Saturday, August 02, 2008

Bitch Slapped By Karma?!

Before I fluffed and folded my laundry, I decided to shower. By 10AM, it was 96 degrees. I had spent two-hours shvitsing like a hellnine chasing a fast ball.
I'm well bonded with this shower. We've been together for two-years. I know she likes to have the hot water knob massaged before introducing cold. I can relate. I'm not a rebel for rebellion sake. It seemed an easy, respectful task. I was happy to oblige.

There I stood naked in front of my shower with the hot water pouring out of the head (this sounds like a set up for a dirty joke, but it's not. Really.) and carefully turned on the cold water, so the two could get to know each other on their terms and find a mutually agreeable happy medium (Aquarius enough fah'ya?!).

Testing the water with my fingertips, I noted that the hot water wasn't cooling down. I took a new approach and turned the hot water off, hoping the cold water would forcefully pour out of the shower head. Nothing doing. All hot. Hot. Hot.

What a cunt move, right? Throw me a cool-bone, something that resembles anything that isn't flaming-nipple-skewering hot.

Bupkas. Nada. Zilch.


Finally 20-minutes later, saturated in guilt about all of the water I wasted and no homeless people to toss in, to make amends for my wastin' ways, the water cooled.

I hoisted the hooters and off we went into our lukewarm shower.

Nothing doing.

1 minute into it, my hair was lathered in shampoo and I was grabbing the soap, and lathering the goods when my ass was pelted by scalding hot water. So hot, it makes you jump back and grab your own ass to make sure you're still together. We were.

I turned the hot water off and thought, fuck this. I'll just take a cold fucking shower. I'm committed-- my hair is filled with shampoo. My crack'n'snatch are filled with soap. I don't really have many options, unless I want a raging yeast infection and bone dry hair.

Icy bullets rained from the head of my shower. I thought my nipples were going to crack off of my breasts and fall to the shower floor like some dry ice-scifi-anime-comic-character beaten by a fencing expert.

I'm going through my karmic Rolodex and I haven't done anything wrong. So, what the fuck?!

Today Is A New Day

It's August, 2nd, 2008 and I have been doing a lot of thinking. Please, I spend so much time in my head, I blew "oy vey" away 10-years ago and replaced it with "oy gevalt". Seriously, yo. I'm a brain dwelling freak'o nature, which wouldn't be so terrible if I wasn't a raging insomniac. I haven't really slept properly in about a week. What sleep deprived person do you know has perspective? I've been an irritable snatcharella on wheels. I know it and you know it. Impossible to communicate with in any meaningful fashion. God willing, I'll sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I'll wake up feeling, oh, I don't know, human. I'd love to say, refreshed, but that's a stretch. I have never excelled in the art of sleep. It's never been my sport of choice. I envy those who can hit the pillow and fall hard. My sister is a great sleeper. I wish I had that gene. My ma says she had insomnia in her 30s, too and chalks it up to hormones. I can roll with that.

My insomnia was a gift from my nightmares, which started years ago. I've been writing on a non-fiction short story collection about said mares in the hopes of having the moxie to one day share them. I've only dished them with the great Shrinktail. He's been shrinkdating a slew of peeps for twenty-plus years and told me that my nightmares were the worst he'd ever heard. So, yeah, you know, I feel a bit, well, you know, hmmm. I appreciate his honesty, always. He is honest with me-- That's pretty rare in the doctor department. Still. Dare I share them? Fuck yeah. Slow down Sally. One day soon. Maybe. We'll see. Perhaps.

I'm such a fence dwelling bitch.


A mini list of this, that and the other thing...

  1. Should we break up with Blogspot and start blogdating Wordpress? What do we think?

  2. Should I berate myself if I only accomplish half the objectives on my list? No, silly, you shouldn't. Really? It's great cardio. I hate to give it up.

  3. I need to FedEx my father something today. Seriously. FedEx is a block from me. I suck at mailing shit. If I can get something mailed via someone else, it will go out. If I have to mail it myself, oy vey. I have this crazy aversion to opening mail, posting and shipping things. Gaaaaahd.

  4. I need to buy two chairs today. This has been on the list for how long now? Oy vey.

  5. Gail Konop Baker sent me the Galleys for her beautiful book Cancer is a Bitch, or I'd Rather be Having a Midlife Crisis. I'm almost finished reading it. I'll be posting awwwwl the dish. So far, I'm wildly, desperately and passionately in love. Her book is like being punched in the face and hugged while laughing your mothah fuckin' ass off. What an exquisite writer, Debutante Gail is. Don't wait for it to come out, pre-order it now. You must buy it. Must. Must. Must.
One of my favorite cuzzy bloggers Creepy, estalked me this morning with a note from the mouths of babes: "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice. Dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long." Awww, so sweet. Thanks, bubbie.

Online BFF, My favorite rack, my love, Ah.... Mama Jones, the lamb, coffeekins and everyone else, thank you for your BEAUTIFUL missives.


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