Merry New Year!!!!!! (this post has nothing to do with the new year.)

(As of this writing, I am sitting out in the garage while 3 boys belt out songs on Rock Band.  This is after a comical episode of trying to assemble the fancy drumset that goes with it.  And after DJ bugging me for the last 2 hours about how hungry he is and as soon as it's done, being distracted by, "Ooo...Rock Band!")

    So while napping today, I had a dream that I was Enzo (from Assassins Creed: Revelations) running around, picking the pockets of citizens in the world of Skyrim.  I was discovered, and chased through the streets by an angry mob of peasants.

    The moral of the story:  I have been over-exposed to the world of video games.

    I'm sure a shrink would have a different opinion.  Something about feeling guilty about some wrong I have done, but I'm sticking to my story.  (Guilt is for the weak!!!)  And I'm blaming DJ.  Even though it was me who MADE him get me the newest Gears of War.  Everybody knows it's always the guys fault.  Duh!

    After being out of the gaming world for a number of years, I find myself both enjoying and hating living in a gaming household.

    I enjoy watching DJ's lil elf dude whack giant,purple tigers in Final Fantasy (6000?).  Watching him walk up to one and hear a weak "Mweh!" as the tiger swats back with claws as big as his head is slightly amusing.  (Not as amusing as taking the controls, when left unattended, and not having a clue how to play.  His friends must think he's gone nuts because I do know how to type messages to them.)  But, seriously?!?!  How much can one person run???  Hours are spent on this game, just running.  Boring, to the point of blowing your brains out just because it would be more interesting.  I'm not even sure what the point of all this running is!

    MY point in all this, is however; that I really wish my blog site had spell-check.  Words like peasants and amusing are really tripping me up.  (Although I seem to have no problem with unattended.  Did I ever mention I can't spell worth a damn?)  What kind of blog/web-site builder doesn't have spell check?  I mean, for a site that deals in words wouldn't that be one of the most basic things you would include?
Picture
DJ's "Mweh" elfin dude. Or as one friend calls it, "The Fleshy-Pumpkin."
P.S.  I just died on the bed next to DJ while he played Assassins Creed: Revelations online, and he was totally oblivious to my perilous fate.  I had my tounge out and everything!  I was even half hanging off the bed, head-down.  (DJ does not know how to die correctly.  Even though I have tried to teach him he sticks his tounge out to the left.  Everyone knows it hangs to the right and your head is tilted to the left!  I will have to keep teaching him till he gets it right.  A stun-gun may have to come into play.)
 
 
T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. (Cause mices are disgusting, filthy creatures and I’ll have none of them in my house!)
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.  (Kids these days.  Wanting something just cause they hung up dirty socks.  PFT!)


The children were nestled all snug in their beds, (cause it was already in the a.m.  Where else would they be?)
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. (WTF is a sugar plum?  I’ve never seen one.)
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap. (I actually knew a guy once who also slept in his hat.  Weirdo.)

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.  (And grabbed my 9mm along the way cause it sounded like someone trying to break in.)
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.  (My window has shutters!!!)


The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow (The snow has boobies.  Hehe.  Yep, had to go there.)
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. (Yeah, someone’s trying to break in and I got distracted by snow.  ADD anyone?!?!  Thank goodness Florida doesn’t have snow so I can concentrate on the home invasion.)
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer. (I was expecting a get-away car, but seeing how it snowed I guess a sleigh will work.  What kinda robbers are these anyway?)



With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.  (The fat bastard scared me half to death!  I would also like to note that whoever origanally wrote this contradicted himself when calling St. Nick a "little" driver and then refering to him as fat ater one.  Which was it?  Make up your mind!)
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! (After the near heart-attack, I called them a few names too, but not the same as Santa.)

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! (Apparently the night was clear and Rudolph wasn’t
needed.)
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" (This was code for “Drive around the corner and keep it running!")


As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. (Um…what?!?!  Doesn’t this mean they hit something?Better not be my car!)
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too. (They thought
the roof was the way to go?  You ever been on a roof after it’s snowed?  What they don’t tell you is how they all slid off back to the ground.)

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.  (They are killing my shingles.  I’m sending Santa a bill to have it fixed.  Or asking for it for Christmas.  Not sure.  Still pissed about the scare.)
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. (Which was quite an accomplishment for someone as big as this dude.  My chimney’s not that big.)

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. (That's what he gets gor using the chimney.  Maybe he’ll use the door next time. Take that Santa!)
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack. (Peddler = hobo)

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  (I’m pretty sure Santa is a drunk. They usually have bright red noses and cheeks.  Plus the smell of rum gave him away.  Might be why he parked on the roof.  Mystery
solved!)
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.  (For Christmas I’m getting Santa a beard trimmer.)

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. (So he’s a drunk AND a stoner?!?! WTH Santa!!!)
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!  (That must be from all the munchies he gets.)

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!  (You wouldda laughed to seeing the way he stumbled out of that chimney.  Really, Santa, lay off the sauce.)
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.  (Plus I still had the gun in my hand.  Security in the form of 9mm does wonders for fear.)

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk. (Now Santa is having
spasms?  AND he put his hands in those dirty socks?  Gross, Santa.  Just gross!)
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!  (First the pipe, then the nose? 
So he’s a pot-head and a coke-head?  This just keeps getting better and better.  Maybe that’s why Coca-cola used his image all these years. We all know how Coca-cola got its start. Makes sense to me.)

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.  (I think they mean they were all very lightly weighted, but I don’t see how with the “bowl full of jelly” riding shot-gun.)
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"  (And Santa yelling like a high, drunken mad-man down the streets, waking all the neighbors is how he ended up in the pokey Christmas night.  Happy Christmas yourself, Santa.  Maybe next year you’ll practice sober, reindeer/sleigh driving.  Then you won’t end up on roof tops and having guns drawn on you!)


On a serious note…no matter where you are or what your belief, have a very Happy Holiday of your choosing!
(I would also like to note that I decided to do this revision and post it BEFORE I knew it would be posted on...the night before Christmas!  It just kinda worked out that way.  YAY for me!)  I hope you all have a wonderful (and safe) day!  And don't get hit by any drunken sleigh drivers on your way to your family dinners!


 
 
Not a big post.  Simply want to wish everyone a Happy Yule!!!  Cause it's today.  And this is MY blog and I will say what I want!  (Don't worry, in 3 days I'll be back with Christmas wishes and in 2 days I'll be back with a holiday post.)  So....

Happy Yule!!!!
 
 
So about 2 years ago my ex-boyfriend and I ended our relationship.  (Ok, I ended it.)  When he moved out he went to a place where his bird (cockatiel) was not welcome.  Having a soft spot for animals, I told him he could leave the bird with me until he got his own place.

I now own a bird.

While dating said ex-boyfriend I used to get very upset that the bird was kept in the kitchen (a room no one ever went in).  I now know why it was kept there and why he never came to claim it.

This is the loudest, most obnoxious, most irritating bird I have EVER met.  All day he taps on the cage.  He does this other thing, that I'm pretty sure is him taking a metal cup to the bars of the cage.  As soon as you turn on a light he tweets/screeches at what I can only describe as volume 11 levels.  (Anyone who has seen Spinal Tap will understand that.  If you don't get it, you need to watch Spinal Tap.)  He chitters and whistles constantly.  I seriously think the bird is afraid of exploding if he is quiet because often he is so loud and excited he sounds like he's freaking out because he has a bomb strapped to his chest.  No matter how many insults or threats I hurl at him (like that I'm going to fry him or feed him to the bear) he will NOT be quiet!  I don't think he has the ability.

And, yes, I am aware that I am referring to him as Bird.  He has a name (Petey), but I'm pretty sure he doesn't know it.  If he could talk (thank the Goddess he can't) he would probably tell you his name is SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!


A lot of ppl have asked me, "Why don't you just get rid of it?"  My response?  Because it's my bird.  I don't have a better one than that.  We have bonded.  I will fully admit that, while I have a soft spot for animals, I am not an "animal lover."  That is to say, I'm not on a quest to save all animals.  I do not agree with animal abuse or treatment, while at the same time I do believe in animal experimentation.  (I would also like to state that I TOTALLY agree with stupid human experimentation.  We could weed out a lot of dingbats that way.  I'm just saying...no one needs stupid ppl.)  I do think of animals as innocents though.  They are what they are.  They run on instinct and what they are taught.  Bad pets come from bad owners.  

Wait...wasn't I talking about the bird?  I believe I derailed.

Anyway, why would I offer to house the fuckhead if I were just going to give him away because he's annoying?  Hell, if that were the way I thought I would never have had a meaningful relationship.

One of the first things D.J. asked, when we figured out I was going to be moving in with him, was, "Do you have to bring the bird?"  (See?  He knew.  He had met the bird before.)  And my answer was, "Yes.  You get me, you get my bird.  It's a package deal."  And it really is.  No matter how much the piece of cat-bait annoys me he has become a part of me and my life.  It's a love hate relationship.  I could just get done yelling for him to be quiet and turn around and deck someone for doing the same.  That's MY bird.  (Only I can be mean to him.)

My intent in writing this just to let you all know...If you see me sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth, bald and covering my ears, don't worry.  I'm trying to escape from the bird without killing him.  Or plotting how I really can feed him to the bear.  One of those.

Picture
The asshole bird
Note:  I would like to state here that I was going to go on to tell you all about my very picky, yet quirky, gecko, Climber.  However as of 8:30am, yesterday morning, I watched my poor gecko die.  Ok, it was really Lil Miss's gecko, but I loved her as well.  After a good cry, she was buried and a lil something was said for her.  I will be sad for her loss.  Just like I will when the bird goes.  The gecko liked to bark at me (yes they bark like a dog) and wouldn't drink out of a water dish (you HAD to spray the cage so she could lick the glass.)  She was fussy and very aggressive...just like me.  And I wouldn't have traded her for any other gecko in the world.  I spent all day being depressed and cranky at ppl (cause they were breating my air!).  It's how I grieve.  But I'm better today, so I'm sharing with you, minions.
Picture
R.I.P. Climber the Gecko
Picture
Climber's last resting place
 
 
    So there is a bear (or pair.  One could just be a clone) that wanders this neighborhood that I now live in.  I've seen at least one of the bears, but wouldn't you know it, there's never a camera around to snap a pic.  And the stupid bear won't wait for me to go get one.  He's like the Houdini of bears when it comes to grabbing a camera.  One minute there, then...POOF!!!  Gone when you get the camera.

    Maybe it's me, but the thought of going outside, after dark (cause the bear stays away during the day) scares the living shit outta me.  I have bad visuals of my face being eaten off by this bear for no better reason than I went to my car and the bear decided, "Is she provoking me?  I think she is.  I'll eat her face."  Yep, that's what bears think.  Doubt me?  Come ask it.

    So maybe I'm bieng a bit paranoid, since no one in the neighborhood has had any problems worse than having their garbage cans overturned and trash scattered down the street.  I think it's a healty paranoia (one that might keep me alive) since, where I'm from, we don't have to deal with bears.  Maybe a rabid opossum or pissed off skunk.  Or stupid raccoons.  There was that one time the rouge turtle wandered into my yard, but I'm pretty sure he was just drunk and lost and he was easily delt with.

    Anyway, I thinnk the scariest thing about the whole bear business is the laws that protect it as "wildlife."  I mean it is wildlife, but it's roaming the suburbs.  Does that really still count?  The laws leave humans that take up residence in the houses open to harm.  The rangers keep coming out and trapping it and taking it away, but it keeps coming back.  Cause that's what bears do.  And apparently, after a while, not only do they come back but they clone themselves for maximum garbaging.

    The laws say you are not allowed to take action against the bear until/unless it maims you.  (This is my translation.)  Like...I don't know...eating your face off.  They tell you ("They" being the Department of Fish and Game) not to provoke it.  Well, no fucking shit!!!  But who the hell knows what a bear views as provocation?  I know what I think of as provocation, but I'm not a bear.  I'm from the city.  I don't know about bears.  I know about bunnies.  As I said eairlier, a bear could be like, "She's looking at me.  Get her!!!"

        All in all it is my goal to get rid of the bear(s).  And do it while avoiding jail time (cause that's what happens if you hurt it without getting maimed first).  And to avoid being hurt in the process.  And maybe get a new rug out of the whole mess.  Who knows.  However, if you read a story about a girl in Florida who got eaten by a bear while trying to get a pic of it...well, it was nice knowing all of you.

    P.S.  Having a bear roam the neighborhood does cut down on crime in the area and saves on having to buy security alarms.  See there's a plus side.  I'm looking into getting a sticker for my car (to go next to the NRA one) that says, "Protected by ADT LIVE BEAR SECURITY SYSTEM."
 
 
    On December 1st I posted a, well, post about depression.  Hold that thought...I am going to come back to it.  Please keep reading and bare with me.

    I have an analytics reporter on this blog.  I can look up how many times my blog was viewed on a certain day.  I can also look up how many individual ppl viewed it (opposed to one person viewing multiple times).  On the day I posted about depression I had 67 different ppl view my site. (Don't worry it doesn't tell me who you are.  It's just a counter.)  Yesterday I had 61 ppl view the site.  Between these 3 days I also had 69 ppl "like" the post about me breaking into my house and hurting myself.

    My point of this post is:  Thank you all for visiting.  For someone just starting out 67 ppl is AMAZING!!! (Especially since I took a month off to move and have only been doing this for 3 months.)  It may not seem like many ppl, but to me it's super-awsome!  Hopefully those of you who tuned in that day got a good laugh out of my antics.  If my falling through a window put a smile on the faces of any of the ppl who "liked" it, then it was worth it!!!

    I just wanted to say thank-you from the bottom of my heart.  I hope I can continue to keep you entertained.

Oops..ok, so the 69 "likes" was not for me falling through a window, it was on the post about me knifing the moving companies.  But, the thought is the same.  If my knifing moving companies who call all the time helps someone laugh when they came to see a post about depression I will knife them all!!!  J?K, I'll knife a slect few.
 
 
    So, I'm not sure if this is what's going to post or not, but I was playing around with the features on this site builder and this is the sample video for when you want to add a YouTube video to your post.  

    WTF?!?!?!  

    I mean John Locke is cool and all, but speed painting?  They never even tell you how to do it they just go right through it.  And what is up with the flashes?  I suspect subliminal messeges.  It's the aliens trying to mind-control me through John Locke speed painting.  Or it could be the cloud of smoke.  But I'm sticking with the aliens.  

    Either way, I'm not sure that this doesn't belong in the "Weird Things" section.  Personally I found this creepy and odd.  It might just be the mind control talking.  Maybe that's what the aliens are going for.  Now every time I watch Lost I'm gonna have to wear my foil hat or end up a puddle of fear.
P.S.  On the plus side, I now know how to post videos from YouTube.  I'm just afraid to do it cause the aliens might get me.  Dammit aliens!  You win again!
 
 
    Not too long ago, while cleaning out the Nightmare Room, I came across a box of VHS tapes.  (Yep, you read that right.)

    This opened a whole new cache of movies for Lil Miss.  She sat and watched (sometimes as punishment) a whole new slew of movies she had never seen before.  She has now added Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Legnd and The Stand to her list of watched movies, along with quite a few other gems.  (She also understands what "Captain Tripps" is and what I'm referring to when I have the flu.)

    I worried at first that this may be a tell-tale sign of my age...until the following weekend, when she brought over "this COOL new movie" to watch with me.  The movie?  Silver Bullet starring Corey Haim.

    Now if you haven't been living under the same rock as me, you know this particular Corey (who was approximately the same age as I am) has passed away.  I did not know this when I watched it with her.  (That's what happens when you have no T.V. or internet.  The wrong Corey dies.)  Chalk one more up to feeling old, since he was like 12 when he made that movie.  But then Lil Miss decided to dress up as a Ghostbuster (a movie she pilfered from me some time back) for Halloween.  She was
E-X-C-I-T-E-D to find the costume (and even more when she got to take her pic with an Ecto-mobile at a local trunk-or-treat).  She went on to explain how Ghostbusters is one of her favorite movies and she watches it all the time.  (Which is why I left it behind with her when I moved.)  It is a classic, after all.  But to an 11 year old, these movies are all new and timeless for her.  Because of this she has been forgiven because she didn't really make me feel my age in watching them.

    Fast-forward to a few days ago when I found out that DJ (who is 5 years my junior to begin with.  Strike one) has never seen Mallrats.  Still a classic, but, when sitting him down to watch this piece of cinema gold, it is not new and timeless to him.  It's dated.  Especially when they mention that it's in the 90's.  How has this movie been around so long?  Wasn't it just released last year?

    Then, while talking to him and discussing the FOUR movies that followed, he earned his third strike.  (The second came at the 90's mention.  Although he didn't do it himself, I wouldn't be watching if it weren't for him, so it's his fault.)  Uttering the words, "How have I never seen this movie?" while watching with your older girlfriend isn't always so nice.  Yep, strike three.

    But this is not to say that I AM old.  At 34 I'm still pretty young (ask Lil Miss, who SHOULD think I'm old, but doesn't).  And I'm NOT above doing juvenile things.

    And now you all know why it is that I leave nauseous gas bombs under the covers for my boyfriend to find as he's getting into bed.  Old, my ass!  I'm still young enough to know farts are funny!  Oh, hell, let's be honest, I'll never fully grow up because farts will ALWAYS be funny!  (Especially if you can turn them into bombs for your jail-bait boyfriend.)

Picture
Lil Miss as a Ghostbuster (next to Ecto-mobile) for Halloween 2011
 
 
    I try to keep things light and humorous, but sometimes that is not possible.  Depression affects us all at some point in our lives.  Some of us more than others and it has once again reared its ugly head in me.  Due to a closed-head injury, depression is something I struggle with on a regular basis.  Often I am successful in digging my way out of my "funk."  Sometimes I need help to come out of it.  And sometimes there is nothing I can do but wait it out, go with the flow and hope nothing bad happens during the ride.

    Part of my form of depression includes violent, explosive panic-attacks.  NOT fun!  (I have been to a therapist and sought treatment and learned how to cope.)  If you have never experienced a panic-attack you can never FULLY understand.  If you have never had a violent panic-attack you couldn't possibly know the amount of hurt, pain, fear and guilt that comes from physically (as well as mentally) hurting yourself and the ones you love from the loss of control.  You can't understand the struggle someone deals with trying to stop themselves, and not being able to, while the struggle compounds the attack and makes it worse.

    A lot of ppl are under the impression that depression means a person is sad, upset, mopey or "down in the dumps."  Although that may be a sign for many, there are many forms of depression.  Some ppl suffer with a smile on their faces.

    There is physical (clinical) depression, where there is something physically wrong as well as mental depression.  (I suffer from the former and therefore am quite responsive to medications, but choose to manage it through diet and exercise.  This is a choice that was made after consulting with my doctor.)  Some ppl deal with laughter, some with tears, some with anger, some with exercise.  Everyone is different and deal with it in their own way.  However, it is nothing to laugh AT.  It is very real to each person and very serious.

    If you know someone going through depression, please, please, PLEASE!!! be as understanding as possible.  Be supportive of what these ppl need, even if what they need is to hurl insults.  (I know this is not fair to the receiver, but sometimes ppl in depression can't help themselves.  This is not an excuse, just an explanation.)  Keep an eye on them to make sure they are safe.  And above all else, whether you think they are listening or not, tell them how much you love and need them.  Sometimes it makes all the difference.  To many it is the support of others, as well as their words, that help someone through these dark times.

    To all those who have helped me, and continue to do so, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Unless you have dealt with this, you will never know what you have done for me.  I am so very lucky to have you for my friends and family.  I can honestly say, I have one of the best support groups someone with depression can have.  Because of that, you are all angels to me.  (Even though you're all still my minions XD)

P.S.  This is not my weekly post, just something I felt needed to get out.