Top Of The Mournin’ To Ya! (Inane Rant)

Why am I mourning in the morning? Because I miss solid sleep. My night sans kid? Still woke up multiple times during the night. Damned humidity, cats stealing my pillow, cats stomping on my head. I forgot to eat supper so I was starvin’ Marvin yet it was so thick with humidity, I filled the cat dishes and went back to bed. Meh. When I woke up again…I couldn’t tell what time it is because one of my furballs did the chacha on the desktop’s keyboard and locked all my shit up, had to do a hard restart to unlock it all. Then wander into the living room to see the time, but it seemed too bright out for the wall clock to be right, so I checked my phone. Yep. Wall clock losing time again, by forty minutes, in spite of new battery.

It was 6:57 a.m.

How cruel is that to wake up before 7 a.m. on one of my rare kid free mornings where I could sleep in and loll about? My own body hates me. This forced daywalker thing is most non triumphant. (R and I were quoting lines from Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure yesterday, guess the airhead-ism is lingering.)

I was gonna go back to bed but once awake…I’m up, to my own chagrin. It’s already humid as hell and I don’t have a bunch of time to do the errands I should have done yesterday since I didn’t have Spook with me because mom’s had her for 24 hours.

So…In the next three hours, I need to get dressed, get out the door, hit about four different stores for groceries, bring stuff back to put away, then go get my kid. I thought maybe along the way I might treat myself to a yard sale or two since I did fulfill my dish duties for the week. I dunno. Grocery stores are icky. Such mundane things others do so easily and yet my stomach is already churning with anxiety. Not because anything bad will necessarily happen. It’s just like eating spicy food. I know the outcome is going to result in me being in major discomfort. I can avoid the food, all is well. I avoid my anxiety triggers, I’m just not trying hard enough.

Thank god stupid isn’t contagious or I’d done be infected by the idgets of the world. (Ya know, psychiatrists, therapists, Scientologists.)

When I got home yesterday, the place was sweltering because I don’t trust the wiring well enough to leave the air on while gone. So I kicked that one, got the fans situated, and threw myself into an ice cold shower. Climbed out into a skimpy tank top and undies, figuring I was in the for the day, no need to worry about being presentable, just cool. Then my dad calls to say he’s bringing something by for Spook…And what is my first thought? DAMN IT, NOW I HAVE TO PUT ON PANTS. How I, the former goth/metal fashionista, have fallen. When putting on pants becomes a concession to beauty…Depression and anxiety just eat away at you until little of who you truly are is left.

And what message does society send me about this epic suckage?

life changes

Omg, silly me, it never occurred to me to do that! Oh, wait. It occurs to me to do something about the suckage every minute of every day and yet..I am trapped in sludge and as lost as if in the Sahara without a map and nothing but sand for a thousand miles. In my head, I can see myself doing this, that, the other, saving pegacorn kind from dragons who want to slather them in ranch dressing and flamebroil them before dining. (Don’t ask.)Ā  Until the depression breaks…This is just where I am and I will spew about the suckage as much as I want to.

One more off topic rant of inanity for my vault.

On a more positive note…Thanks to a Mangorita last night, I had a good time revisiting days of old with hair metal. MMMM, men with long hair wearing leather. Yum yum yum. The music was just fun. Inane perhaps, but FUN. Today’s music makes me want to vomit. No substance and it’s not even fun, it’s like eating a cake made only with sugar. Indigestible for my ears. Yes,I am judgey that way. But I don’t tell anyone what to like, I just have my own opinion and I’m not all that shy about it. (Probably why I’m not Miss Popularity. I forgot to care.)

 

Ugh, I need a shower already. Humidity sucks. And my motivation has gone ala Where’s Waldo…Quick, put out an APB.

Swear to the sacred pegacorn, I am staying home tomorrow, and not leaving the house. I need a good vegetative day without the intrusion of the dish of petri.

but morgue

To which I reply:

stabby chick

 

 

 

 

 

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20 Responses to “Top Of The Mournin’ To Ya! (Inane Rant)”

  1. Well you are certainly entertaining. Wonder how that would work as stand up comedy? If you write your book like you write on here I would love to read it. I try to picture all this spewage as you call it when I am reading and you make me laugh. Not sure that was your point, but you do have writing talent. Hope you feel better soon. ā¤

  2. **You know, that picture of the butcher knife is a huge trigger for me. My first aardvark was stabbed to death by those knife wielding dust bunny thugs in 1972! Thanks alot! šŸ˜¦

  3. I love the stabby image, you nutter

    • *Triggering Trauma Since Implantation In Womb 1972*

      You are both most welcome.

      Love, the nutter with the stabby object she stole from Hitchcock’s Psycho

      On Sat, Jul 18, 2015 at 9:57 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

  4. Vege, avoid the dish, recoup, recover, repeat. damned if we do, damned if we don’t. All can fuck off. And I do believe the stabby chick should be held in seclusion for the safety of the dish…We wouldn’t want any R-soles hurt šŸ˜‰

    • First came the tree huggers. Then the sunshine spewers. Now YOU telling me I can’t stab anyone? Cruel and unusual, dude.

      On Sat, Jul 18, 2015 at 10:45 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

      • Well, I’d prefer you to stay OUT of prison so that we can plot the demise of the ignorant assholes of the world. There’s a method to the madness šŸ˜‰

      • Well, I suppose it’s a little better than my plan for the Volatile Femmes to form their own cell block and take over the prison system…Can’t get orgasmic chocolate behind bars… Ok, no stabbing but I have not ruled out slapping someone with a fish.

        On Sat, Jul 18, 2015 at 10:50 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

        >

      • Maybe that idea is better…though I’m not sure how tessa would feel. No we can’t get orgasmic chocolate behind bars unless we can find a guard that we can get into our “back pocket”…Go ahead and slap the shit outta people with feesh. Make sure it’s a Mackerel or something..Maybe an Asian carp.

      • You want me to slap someone with a fish. Ick! I don’t touch fishies of any kind unless they are dead and cooked to eat. Several stories on that one.

      • Yeah, I’m not fond of raw fish. Blah started the “slap ’em with a fish” thing awhile back and I figured it was less um…likely to be taken as anything but silliness. Ya mention the word stab and people just get nervous. Slap and fish…Not so much. šŸ˜‰

        On Sat, Jul 18, 2015 at 7:05 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

        >

      • I find fish disgusting unless cooked on my plate and no longer moving. Ack!

      • I get green when watching shows where they serve the fish on a plate with the head still attached, that one eye just staring at me. Thank pegacorns I will never be invited to such ritzy functions or I’d need a barf bag.

      • You are one sick Sass, fish (I will have to tell those stories, they are kind of funny).

  5. My stabby chick is in the vicinity and she wants to say fuck too but her mom is going crazy with all the seclusion she’s been on.

  6. The posts of that nature don’t stop. Time to make super filters.

  7. “I thought maybe along the way I might treat myself to a yard sale or two since I did fulfill my dish duties for the week.” Yes, do this! You DO deserve it!

    Also, I love how you’ve used the “block text” as a visual component and for emphasis. Nice touch! Me likee. X

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