Don't Bother Me !

Last night, for the first time since Christmas Eve, I slept in my bed. I think the couch, comfortable as it is, just was killing my back. (I'm not as young as I used to be you know.) So at midnight, I took a sleeping pill, and hiked up the stairs.

It's odd but, after 2 months of never entering that room, my bedroom seemed foreign, strange, decidedly not mine. It just seemed ... I don't know ... uninhabited. But whatever, I crawled into bed, and marveled at how magically comfortable it was. It felt like I was floating on clouds enveloped in marshmallow. Sooo comfortable.

I fussed with the television until I found something sure to bore me to sleep, and within minutes drifted off to peaceful, blissful, unencumbered (albeit drug induced) sleep.

No interruptions with trips downstairs to the bathroom. No strange noises waking me. No bad dreams waking me in a cold sweat. Just peaceful zzzzz's.

Then..... at precisely 7:15am, my dadblasted phone rang and jolted my body upright, even as my brain scratched and clawed to hang on to the euphoric sleep. In a semi-comatose state, I reached for my phone, and without looking to see who was calling, flipped it open.

"Yeah.... what is it?"
"Did I wake you?"
"Yes. Is there an emergency? Are you bleeding? Is your bed on fire?"
"No. I just missed you. I'm sorry. I have no concept of time."
"Great. It's not even 7:30. Wake your wife now." :::click:::

He who shall remain nameless on this blog had major surgery yesterday. A radical prostatectomy to be precise. I was entirely out of the loop on the whole deal because A) We're not together, and B) His bulldog... er, I mean wife is on him like white on rice.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he survived his surgery. Glad his prognosis looks good. Glad I don't have to wipe up his inevitable urine dribbles as he recuperates. But holy fuck... don't wake me up at 7:15am on my first morning back in my big soft comfortable bed.

Fuck!

OUCH ! Don't Talk So Loudly Please

I was bad. Very, very bad. I got totally annihilated last night.

I am very definately paying the price today. I can't seem to get my feet to work. You know, like... to get one foot to go in front of the other? They just can't get coordinated, so I decided not to argue. I'm just laid out flat on the couch. Suffering. Ooooowwww!

Was it worth it?

No. Most definately not, and I WILL NOT DO THIS AGAIN


until the next time

A Prediction

The pope has elevated several Bishops and Archbishops to the level of Cardinal. Among them, Archbishop Sean Patrick O'Malley.

Cardinal O'Malley was the Archbishop of the Diocese of Fall River for ten years, before the sex scandal rocked the Vatican, at which point he was the Vatican's "clean-up" man sent out to sweep up the very messy load of crap left behind by years of pedophilia ignored by the powers that be within the Catholic church.

I've had the pleasure of hearing Cardinal O'Malley speak, both from the pulpit, and beyond. He is the only Catholic clergy member who has ever moved me. He emits sincerity with every word. He speaks with a mild Irish lilt, and his words take you to places in your mind and your heart, that few others are able to bring you.

The first time I saw him was during a very ethnic procession, at the Portuguese church where I belonged as a child. They were celebrating the Feast of The Holy Ghost, which for the Portuguese faithful, is a BIG DEAL.

There were little girls dressed like angels, complete with huge feathered wings. Little boys dressed like Saint Joseph, or Saint Somebody or other. There were local politicians, local beauty queens, Knights of Columbus in all their regalia... everybody dressed to the nines.

And then, walking alone, carrying a staff, came this man dressed in Franciscan Friar robes, with Jesus sandals on his feet. No pomp, no circumstance. Just a bearded Friar, walking in sandals, blessing the faithful along the route. This was then, Bishop Sean O'Malley.

I couldn't believe my eyes because, this church, and the whole Diocese in fact, was used to very flamboyant church leaders. At the time, it was the wealthiest Diocese in New England, and the priests, and church leaders lived in high style, driving Cadillacs and wearing Italian leather shoes.

He just looked so kind, and so... well... kind, is the best word I think to describe him, that I decided I wanted to hear him speak.

After the procession, he celebrated mass... something I had sworn off since I was a child of 12 or so (that's another story.) But he made me want to hear him, and I'm glad I did. He made me almost want to become an active member of the Catholic church again.

Whenever I got the chance to hear him speak, I did.

I was not surprised in the least that the Vatican turned to him to clean up the particularly nasty pedophilia messes in both the Fall River and Boston Diocese. The man has a calming effect second to none.

And now he's a Cardinal.

My prediction is he will be Pope.

It's Almost Time...

The new season starts in two weeks. After two long years. I can't wait! (There's that impatient thing again LOL)


Look at this picture... How many "whacked" faces do you see?

Why Isn't God On The Same Time Zone I Am?

I read my friend's blog every day. You know, the one that's linked over there ---> and if you're REALLY lazy, right here ... www.sabredtongue.com.

She attends AA meetings regularly because she is the adult child of an alcoholic. She seems to be learning a great deal from those meetings. And know what? I am learning a great deal by reading what she posts that she's learned from those meetings.

One of her posts today talks about, everything happens in God's time, not ours. This is a lesson that I really need to embrace. My typical M.O. is; I want what I want, when I want it. No ifs, ands, or buts. And ... heaven forbid, no waiting.

For those of you who know me from tBlog, you know that I was involved with a classic Passive-Aggressive man, and if you've never had the misfortune of living with a person like this, let me tell you... it is hell on earth especially for an impatient person like me.

So today, I've been expectantly waiting for something to occur. Something which is entirely out of my control, and something which I desperately want. I want it so bad, I can taste it. So I'm waiting, and I'm waiting, and I'M FUCKING WAITING ALREADY... and nothing. Nada. Zilch.

As the time continues to tick by, I become increasingly more agitated. No... agitated is too mild a word. I become increasingly more INSANELY PISSED OFF. Soon I'm burning up the cellular towers, cutting people off on the highway because I'm frantically dialing numbers instead of watching the lunatic Boston traffic. I'm late for appointments, because I'm wasting time tracking down the object of my irrational desire. Finally... when I become so positively obsessed with this all consuming something, that I can no longer focus on the work at hand, nor the traffic all around me, I decide that the smart (and safe) thing to do is to head home, where at least I can obsess in the safety of my own home.

Now, at precisely 1:21pm, I sit here at my computer, creating this post, and going absolutely out of my mind that my something has not occurred, nor is it within my power to make it occur, AND I wasted perfectly good business hours, which could have netted breakthrough results, AND I drove all the fuck the way to New Hampshire FOR NOTHING.

So... as I was saying earlier... This notion that my friend writes about; 'All things happen in God's time, not ours,' ...... What I want to know is, why isn't God on my time zone???

This 'N That

Today was a collossal waste of time and money. And afterall, time IS money, no? But today was a waste of both.

Because I was feeling OH SO RICH, after learning the news of my nifty tax refund, and because I had no appointments today... what did I do? I went to not one, but two casinos.

At the first one, I won a shitload of money. Everything I touched turned to gold. I mean, I couldn't do anything wrong. Listen, I made up my mind walking in that, I would only play with the money I had in my pocket. No ATM today. So I started with a measely $60.00. Within two hours, I had that up to $600.00. By the time I left casino #1, I had it up to $1100.00.

But was I satisfied? Nooooooooooo. Of course not.

On the way home, I got the brilliant idea to take myself over to the other casino, clear on the other side of the (littlest) state, and try to double my winnings.

So, after driving 45 minutes, I scrambled into the place and made a bee-line to my favorite devil-machine. A machine which managed to devour every dime in my pocket in less than one hour.

Repeat after me...........

Sybil is a greedy dope.

Go ahead. You can say it. I'm writing it on a legal sized pad one thousand times.

Ah well, at least I quit when I got down to my original $60.00.

In other news, there is someone who seems to be more than a little interested in meeting me. He's a so-called "Match" found by the wonderful computers over at e-Harmony.

We've communicated several times via email, exchanged photos, and he wants to meet. I'm hesitant though, because he is the full time care provider of his two teenaged daughters. (I think I mentioned the teenager/rash phenomenon in a previous post.) Anyway, I just received another email from him, and he really wants to talk live. I'm not in such a big hurry though.

Ah well..... might as well settle in for another boring night of Winter Olympics. Oh, wait... tonight the woman's figure skating begins, right? It's about time. That's the only event that I enjoy watching.

Takin' Care Of Business

Well... join me now as I commence to doing The Happy Dance.

Are you dancing?

It's easy.

Sorta like the pee-pee dance, (you know the one you do when you just GOTTA whiz, and there's not a bowl in sight?) but with more arm waving.

The reason for all this jubilation, you ask? Welllllll I just returned from my tax accountant's office. Uh-huh. Gottem filed. E-filed, no less.

Now, understand... I went there with great trepidation because this past year I was blessed with a tremendous salary increase, AND I had several thousand dollars in casino winnings, AND, this would be the first year that I had to file sans the "Married" allowable deduction. Yessssssss, I had to file single status.

So why am I dancing? Because, because, because, I had more than enough deductions to offset things, and then some.

:::drumroll please:::

It's a $9800.00 federal refund... thankyouverymuch.

I see chrome in my future. Lots, and Lots of chrome. Because a Harley just ain't worth a damn if it doesn't blind you in the sunlight.

Self Images

I know a woman. She's 2 months younger than me, and diametrically opposite me in every sense possible.

Last night we were having a conversation which went something like this:

Her: I feel great. I lost another 3 pounds this week.
Me: That's terrific. Good for you.
Her: Yeah... it's been so long since men paid attention to me. Just now that guy over there asked me to dance. It felt nice to be noticed.
Me: Why didn't you dance with him?
Her: Because he's fat. He doesn't appeal to me.
Me: That's not very nice. It's only a dance... he didn't propose to you.
Her: Listen, I used to weigh 250 pounds. Now I weigh 206 and I'm not going to settle for just anybody any more. From now on, I'm going to be choosey.
Me: Well, a woman should never settle ... regardless her size. But we also shouldn't judge either. You should've danced with him. He might be a really nice guy.
Her: Fuck that. From now on, I'm only interested in the hotties.

So, it's all about self image, right? I mean, good for her that she's feeling so good about herself and secure in her new body.

I'm all for self confidence, don't get me wrong. But, why become judgemental all of a sudden? Why treat others the way you yourself hated to be treated? So she lost 44 pounds. That's a great accomplishment, but does it suddenly give her the right to cast judgement on others based merely on their appearance?

What about the fact that she obviously has periodontal disease, because her breath is enough to drop a bull moose in it's tracks? And what about the fact that her shirt had more stains on it than my Thanksgiving tablecloth after feeding 25 people? And not to mention that she tells everyone that she is the best singer in 3 states, but her voice is comparable to fingernails on a chalkboard...AMPLIFIED!

I came to the conclusion that while she may indeed have a very high opinion of herself, and her self image is not suffering in the least, my opinion of her plummeted, and I discovered that I do not like this woman, AT.ALL.PERIOD.

Single Life In The New Millenium

Whoever thought that being single in the new millenium meant that one had better have access to the internet, and high speed access at that! While granted, I haven't been single all that long, it has been long enough for me to explore some of the options available to single, successful, available women like me.

First and foremost, LOVE@AOL is ... "read my lips" NOT AN OPTION! I have come to believe whole heartedly that 99 and 44/100ths of the men who have ads there are hopeless wastes of space.

Next, how about MySpace. One word: NOT. My opinion of MySpace is it's filled with predominately pre-pubescent (regardless of their age) schmucks. It is, in effect the e-version of the 80's meat market, hook-up spot. So, uh... no thanks on MySpace.

Then there's the personals on (take your pick) Yahoo, MSN, etc. etc. Well, I suppose if I were given to a patient nature, I might be able to cull out some possibilites somewhere in that mess. However, the key word in that sentence is if. Alas, when they were passing out patience, I was off somewhere else getting a double helping of ambition, then doubling back into the marginally bad attitude line.

So, what's a girl to do you ask? Well, I'll tell you what I did. I apparently saw just one too many of those sweet and sappy e-Harmony ads. So, after much wringing of hands, and gnashing of teeth, I bit the bullet and subscribed. But just for a month!

The results so far, after a week and half mind you, are mixed. I have been "matched" to several eligible bachelors and have begun communicating with 2 of them. But I have to tell you... the people on that site take the whole concept MUCH too seriously. I mean, fer Christ's sake... just send me an email and I'll respond. Don't bother me with all the crap in the middle.

Anyway, there's one fellow who I am contemplating meeting for a cup of coffee or something, one day in the near future. He seems to have potential. Good job, easy on the eyes. Only one (major) drawback. He is raising two teenaged daughters by himself. I have thus far, diplomatically neglected to mention to him that nine times out of ten, teenagers give me a rash!

A HOG's Rear End

Here it is from the rear. Check out that very cool license plate.

She's No Lady, She's A HOG

They say pigs are cute, and hogs go to slaughter. Well, here's one HOG that won't be going to the slaughter house. This is my shiny new 2005 Harley Softail Deluxe... in Lava Red, no less. It's somewhat more dressed up now than it is in this picture. But daaayum, chrome is expensive as hell.

I Like Scorpions

Ok, imagine this trinket with a diamond in the middle, instead of that oogly yellow thing.

I think I want me one of these. 

Take That Camera OUT Of My Face !

I am the least photogenic person I know. No matter when, where, or how, I always manage to be A) Looking away, and B) Not smiling at the camera.

I always cringe when a new online acquaintance asks to see my picture. The sad truth is, I don't have one worth sharing. You'll just have to trust me on this one, I don't look this bad in person.