Checking in before bed...

Really that's all I am going to do.

Because if I blog about the poison that's actually in my head right now, it WILL bite me in the ass and right now that's not what I want biting my ass right now.

It was an okay at day at work today.  Correction.  Until maybe five this afternoon, it was an awesome day.  Between five and seven it was a decent day and after seven, aside from the fact that I got to leave early, the day probably couldn't have gone any worse.  As a matter of fact, I am pretty certain that there will be some talking done about me that I may have to take a minor ass biting lecture about.

Correction.  Another ass biting lecture.

I love my job.  There is rarely a but that follows that short sentence but there is ever more and increasing presence of said word nowadays.

I really do love my job.  But it's getting harder and harder to work around one person.  On good days, around that person, I'm fine.  I fool myself into thinking that one day we might reach a level of normalcy that befits, you know actual sane humans.  Then on bad days the person makes me alternately want to burst into tears or have to mentally check myself before I wreck myself.  Most recently, I've started to realize that the normalcy I want so badly has arrived but in the form of that person being free to say whatever they want to me in the tone that suggests I take a long walk off a short pier, but all I can do is nod and say "okay".

And yes, that is all I can do because if the word vomit that keeps pressing against my lips ever makes it out of my mouth I will be in big trouble.  No, let me give that the weight it deserves... BIG TROUBLE.

The holidays are coming up.  I need my job.  Maybe after the new year, if things aren't any better I will finally give up working with people I have come to love like family and seek employment elsewhere.

But first, I will start paper blogging the word vomit.  Like I said, if the word vomit sees daylight, it's going to bite me in the ass.

Odd thought... Maybe I am starting menopause.  Maybe that's an explanation for the swirling mass of stupid emotions I have become.  WOuld taking hormones and all the stuff a person in menopause has to take help me go back to being on even keel with the world?

Hmmm....

For now, I'm going to keep my mouth shut.  And I mean that literally.  I am going to keep my mouth shut and not say a word to the person making my life a living hell.  Not one word, ever.  And I will snap a rubber band on my wrist every time the word vomit presses against my lips.

Now watch that get me in trouble....

FML...FML very much right now.  I am so fucked.

good night bloggers.  Stay frosty.

Call me crazy

But I love the holidays mainly because it means that I get to bake.

Baking for late year birthdays, baking for Thanksgiving, Baking for Christmas.  Hell even baking for New Years because who doesn't like to scarf down some cake with their champagne while the ball drops.

Okay, maybe that one was kinda pushing it but still.  In my household alone between Spetember and February, there are three birthdays, two major holidays that require baking and a multitude of smaller holidays that are made better by baking.  Extend that to my family and friends and the birthday count goes up over ten I think.

Thathis is not limited to cakes and cookies either, I also bake breads and as a tradition when I make sugar cookie for my kids teachers I usually make a loaf of a winter themed bread.  Year before last I made butter pecan bread.  I don't actually know which bread I'm going to make this year.  I've been thinking of looking up a spice bread.

Yes, I am THAT mom.  The one that eventually, other moms realize it's not worth wasting time even providing baked good for a school bake sale.  When we lived in Dahlgren, the first year I was asked for cookies, I provided.  The following year I was asked for cookies and a cake after a couple of the moms liked the cupcakes their kids brought home from in class birthday parties.  The third year there, the list I was handed had brownies, cakes, (Yes that was plural)cupcakes, and brownies and just so you don't think they were totally using me, the list was accompanied by a voucher to the commissary to get the needed supplies.  The only thing I provided for free was my time and I was happy to do so but it didn't stop me from feeling just a little bit too full of myself.

Especially when one mother rather nastily said to me, "I was told not to bother baking for the bake sale this year because they asked you to do it all.  Apparently your baked crack cocaine is better than my pitiful ordinary cake."

Forgive her, she knew not how stupid she sounded.  She was an officers wife and they were the top of the pyramid at Dahlgren.  For a mere enlisted sailors wife to come up and be recognized for the stuff that they normally covered and covered well was unheard of and worthy of being squashed and swept under the rug.

I swear that very same woman probably had a party when I left my husband and put Dahlgren to my tail lights for good.

Whatever, back to the present.  I am doing the baking thing at church now.

Now DO NOT GET ME WRONG.  there are a multitude of women at my church that can easily put my baking skills to serious shame there.  In fact one of them makes a cake that my own mother waits for on a yearly basis.  So I didn't feel like I needed to put myself out there really.  I baked cupcakes and then I baked the cookie brownie and there were requesting me to make more.  So I gave them more.  I turned up to almost every even with a cake or two.  This year, for the Thanksgiving dinner, I'm sending three cakes.

I swear, places like church and it's functions are going to be the reason that I die a sugar filled, icing covered, buttery death.  They're going to find me laid out in the kitchen covered in what looks like cake or brownie mix and in the over will be a cake for you to serve at my wake.  Cause I'm kind like that.  How could I even think of dying without giving you a cake to serve at my wake.  Uh as if! LOL... but not really.  I'm actually certain that it's expected of me to have a couple cakes locked away in cryospace ready to thaw out to serve at my own funeral.

And there better be cake at my wake.

Better be.

I will haunt you all if there is no cake at my wake.

Just kidding.

But not really.

Just think about me haunting you over a cake.  Think about it.  You know I'll do it.

So, the next event I will bake for is the Christmas party at church, then Olivia's birthday, and then maybe a cake while we are away at Christmas.  Then if I go over Patty's for the new year, I will bake something.  Then my aunt's birthday at the end of January which is the same day as Kamri's birthday at work (Does anyone know how to make Olives into a cake?).  Then I might make Tammy a Red Velvet cake for Valentine's day since that's her favorite cake.  And I might make myself something so I have something to drown my sorrows about not having a man in.

And this is the season where my kids get to enjoy homemade breads in all their lunches because I buy flour like wheat is going to be an endangered species soon.

And soup.  I know it doesn't count as baking but the winter time is when I turn the crock pot on and seem to never actually turn it off.  I have four jars of chicken soup sitting in my fridge as we speak.  Amber requested soup for her birthday.  I made a lot.  My girls have already polished off one bottle.  One will go to Patty tomorrow when I go over for Girls time.  My girls will fight me for the others.  I'm pretty sure they will.

LAst year I canned it and set them in the garage but we got an influx of ants so all of the jars had to go.  Sad face.  There were some really good ones in there.

I should go.  The marble cake is probably finished baking now.  I've been occupying my time here in bloggerverse and listing to the oven cut on and off.  It's been awhile so I'm sure it's done.  I will ice them tomorrow.

Blog ya later guys!  Love you!!

Pissing contests rarely get won by any side

And this one that I am being dragged into is no different.  No one is going to win, everyone is going to lose.

Since late last year, and I do mean late, think like September 2013, the pastor of my church has been like a alien possessed being that has acted like he is God.  Not the word of God but God himself.

The first that I heard of it was when he, in what seemed like a totally random move, decided that as of January 2014, church would begin at ten A.M.  He didn't ask anyone he decreed it.  In my mind, it honestly didn't matter.  I'm rarely on time for church when it started at eleven so starting it at ten just meant that I would still be late just earlier than I had always been.  NOT A BIG DEAL.

Oh but it was.  In church meetings it was a HUGE issue.  This one solitary hour caused an uproar that I'm pretty sure that Satan himself heard and probably steepled his fingers ala Monty Burns and said Excellent.

I couldn't understand it.  I honestly didn't much care but I still couldn't understand it.  It was one freaking hour.  And despite many complaints, come January church did indeed begin at ten.  The bell schedule was off for a few months and people still were late, but even those that fought the new time so vehemently STILL SHOWED UP AT TEN.

In March I got a job so many of the things going in in my church began to fall past my notice.  Sure I was there and I had Sunday's and Fridays off but let me tell you, Most Friday's I was lucky to be awake long enough to care and most Sunday's I put my head down, played on my Tablet and called it a good Sunday.  Then I began to work on Fridays so I missed the gossip.  Then I began to close on Saturdays so getting up for Church... yeah... that was hit or miss.  If you thought I was late before that, my schedule on Sundays was comical.  I'd be on time but church service became an extension of my bed meaning I slept.  And slept hard.  Noticeably.  

Also somewhere in there, PAstors wife left him and to my utter disgust (A word I NEVER thought I would say in reference to my church) pastor began to preach about sex.  From the Pulpit.  Yes Sex.  Do you have any idea how may Sunday's I went home and felt like I needed a shower?  And people fell away.

But there was so much more happening behind the scenes that none of us had a clue about.  Money was getting tight but he got an $11,000 dollar raise.  He went to Africa and the church paid a good part of that I think.  We didn't have it but we did it.  

And then the big one.  It seems as though Pastor lied on his application.  He said he'd never been pastor of another church.  His resume said nothing about it.  But at a church function, members of the church he didn't claim to know anything about, came to our members and said that he had been their pastor for three years.  THREE YEARS!!  Even my mom read his resume.  He filled that gap quite nicely so that there were no questions.  The church in question also deleted his name from the history and searchable database effectively doing his work for him.  Did they know that this was going to help him?  I don't think so.  I think they just wanted to pretend that the cancer that was Jon Edwards never appeared to have sullied their church.

I'm told they asked him about it and he said wrong person.  So they let it go.  And a few months later, it came to light that this time, HE was lying.  It was him.

Rather like Mrs. White.  In the ballroom.  With the Candlestick.  It was Edwards.  In the pulpit.  With the Bible.

Aside:  Please don't think that by referencing The SImpsons or the game CLUE I am trying to make light of any of this, I am trying to keep myself from bawling because of the pain this is causing a lot of good people.

Anyway, it was him.  He lied.  Law says that even if you work somewhere for thirty years and it comes up that you lied on your resume, you can be fired.  And that's what the trustees did, they terminated him but he refused to leave.

You have to understand.  Admittedly It had been hubub for awhile now that he was bleeding our church dry and we couldn't take much more and maybe they were looking for a way to legally fire the man, I don't know but this glaring lie gave them the chance they needed and they took it.  Rightfully so if you ask me, which no one has.  The point being made here is he lied.  To a Church.  And now he needed to pay for that lie.  

But the fucker won't leave.  If I knew that I wasn't wanted someplace I would sure as hell not try to stay there just to be there.  I would pack my things and go.  I wouldn't try to grasp straws in hopes of staying.  I wouldn't try to divide the place into factions that are basically at war now.

My church is at war.  My church has become a pissing ground and a huge game of "My dog is bigger than your dog."  Certain people, Who granted favors to, seem to think that he was dismissed unfairly.  The rest of the church agrees that if you lie, you pay the price.  Hence the pissing contest.  One side is waving half the information, the other side is waiting for the other side to realize that they are wrong.

I've got news for you:

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO'S DOG IS BIGGER.  IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO CAN PISS FARTHER.  GOD IS BIGGER THAN THE BOTH OF YOU AND SOONER OR LATER, IT'S GOING TO HAVE TO BE SHOWN JUST HOW BIG HE IS...

And you will lose.  BOTH of you.  Because no one wins when they bet against God.

I probably should NOT be blogging

Because while I have had food tonight, I have also had an entire bottle of wine.

YEs, Arbor mist is real wine.  Or it damn sure is when you drink an entire bottle of it.  I should work on my limits.  No... that's not the word... I should work on my... on my... what is the damn word???  That thing where you know you shouldn't do something but you do anyway?  LIke finish an entire bag of Pepperidge Farm MIlano slices with salted pretzels on top and drink an entire bottle of wine.  I wanna say limitations but I don't think that's the word.

I think that it's better if I don't think right now.

So an update to my stupid act of anger a few week ago.  I tried to apologize but he still won't talk to me.  I think my apology has gone the way of the mejai or whatever it is they say.

A friend asked me the other day if I want to make amends.  I don't know.  I miss my friend.  I miss talking with him.  Or rather listening to him talk.  If amends means having that back.  Yes.  I do.  If amends means having him back intimately, I honestly don't know.  I miss the way his eyes sparkle when he talks to me.  Now they are cold.  I miss the way I might look over and catch him watching me.  NOw he turns his back to me.  All The Time.

I can't keep up the dance where I try to move out of his way.  I can't force myself to keep breathing when he says something not work related to me.  I can't stop pretending that hugging him and being hugged by him fixed almost every problem I had had that day and that I miss it.

I miss it.  I miss him.  And he's gone.

And I am not okay.

I haven't blogged because there is nothing to blog about.  I think we all know that if I wanna blog I could bullshit out a blog about the sky being blue if I wanted to.  NO, I haven't blogged because I'm back to square one in beating myself up.  I did wrong.  I messed up.

And he won't give me the time of day to say that to his face.  He won't relent for one second for me to look him in his gorgeous eyes one more time and apologize to him.

I definitely should not drink.  I just need to stop altogether.  It's after midnight and all I want is another glass of wine.  NO actually, I want the rest of the absolut in my fridge and maybe the iced tea vodka.

I have this theory that I probably need to... I'm not going to finish this.

My life is in an absolute tailspin and I don't know how to stop it.

I don't know if I want to stop it.

And I have no one that I can talk to about it.

No one.

I need to change things.

But I don't want to.

I think that the absence of my want is due to the absence of my know how.  And I sound like I know what I'mn saying but I don't.

I want to change things but I don't want to because I don't know how and I'm afraid of falling on my ass again.

Okay, I'm going to end this and go to bed.  Maybe in the morning I will be better and not want to climb up a side of a water tower and just sit there singing.

One of my coworkers has this thing.  If you tell her she's driving you crazy, she responds with the same line:

"Crazy? I was crazy once. They locked me in a padded room.  I liked it there. I died there.  They put three flowers on my grave.  Two went up, one went down.  It tickled me.  It drove me crazy.  Crazy?  I was crazy once...." And it continues.

Why did I mention that?  I don't know.

I think I might need a padded room again.  I don't want to hurt anyone but I think I might be becoming a danger to myself.

It doesn't matter.  Everyone will write this off as me having a drunken moment and think that the next day when I don't say anything, that it's over and I'm fine.  No one is going to see this for what I'm trying to say.

For what I don't know how to say.

Fuck it.  I'm going to bed.

Do that frosty thing.

Happy November!

So although I'm writing this post at midnight on technically November 2nd  To me it's still the first.

I hate to sound like a whiny little brat, but I need my car back.  I need my freedom and my independence.  I love my mom and my aunt and Joe and everyone who's broken their backs to give me rides, but I am about to reach that all too critical breaking point where I just start crying for no damn reason other that I miss the freedom to go wherever whenever.

I do have a small amount of good news though...  After three long weeks I can finally say that my period has stopped.  One, I know that was TMI.  Two, I KNOW that three weeks is a bit long and I should probably have gone to the dr by now to make sure that I wasn't you know... dying.  But uhm... There was work.  And then there was work.  And after that I had a bit of spare time to, uh, work.  And the five minutes of my life that it seems like I have on my day off, I was too damn tired and my doc doesn't do walk ins which doesn't matter because I couldn't drive over there to be a walk in anyway.

But it's stopped so I can naturally assume that I'm not dying.  I mean if I drop dead tomorrow I will hope it wasn't because I was leaking for two weeks longer than I should have but still.

And it's not just that the bitch was on for three weeks, she was here for her normal week, eased off to almost making me think she was gone for a couple days started creeping back for more days and then just decided to come full back for another week.  The third week was not fun at all.  If there was ever an issue of blood loss, it was then.  The sudden migraines, my blood pressure spiking.  Last freaking week, yeah try and convince me I wasn't dying.  But damn it, despite the fact that I spent last weekend crying (Or was it the weekend before, I don't effing know anymore.) I did last week with a huge smile on my face.

Which is hard.  Like I said last week (Or was it the week before? Dammit, I hate losing time) I hurt someone with a blog and he got really mad.  And I'm not actually sure that he's ever going to accept my apology. This makes working with him kinda hard because aside from stuff about work, he doesn't talk to me.  Like at all.  And I have to admit, I kinda miss that.  I do.  I really miss it.

I had an odd feeling tonight at work.  I say things and people don't really think that I mean what I say.  Admittedly I have earned the reputation of being kinda crazy and usually jokey at work but sometimes, I'm not joking and I really mean what I say.  Sometime I need for people to at least listen and see if I am joking before they laugh.  But not everyone does and not just at work, it's most of life.

So okay, I guess I can chalk this hour that I spent playing Family Guy and blogging up to daylight savings and get ready for bed.

There's some drama going on at my church and I know I'm really just being nosey by going in tomorrow but I'd like to know what is happening to my church and to decide if I really want to call this my church anymore.  I love the people there I do.  With all of my heart but I don't do drama if I can avoid it.  I create it from time to time, I understand that but I tend to stay away from it.

Good night folks.  Stay frosty which understandably is way easier to do now that it's officially Fall and I don't say that because the equinox was a couple weeks ago I say that because today was the first day in a long time that it was COLD  Like really cold.  Well, to the Southerners... to me it felt good.

Okay guys!  Good night!

Another entry in the bad mom diary...

So... this morning is braid day for our household or rather, the younger females of our household.  Thanks in part to family members who came to my rescue once again, my daughter will finally get to look like girls again.

But when I pulled out old trusty, my hot comb, I came face to face with what I have been steadfastly ignoring for about three months.

Since August, my youngest daughter has been loosing hair and sadly I knew it was happening but because there wasn't a damn thing I could do, I turned a blind eye and let my child wear basically combovers because like I said there was nothing I could do and looking at it would only make me madder than I needed to be.

Their dad got married in August and their grandmother  (His mother) took it upon herself to put a perm in my daughters' heads.  For the people of the lighter persuasion who read my blog, a black person's 'perm' is really a relaxer.  To make the hair straight.  And I'm not explaining that with any snide in my voice, some people honestly don't know that black people tend to call a relaxer a perm.  Anyway, she put one in each of my daughter's hair.  The problem, she used the same one that she uses on her head.  The blacks reading this know where this is going already.  Kay's hair could take it better because I've had to actually use a strong perm on her hair once.  It was a bad summer that year and I had no choice so her hair was, while not used to it, stronger and able to take it.  Liv's hair, however had been pampered with low strength children's perms all her life because she had a different quality of hair that Kayla did.  Kay gets her hair from me.  IT's rough, it's thick and it really doesn't ever act right unless you straighten it well.  Livy's hair was fine with an essential blow out but a children's perm made that blow out like condition last way longer.

Anyway, my x mother in law used an adult super strength perm on both heads and left them on until the girls said their scalps were burning.  Which is way too long.  For the wedding day, their hair looked pretty decent.  But very soon after, it started falling out.

As a matter of fact, When they were returned to me at the end of August for school, Liv's hair was already starting to fall out.

This morning, like I said, I was confronted with just how bad her hair really was...

This was what her hair looked like BEfore I hot combed it...

And this is what it looked like after I'd gotten somewhat through it.  I sincerely hope the talented African girls at the shop can get their tiny fingers on that.  IF they can't we will have to work something out.

So yeah, I'm starting the day feeling like a horrible mother.  Not a good feeling.

Stay frosty bloggers, I have to go get the money to fix this travesty.  I will blog later.

Oh a By the Way...

Things Claudette should NOT do...

I think number one should be go into to Walgreen's late at night and walk past the wine selection.  Had an interesting conversation with the lady at the register who now thinks I might be certifiably nuts and probably won't sell me so much as cough syrup anymore.

Number two would be get home and go to town on bottle number one.

Number three would be browse Tinder.

No, let's move number three to number one.

There are some hot guys in Charlotte.  Does the queen city know she has all these hot men?  I'm not sure she does.

If you can't tell I'm well into bottle number one, so let's make number 4 on the list blog while inebriated, shall we?

Hell at least I can spell.

Back to Tinder.  So this afternoon when I installed it, I rated a bunch of guys.  Like seriously, A BUNCH and like seven said like on me.  It might be the very low alcohol by volume cheap wine talking but that's not bad.

Oh wait... eight.  One just liked me back...  He's not too bad looking although his profile is a one liner that says "Seduce away"  Hmmmm....

I should go to bed.  I should really go to bed.  Tomorrow I have to.... uhm... well...

You know what would be really awesome right now?  Finding my sims City 4 disc.  I can't find it and I really want to play it.  I wonder where it went.

THAT'S what I should do tomorrow!! I should clean my room!  I think I will!  Yes.  I shall.

(I probably won't.  I'll probably find something shiny and sit and play with it for hours because I'm just that ADHD.)

*Glances at Mt Laundry*

I should fold that.  I really should.

I'm going to go to bed.  Right after I finish this bottle...er glass of wine...

Stay frosty bloggers.

Nightly 10-28-14

Well, I got some sleep.  That much I can tell you.  And it would seem that sleep, as always, is the key to lifting my mood.  Well not lifting my mood but rather, returning me to the outer bailey of the realm of sane.

I took my night meds like I said I was going to do last night and I got a good six or seven hours of uninterrupted sleep.  I can honestly say that when I finally pulled myself out of bed I didn't feel like I wanted to crawl back in, cover my head and pretend that this was post apocalyptic earth where I didn't have to see anyone if I pretended to stay still.  So... bonus!!

I spent most of the day marathoning The Walking dead.  I'm trying to catch up so that I can go back to walking dead night's a P and J's  Heh P an J's  I like that.  Like peanut butter and Jelly.  That's probably why they fit so well together.  Hehe.  I just made myself laugh a little bit.

Work was good.  I was in a good mood because I decided screw it, life is way way WAY too short not to at least try to be happy.  So try I shall do.  I danced, I had fun, I made a pizza or twelve, I made a free remake for a lady and then made a remake for the same lady (And from what I heard on the end of the line Lady is a term that should be used lightly).  Something about her pizza being messed up.

Here's the thing.  You get a small pizza which already has 3.5 oz of cheese on it and then you add 2x the extra cheese.  One, that is constipation in a box.  And two that is 7.5 oz of pure Mozzarella on 8 oz of baked bread and about 1/8 c of sauce. (Yeah, I know I just gave out all of our secrets.)  When it comes out of the 450 degree oven, the pizza is going to have melted all over the crusts of your pizza because, well, it's cheese and it's more cheese than should be on a small and it's not going to follow the rules, it's going to melt all over the bleepity bleep pizza.  I can shove that gooey mess back into the circle it's supposed to be but then I can't cut it because once I cut it, it's going to ooze in that direction as well.  It's going to be oozy and gooey and a general mess.  It is not going to be pretty.  I might be good, I don't know, I can't eat cheese but it's not going to be pretty.  And it is not messed up.  So please don't call and cuss out the shift leader who had nothing to do with your pizza.  If anything call and cuss out the cook that made it.  No... wait.. that would be me and that confrontation would not end well.  Well, it might end well for her because she will get more free food but it would not end well for me because I'd be out of a job.  Still, Do not call and cuss out the shift leader.  Never cuss out the shift leader.  None of them.  Just don't.

So in other news, I got on my Wii Fit today.  Six days ago I got on it and it asked me to set a weight loss goal.  I chose two pounds in two weeks, pretty much what I always do.  Mainly because it's normally about a month between the times I get on the thing.  Well surprise surprise, I got on it after only six damn days and have lost 3.6 lbs.

Yay!  And no, that wasn't a me hoping in the air with a big ass smile on my face yay...  That was a sarcastic yay.

Dare I say it, I'm losing weight too fast.  Last night, I went to put on this silver ring that I have had forever and it fell off my ring finger.  On a normal basis it was a little struggle to get it on the finger and the ones it did slip onto easily were cut off from circulation after a few minutes.

It would figure that I would go through another bout of weight loss.  My stomach is torn up again.  And my blood pressure is high.  I spent last week in a haze of migraines and nosebleeds.  I need to lay off the salty shit.  Of course this means laying off the french fries which are by far the most awesome food on earth.  I could eat french fries for dinner and never eat anything else... and I have for like a week.  But I realize now that I'm older and my body is shedding the excess weight, the salt of the french fries and other foods I eat is not a good thing.  I don't absorb it the way I used to.  Now it give me all sorts of baddies  Migraines, the extreme thirst that not even sticking my head in lake Michigan could quench, the nosebleeds from hell that don't stop unless I plug my nose and hang my head upside down which causes blood to rush to my brain which gives me migraines.  I supposed I should give in and go make an appointment to see my Dr.

And not because the itch plus B is withholding my meds.  She refuses to refill my trazodone which is starting to get lower than I like to see it.  She's probably going to withhold my tramadol next in which case we will fight.  No I'm serious.  We will fight.

My girls are going to get their hair done on Saturday.  Finally, my little girls will get to look like little girls again and I swear if my xmil lays a hand on their heads....

I'm washing the rags from work tonight.  I do this about once every two weeks on average.  The dry cleaners next door used to do them but she runs them through the machine once and then brings them back.  Nah honey.  If they are a dull and dingy as when you put them in the washing machine, wash them again.  The first time I washed them it took a full bottle of bleach and like five washes to get them clean and then I learned an important lesson.  One must get the shit out before one should add bleach.  So now we wash them until the water runs clean and THEN I add bleach and wash them one more time.  Saves bleach and I'm not bleaching dirt. That being said,my washer seems to eat the really icky rags...  We don't have the proper space of whatnot to hang the rags until they get dry before putting them in the wash pile so what happens is dirty wet rags get thrown on top of dirty damp rags and mold begins to grow and they get even groadier.  Is that a word?  Well it is tonight.  When I wash them I wash them all together but the ones that still have mold on them after the bleach, well, they conveniently go away.  I don't know what happens to them, I swear I don't...

*Walks away whistling innocently*

I have about a half and hour left on the episode of Walking dead I started when I got home but I am tired and I think I will finish it in the AM.  I don't have to be ready until about five when J picks me up for work.

I love my friends and my family that's been giving me rides, but I want my wheels back!!  I miss the independence of just being able to go wherever, whenever.  I am not a housebound kind of person anymore.

Ugh!  Ending this on a good note.  I'm gonna turn off the xbox and get some z's.

Stay frosty y'all!!

(Untitled)

Does anyone know a good way to stop crying?  I really really need an answer here.  Because if I cry anymore, I'm pretty sure that I will be dehydrated in a weeks time.  I can't do this and I don't know why I am.

When my marriage blew up, I cried maybe three real times that I can think of.  Three times that the tears meant something.  The rest of the time I shouted and I fought and I said some things that shouldn't have ever been said as well as some that should have been said years before.  They both earned me an enemy and a friend that come hell or high water has my back for probably the rest of my life.

Hang on, my windows media player thinks that NOW is the best time to play Backstreet Boys' "I'll never break your heart."  Really?!?!?!

There is way too much of that on my WMP and thanks to my mom needing a few songs for a disc I'm supposed to make there's a shit load of songs praising god.  Sorry, but that is NOT what I need to hear right now.

Where was I?  Oh.  I fought and shouted when my marriage ended because I felt I had been wronged but in this, I was the one doing the wronging and at the moment, I am doing one hell of a job beating myself up so I guess I am fighting but still...

Like I probably said before the person that got hurt by my blog is not the first person to be hurt.  The last person I hurt knowingly however, I didn't want a second chance with.  Ironically, it's me not wanting a second chance that won me one as well as a third fourth and so many more chances than I'll ever use.

If you haven't guessed, the last person I knowingly hurt with my blog was my ex husband.  And it was him seeing how I felt all spelled out for him that showed him I was hurting and not capable to saying what I said there to his face.  I eventually did say those things and many many more to his face but when I finally said them, I wasn't hurting him, I was earning his respect because in his eyes, now I could go out into the world and actually express how I felt to someone else.  It was okay for him to cut the final string.

He was soo soo wrong.  I still can't tell people how I feel.  I just sit and nod and let stuff build up inside until it all comes rushing out in one torrential outburst that comes with casualties.

This time... this time I truly and honestly didn't mean to hurt anyone.  I just meant to get certain things off my mind.  So if I fight, who else can I fight but myself?  Who else can I beat the shit out of but myself?  Who else can I scream at but myself?

I'm afraid to sleep.  I don't think I've ever been afraid to sleep.  Last night I didn't take the trazodone because that keeps me asleep.  Instead I tossed and turned all night because that way, there was no chance of dreaming something that would make me cry.  The result was that I cried all night anyway but I was awake for it.

I'm not hungry although I know I should eat.  I bought a bag of Dove Chocolates as a last minute comfort food that has always worked in the past. (In an "Oh shit, I just ate an entire bag of chocolates." now I have something else to feel guilty about kinda way)  But Dove chocolate tastes like sawdust.  I cooked tonight.  I made chicken tenders, rice and corn.  On a normal basis, I can down about six tenders, half a bag of rice (Which equals about a pound), and almost a can of corn on my own.  Yeah, I'm a big girl.  Do you know what I managed to shove down my throat tonight?  Three tenders, three spoonfuls of corn, and not even three spoonfuls of rice.

At least one good thing will come out of this.  I'm going to be an absolute stick figure by the time I get my head above water.

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About the only thing that has tasted good today is a glass of water.  Do you think I'm kidding?  I'm not.  They tell me that about 40 ounces of water is good for you daily.  My water bill will probably beg to differ.  I wake up crying with a dry throat so I down a big cup of water.  I pee and I cry and my throat hurts from crying and my eyes are dry so I drink another big cup of water.  It's nine pm and I've had six huge cups of water.

That's number seven tonight by the way.  Six went the way of the medji with what I suppose you could call dinner.

You know what, I'm sitting here reading this and thinking about how pathetic I sound.  I mean I have my reasons for why I'm so broken up but I'm not going to share those here.

Hopefully the fact that I know that I sound like a pathetic blithering mess right now will make it easier to sleep tonight.  I fully planned to take my meds and get a good night's sleep.  I have to work tomorrow night and I have to work with the person that I hurt.  I really really don't want to spend the night doing stupid things like crying everytime he has to say something to me.

That would be bad.

I am currently trying to plod through my DVR.  How to get away with murder (Which has a lot of sodomy in it.  Okay maybe that's not the best way to say it but the gay guy has an ENORMOUS amount of sex.  On network television.  I'm jealous and intrigued and damn proud!  Go Gay rights!!  Someone is wearing the big ball sack over there!!) is holding me but not holding me.  Grey's anatomy, it's ok  No one falling in love there.  Scandal... I dunno yet.  There's always sex.

Little side note... The little notes they put inside of the dove chocolates that are supposed to be encouraging... aren't.

I want to take a bubble bath.  No, I want to go to a spa and get someone to rub me down until all of the feeling in my body falls off to the floor.  Can someone do that for me?

I need to start rambling again.  If I can start rambling again, I can try and get back to who I was.

Hey I haven't cried in about an hour though.  Water is not leaking from my eyes but the adverse side of that is that when I stand up, I'm going to have to pee like a racehorse.  I won't be getting up anytime soon.

Dunno what time my aunt is going to pick me up for work tomorrow but I have a feeling that if I get good sleep tonight I should be able to power through the rest of season four of The Walking Dead before she gets here.

Right now, I need my bestie, a tub of ice cream, and a string of Lifetime movies.  Very little talking, enough crying so that I don't ever cry again.  I need my bestie to sit next to me and just say "Yep." when I go off on a tear filled tangent.

Aw fuck, I'm crying again.

I'm going to find something to watch that will make me laugh.

Right after I go pee, Damn water.  What is the city putting in this stuff?

I should be asleep

Lord above knows I am tired but at the moment, I can't really sleep.  There's a lot on my mind and when I finally went to sleep last night, I cried until I drifted off and kept crying because when I woke up my pillow was wet.  I also had some really nasty dreams.

Mind you there was no blood and for once they weren't themed around the latest netflix shows I've been watching which are Call the Midwife and the Walking dead.  But they were still nasty.

I'm not clear on the details this many hours later, but I can say that there was pain in every dream.  Snap crackle and pop weren't the only sounds in my bedroom this morning.  A lot of groaning because my body hurt in places it shouldn't have joined the chorus.

I also spent a copious amount of this morning crying.  I didn't know the human body had this many gallons of salt water in it.  I went to work where I cried.  And I would stop crying for strangely long periods but then I would cry again and then I did something that I'm finding I do way more than I should which is speak out of anger and aim it at the wrong person.  I have already apologized to them but I think I'm just going to start a list.  I;m going to label it "People who deserve multiple apologies"

I managed to ride home with my mom and not cry.  I even managed to be mom for all of ten minutes and not cry and bonus, I even had a conversation on the phone and didn't cry or pick a fight.

But then I sat here and cried.  And cried because I was crying.  Then I got mad that I was crying and I cried some more.  Seriously, there can't be this much salt in a normal human body.  There can't be this much water.  There just can't.

So needless to say that although I'm sitting here yawning on top of yawns (That very surreal moment when you are almost finished with the first yawn and a second yawn sneaks in at the end and you yawn again)  I'm actually afraid to go to bed.  I don't want bad dreams and I don't want to wake up with a wet pillow.

Also, I'm off tomorrow.  Pretty sure I will cry again because what else is sleep for but to apparently replace the water in your body so that you can spend the day repeating the same activity you've been doing for a day and a quarter.

Can I wake up just one day and be a guy?  Just one day.  Scratch wherever I want to, say whatever, act however?  Just one day I'd like to wake up as a guy.

Oh leave me alone, I know I just categorized men into an unflattering light... again...

My eyes are heavy bloggers.  I'm not going to be able to fight not going to bed much longer.  I may or may not blog tomorrow.  It's my day off so I don't imagine too many things will happen that will be blog worthy.  NInety percent sure that I will curl up in bed or get out bed and clean something.

Okay, I give.  I'm going to bed.