There is a squirrel that lives in our tree. He has no tail. We call him Stump. He will sit and wait for us to throw nuts out to him. Not quite tame, but not exactly wild either.

I’ll miss Stump.

I’m pissed about moving. We’ve been here almost three years. My kids feel at home, and so do I – finally. This will be our 19th move thanks to Uncle Sam and job transfers. I don’t want to leave this house. I don’t want to leave this yard. These schools. These friends. This town.

But there isn’t anything around here available. Only have two months left to find a place. We planned on staying here another year or two and buying it. That was the plan, the deal, the arrangement. Not ready to buy yet, need another year. They want to remodel and jack up the rent by $250. In this little hick town. Dumbasses.

They own 6 houses. Only collect rent from us. The rest were rented to their adult children, who have yet to pay a dime. Not my fault their kids are lazy pieces of shit and they are strapped right now. They will not get what they are asking for this place. They will end up with an empty house with absolutely no money coming in.

That thought cheers me up.

Day turned out to be rather nice. Not sure why I have the urge to pop somebody’s head off right now. Very fucking irritable. Good thing everyone here is sleeping. These chatting fuckwads aren’t so lucky. I’ll be snacking on a few of their asses tonight. I’m sure of it.

Letters are done – finally. Logged 11 hours doing those bitches. Turns out there were closer to 400 instead of the 200 like she initially claimed. 11 hours of hell.

Whole day feels blown now. There was so much I wanted to do today. Now I just feel like pouting ’cause those letters took so long. Guess I could stop whining and get busy. Yeah, I guess I could.

People who couldn’t find their ass with both hands and a flashlight shouldn’t have access to control panels. Please don’t touch shit. Please don’t fiddlefuck around with things ’cause the name sounded cool.

People who want you to switch their hosting company should have enough brains to save the log in information so you can make the changes. Or save the fucking welcome emails. Or know how to email support. Or just let me do it. Perhaps just put a gun to their head and put me out of my misery.

It’s 4:00. Is that too early to start drinking?

Friend of mine told me about this site. She claims it’s legit, although the smokes sometimes vary in taste. Those that have ever bought a pack overseas, might understand how the taste can vary.

Not much of a selection either, but for these prices – who gives a shit?

YesSmoke

I ordered 4 cartons of the Marlboro Lights. We’ll see what happens.

Having a garage sale in two weeks. Trying to sort through shit is a pain in my ass. Moving in two months. Also a pain in my ass. There are 3 million boxes in my house right now. Packing as I sort. Now, if I could just find a place to put everything that doesn’t drive me bat shit.

Supposed to go out this weekend. Now I don’t feel like it. Hope that changes.

Bad t-storms rolled through this morning. Trying to figure out where lightning struck at 6am. Whole house shook. Kids were having a stroke thinking they had to go to school in that mess. It was pretty scary. Luckily, it was over by the time the bus came. Now it’s beautiful outside. More storms later, but they’re beautiful too. Can’t lose either way. I love spring.

K – time to tackle another room that was destroyed over the weekend.

Mom took me out to lunch yesterday. I ordered their chipsNcheese to munch on. Ended up eating the entire tray instead of my actual entr?e. I ordered some to go as well. Ate those last night. I need more. I need to know how to make them. Someone must tell me how to make these heavenly chips.

They are almost like those pizza shells you get from TacoBell. But thicker, crispier, more flavorful. I can’t make them if I don’t even know what they are. Fried flour chips? C’mon, gimme something I can use. Anyone know what the hell I’m talking about?

Why should I need a rest AFTER the weekend? They get busier every week.

I haven’t done any of those letters yet. None. Nada. Zilcho. Zip. Should make for a fun evening tonight.

I feel rather disconnected today. Not good. Not bad. Just disconnected. Can’t get my marbles on track. Prepare for many random posts today as I try to sort some of this shit out in my head. Gotta get my focus back.

The weekend is here. MD has to work tomorrow ($$$$$$$), and I’ve got another shit job lined up. This one is for my mom. 235 certified letters to send out and then enter into the system. This means not only will I be bored out of my fucking mind, but my puter time will be damn near non-existant.

Kill.Me.Now.

Houseful of curtains, 4 closets, 3 junk drawers, a medicine cabinet, a fireplace, a pot roast with taters, 2 bathrooms, 6 beds, underneath 3 beds, 3 batches of cinnamon rolls, some vacuumed carpet, some hand-mopped floors, and a van later … I am taking a break.

Damn I’m good.

Sing mommy a song MB4, she’s tired

Don’t Be A Tease … Baby Baby Baby

?

Woe to the pre-teen who taught my 4yo that song.

I will have his lips.

Little ones got up early today. Too early. I won’t be worth a shit all day now because of it. I ain’t a spring chicken anymore. I can’t function on less than 4 hours of sleep. 5 is perfect. I didn’t get anywhere near 5 last night. This late night job just might be the death of me.

But I’m up. I’m awake. At this point, it is not possible for me to go back to sleep. I’m not a napper. Once I’m up – I’m up.

Which is why I am a teensy bit pissed off that the little ones fell back asleep after breakfast. Think I might wake them up. I’m evil like that.

May 4th is the day I turn 32. I’ve recently discovered that I share that birthday with a few people.

Cheyenne, who is having a big birthday bash to celebrate.

Deltus, who will be up to his coded eyeballs in moving madness around the time of his birthday.

And Laci Peterson, who should have been enjoying her birthday as a new mother this year. Her family and friends will be in my thoughts that day. It’ll be a rough one, I’m sure.

I’m in a fairly good mood despite last night’s uneventful ending.

It’s rainy today. Kind of day that you need to have the lights on. I don’t mind at all. Well, except that the rain has smooshed my newest little wildflower friends.

What do you call those white, blow-away flowers? I like those too. Think I might have the kids blow some of the spores into the neighbor’s yard.

That nasty chemlawn guy killed all of hers. Bastard. Don’t worry, I’ll hook her up.

Warm fuzzy hellos to the visitor that dropped in looking for DragonTalesSexPics.

Ya sick fuckwad

I love my husband very much. I do. I know he works his ass off every day for us.

I just wish I had known that he was extremely tired tonight before the bikini wax.

What a waste.

Who decided that dandelions were weeds?

They’re resilient, cute, persistent, perky little flowers that require no maintenance. I’m leaving mine this year.

These BH&G neighbors can bite me.

Forgot that today my older boys are walking to the library after school. It’s about 5 blocks. I’m to pick them up at 5:30, as the librarMB5 has agreed to let them camp out and duel those damn Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

If I’m not at home around 3 o’clock, it’s because I am just going about my day. It’s not because I plan on following them to the library to make sure they arrive safely. I swear. I’m not that crazy…

MB4 woke me up this morning with an ear-piercing screeeeeech. He had thrown up and was not very happy about it. I was, he hit the toilet for once. I got him cleaned up, and he crawled into my bed and went back to sleep. Any 4yo that goes back to bed in the morning must feel like death walking. Poor little guy.

As for me, I feel fantastic today. Not sure what the hell is going on, but I’m not going to waste time trying to figure it out. I’m having a good day, that’s all that matters. Time to take care of shit that’s been suffering around here.

I’m so ashamed. Feel like a dirty old broad.

I had lustful thoughts about the pizza boy …. man …. boy delivery driver.

Cute little sonofabitch.

I do odd jobs. I do this to earn extra cash and to keep myself busy and to learn. Always to learn.

These jobs don’t pay much. But I realize I don’t do much to earn them either. Might take a survey, move someone’s web site when they change hosts, freshen up a site, set up email accounts, help with taxes, set up a new computer, etc. Easy shit.

Got two checks in the mail today. $5 and $20. I shook my head when I saw them. It’s almost funny what I will do to earn a buck. And sometimes it’s literally a buck. Then I realized something …

$25 = Pizzzzzzzzzza

Fuck yeah – my mood is picking up already

I hate people who don’t know when to shut the fuck up. Add that to someone that can’t shut their yap while someone is talking about something important to them makes my blood boil. Throw in that yeah-you-think-that’s-bad-listen-to-my-story shit, and I want to seriously start ripping out throats to get to vocal cords. Rude ass mother fuckers who start quivering when the attention isn’t shining on their pathetic asses. Losers.

Poor girl in the chat rooms tonight walked in on her husband screwing another bitch in their bed. With the children home. The room is trying to be there for her. No, they can’t do much in this cyber environment, but they can listen to her as she rambles on trying to sort shit out in her mind. They reassure her. They support her. Most do anyway.

There is one chatter that feels her tales of woe ought not come second. She is 28 with 5 kids and has a crazy life. Whothefuckcares? I’m 31 with 5 – and? Yeah, I may whine and moan and carry on about my hectic life, but I have never fucking been so rude as to cut someone off mid-story to bitch about how hard it is to wash dinner dishes alone. Fucking loser.

This girl is destroyed. You can feel it in her words. She said that her children demand to know what happened, but she can’t find the words to tell them. And isn’t sure that she should. BitchFuckFace jumps in to remind her that life is easy with two kids – “wait till you have 5!!” Can I ask what the hell sense that made?

I bitch about my life here because I can. Because I’m supposed to. Better here than in front of my kiddos. But when I am called upon to listen – I fucking listen.

Think I might just mute this bitch for the hell of it.

Mowed the yard today. Didn’t have to. It really didn’t need it yet, and MD would have done it after work one night. But I wanted to. Makes me sweat. Gives me time to think. I love any excuse to be outside. I love a freshly cut yard. I’d never mowed a yard until last year. Never knew what I was missing. Mow the yard, take a shower, then sit outside and smell the grass. Makes my calloused hands worth it.

My kids think my hands are ugly. I admit, they do look like they belong on an 80yo dead woman’s body. But I can’t help it. I’ve always been a worker. I like to get my hands dirty and get the fucking job done. I’ve always been my best employee. My hands have suffered though. One of these days, maybe I’ll be a real woman and get some fancy hand creme to do something about it. Only bothers me when they bleed. Otherwise, screw it. My hands tell a tale of how I have worked my ever-lovin’ ass off for my kids. Nothing wrong with that.

Maybe that’s the reason for my funk. Maybe I’ve been staying home too long. Always happens. I should know better. I’m one helluva stay-at-home mom. But I’m also one helluva worker. One helluva manager. Then again, a house with 5 kids almost demands that one parent manage the day-to-day shit that goes on. School, activities, clubs, sports, scouts, parties, homework, dances, dr appts. Hell, laundry alone could keep me busy all day. It never ends. Last time I worked, the boys couldn’t participate in anything. There was no one free to run them anywhere. No weekends off for family time. School plays always meant one of us busting our ass to get there in time to catch the tail end and snap a few pics for the album. Some sort of proof that we actually had children – had a reason for killing ourselves with those crazy ass hours.

The money was sweet. No doubt about that. Just wasn’t any time to fucking spend it. Things were rough trying to learn how to live without my salary, but we’ve managed. We have what we need, and that’s enough.

But is this enough for me? Would working be what I need to snap out of this slump I’m in? Probably. Gonna have to think on this one.

Two weeks from today – I turn 32. Doesn’t bother me. Hell, my mind has always been more mature than my body anyway. ‘Bout time it catches up. I could do without the spreading hips, sagging tits, and knee spasms though. Few more years, and I might actually have to start eating better. That would suck ass.

I want a tatoo for my birthday. I’ve always wanted one. On the small of my back. Nothing big and flashy. Keep telling myself to wait one more year to see if the idea still interests me. It does. Wonder how many more years it will take to finally convince me.

MD is taking me out that weekend. Plans have been made. Said he’s going to get me drunk and take advantage of me when we get home that night. Silly boy. After 13 years, he should know by now that his drunk wife will take advantage of him long before we ever reach the house. My drive has always been on the healthy side. Looking forward to increasing that drive as I start down this road to reach my prime.

It’s very possible that I just might kill this man when I get there.

As I sit here, my eyes are watering. My throat is acting as if I just had an acid cocktail. And my head. Fuck, my head. No, not really my head – my face. I hate a headache as much as the next guy, but these facial, sinus headaches make me want to go smash my skull in with a hammer. I’m stuffed full of every cold and sinus med I could get my hands on, so I should pass out here soon.

Easter was nice. No, not really. It sucked. Forgot to fill the eggs up with candy for the egg hunt today, so I was up until 4am after work getting that shit ready. My poor kiddos woke up and stayed in their rooms until I could finally open my eyes at 8am. They wanted to wait for me. Thought that was sweet. Then we froze our asses off outside looking for eggs. 110 eggs to be exact. MG caught on and had a blast. That was fun.

Supposed to have a family bbq today, but it was cold, and there are too many of us sick to infect anyone for a few burgers and chips. At least MG feels better. Sure as hell wish MB3, MB2, and I did. I haven’t been sick since I was little – until these past two years. Must be getting old. Or these flu bugs are getting smarter. Probably both.

Nasty, heartless, sick ass prick. I hope you fry.

I have a feeling you will.

May Laci and her sweet innocent babe rest in peace.

I can feel the frenzy stirring up again in my mind. The one that causes me to start making shit for days at a time with little thought for much else. I welcome it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something. Even if the designs suck and I’m too embarrassed to show them to anyone else, I will have learned something from making them. And that’s all that matters. The knowledge. The experience. The growth. I don’t know why I feel the need to learn this shit. Maybe it’s just to prove that I can.

I’m off. Elements is whispering to me.

MG seems to be a little better today. She hasn’t gotten sick yet after we gave her the suppository last night. Wish I could say that her ass has been quiet as well. She even ate a little today, so maybe this shit is working. Let’s hope.

MD is home today, so my schedule is out of whack. Kids are home today, so my mind is out of whack.

I need a nap. I’m so very tired.

She’s got tonsillitis, but he doesn’t know why she is throwing up. Lovely. She’s got more antibiotics and some phenosomethingoranother suppositories for the vomiting waiting at the pharmacy. We’ll see if this shit knocks it out.

Back to the doc in a bit. They really need to fix her this time. She’s too damn tiny to be like this. She hasn’t thrown up since last night, but she won’t eat and she just lays there. And her little ass is raw from the diarrhea. Changing her about every hour – that’s a lot of fluid to lose for a 20lb baby.

I don’t like this one bit.

For Meg…

That is all.

Can one be addicted to Cheez-Its?

And the number one indicator that today is going to suck? When you wake up to find out that you have been sleeping in your toddler’s vomit.

I want to cuss about it, but I can’t think of a vulgarity strong enough to use.

www.jodeemessina.com/hero/

Give it time to load. Nice tribute. Very nice.

I hate spaghetti.

Tried fancying it up with meatballs. Cheese. With sausage. Spices. Tried making fabulous homemade mozarella garlic bread to go with it. Nope, still hate it.

No matter what I do to it, it’s still reminds me of the days when we were first married and poor as dirt. Wish the kids didn’t love it so. I hate fixing it. I hate smelling it. I hate looking at it on my plate while I stuff my gut with bread.

I just fucking hate it.

Nancy’s new design is awesome. Go look. Pay attention to the small details. She really went all out. I love it.

Spent yesterday installing and weeding through filter plug-ins. I love filters. Then spent last night making new tiles. New creations. I see a new addiction forming.

I don’t have time for anymore addictions. The ones I have sure as hell aren’t helping me beat the blahs. Thought I would feel better when the weather changed. And I did, a little. Or maybe it’s just this computer that depresses me. If I could move this bitch outside – gawd, life would be divine. Or maybe I’m just not making any fucking sense right now. Let’s change the subject.

MB3 started baseball. He’s waited so long for this. Any one who knows a middle child knows what he’s been waiting for. He’s good at baseball, and he’s basking in how that feels. He delights in the fact that evenings are crazy hectic now as a result of his practices and his games. I love seeing him like this.

MG is sick again. Poor thing. She’s been healthy for so long, and now she just can’t beat this. She seems a little better this morning. No fever yet. Let’s hope it stays gone this time.

MB1 and MB2 are really starting to expose me to what it’s like to raise a teenager. Geeezus. Should just change it to The Mouth That Knows Not What It Says And Doesn’t Ever Stop. I remember those years. I’m still pretty young by most standards. I try to keep it in mind as I deal with them. It’s hard. Essentially, they are amazingly good kids. Seems unfair to ride their ass because Mr Hormone stepped in and took control for a moment or two. As much as I hate to see them grow up, I find myself smiling when I see the young men they are becoming. I think we’ve done alright so far. Hope we continue to do so. It’s getting very fucking important that we do at this point in their lives.

MB4 has me in awe every single day. Six months ago he spoke that broken caveman language of a 3yo. Now he speaks in complete sentences. He has discovered the world of sarcastic tone. He jokes. He gets pissy. He demands the right to go to school, and becomes angry when I tell him he must wait another year. Think I’ll check into the preschools around here, if there are any in this hickass town.

Now I must take care of a yellow jacket that has buzzed into my home to visit me. I will try my best not to smush him. I will try to gently guide him out the sliding glass door. But one wrong move, and he’s history.

Feeling rather blah today. I hate the fucking news. I hate myself for watching. For listening to shit that I know will haunt me for days.

That poor baby. I can’t shake the images that my mind has created of him and his mama. I refuse to believe that it’s anyone else but Laci and her sweet babe. That would mean that there is more than one twisted fuck of a human running around out there somewhere.

And I can’t stomach the thought of that right now.

Our patient list is growing over at the Asylum. I see that some of them are starting to come out of their rooms shells and post. Good. Release is good therapy. Hope more find their voice.

I look forward to reading them.

Motherfuck. What a long weekend that was. Started Friday morning at 6am and just ended about an hour ago. I am so damn tired. My sister and her family came to town. They were here Friday and Saturday and we were all over at Mom/Dad’s today.

Friday morning I cleaned like a bitch. Then we had a water fight that afternoon and fucked my house up. S’ok, kids had fun. Lots of fun. They miss their cousins very much.

We went on a hike Saturday. Got lost. I don’t suggest doing that for entertainment. My oldest son was asking every squirrel, woodpecker, and yellow jacket if they could carry an SOS message into town for us. Was actually fun, I thought. I plan on dragging our kids back out there next week. Gotta work off these Rolos somehow.

MD and I watched her kids Saturday night while they went to a wedding. Whoooeeeeeemotherofgawd. Our boys are 12 10 7 4 – her boys are 10 4 3. MG is the only girl, and she’s about 20 months old. That was a busy fucking night, let me tell you. Dinner went on for hours. Bathtime went on for days. Sweet kids though. Was actually a pleasant evening.

Today we went to my parents and had a big dinner. Kids played, we talked and played cards and spent hours discussing my childhood – like the time when I was 12 and my bikini bottoms filled up with water and slipped off when I jumped up out of the pool. It’s funny now. I guess. Think she pissed herself again tonight thinking about it. hardyharhar

But, the weekend is now over. And they are heading back tomorrow morning. My kids are sad and exhausted. MD is sore and asleep. And I am glad we had a fantastic weekend with my only sibling and her family. Wish it happened more than once/twice a year.

Gawd, I adore Dennis Miller.

I want to have his children.

I want HBO to put him the fuck back on the air. Every week. Not this two hour special bullshit.

I need more miller than that.

Later: Fuck! It was only an hour long special. What bullshit.

It’s done.

No, it ain’t the purdiest, but I’ve never claimed to be a master designer. It’ll suffice.

Why did I do it? For those that have left comments on my blog. Comments about how they wish they could say fuck or talk about war or rant about their mother. But can’t for whatever reason.

Now they can.

Main Entry: asy?lum
Pronunciation: &-’sI-l&m
Function: noun
1 : an inviolable place of refuge and protection
2 : a place of retreat and security : SHELTER
3 : an institution for the destitute or sick and especially the insane

That’s all I’m saying.

I think I’m in trouble….
(more…)

Found this at The Command Post.

Just going to credit my blogroll in general for this ’cause everybody’s doin’ it.

It snowed this morning. Then the sun came out and melted the snow. Now it’s raining. Think I saw this on an episode of Dragon Tales once.

My MG Bear is doing so much better this morning. She is up and playing and throwing tantrums. Life is getting back to normal.

I am treading water lately. Have lots of things to do, but can’t quite find the on switch to get busy. I’m not usually like this. I was getting better. I know it’s the sight of snow the past two weeks after the beautiful weather we were teased with. Fucking snow. In April. Gawd.

Now if you’ll excuse me. I think I might go take a bath and find some comfy sweats to put on. I’m freezing. In April. Gawd.

I’m glad this day is over. Was a rough one.

I still feel like reheated dogshit, and my baby girl has pneumonia. She has four days to get better or doc is gonna stick her tiny hiney in the hospital. She can’t breathe when she lays flat, so she slept on me all day. She’s a tiny tot, but I won’t be able to use my arm tomorrow.

Today was our 13th anniversary, though. MD surprised me with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. 13 different kinds. Ain’t that sweet?

I hope they blew that sumbitch into kibbles n bits today. That would be a nice gift too.

I am miserable. Fucking miserable. If I sneeze one more time, I am chopping off my nose. My eyes are blurry and bloated and they burn. My head is tight and it’s pounding and the fever makes my brain feel fluid. My throat is so raw and nothing seems to make it feel better. MD claims he has a remedy.

I ain’t buying it.

Meg said to pass it on….

Gary Turner has changed his name to Slake.
It’s a GoogLe thing.

Code for above was stolen from Meg by Nancy. Then stolen by me and fiddled with.

My 12yo was allowed to pick the music for our evening. He and I are home alone with the little ones tonight while the other boys are camping with dad at their last scout activity. We ordered a pizza and watched Ghost Ship. Now he’s on the PS2 and I am working. And the stereo is on … and it’s loud … and it’s not bad. Not bad at all.

Bring Me To Life – Evanescence
When I’m Gone – 3 Doors Down
My December – Linkin Park
Unwell – Matchbox 20
Outside – Staind
It’s Been Awhile – Staind
Bother – Corey Taylor
Fine Again – Seether

I knew better, yet I did it anyway. I was an idiot and allowed myself to be sucked into round#30 of the very popular game what happens when friends discuss the war. No one ever wins this game.

She is really starting to irritate me. I try not to let it get to me. Try to remember that this is not personal. Try to keep it light so that once the war is over, the friendship won’t be over as well.

It’s hard. Not hard to debate the war. I have a mouth on me that doesn’t quit. What’s hard is trying not to unleash the fury I feel when I hear idiotic comments that obviously have no thought process behind them. I have never said that I know everything. Hell, I rarely crawl out from underneath my rock. I do not keep up with current events. Whatever I learned about history in school has long been forgotten. My only source of information comes from my gut. And from common fucking sense.

She has decided to cram her noggin with bits and pieces of garbage from those that are hell bent on protesting this war.

Facts, she says. We gave Saddam these weapons, and now we are invading him because he has them. This is followed by a thirty minute speech of similar claims.

She looks to me for an explanation. I don’t have one. Not a expert explanation, that is. I can only offer my opinion. That through-out life one must make choices, and sometimes these choices boil down simply to which one is the lesser evil. Which choice sucks less. I don’t claim to know the precise reasoning behind why we did what we did back then. I only can believe that there were reasons. Period.

Well, that answer sucks. But let’s say we move past that and focus on how ignorant it makes the USA look when we gave the shit to him and now we are using force to take it away.

It’s at this point that I stop. I smile, shake my head, and get up to finish bbq’ing our burgers. She follows to help, and within 5 minutes, the talk is about our children and schoolwork and life. There is no more talk of war.

But I can’t let it go. And after they leave, I spend an hour preaching to the choir raging to MD about how fucked up she is. How wrong she is. How she Doesn’t.Fucking.Think.

It is ignorant to label the US as ignorant for disarming Saddam. No matter where the hell he got the shit in the first place. If we did indeed equip him with some of these weapons, then he is being punished for abusing them. Plain and simple. That’s not hard to understand. Is it? It really doesn’t make a fuck’s bit of difference where he got them at this point. They need to be taken away.

She thinks I am so pro-war that I refuse to see the big picture. I hope I’m not. I don’t agree with our way of handling many things. I think we should have stayed and removed him 12 years ago. I think we should use military action to take care of all sick ass pricks who torture and rule with an iron fist. I don’t think everyone in the world should be ruled with democracy, but I do believe they should all be free.

But what do I know. I’m just a dumb sahm that spent two years in the Army, and quite a few more years as an Army wife. Maybe that has skewed my thinking. Maybe that has clouded my judgment. Maybe it perverted my ability to think of logical, peaceful solutions when dealing with murderous, sadistic tyrants.

Maybe I don’t give a rat’s ass if it has.

What a day. Little one is sick and I can’t break the fever for more than two hours at a time. No matter which brand I use. Gonna be a long night watching her.

Friend of mine went into labor today. She’s only 26 weeks along. I can’t imagine what she is going through. I pray that everything works out for the wee one.

I’m back to watching the news non-stop. Hard not to when it seems to be coming to a head right now. My thoughts are with the soldiers.

Too many thoughts in my mind tonight. Too many to put into words.

Welcome to my new home. Sorry for the PITA shit that comes with a move like this. Last time, I promise.

Many thanks to my pal Nancy who took care of damn near every part of this move. She is a genius and a sweetheart. I know she has a LOT on her plate right now, so her devotion to this is deeply appreciated.

Thanks to Heather for the ribbon. You can swing by and pick one up yourself. You should. You really really should. Go do it now.

I also have some new toys. And I have smilies in the comments now. Lots and lots of vulgar, obscene, violent, and nasty smilies. But what else would you expect from me?

Anyhoooooo – welcome to my pad. Make yourself at home. Just don’t touch my Rolos.

If you’re not reading Lt. Smash - you are only cheating yourself.

“Where do they get young men like this??

Martin Savidge of CNN, embedded with the 1st Marine battalion, was talking with 4 young Marines near his foxhole this morning live on CNN. He had been telling the story of how well the Marines had been looking out for and taking care of him since the war started. He went on to tell about the many hardships the Marines had endured since the war began and how they all look after one another.
He turned to the four and said he had cleared it with their commanders and they could use his video phone to call home.
The 19 year old Marine next to him asked Martin if he would allow his platoon sergeant to use his call to call his pregnant wife back home whom he had not been able to talk to in three months. A stunned Savidge who was visibly moved by the request shook his head and the young Marine ran off to get the sergeant.
Savidge recovered after a few seconds and turned back to the three young Marines still sitting with him and asked which one of them would like to call home first, the Marine closest to him responded with out a moments hesitation ? Sir, if is all the same to you we would like to call the parents of a buddy of ours, Lance Cpl BrMB5 Buesing of Cedar Key, Florida who was killed on 3-23-03 near Nasiriya to see how they are doing?.
At that Martin Savidge totally broke down and was unable to speak. All he could get out before signing off was ?Where do they get young men like this??.

They haven’t invented a word powerful enough to describe how I feel about our soldiers.

Going to babble a bit – yes, about the war. X marks the spot if you don’t want to read it. That sounds incredibly rude of me, huh? It’s not. It’s merely a warning to those that have sent in emails jumping my ass for using this blog to spout my “love of war” beliefs. Whatever and fuck off. I can sit here and spend 30 minutes talking my latest piss if I want to – it’s my blog. But, we’ll save that whole brouhaha for another day.

Anyfuckingway, I’m really getting annoyed with people who make such a loud yapping noise about the name of this war. Operation Iraqi Freedom. What is so wrong with that?

Does it portray the big picture? No. Does it give a clear understanding of what this war is about and why we are fighting it? No. It’s just a fucking catch phrase you morons. Get over it. Good gawd.

It’s not meant to encompass every reason behind this conflict. Yes, freeing the Iraqi people of that murderous prick is a fantastic perk of this war, but it is not the sole reason behind it. None of us are that blind, thank you.

Would you prefer Operation Kill Saddam and his Satanic Spawn? Operation Wack the Bastard? Hmmm… how about Operation We’d like to have some fucking peace of mind for a change? Here are some seeds I bought from the boy scouts – grow a brain stem please.

When I announce to the boys that it is time to clean their rooms, there are several reasons behind why I do this:

I hate roaches. I hate filth. I want to wash all the dirty clothes they have stashed in their closets. I want all the cups that are hidden under the beds. I want them to be able to find their own fucking shoes for a change. I want to be able to walk through them without tripping and breaking my gawd damn neck. I want a perfectly cleaned house when those asswipe unexpected guests drop by. Etc, etc, etc.

Those are the reasons. However, if I were to start spouting that list off to them, I’d be here all day. And what’s more – they fucking know them already. They understand the reasons behind it. Only thing I announce – clean your room because it’s dirty. That’s it. Short and sweet.

Turn your fuckin’ thinker on, would ya? Yeah, I want those people free of Saddam, but most of all – I want the world free of Saddam. I really don’t give a shit what they call it. I just want it done. And our boys are getting it done. Don’t ya think it’s time to lay down those dumb-ass signs and start putting up some yellow ribbons instead? Dubya ain’t listening to you.

Thank gawd.

My nerves are shot. Nothing to do with the war though. Had a blast from the past yesterday. Not a good one either. Still not sure whether it’s truly my past taking a bite of my ass, or an innocent coincidence. Time will tell. Staying drunk until that happens sounds like a fine idea.

Great, just what I needed – another addiction. I am grounding myself from Blogshares for the rest of the day morning.

I didn’t watch the news last night, and haven’t turned it on yet this morning. I feel out-of-the-loop now because of it. More like I am slowly coming out of a trance. Like I do when I finish reading TommyKnockers. Won’t last long though, because I can’t hold off much longer from tuning in. Maybe I’ll start another design. Maybe I’ll head to the store. Maybe I’ll wash my curtains.

Maybe not.