Time for me to ramble about fiction soup for the soul…Just watched this week’s Supernatural. LOVE that show. I’ve had a cat or two named Castiel. They both died so in the future I think I am gonna use the demon names, the angel name seems to have bad juju. I could get lost in that show, with the sarcastic humor and the “based on religion but not the least bit preachy thing.” Hell, I’d rather be a hunter of supernatural monsters than what I am now. They can be killed, no penalties. Human monsters, well, you can’t stake ’em or decapitate ’em cos of that pesky prison thing…Oh, yes, fiction soup for the soul is gooood. Plus, I lust for that ’67 Impala. My first car was a ’78 Impala, not classic or sporty, but the v-8 engine MOVED and it was like a tanker. Lasted me 11 years. Do love my old cars, possibly the only positive thing my father instilled in me. Classics rock, new cars suck.

So I had my alarm set for 8, was gonna rise and not shine but get some housework done before the spawn’s return. Yeah, I hit snooze more times than I can count and by ten…the bladder demanded I get up. From there I turned on music, checked e-mail, did my iced tea and chain smoking ritual. I ventured out briefly into the dish, intending to go to Aldi cos I want pork chops…I saw the packed lot and it was like NOPE. Go back when it’s less busy, I don’t need any extra triggers. So that exercise in futility sent me back home, all the while realizing how dangerously low the gas gauge is when considering I still have about six days of getting my kid to school plus trick or treating…Grrr.

So I called mom to ask if my sister could bring the spawn home…And the crazy bitchbeast snapped at me, “Why can’t you come get her?” I explained. She snapped, “Well, that’s not enough gas to get her to school all week, what are you gonna do?” I don’t know but I will figure it out even if it involves asking R to drop her off on his way to the shop in the mornings or something. My mom is sheer evil at times. Problem is, I never know which version of her I am gonna get. (Which gives a modicum of credence to when the donor said the same about me, difference being, my mom doesn’t think anything is wrong with her, I admit I am wonky.)

(Ugh, kid’s been returned with a stuffed dog that sings “Sexy and I know it”. Least it’s not the frozen theme.)

I had this whole thing I wanted to write…Now I’ve gone blank because the chaos is back. And I am glad to have my kid back, but…It was nice not having so much chaos outside my own brain. Now I am getting it both barrels.

Bipolar is not so super and it is not fucking natural.

Give me the demons and monsters any day.

And the car. Sexxxxy.


22 Responses to “Un-super-natural”

  1. Never saw it. Classic muscle cars I agree ~ sexiness in metal! They rock! FUCK so this! I hate not being in control something (my mind) that governs my very being,,,

    • Andrew feels unAmerican when muscle cars are called sexy. Was he raised by elitist wolves or what? Those cars were 100% American made. They deserve to be called sexy.
      Splat sucks like a turbo charged Hoover on meth.

      • Splat = OH FUCK!! šŸ˜¦

      • Bipolar Depression=Ass splattery.

      • All I meant by that was that Americans tend to love cars, and find them sexy, and I am just stone cold indifferent to them in every shape or form. I drive a RAV4 and I like it fine and does the job but it’s just a machine to me. That’s all I meant! I am Luddite who thinks the last truly badass pieces of technology werr fire-hardened spears and brain-massaged animal skins. Sue me šŸ˜›šŸ˜›šŸ˜›

      • Hey, some people have naked men or women mags to drool over, I just find classic cars hot. I have yet to molest a single one of them. šŸ˜›

  2. What songs are they putting in toys?! O.o

    Which gives me an idea. Stuffed singing unicorns for the normal folk. Instead of singing songs, the unicorn sings all our bad and negative thoughts we can’t control. Once they open the box that shit starts singing and it will never shut up unless they smash it with a hammer. Once they do that people will look at them like they’re crazy and call them out on the killing.

    “You don’t understand,” they’ll say. “It was driving me crazy.”

    “You could have just thrown it away or ignored it. Why are you so cruel and vicious.”

    There you go, assfucks. A sampling in a day of our lives.

    • Ha, in my efforts to win mother of the year…I bought my kid a singing hamster. Because I don’t shit about rap music, it sings, “Yo shorty, it’s you’re birthday, we gonna party like it’s yo birthday,and we don’t give a damn it’s not your birthday.”

      Catchy coming from a stuffed hamster. From a rapper? Kill me now. Unless Eminem did it, it’d just be funny and awesome.

      • No it’s 50 Cent, but discovered by Eminem so it’s 50-50.
        We had a hamster that sang “Kung-Fu Fighting” that freaked SNLM out when we was 2 he screamed and cried and ran. DB thought it was funny, I found it rather traumatic. A hamster, dressed in a Gi and Black belt with a weapon that swung round and round and sang in a high pitched voice-I’d freak the Fuck out too (I did..along with the clowns…which the kids though was HILARIOUS to “show” me clowns masks last night at Party City and watch me spaz out. Little heathens)

  3. I always feel deeply un-American when I hear cars being called sexy. Still a proud Luddite in my bitter ashen heart. You better not indoctrinate Fergus into this business of lascivious automobiles. I don’t want him getting a uniboner every time he flies over a Cadillac. Zoe’s idea sounds pretty great. When my parents are down on me, I usually just say, “Spend ten minutes in my brain on a bad day, you will be happy and grateful the rest of your lives. Doing the best I can, folks. Even if it looks like I’m just lazily chain-smoking on the patio for a dozen straight hours.”

    • Unamerican? Muscle cars are the ones to be trusted to be made in America. Everything is outsourced foreign these days.
      Cadillacs are not sexy. Escalades prove this.
      Now a 65 Mustang? Sex on a stick with four tires.
      Sorry, just is.
      Chainsmoking for 12 hours? You have me trumped. I pause long enough to do mom like stuff. Which means if I get a drag or two uninterrupted…I’m doing wonderbar.

      • I’ll take your word on the 65 Mustang. Just no uniboners for Fergus, I mean that, I don’t need him rubbing one out on parked cars. He has a certain self-restrained nobility to carry. Re: smoking — Hey, I’m communing with nature. (A rare splurge, in fact. I knew it was a more than usual fuck it day when my eyes wrinkled open; so booze being self-outlawed, I popped 4mg of Ativan, brewed a carafe of black tea, queued up my emo-iest emo songs, and yes, have been incessantly chain-smoking with pauses to WordPress, which is the extent of my social life. Good times. Normally I try to keep it within ten smokes a day, so I have decent chance of quitting soonish and not guaranteeing myself a long, agonizing death from CPD; but everybody deserves a day off from striving, don’t you think? And somehow benzos (even if they barely work anymore) make smoking SO much more enjoyable; as if the heart is just lovingly accepting the cancerous fumes as gift, Persian incense, pegacorn pixie dust.

      • Ya know, uniboner reminds me of buying unisex jewelry. Maybe it means girls can’t get boners just like guys thus uniboner…

        Fergus, unipony as he is, far too classy to get a “boner”. I have the feeling he would refer to it as “yearning fire in the loins.”
        Sass is a great PR agent, btw, she’s got Fergus all but walking on water and curing cancer. šŸ˜‰

      • A Jesus for our time. Sounds dope. Yearning fire in the loins way better; but if it happens towards a car, it gets downgraded to uniboner.

      • There is nothing attractive of any “new age” Cadillac. The older are meh imho, but give me an old Lincoln with suicide doors… That man or woman is getting laid.

  4. There is NOTHING sexier than old American muscle cars. Sorry Andrew, this is where you are out of your depth here my hippie buddy of love. Dream car: 1964 1/2 purple Pontiac GTO with a black drop top. Anything after 74 just becomes bulky and blocky and no longer sexual stimulation for the eyes. Once saw an old bad as fuck barracuda-yellow and CHERRY!! I had an O right there driving down the road.
    Fergus is getting American Muscle: 101 and being taught the beautify in lines and power and steel. And it is NOT ok to rub ones self on said vehicles as it will lead to his ass being beaten by the owner of said car. *grabs is grassy green tail
    Can we not say inuboner, it makes me think unibomber and therefore that Fergus is plotting some terroristic demise with his self made fertilizer…

  5. I think that you have made a mistake and wrote what I was thinking and feeling instead of what you were thinking and feeling.

    Muscle cars? Yes please and thank you. I used to date a guy who was obsessed with Pontiac muscle cars and was restoring 3 of them at once. L.O.V.E.

    • Good Lord I hit the send button by accident.
      I am obsessed with Supernatural. I love that they have a tendency to laugh at themselves. “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole” I miss Bobby and Ellen though.

      My mom and yours should meet. My mother is an emotional mess. We all know it. Except her.

  6. Can’t think what to write, so will just re call my hate for happy family pics and cute moments, give me a pic of a guy about to hang himself, the kid tying the knots and the mum saying “Don’t completely kill yourself dear, my mothers coming round later and that will be a more painful way to go”
    With a cat just giving one of those “Fuck you, I’m fed, watered and now you humans are no longer useful til dinner” looks

    Epic as ever, til the next

    • I love that insurance commercial where the guy is sinking in quicksand and keeps telling the cat to go get help and the cat just sits and stares. THAT is truth in advertising.
      Dogs have masters, cats have staff.
      Oddly, I am okay with that. The apathy at times is mutual and they don’t get pissy about it.

      • Cats…. Manipulative, mercenary, ruthless and selfish
        But they never lie about it and you know just what to expect
        And a point of humour: Someone I know has four cats, one is bullied and lives outside
        Turns out four people, including me have said there’d happily take him in!

      • There are seven strays outside R’s shop and we have to feed them separately or they bitch slap each other in the eye or hook a claw in a ear. The mother cat does it back to them, she taught them well.

        Got some strays here I feed that way too or it turns into snarlapalooza. I spoil my cats more than my kid, but the cats don’t scream at me and at least feign gratitude and loyalty.

        On Mon, Oct 26, 2015 at 3:30 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:


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