I Missed The Fireworks

Does "love at first sight" really happen? Are there such things as soulmates? Do skyrockets in flight happen in real life, or only in the song?

I'm begining to wonder. In fact, I'm becoming down right jaded on the subject.

Lately, I've met a number of reasonably attractive, reasonably successful men. None of them make me feel like I can't wait to see them again.

Is it me? Are my expectations too high? Is it like Stellina said, that my standards are too high?

But why should I settle?

I feel like I have an awful lot to offer the right guy, so why shouldn't I wait for skyrockets in flight... that is, unless they really do only exist in the song.

The men I'm meeting are for the most part, professional, nice, unencumbered, good income, and totally free. So... could it be that I'm really only attracted to emotionally unavailable men... perhaps because I might not be so emotionally available myself? Oh GAWD! What a realization!

Comment Spam

Sorry folks, but today I received my first spam comment. I hated Spam in a can, and I hate spam on my computer. Therefore, you will have to type in the hidden word, in order to comment.

Don't blame me; blame the fuckers who clog up the internet with their bullshit.

Season 6; Episode 3

Ok... Big T is awake from his coma.

I find it terribly disturbing though, to see him sitting there totally dumbfounded, and helpless. He's the Skipper! He's not supposed to be weak and vulnerable.

I particularly loved the way they showed him struggling between giving up and going to the other side, and listening to Meadow to refuse to die. That was perfect symbolism. Either way, I'm glad that whole 'mistaken identity' bullshit storyline is over.

Now, how about those rat bastards, Paulie, and even worse Vito. What a slimy MF that Vito is, pawing at poor Fin that way.

To tell the truth, I hope with T gets better, he cleans up his crew with extreme prejudice. Meanwhile, did anybody else get the willies seeing Carmella and the shrink discussing our man?

Meet Rob

This is Rob.

Rob is 40 years old, and lives close by. He says he prefers women a few years older than him. Cute, no?

Only one drawback... a 16 year old son who lives with him.

What do you think?

In My Email~Subject:Things That Make You Say 'OMG'

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this.

Mr High Forehead

So I'm back from my first date with Mr High Forehead. Whose name, by the way, is Paul.

Here's my assessment. First of all, the pictures he uses are not that current. He has gained I'd say, about 30lbs since they were taken. He's tall, but not lean and mean like the pictures.

That aside, he was very nice, easy to talk to, funny, and interesting.

Most importantly, he was really enamored with me. LOL And after all, what woman doesn't absolutely love being the subject of a smitten man's attention?

Bottom line, he expressed that he really liked me, and wants to see me again.

I think I will go out with him a second time.

Long And Taxing

This has been such a long and taxing day.

At 7:00am this morning, I was at the hospital. My friend was to have surgery today. But naturally, nothing is ever cut and dry (if you'll pardon the expression.)

A tumor was discovered in her lung 6 months ago. Up until this very moment, they have been unable to determine beyond question, whether or not the tumor is malignant. They "think" it is. They "think" she needed to have this lobectomy. So, with a multitude of comorbidities, some of them very serious, she reluctantly agreed to have this surgery. Most concerning, her decidedly bad risk for anesthesia. It was a very tentative few hours, waiting for her to be taken to the O.R.

This is what the doctor told us this morning: "When I go in there, I'm going to remove the lymph nodes and have them biopsied. If they are malignant, I'm going to close you right back up and we'll treat your cancer the best we can with chemotherapy and radiation. If they are not malignant, I am going to continue on and remove the lung lobe. I am hoping the lymph nodes are negative."

Her surgery was scheduled for 7:30am. There was an in house emergency, and so her procedure was pushed back to noon.

I'm there all this time because I am her healthcare proxy, and health agent. I have to make decisions for her in case she cannot.

At 2:00pm, they came out and told me that the lymph nodes were negative, and they were going to proceed with removing the lung lobe. At 4:00pm they came out and told me that the lobectomy was done, and they were closing her up. No apparent complications.

It's now 4:30 or so, and I'm home with a raging headache, but relieved that my friend will live to cuss out another unsuspecting soul. And even more relieved that I did not have to carry out her wishes to not be kept alive by artificial means.

Praise all that is holy! Thank You!

American Idol...

I never thought in a million years I'd get hooked on ANY reality TV show... much less a talent competition. But, hooked I am.

I said it before, and I'll say it again. Taylor is the man. I feel vindicated too because Barry Manilow said Taylor was the best male vocalist in the competition.

It's too bad that the entertainment industry is so superficial. Because of this, Mandisa doesn't have a shot (I think); even though Ruben did win season 2, and he was also very overweight, where is he now? Ever hear anything about him? Nope. Clay Aiken, who was Ruben's runner-up is the guy with all the success. Ironic? No... It's all about image.

While I think Mandisa is a phenomenal singer, with a fantastic range and great feeling in her performances, I predict she will be relegated to a career as a background singer. I don't know anybody who broke through and landed their first record deal being that overweight.

On an American Idol board, some asswipe made a comment that some of the contestants are too old to be on the show. She said the age range should be 18-26. Gives you some idea of the age of the person making that post. My feeling is, if you have the talent, and you please the public, age is secondary. Furthermore, I have met very few... almost none, in fact... people between the ages of 18-26 who know their ass from their elbow. They're still stumbling around trying to figure out who/what they are. So... to the idiot who made the age comment... STFU. Thank you.

By The Way.....

I have a date Wednesday night with High Forehead man.

I'll fill you in on the details.

Season 6; Episode 2

Ok, I watched it. However, I had to watch it in two sittings because... I don't know... I found it boring as shit.

Holy Christ, what a stupid story line - that whole thing about him being some schlep salesman who lost his I.D. I mean, they wasted a perfect opportunity to let us see his deepest, darkest secrets, right? There he is in this coma, dreaming for all of us to see, and he's dreaming about sales conferences and mistaken identities. O.k., so the twist about Alzhiemer's was interesting, but the rest? Geez, how unimaginative.

I would much rather have been witness to him dreaming about all the mob hits he carried out, and all the women he's had. Pffft! I should write for that show!

God Is Good!

I know I said I wouldn't talk about the Dickhead (formerly known as MW) here, but this is worth sharing.

Those of you who know me from tBlog, know the heartache and misery he caused me. You know the rollercoaster ride he took my emotions on, and you know the dangerously sad way it all ended.

For background, in December he was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. I'm sure this played a small part in the demise of the relationship. On Christmas Eve, he walked out with only the clothes on his back. Whatever. I somehow got past all that.

Fast forward... He had surgery. It was successful. He's not going to die... Yadda, yadda, yadda. Now he's back. Stalking, calling, peeking in windows. Dragon Lady is still following his every move.

The difference? I'm not here waiting. I finally found my life (sans Dickhead) again, and I'm living it. And having fun too, I might add.

Yesterday morning he showed up at my house. Now, under normal circumstances, my doors are locked; however, because I had been retrieving things from the trunk of my car, I stupidly left my door unlocked. While I was upstairs, he arrived here and walked right in.

As I was putting laundry away, I thought I heard the doors but thought, "No... can't be. Who would just walk right in?!" So I came downstairs only to find him standing at my kitchen table, my cell phone in his hand, and him snooping through my call history. Can you imagine?

I folded my arms across my chest and said, "Find what you're looking for?"

He said, "I was just checking to see if you had called me. I missed a call and thought it might have been you." (One thing I can say about him is, he's a creative liar.)

He put the phone down and opened his mouth to say something. What it was is anybody's guess because just like that... in the blink of an eye, something in me snapped and I went from calm and sane to, howling at the full-moon, wide-eyed, full blown NUTS.

What followed is somewhat of a missing memory. I don't remember details. I only remember that out of my mouth came every one of Satan's demons, speaking in tongues. By the time I was done, I was out of breath and red in the face. Years of suppressed anger, and hurt, and emotions came tumbling out. Also, (and I think what really did the most damage) what I really thought of him and his no-good rotten fucking brats was laid out not so neatly, and smacked across his forehead.

He stood there blinking.

When I finally screamed... "What the fuck are you still doing standing there! Get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops!" he turned and left.

All well and good. It was cathartic. I went about my business, played for the shower, came home and went to unencumbered sleep.

This morning (this is where the God Is Good part comes in), he called.

Him: "Can I come over? I need to talk to you."
Me: "Fuck you."
Him: "Sybil, please! Let me just talk to you. It won't take long."
Me: "I have nothing more to say to you. I want you to leave me alone."
Him: "If I don't have you, I might as well be dead."
Me: "As far as I'm concerned, you're right. You might as well be dead."
Him: "I can't believe you really mean it. I can't believe you don't love me anymore."
Me: "Believe it. You're like yesterday's fish. Rotten, stinking to high heaven, and outside looking in."
Him: "What can I do to make you see me?"
Me: "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Go AWAY."

Then I hung up the phone.

Not twenty mintues later, a delivery truck showed up with two dozen long stemmed roses.

The card read: "Dear Sybil: Without you, I have nothing. Please forgive me, Love _____"

Well.... who could pass up such an opportunity?

I told the driver there had been a mistake, and the woman who these flowers were intended for lived at XYZ Street. Number 28. Right down there, about a mile and a half.

You know who lives at the address I gave him, right? Of course you do! Mr Dickhead, and his lovely gorilla, Dragon Lady!

Wouldn't you love to be a fly on the wall when she goes to the door and receives my roses?! I know I would.

Oh yes... God Is Good. Thank you for answering my prayers, and giving me the perfect opportunity for retribution!

Yee Haw... Pass The Pabst Blue Ribbon!

Thank goodness for OnDemand. Last night I missed the Sopranos. I had to play for a bridal shower instead.

Can you say Beverly Hillbillys?? What a fiasco! Naturally, when you put 150 beer guzzling, cousin-fucking, hillbilly rednecks in a room, all at the same time, all drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon beer... there's gonna be a brawl. Well..... I'm happy to report, they didn't disappoint.

I hate to be mean spirited but... Last night, I'm sure I witnessed a myth buster. They say there's no such thing as an ugly bride, right? Well, I beg to differ. There's no wedding dress on this earth, Vera Wang or not, that can take the ugly out of this girl. The poor thing fell out of an ugly tree, and got hit with every branch on the way down. AND... there's something decidedly trailer-park-trashy about a guest of honor (in this case, the bride-to-be) all dressed up, wearing a corsage, and guzzling beer out of a bottle while slouching in her seat at the head table.

On a lighter note, this group gave me a few good belly laughs. I particularly enjoyed when they asked me to play Cotton-Eyed Joe (the techno version), which I did... and they immediately got up off their drunk asses and began to dance, only to be (almost simultaneously) all flat on their asses on the floor. It was hysterical!

But tonight I will watch The Sopranos episode 2/season 6 on OnDemand.

In This Case, They Win

Look at the beautiful majesty of the Canadian side of Niagra Falls. After beholding this, the U.S. falls leave you feeling ... "so what!"

This picture was taken from my room on the 39th floor of the new Falls Hotel, which by the way, is also on the Canadian side.

Believe it or not, I had never been to Niagra Falls. I figured it was something I owed it to myself to see, so, see it I did.

What really awed me was that, as I walked toward the viewing platform, I could feel the ground tremble from the force of the water. It blew my mind. That, and from as far away as a quarter mile, I was getting hit with spray. The power in those falls is simply awe inspiring.

As I wandered around town though, I was duly unimpressed with the decidedly "honky-tonkness" of the area. Not to mention that housing there was what I would call below poverty levels.

I was at Niagra Falls last May, when I went on that spontaneous 12 day road trip. One other stop along that trip was in Washington DC. I have one other picture that I want to post of another awe inspiring moment that I had... but I'll save that one for tomorrow.

American Idol... Or, The Gospel According To Sybil

In my humble opinion, wtf took them so long to ditch that Melissa chick? I mean, come on! Would you screw up Stevie Wonder lyrics in front of Stevie Wonder? I think I'd rather drop dead. Not only that, she had no stage presence, nor camera appeal.

In a nutshell....... So long Melissa. Buh-bye.

On the other hand, how about my man Taylor?? Can he entertain or what! I just love him. He's so understated and unassuming. He's sweet, ya know? I am pulling for him all the way.

Mandesa, well the girl's got pipes no question... but I get the sense that she's very full of herself and that turns me off. Meanwhile, who's the blonde Barbie from somewhere in cousin-marryin' country? She's got to go. Paleeeez, enough with the cutsie-wootsie bullshit. Seeya sweety.

Ace is very cute and all, but he didn't impress me with his Stevie Wonder song. He's not that versatile is all I can say.

Chicken Little..... lol. To me, his voice is like fingernails on a chalkboard. It just makes me want to climb the wall. I hope the grannies stop voting for him. He needs to get back in school anyhow.

That dude Chris... the bald guy with the queer sideburns..... I do not like him. Period. And furthermore, he's ugly.

And as for the rest who I didn't mention... it's only because they're non-issues as far as I'm concerned.

Morbid Me

Am I morbid? Maybe. Be that as it may, this is one of my favorite places for quiet contemplation.

This unmarked, unnamed cemetery is older than Boot Hill, and contains the bones of some of the earliest settlers in the area. Some of these slates go back to the late 1600's.

Needless to say, there's never anyone here planting flowers, picking weeds, or paying respects. Therefore, it serves me well as my "quiet place." So far, none of the inhabitants have disturbed me.

Art Imitates Life

If you're a confirmed Country music hater, drop your prejudices for about 3 minutes, and open your mind to the possibility that there might be a song or two which has been labeled "country" by some record company executive, which might... just might... be worth listening to.

Case in point; That Was Yesterday, by Wynonna. It's a blues tune, and she sings it with the most satisfying growl. This song, for me, is art imitating life.

Wynonna, by the way, has as of late, become my hands down favorite female vocalist. Her voice is simply amazing. And that girl can sing ANYTHING.

That Was Yesterday

It's finally over
But I can't even cry
So, don't you give me no sweet talk
You done told your last lie
I was your puppet
Just a dancin', dancin' on a string
But when the sun went down last night,
Lord, it changed everything

Today I feel different
Cause now I can see
That you care more about yourself
Than mistreatin' me
It took me a long time
To figure you out
But misery and pain
Ain't what loves all about

(chorus)
I was your woman
But ya threw me away
I used to be your very own Custom made, love slave,
do anything for you, little fool
But that was yesterday
That was yesterday

And so it goes
Another lesson gets learned
And in the big book of experience
Another page gets turned
Now you say you need me
Well, honey, you got some nerve
I hope some sweet tomorrow
We both get what we deserve

(repeat chorus)
I'm packing up and movin' on
Your real good thing is good and gone

What are you waiting for..... GO GET IT AND LISTEN!!!

What D'Ya Think?

What do you all think of this one?

Other than the high forehead, my assessment (so far) is, he has potential.

He's 6'2" (taller than I've ever stood next to), and built like a brick wall.

He seems very nice. Polite, has social grace, looks outstanding in a suit/tie. He's funny as hell too.

He's got a very good professional career, and NO BAGGAGE.

Too bad about that high forehead, huh?

Already???

I knew Tony would get popped this season, but in the first episode?

And by Uncle Jun?

Holy Crappoli!

Today's The Day.... YAY!

After two long years... Today is FINALLY the day!
Nobody bother me between 9-10pm this evening please.

Is There A Sign On My Back?

So, I put this ad up on a very active dating site. It generates a healthy amount of activity and inquiries. Some perk my interest, others do not at all. I'm selective about which ones I respond to, and I'm thoughtful ... even clever, with my responses.

Things are going along at an acceptable pace, and I begin chatting with one man in particular, with whom I seem to have alot of common interests.

Last night, as we're chatting some more, getting to know one another a little bit more, (understatement) he slips and tells me he's on ssdi.

O.K.

I ask him what his disability is, and he says, "I'm bipolar.... but the medication seems to be helping."

O.K.

A few minutes later he says, "I don't drink anymore. I'm an alcoholic."

O.K.

Then he says, "The picture you have of me is about 7 years old."

O.K.

See why I think online dating services are bullshit?

Ya Want It?

This is my house. A very nice little Cape style house, in a very nice little town, within spitting distance of a very nice little beach.

I think I need to move away from here though. The trouble is, this very nice little town that I live in? It's too little. Every time I leave my driveway, I run into someone that I don't want to run into. Next time, I think I'll literally RUN INTO them! (read, Run Over)

Ha... as I look at this picture, I realize I better get a landscaper here in the spring. It looks pretty desolate.

How Do You Make A Hormone? (Don't Pay Her)

I'm very sorry. Yes, I know it's distasteful, but I have to talk about it.

Those nasty little prickly bastards. No matter how you keep after them, no matter how vigilant you are, no matter .... NO FUCKING MATTER !

Chin hairs! I hate fucking chin hairs.

And, guess what? I had a chat with the doctor about them. (Yes... I am THAT vain!)

Know what the doctor said? He said, "Sybil (chuckling), it's a function of aging. Relax. Buy some tweazers."

Buy some tweazers! Is he for real? I have one in the living room, two in the bathroom, one in my bedroom, and one in the car (Hey, you can't beat natural sunlight for tweazing hair.

Yes ladies... this is one more malady we can blame on hormones. As we age, our estrogen level wanes, thus allowing testosterone levels to elevate (which would explain this sudden explosion of libido!) With increased testosterone, comes FUCKING CHIN HAIRS.

I hate getting old.

Random Curses

Today I'm feeling particularly hateful. Mean, and hateful. So, to celebrate this wonderful mental state of mine, I'd like to brainstorm some unique and creative curses to bestow upon the subject(s) of my hatefulness. I thought I'd share them with you here. Feel free to borrow at will.

1. I hope you fall into a woodchipper.
2. I hope you become unable to control all of your bodily functions. In fact, I hope you crap your pants every time you open your mouth to speak.
3. I hope a Boeing 747 flies up your ass.
4. I hope your hair catches fire.
5. I hope a bus careens out of control, jumps two curbs, and nails your ass in the WalMart paking lot.
6. I hope your teeth rot, and your eyes cross.
7. I hope everywhere you go, dogs piss on your leg.
8. I hope you develop an uncontrollable drooling problem.
9. I hope you suddenly find yourself with overwhelming, incurable body odor.
10. I hope you become the villiage idiot.

................ oh wait...........
You already are the village idiot!