't stick his tongue down my throat or try to grope me. But his lips stayed on mine for what was a good long time, and yet not nearly long enough.
When he dropped me off at home, he didn't try to get in my pants, but we held onto each other for quite a while. He asked me why we hadn't done this before.
"Because you were with someone and we work together," I said.
"Ja, there's that," was his answer. "But I don't think this shall be a problem. You want to do this again, I'd like that. You don't want to do it again like this, we are friends still."
I wanted to do it again.
Of course I worried that he was "settling" for the fat broad because he couldn't make things work with the gorgeous model, who happened to be trying to change him into something that was more cosmopolitan, more visually appealing in her eyes. I wondered how he could "downgrade" from her to me.
When I eventually confessed my fears to him, he was genuinely surprised. He said he never saw me as a downgrade. He said that we enjoyed each other's company and he never felt like I was trying to change him into something he wasn't. That was what was important to him. Not the number that came up when I stepped on a scale.
Nils and I had our ten year wedding anniversary this year. Because of his mother's health issues, we really didn't have much of a celebration. We decided to postpone our anniversary celebration proper to the anniversary of when we first started dating, back on December 15, 1999. Maybe we'll spend Christmas in the mountains, making out to Riding the Storm Out.
Some might think the thought of a skinny, knobby-kneed, tow-headed fortyish Norwegian guy with a slightly receding hairline making out with a fat, fiftyish American brunette who looks far more like Rosie O'Donnell than Mila Kunis or whoever is the Hollywood flavor of the month these days, is "disgusting." Neither of us look like supermodel manikins. But I happen to think that two people in love is beautiful, no matter what they look like.
I get more turned on seeing my husband naked than I do seeing any Hollywood actor or G.Q. model, and his actions would indicate that he's far from disgusted with my body. He once said "If you could see yourself through my eyes, you would want to fuck yourself."
Perhaps I should do that--and let him watch, of course.
Yeah, it's disgusting, I know. At least to all the namby-pamby little wimps who want a blow-up doll who won't do annoying things like talk or demand to be treated like a human being. A fat woman having sex, and a partner who enjoys having sex with her. Ewwww....gross!
Know what? I don't care what they think. My amazing husband is on call at the hospital today, so I better get on this, just in case one of our colleagues happens to call in with Beer Fever, as is prone to happening on weekends.
Wishing you love and peace, no matter what your size.
Remember this one? I really need to hear some nasty, angry music today. Not necessarily loud or raucous, but anti-establishment. Ya know?
It's been a real boner year. Dad died on July 8 at 79 years old. And now Nils' mom passed away on October 4. She was 82. I flew to Norway with him and his brother for the funeral. It's always so beautiful there, but this time the occasion was a somber one. I think his dad will be okay. He's a stoic, resourceful man. I'm really not sure how Nils and his brother ended up being so warm. Their parents were anything but demonstrative with affection.
First of all, real and authentic. Second, ass kicking female musician. Which is what I want to be in my next life. I wanted to be one in this life, but it didn't work out that way.
How many risks will interlope This fragile condition of hope Assurances will bow to the state Bring back the bones that you paid for with hate
One more step toward an un-final goal "A change of direction", the rise before the fallA vision antagonized As words fell on stones A region that is left without shelter Barely with sins to atoneChorus : I cannot attain What is left out of me? As we take cover from The deadliest rainThe more we cry for help The more our calls are ignored Condemned to be destroyed By the M-21 tear drops of God.Chorus
I have no problem with religion as long as there is tolerance. Since none of us know for sure the nature of the Divine, we need to learn to be open minded and treat each other with respect.
There's a blue bird at the window I can't hear the songs he sings All the jewels in heaven They don't look the same to me
I just wade the tides that turned 'Till I learn to leave the past behindIt's only lies that I'm living It's only tears that I'm crying It's only you that I'm losing... Guess I'm doing fineAll the battlements are empty And the moon is laying low Yellow roses in the graveyard Got no time to watch them growNow I bade a friend farewell I can do whatever pleases meIt's only lies that I'm living It's only tears that I'm crying It's only you that I'm losing... Guess I'm doing finePress my face up to the window To see how warm it is inside See the things that Ive been missing... Missing all this timeIt's only lies that I'm living It's only tears that I'm crying It's only you that I'm losing... Guess I'm doing fineGuess I'm doing fine.
"But wait, I don't like Nickelback! And I have to whine about it loudly and annoyingly rather than just not listening. I don't like Nickelback. It's, like, trendy to hate Nickelback. Do you hear me? I don't like Nickelback because I'm hip and stuff!"
Oh, look. Here are all the fucks I don't give about your hatred of Nickelback.
If you don't like them, don't listen and have yourself...
First, read this article. Then read about how I was "almost special." He didn't get away--I threw him back. He wasn't worth of the love I had to give.
I almost let him back into my life. He broke my heart 25 years ago. Came back saying he was clean now, a changed man, ready to make a fresh start. If by clean he meant only doing coke once a day instead of four times, I guess he was. He was estranged from his two oldest sons, had a tenacious relationship with his twenty year old son, and my heart broke for his ten year old. His second ex wife (a woman whom I like, and who had taken him back once herself) wouldn't let him see the boy alone, and I don't blame her. She would only let him visit with his father if one of his older brothers was with him. His first wife (whom I also know and like) wanted as little to do with him as possible.
He is charming as hell, probably a sociopath, and so adept at playing the hurt little boy. But when I found out he was still doing coke, I told him I couldn't be more than a friend. He ended up with a fellow druggie, a woman 20 years his junior. (He's 56 years old, still acting like an irresponsible teenager.) He doesn't look or act like a bad boy, he has the face of an angel and this "aw shucks" Southern boy manner that could charm the socks off the hardest case (like me.)
Yeah, my heart broke. I'm not going to lie and say it didn't. This all went down a couple months ago and I've just now been able to start going to sleep without crying or wishing he was there beside me. But I realize now that I don't miss him. I sure didn't need the drama in my life that he would have brought. I miss who he appeared to be. Being with him would have strained my relationship with my own adult son, a young man with a gift for understatement, who said to me, "Mom, let's put it this way. Someone--we both know who I mean--tends to make really, really bad decisions." So for the sake of my son and my animals, if not for myself, I couldn't let this man be close to me. Even though he wouldn't physically hurt them--he's never been prone to physical violence--the kinds of people he'd be bringing around might. I couldn't risk that.
I've decided that I'm going to spend my life solo--just me and my family and my animals. The few minutes of fake affection aren't worth months and years of pain. I've got my own problems, and the men I tend to attract and be attracted to are just no good. But this guy was the worst of them. He did it to me 25 years ago and he almost did it to me again. I'm glad I got out before fully becoming one of the "special" ones.
Tends to onset earlier than Alzheimers * Often initially misdiagnosed as Parkinsons * Progresses rapidly * Fatal *
We love you Malcolm Young
January 6, 1953 - November 18, 2017 "As his brother it is hard to express in words what he has meant to me during my life, the bond we had was unique and very special. He leaves behind an enormous legacy that will live on forever. Malcolm, job well done." --Angus Young
You Don’t Own Me
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September is National Happy Cat month. You don’t have to have a cat or any
animal to share some songs about these adorable four-legged creatures!
Happy Birthday IWSG!
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The Insecure Writer's Support Group is celebrating 15 years! I remember
when it was first started by Alex Cavanaugh. Hard to believe it has been
that ...
Another Update
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bethere2day -
Hi fellow blogger’s I thought I would give you a quick health update as its
been a while To be honest I’m not really that much better I am ...
Music Monday: Honoring the Sun
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This week will mark the beginning of summer. A lot of time spent outside
in the sun:
And in honor of Brian Wilson:
Hope everyone has fun in the s...
WE MUST NEVER FORGET
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Today I saw an eagle,
With a teardrop in his eye.
It literally took by breath away
To see an eagle cry.
I asked him, What's the matter?
And he told me what ...
Mommy’s Playbook’s 9th Birthday Bash
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What a playground of fun giveaways Welcome to Mommy’s Playbook’s 9th
Birthday Bash! Hosted By: Mommy's Playbook
*ENTER TO WIN* on the easy giveaway form b...
I Have Moved!
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My new website is: https://thenewxmasdolly.blogspot.com/ Being my main
website this is where the action is. This blog is my personal tidbits,
laughs & cool...
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I really like this T-shirt motive. For me it is starting to be in the same
league of classic shirt as Venom „Black Metal Holocaust“ and „red goathead
- L...
We're EIGHT Today! Woo!
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Woohoo! Happy 2020! It's a big day on the blog, too. We're EIGHT today!
Holy cow!
I can't believe it's been eight years already. It's been...interesting...
+ Some thoughts about this picture +
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*Many people think that it's not Post Mortem, but what if it could be? I
just need to tell my opinion about this sad photo. In my opinion seems to
be af...
Happy Birthday to Ville!
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Happy Birthday dear Ville! Hyvää syntymäpäivää ja paljon paljon onnea! :)
Picture credit to the owner
Ps. Thanks for sharing the previous posts, I've been...
Mentor Williams, Writer of "Drift Away" Passes
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via youtube
It's been quite a while since I've written something new for this music
blog. The reason has nothing to do with inspiration and everything to ...
Is it all right to ask for a promo?
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Sure, but I’d prefer to only advertise for other submission-driven or
robot-related fan archive sorts of blogs. Stuff that’s relevant to “imagine
your fa...
Meet Heather Rainier's Ethan Grant
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Hey peeps! How are y'all doing? Making it through the week? Two more
days and the WEEKEND will be back! *crap...here I go...wishing my life
away aga...
Blogging Break
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Hello. I am sorry I disappeared from the blogosphere for so long. I owe all
of you an explanation.
As much fun as I have blogging about photography and sh...
NEW BLOG
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I have now made a new blog were I will only post drawings and other works.
The activity on the other blog will go a bit slower than this one, since I
usua...
