A Bit of a Rant...

...or, "How I feel unloved at the moment."

So I have mono. I never knew it was this bad. This sore throat thing is incredibly painful...I can't eat and have a hard time swallowing anything, including my meds and any pain relievers. I've lost over 20 pounds because of it and I'm starving all the time.

So my boy calls me up on this fine Labor Day and says, "Well, I was going to come over and spend the day with you, so I went jogging early..." so of course, with the best intentions, he falls and gets hurt. No big deal. Fine, I can understand that he won't join me because he's hurt. But then, he has the audacity to claim, "I bet I'm in more pain than you are."

Oh, no, he didn't.

I can't eat. I can barely drink water. I flinch everytime I swallow. Pain? I'm on vicadin which makes me nauseous, which makes me nervous because vomiting with a sore throat makes it that much more painful. I wake up crying in the morning because it feels like my throat's on fire and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. He can take aspirin and just be uncomfortably sore. I can't. He can still eat. I can't. I take three or four showers a day because I sweat so much but I don't really have a fever. I'm cold and clammy all over, I can't go to work, or go get coffee, or go drinking, or smoke, or do anything and this punk claims that he's in more pain than I am. I can't even talk, dammit, and boy was I pissed enough to say something even though it hurt like hell. When I'm better again, he's gonna get a good talking to, the kind where he gets mad at me for it. And I don't care. Why? Because I'm really sick and dammit, I'm not gonna take that.

Grrrr.

A Bit Of Nothing, Really

A Rant:

well, gee...as if there aren't a million times that i felt like leaving the bar...but no, i had to drive you home first...or that sort of thing. so now that you live close to the bars, you can leave whenever, even though "you want to spend your time with me". maybe i'm stupid. maybe i thought you were different. but don't you dare think that you're different from any other man. you want someone who is less intelligent than you are. rare is it, that a man wants a woman who is smarter than he is. very rare. i had that once, but dammit, like a fool, like a million fools, i gave that up for the chance that he would be happy with someone more in his liking. maybe that's what i have to do with you. i could tell you everything that has to do with me, and you'd never understand nor would you listen. but am i grammatically correct? does it matter? apparently it does. oh, i'm sorry, i'm just a DUMBASS, like everyone else. too bad you have no idea of spirituality. too bad you don't know what it's like to stare at trees for hours as the sun sets and you think of God. too bad that you just don't know that what i say becomes true, or that i'm psycic or anything. too bad for you the world revolves around logic...because, if you're human, there is no logic. and you're just as human as anyone else...actually, if i had to have a theory, you're hypersensitive. forget any syndrome....you're just a ninny like a lot of people i know, the type who can't swallow their own sarcasm. if you're going to be snide to me, be prepared for the most snide (or is it snidist? not like i'd know....) comments you could think of...and then some....
...and then the doorbell rings....?

Sometimes I wonder why I'm such a girl. Dammit, I have ovaries! Isn't that enough????

Amusement!

This is waaaaaaaaaay too much fun. TRY IT!

(Taken from Dave Barry's Blog.)

Which CHICAGO Character are You? Find out!

And so...

I guess my adoring audience is getting bored. When you get emails and conversations that revolve around "Write something", it's time to write something. So here goes....

SOMETHING.

I'm such a riot. Real knee slapping fun.

I'm slightly happier now than I was before. Boys tend to do that to you. I like this one. He takes up a lot of time, makes me read his books, and tries to explain to me the problems of interstellar space travel although I have no aptitude for physics and math. But I will listen because it's for a book he wants to write...and like I haven't bored enough people with my book ideas. Speaking of, I may not write a lot on here because another idea is developing for one and I might have to write it down. I have had inspiration. Funny how that is.

And now I'm off slacking, because I'm a slacker at heart. Been working too hard. Ugh. Well, at least I get paid for it.

It's A Sad, Sad Day...

Johnny Paycheck died. Bow ya' heads and set for a moment o' silence as we mourn this here great man, a man o' country music.

Grr

I've just been in a foul, non-writing mood lately.

Four million thoughts swim in my head. There's just too much to think about. Waaaay too much to think about.

Like Mr. Blond, for instance. I want to know how he really feels about me. I mean really feels about me. Where is this relationship headed? Where does he want it to go? Nowhere? Anywhere? Is this just a "right now, as long as it lasts" thing or more serious than that? I want to know these things. And for the life of me, I just can't get the cahones to ask. Which leads me to...

Lately I've been having this horrible thought streak. Like, "I want to go back out with my ex-fiancee" streak. And then I (mentally) slap myself on the head. No, I tell myself, it's not that you love him in that way anymore you fool. You're well aware of that. It's the relationship that you had that you miss. And boy do I. I miss the honesty, sometimes brutal, but always needed. I miss just running rampant with goofy thoughts and strange jokes...I miss being able to cry in front of someone and have them hold me...I miss...a lot of things. There's one thing I don't miss: being ignored. Why is it that the computer is such a draw? It's so silly to be jealous of a machine, but at the same time, my time and company are valuable and if you don't pay attention to me, well, of course I'll be miserable. It just depresses me. Especially with people who spend most of their day in front of it (no names to protect the guilty). So what's my strategy? Make my time and company even more limited. Which leads me to....

Workaholic. I damn near feel like working ten hours a day. I'm depressed and just don't want to think about how sad and silly my life really is. So if I'm not drinking, I'd rather be working. Get more money that way. Be able to buy a car...get an apartment...do all sorts of things. But I'm sure things wouldn't be so tough if I tightened up the checkbook a little and didn't spend so much. Which leads me to....

Mr. Blond again and his lack of a job. There comes a point when I just don't want to spend money on him. That, and sometimes I think he expects me to do things for him. That's not how I am; I can be a sympathetic ear, but unless you do something, that's the way things will be. I don't care if someone's in debt; my cousin has been trying to pay off her credit cards for TWO YEARS. It's the...I don't know what it is. I always feel like people are mooching off me. Grrr. Which leads me to....

And I think you get the point. I suppose you could say it's circular thinking, but really, there's just so many of them that it's a pretty big circle. And it's never the same. And those are just the thoughts about my life...it doesn't take into account all of the other thoughts I have about poetry, stories, and fantasies.

I wish I could just shut my brain off. Grr.