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2 August 2007
To all of you who received an "invitation" from me to join the Names Database - ignore it and accept my apologies. I did not sign you up for anything. The fucking thing got into my yahoo account and sent out invitations to everyone in there. I suggest that you don't respond in any way, because I believe if you do, it's going to spam your address group, too.
Hate!
Hate!
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ghoulsis and it's by rubyredblood.
I'm waiting for the ranidine to kick in and stop the stomach pain. You know, I've already taken morphine, don't you think that would do it in the "stopping pain" department? No. Actually, I'm beginning to suspect that the morphine is causing the stomach pain (which is really intestinal so why don't I stop calling it stomach already). I find it ironic that a major pain med will cause pain, but then my life is filled with irony these days.
liquidize and sffan will be here this weekend. I haven't seen my babykins in many months now, and sf is like my little sister so it'll be a family reunion of sorts. And hopefully that means that they'll forgive the messy bathroom and the cluttered house, because neither Dar nor I are up to a major cleaning these days. Although truthfully Dar does most of the cleaning for those major occasions. I keep offering to clean the bathroom (and I do spot clean it nearly daily), but for the major cleaning she prefers to do it herself. It's the nurse in her; the place isn't just clean afterwards - it's antiseptic.
The same with the floors; Dar does the mopping. I'll sponge off any spots I see on the kitchen floor, but I rarely will actually mop it. I blame my dad. He was a traditional male in the bad sense in that he didn't believe that he should ever have to do housework. (That changed rapidly and suddenly when my mother left him and he was responsible for keeping the place clean on his own.) Anyway, the one thing he would do around the house was mop the floors. Or, as he would say, "swab the deck." Yeah, he was an old Navy guy. Consequently the only job I never had to do when I was growing up was clean the floors. And I'm quite happy keeping it that way.
Come to think of it, my father would use a lot of naval slang. Swab the deck was a given. But underwear was always referred to as skivvies and the bathroom was frequently called the head. Marines were always jarheads. Which reminds me of a joke.
A marine and a sailor were using a public bathroom to pee. They both finished at the same time. The marine headed over to the sink and the sailor walked towards the exit. The marine called out to the sailor: "Hey, swabbie. In the Marines they teach us to wash our hands afterwards." Without breaking stride the sailor replied: "In the Navy they teach us not to piss on our hands." ::rim shot:: Thank you, folks. I'll be here all week.
I better not have to go on dialysis. Hemodialysis is three times a week. Three times a week for the rest of your life. My best friend's brother has been on it since before I met her over 30 years ago. He spends every Thanksgiving in the hospital getting his kidney rinsed out, because his dialysis is Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. How can I travel and be on dialysis? Huh? Not that I'm traveling now, but I have plans. And I refuse to believe that I'll never get to carry them out. So . . . shit.
I shouldn't borrow trouble. I have no idea what's going to happen. Stop with the foot-stomping. And dialysis is better than the alternative which would be death. But still, I'm going to be really quite disappointed if I don't get to swan about the Scottish moors at some point. Just so you know. (You in this case being the Universe. The Big "U".) (And the Universe yawns and says, "Take a number.")
Is there anything better than a summer night, listening to the crickets droning? Well yes, probably, if you want me to be completely honest, but it still ranks way up there. The best thing about summer is the night. Once the mosquitos buzz off. No pun intended. OK, maybe small pun. I loved summer nights when I was younger. Hanging out with my friends. It was the best time to be young. I don't miss my youth as much as I miss the things that I did when I was young. If that makes any sense. I miss the cameraderie that the young have with each other. That disappears when you get older. Friends move apart, not emotionally really, but the paths start to diverge. School. Job. Marriage. The focus switches from the group to each individual path. And you find yourself looking for special occasions to gather together when it once was as natural as breathing that you'd be in each other's presence.
Commune, kids. It's the only answer.
And the question is "Why the fuck are you still awake?"
Let's try this sleeping thing again.
ghoulsis and it's by rubyredblood.I'm waiting for the ranidine to kick in and stop the stomach pain. You know, I've already taken morphine, don't you think that would do it in the "stopping pain" department? No. Actually, I'm beginning to suspect that the morphine is causing the stomach pain (which is really intestinal so why don't I stop calling it stomach already). I find it ironic that a major pain med will cause pain, but then my life is filled with irony these days.
liquidize and sffan will be here this weekend. I haven't seen my babykins in many months now, and sf is like my little sister so it'll be a family reunion of sorts. And hopefully that means that they'll forgive the messy bathroom and the cluttered house, because neither Dar nor I are up to a major cleaning these days. Although truthfully Dar does most of the cleaning for those major occasions. I keep offering to clean the bathroom (and I do spot clean it nearly daily), but for the major cleaning she prefers to do it herself. It's the nurse in her; the place isn't just clean afterwards - it's antiseptic.The same with the floors; Dar does the mopping. I'll sponge off any spots I see on the kitchen floor, but I rarely will actually mop it. I blame my dad. He was a traditional male in the bad sense in that he didn't believe that he should ever have to do housework. (That changed rapidly and suddenly when my mother left him and he was responsible for keeping the place clean on his own.) Anyway, the one thing he would do around the house was mop the floors. Or, as he would say, "swab the deck." Yeah, he was an old Navy guy. Consequently the only job I never had to do when I was growing up was clean the floors. And I'm quite happy keeping it that way.
Come to think of it, my father would use a lot of naval slang. Swab the deck was a given. But underwear was always referred to as skivvies and the bathroom was frequently called the head. Marines were always jarheads. Which reminds me of a joke.
A marine and a sailor were using a public bathroom to pee. They both finished at the same time. The marine headed over to the sink and the sailor walked towards the exit. The marine called out to the sailor: "Hey, swabbie. In the Marines they teach us to wash our hands afterwards." Without breaking stride the sailor replied: "In the Navy they teach us not to piss on our hands." ::rim shot:: Thank you, folks. I'll be here all week.
I better not have to go on dialysis. Hemodialysis is three times a week. Three times a week for the rest of your life. My best friend's brother has been on it since before I met her over 30 years ago. He spends every Thanksgiving in the hospital getting his kidney rinsed out, because his dialysis is Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. How can I travel and be on dialysis? Huh? Not that I'm traveling now, but I have plans. And I refuse to believe that I'll never get to carry them out. So . . . shit.
I shouldn't borrow trouble. I have no idea what's going to happen. Stop with the foot-stomping. And dialysis is better than the alternative which would be death. But still, I'm going to be really quite disappointed if I don't get to swan about the Scottish moors at some point. Just so you know. (You in this case being the Universe. The Big "U".) (And the Universe yawns and says, "Take a number.")
Is there anything better than a summer night, listening to the crickets droning? Well yes, probably, if you want me to be completely honest, but it still ranks way up there. The best thing about summer is the night. Once the mosquitos buzz off. No pun intended. OK, maybe small pun. I loved summer nights when I was younger. Hanging out with my friends. It was the best time to be young. I don't miss my youth as much as I miss the things that I did when I was young. If that makes any sense. I miss the cameraderie that the young have with each other. That disappears when you get older. Friends move apart, not emotionally really, but the paths start to diverge. School. Job. Marriage. The focus switches from the group to each individual path. And you find yourself looking for special occasions to gather together when it once was as natural as breathing that you'd be in each other's presence.
Commune, kids. It's the only answer.
And the question is "Why the fuck are you still awake?"
Let's try this sleeping thing again.
