Facebook and Bieber

That was yesterday.

Haylee has been having some issues and had a doctor's appointment today.  It included blood work.  She is terrified of needles and turns into a screaming, flailing mess at the mere thought.  I bribed her with a trip to the mall to get cute boots where she also picked out a little teeny-bopper magazine.  I was so  relieved that she didn't stab the lab tech with her own needle that I let her get the magazine too.  Apparently, she was a good sister and shared some of the posters with Avery.  I walked into their room to see if they were asleep and both girls were laying like little angels and then I was snapped back to reality when I caught a glimpse of this taped above Avery's bed.  

And tonight...

Damn it, Avery!!  I'm not a lorser!

It's been a Bieber kinda week!

Dad

This post is dedicated to my sister whom I love very much.  Mandi sent me a message on facebook tonight that she was distraught.  She lost Dad's Obituary from the newspaper.  The tattered, yellowed from age cut-out that has survived under a magnet on her refrigerator for eight years and three moves.  I think she noticed it was gone because eight years ago today we buried our Dad.  She said that and the plant from the funeral home is all she has left of him.  That is not exactly true.  She has his nose and his hands and when she gets really mad she has his cold, cold eyes.  And we all have our memories...as distorted as they may become with time. 


Dad was a grizzly man.  A raging alcoholic.  Most days he was not very nice.  More than half my life I wished he were dead.  It wasn't until the last few years of his life that I stopped feeling that way.  Don't get me wrong.  There were good things about him but most of the time they were buried under cases of Old Milwaukee.  


The time when I was a teenager that he called me a whore was balanced out by the time he realized he overreacted and bought me a shiny new ten speed to make up for it.  The time in 8th grade that I had pink eye so badly that the school called him to pick me up from school and the subsequent bashing of said pink eye was balanced out by the time he rushed to the accident scene where he found me bleeding and barely conscious.  The time when he pulled  a knife on me because Mom left him and it was all my fault was balanced out by the time he told me he was really proud of me when I worked to get promoted from the Receptionist to the HR Manager.  


For as bad as he was most of my life, I miss him.  A new show will come out and I will think Boy, Dad would have really liked this show or Dad would be going crazy over this Pitino/Sypher sex scandal or I sure wish he could see my kids now.  


I have more to say but I am crying like a little bitch so I am going to stop.

Donald P. 

Donald P. , 62, of Louisville, died Wednesday at xxxxxxxxxxxxxl. He was retired from the Army and a Baptist. He is survived by his wife, the former Janice ; three daughters, Cherie, Donda and Mandi ; two sons, Tony and Charlee ; a sister, Beulah ; and four grandchildren. Funeral services will be held at 10 a.m. Saturday at xxxxxxxxxxxxx. Family and friends should meet at the cemetery. Visitation will be from 3-8 p.m. Friday at xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx,. Memorial gifts may go to the American Diabetes Association.

Published on February 15, 2003

Sick and Twisted

Time flies when you're not paying attention.  I knew I hadn't blogged in quite some time but I didn't realize it had been almost a month.  This is the time of year when the chemicals in my brain goes awry.  I don't know why.  Maybe it's the lack of sun.  It's not like I haven't had eventful things happen in the past month.  It's not like I am depressed and just can't pull myself out of the crease in the couch that is the spitting image of my ass.  I log into blogger and I think I want to write but I cannot organize my thoughts. I can't read either.  When my brain does "this" it is a huge undertaking just to read my friends' facebook statuses.  It's not that I am uninterested in what is going on in their lives; it's just too difficult to feel any enthusiasm for anything.  Maybe it is some form of depression.  The experts say that lack of interest in things you normally enjoy is a sign.  My past depressions have always been unmistakable.  Classic uncontrollable crying in the hours that I was not sleeping. But maybe that is the reason that reading my favorite blogs or even watching my favorite TV shows seems like a chore.   


I have been sick with the chest cold virus crap since last Saturday.  I felt it coming on Friday night when I sneezed four times.  I medicated all day Saturday to get through the Passion Party I hosted for Buffy.  I had a really good turnout and there were plenty of laughs.  The party games made me realize that I am not the most competitive of my friends.  

I guess after the photo there is really no need to elaborate further but I will point out the empty cups.  Inhibitions?  Huh?  What?  A group of us headed to the usual spot after the fondling ceased where we saw something that was more interesting than the three-pronged Pharaoh.  It may just be the eighth wonder of the world.

OK, that's all I can muster.  I do feel better today but my brain is still a plate of spaghetti.  At least, I am not agitated.