tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76446748437764659462024-03-05T09:35:41.081+02:00the guy in the blue silk taffeta dressthe guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-85914000877596450902012-03-13T20:15:00.005+02:002012-08-16T18:22:39.645+03:00If I Were The Female, I'd Be Jane<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >I keep a half dozen books in the toilet, mostly old autobiographies I've picked up real cheap.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >One of the books is by Shelly Winters and I read the part where she meets him at the airport and he's looking "all shriveled up" and she decides he needs ten hours of sleep, since he's nearly starved but for wine he drinks abundantly. So she gives him a little pep talk and nothing but reassuring and encouraging words, so much that he's able to eat eggs and bacon for breakfast and then she "pops a big red sleeping pill" into his mouth and holds to his lips a glass of water. He has no choice but to drink the water instead of choking on the pill. She leads him back to the bed where he's fast asleep in 5 minutes.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >That is the passage that helps me get back to sleep.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >I imagine in my weary brain that I have my own Shelly, who lovingly pops me a sleeping pill seeing that I'm miserable in my poverty and my desperation. Somehow, this helps me sleep most nights and when it doesn't I have other favorite pages of other books.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >I read a biography of Joan Crawford when I get up in the morning. Her self discipline and drive help me face the exciting day ahead of collecting carts and bringing them back into the store.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >When I watch Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, I know I'd rather be Jane, an over aged middle aged woman with the reality problems, she really can get into the idea that she's young again, maybe not again, maybe she's just never been old or even grown up. She get to shop for gorgeous dresses while Joan Crawford or Blanche only gets that one dark, dowdy dress.Then again, Blanche is the victim at that point, we don't know until the very end that Blanche really was the instigator. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >Baby Jane is a drunk and those looks into her liqueur cabinet show she goes through a huge amount. She does look the part with layers of caked make up.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >She plays make believe but doesn't know it isn't real. Best of all she shops for costues and dresses. Oh , I love how she calls to Edwin! </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >When you have money like her (although it's stolen) you can afford to have an Edwin to your very own and get him to play up to all these fantasies.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >I'm on my second half of my pill and my fifth beer and I'll suffer my hangover tonight rather than in the morning which is more accommodating to my job.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family:verdana;" >Better than that I'll have a little nap to delude reality for a short while.</span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-12061737708731560942012-02-29T23:48:00.003+02:002012-03-01T00:13:15.479+02:00atrial fib<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" >My parents planned for me to go to<span style="font-size:180%;"> college.</span><br />Do you remember those pins they'd sell at school? "<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Send a mouse to college</span>".</span><br />We children fell for that, of course. We believed that with 5 cents, we'd be sending a mouse to get a degree. I just looked on the www and sheesh, that goes back a long way. Feeling old.<br />The mice were really being sent to the lab to get tortured, but seeing <span style="font-size:180%;">the mice in caps and gowns</span> made the scheme appealing to us kids who didn't know any better.<br />Well, I wouldn't wear eyeglasses for starters and my <span style="font-size:180%;">stubbornness</span> was matched by the teachers who all put me in <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >the back of the class</span>, where I was more or less<span style="font-size:180%;"> blind.</span><br />I could not see the chalk board and made up answers to questions I imagined were on the board. My parent tried to get me to wear them, but even when I had them in my pocket, I'd still tell the teacher <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >I'd left them home or broke </span>them.<br />Only one out of so many teachers let me sit close to the board so I could<span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" > learn something.</span><br />And I dropped out before<span style="font-size:180%;"> turning 16</span>, so much for The American Dream.<br />My parents did understand. It was them who got me to a psychiatrist who excused my absences and kept me out <span style="font-size:180%;">a full year. </span>So to add it up would be something like a 7th grade education and I've got a job getting grocery carts out of the lot and back into the store.<br />If I could go back in time, I'd wear those glasses and have gone to college, but life usually holds <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">only one chance for us all. </span></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-12835748076086015442012-01-03T19:00:00.005+02:002012-01-03T20:40:56.005+02:00unemployment and idle thoughts<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(1, 91, 255);">I called my ma on the phone for a holiday greeting. She sounded cold.She's angry because I haven't found any work. Finally she said "<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >You better wisen up boy! And stop talking silly." </span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">I've heard that over and over from pa, my ma and even granny. I knew I had <span style="font-size:180%;">exhausted her<span style="font-weight: bold;"> patience</span> </span>and ended the call.</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I have gotten<span style="font-size:180%;"> lazy</span> being unemployed. I miss waking up, showering, brushing my teeth all because I HAD too. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I guess I'm not very<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" > disciplined</span> on my own. Doing anything because I really WANT to is just doing essential, basic tasks and letting anything else pile up because I <span style="font-size:180%;">don't care</span> enough.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I've always wanted a cleaning lady. Some of my friends have and I adore those busy ladies. I've never had a girl be interested in cleaning up for me. One of my boyfriendly duties was <span style="font-weight: bold;">cleaning the litter boxes</span> every night at the home of one of my girlfriends.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I clean my litter boxes, walk the dogs and I need to sleep in a very<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> fresh, well made bed</span></span>. If my bed gets cluttered or the sheets are loose and wrinkled or aren't clean enough, it's hard for to sleep, but lately money is tight and I need to eat more than I need to spend at the laundromat.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I'm living off my savings. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >There is <span style="font-weight: bold;">no money for indulgence</span>. <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">No new dresses</span></span>, no French brie, no Danish blue cheese. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >My rent money is my main concern as long as it's paid, I feel alright. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >The factories in my area were all renovated and converted into apartment buildings. There are so many vacant businesses, it's like Death Valley. I don't think Obama is to blame, though it would help if he were tougher and more determined. It's all this financial emptiness. We really have to<span style="font-weight: bold;"> start from nothing</span>.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >China is the super power of the world and America exports nothing, but imports everything.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >It's been months since I awoke in a<span style="font-size:180%;"> lacy, frilly</span> night gown and strutted to the bathroom <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">stylishly</span></span>. I'm too frustrated by other things to miss it much. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >Being out of work right now is nothing to be ashamed of.There are the lucky ones and then <span style="font-size:180%;">there are all the rest of us</span>.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I'd love to skip out and join OWS full time.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I used the wrong bottle of drops and instead of putting my moisture drops in, I put my contact lens <span style="font-weight: bold;">washing solution</span> in my eyes and my contacts got stuck and were very had to remove. I could see my own <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">clear membrane</span></span> being pulled as I peeled them out. I bought a 15 dollar pair of glasses online and waiting two weeks for the delivery. The girl taking my prescription barely spoke English and I hope she got it right. Good luck to me on my new pair of glasses. </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I hope 2012 is a better year financially, but I know it won't be.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:130%;" >I applied for a dishwashing job at the bar down the street, <span style="font-size:180%;">maybe they'll call..</span>.</span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-46965402634043974852011-10-11T21:46:00.001+03:002011-10-11T23:36:44.146+03:00surprise from granny?<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:145%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Granny's house is so far off the road and so isolated. The place drives me nuts. I go there and stare. There's dust all over. Granny was a great cook and a big reader, but wasn't big on cleaning and I don't blame her for keeping the place <span style="font-weight: bold;">a little messy</span>, hmm it's more than a little messy, but that sounds nicer.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Granny's is like Yale, <span style="font-weight: bold;">huge & drafty</span> with very high ceilings. The last time I lived there, I felt so<span style="font-weight: bold;"> desperate and lonely</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">I've become very used to opening my door and being right on the sidewalk. Opening my door and instantly seeing people walking & talking.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Shortly after granny's death, I had an unflattering memory of her and just as I was thinking it, one of her heavy, <span style="font-weight: bold;">bulky purses</span> fell on my head. I was in one of her closets and believed she or her spirit smacked me on the head.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">My dogs were with me and one morning they pulled clothes hangers from out of the closet and there were strange brown cloths all over the floor.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Wrapped around the wires of the coat hangers were<span style="font-size:180%;"> silk stockings</span>. They looked new and never used. These are old stockings reaching up to the thigh and they'd get attached with the clips on a <span style="font-weight: bold;">garter belt</span>. There were about three pairs on every hanger.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">I know my granny was a hoarder. I don't know what went through her mind as she wrapped these silk stockings around the hangers, and then hung clothes from them, it seems like she had <span style="font-weight: bold;">hidden them </span>or maybe didn't like wire hangers and thought of this as a way of padding them.Things that are hidden are more exciting than obvious things. I sometimes think that the devil wraps things with fancy ribbons. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Temptation</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Whatever her reasons, I'll never know, but while I was tempted to try them on, silk is so soft and wonderful against the skin, I <span style="font-weight: bold;">felt guilty</span> and unwrapped every hanger and put away all the silk stockings in a bag and left them at the Goodwill drop-off.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">It was kind of nice, I'd love to think granny set up a surprise gift for me, but she was a hoarder and probably kept these silk stockings under wraps for an emergency.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">I'm glad the very hot weather is all over with, I'm really loving the cooler weather.<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">This past weekend was horrible. I had the worst hangover of my life.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">Luckily, The Real Housewives of New Jersey was on tv and even in all my pain I could smile watching Teresa "flipping the table".</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">I took 2 Advils waking up and couldn't really remember why I felt so shitty. I was over the toilet puking and the vomit came out both mouth and nose, it was all liquid but suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I was choking on my vomit. My uncle had died that way. I was stricken with </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">panic</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;"> and grabbed my </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">bath towel</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;"> to blow my nose and saved my own life.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">All Saturday, I </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">felt</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;"> as though I were poisoned, shaking,weak and walking like a </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">90 year old</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;"> man.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">I restrained myself from vomiting anymore the entire day (it's hard). I ate and drank nothing.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">That morning I got this awful </span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">ammonia smell</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;"> in my nostrils and I still cannot smell anything. This ammonia smell is subsiding very, very slowly. I was told that some of the vomit got into my larynx and it will take time to get that ammonia-like vapor and my sense of smell back.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: lucida grande;">The only good thing is I have only drank a couple beers since and that is how it's going to be from now on.</span><br /></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-17998666424979582352011-08-06T04:58:00.003+03:002011-08-15T23:39:34.256+03:00having a bad time<span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >The whole month of July brought me so many troubles.
<br />Too depressed to really focus on anything.
<br />The major factor was that I brought Mitzie to a groomer because of tangles in her hair. I wanted her to get a good haircut mainly. She's a tiny Yorkie with very fine hair and I like to keep her hair longer cause that's her at her cutest.
<br />Well, I brought her to a groomer only because I wanted her few tangles removed and the damned bitch did accept her, but upon picking her up said " I reported you to the dog warden because of the matting. "
<br />She threatened to remove my Mitzie from my custody {something I could not live with}
<br />I love my dog. I spoil my dog with food better than I eat myself.
<br />This completely devastated me as I love Mitzie so much.
<br />Anna Grace has a Yorkie and I've read many a post where her separation from her dog was something that caused her extreme emotional heartbreak. I understand her heartbreak, especially after feeling the possibility of my Yorkie separation first hand.
<br />It was an awful July and since, I've brought my Yorkie to another groomer every 2 weeks as to show the importance of her existence in my life.
<br />So , yeah I wallowed in pain and an excess of beer.
<br />I hope August isn't as traumatic as July.
<br />I'm going through my savings because I haven't since found a painting job.
<br />America is truly suffering unemployment. I 've suffered through and experienced it so well myself.
<br />I need my Mitzie. Please join me in the hopes that she will not be removed from my custody and my life.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >
<br /></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-37265226750170059972011-07-24T13:39:00.000+03:002011-08-06T05:40:24.808+03:00I like his kimono<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Remember this song? He's almost too pretty, but I love that kimono.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Rushing to the dance floor every time they played this song.<br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zJv5qLsLYoo" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="525" width="645"></iframe></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-39903473207808255852011-07-15T23:27:00.002+03:002011-07-15T23:46:32.588+03:00black and blues<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcarcLAeGNH3GQJZr-Ix_jLwSUZ4Z3bCgeR7pw6qc2KrElg4CHhyt2feF6g9mcHeoWZ7JGBnOKXxkr808jQ2x5CJdSmL_aAgyFqyTeYh3YH4I5T9wTxcsZLfd45ZnXDtpYx5ZmvTr5MkAk/s1600/7.15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcarcLAeGNH3GQJZr-Ix_jLwSUZ4Z3bCgeR7pw6qc2KrElg4CHhyt2feF6g9mcHeoWZ7JGBnOKXxkr808jQ2x5CJdSmL_aAgyFqyTeYh3YH4I5T9wTxcsZLfd45ZnXDtpYx5ZmvTr5MkAk/s320/7.15.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629683218017456514" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">No sooner than my head touches the pillow and I'm fast asleep, sometimes before I've gotten that far.<br />I awoke on the floor a few days ago and now have horrible black and purple bruises. Three on all sides of one knee on my opposite arm and thigh and ankle.<br />Then I banged into something and tripped at the grocery store and have two toes taped together.</span><br /><iframe height="525" width="645" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tXzPauEORXw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />Things will get better. I spent some time where I wanted to be.<br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/oW04EpPpAdM" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="525" width="645"></iframe>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-47441064117966886712011-07-08T23:56:00.007+03:002011-07-09T00:50:34.650+03:00the bluest of a July day<span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 204); font-weight: bold;font-family:Comic Sans MS;font-size:185%;" >Escapism.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:170%;">Hedonism</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:150%;">I can only take</span> <span style="font-size:170%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">myself seriously</span></span> for a <span style="font-size:130%;">limited period </span>each day.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I get tired of<span style="font-size:180%;"> being "responsible"</span>, of being necessarily serious and<span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> of dignity.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >That's OK for the time I<span style="font-size:180%;"> mask </span>myself <span style="font-size:180%;">for society</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Somethings are <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >best left unseen</span>, for example, me in <span style="font-size:170%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">a dress.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I think if I were gay,I would not stay in the closet.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I'm getting older, not wiser, but <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >definitely older. </span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I have really gorgeous beaded gowns and dresses that are quite formal. Some that I'd wear to parties, to concerts,to clubs.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I've spent the summer painting houses and I make just enough to pay <span style="font-size:160%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">my rent,</span></span> to buy my favorite cheeses, Brie and Danish Blue. I read books from the library.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >When I was young and had much more money, I bought hard-to-obtain books. One was an autographed book by Andy Warhol. I still have my <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >rare book </span>collection, although I have little money these days.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I'm sitting with a few ice cold beers. I've been<span style="font-size:130%;"> drinking</span> in<span style="font-size:160%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> excess</span></span> every night. It soothes and comforts me. I remember a <span style="font-size:160%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">quarrel last night,</span></span> but not the subject. Last night I decided I needed a little bit of disappearance. I wanted no company <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >but silence.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I really get<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" > into moods</span> where silence is my best companion and my<span style="font-size:180%;"> beer</span> and my xanax and elavil.The elavil is really the best because I'm on the highest dosage, but have spares and when I take two, it <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:160%;" >wipes me right out</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I've had a rough time these past few weeks.I strain to maintain a bit of happiness.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I look<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" > into the mirror</span> and <span style="font-size:130%;">smile for a long time.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I smile a lot when I'm depressed. It's senseless, but I believe by smiling it may <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">trigger something</span></span> in my brain and maybe a little joy <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">will register</span></span> in my brain.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I try tricks on my brain.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >It's probably a very weak and small brain and I figure I can <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >cheat it well</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >But it's probably best kept in a <span style="font-size:130%;">sedate state </span>when I'm unhappy.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I've noticed recently in my dealings with others that I'm<span style="font-size:180%;"> always wrong.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >And shortly I'll be <span style="font-weight: bold;">asleep </span>and that's something I <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">look forward to</span></span> so much. It's <span style="font-size:180%;">waking up lately </span>that is the <span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">saddest part of my day</span></span>.</span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-78794044445710012512011-06-23T06:11:00.008+03:002011-07-02T20:05:32.212+03:00Annnnnaaaaa ! Please be in this world!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6Pm_Onm3P1Ftpz1rs_JniZghbZ5SqotuOBZz3ZMioUDm8ohBid1gROS-mNrhMxOZKR4AerJHx7eHKajqzX4J-L1DwRPQ3lsn32hGSmcrPVLsGDkZuMoXaGNuhHGO3yZAFFU4SB3Qa-db/s1600/IMG+Anna.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 398px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6Pm_Onm3P1Ftpz1rs_JniZghbZ5SqotuOBZz3ZMioUDm8ohBid1gROS-mNrhMxOZKR4AerJHx7eHKajqzX4J-L1DwRPQ3lsn32hGSmcrPVLsGDkZuMoXaGNuhHGO3yZAFFU4SB3Qa-db/s400/IMG+Anna.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621249493915143074" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:95%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I never heard her voice or saw her in person. I only knew Anna through her words and photos.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I hope to hear that she really hasn't left this world.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Anna, you are special and everyone loved reading about you.You're unique and beautiful and I hope that it's all untrue.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I feel sick, really.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Please be here.<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:courier new;" >"</span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >Anna Young...<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-size:95%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >*She's alright and I'm glad for that.<br /></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-64115504178615300762011-06-17T18:38:00.000+03:002011-07-15T00:43:47.813+03:00junk piles and cotton panties<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYp33RYN5oT95vwXuHMcqiu9g5IRdd94GuOic9_eI0nUw_KU_nSaKZ12KtJB9NWGdsnNiMmGs47eLKSpo2KWh14ZOaRPS1dpewxUTFeBR6UVjufaZJqaxGKfKis4Y6dlaF7sDQGgVp4ux/s1600/0GTD2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYp33RYN5oT95vwXuHMcqiu9g5IRdd94GuOic9_eI0nUw_KU_nSaKZ12KtJB9NWGdsnNiMmGs47eLKSpo2KWh14ZOaRPS1dpewxUTFeBR6UVjufaZJqaxGKfKis4Y6dlaF7sDQGgVp4ux/s320/0GTD2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624787591163919138" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 245, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:Lucida Console;font-size:105%;" >My car parked in the drive way has even <span style="font-size:130%;">more scratches</span> and dings on it than ever.</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 245, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:Lucida Console;font-size:115%;" ><br />The drive way is used as a <span style="font-size:180%;">junk pile </span>and <span style="font-size:130%;">metal scrap </span>facility.<br />The other tenants get good money, especially for copper and soon will be <span style="font-size:180%;">piled</span> with<span style="font-size:130%;"> broken air conditioners and worse,for me is the tiny shards of broken glass and nails.</span><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LNXHHzcZf7I" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="505" width="645"></iframe><br />This is where I'd rather be,close to water.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 245, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:Lucida Console;font-size:115%;" >It's so hot</span><span style="color: rgb(0, 245, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:Lucida Console;font-size:115%;" >, humid and nasty that I've decided <span style="font-size:130%;">my briefs </span>are too heavy. I'm going to the <span style="font-size:130%;">ladies department </span>and pick up some thin cotton panties.Even the pouch on my briefs is adding <span style="font-size:130%;">more fabric than I</span> need.<br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/zFrk8g70bdE" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="505" width="645">&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;br&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;</iframe><br /></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-83908365037838848502011-06-10T15:22:00.000+03:002011-06-10T16:45:56.424+03:00"You're not my type....but I like you"<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I need closeness and <span style="font-weight: bold;">skin to skin contact</span>. Where am I goin'? I'll <span style="font-weight: bold;">pause</span> before I get there.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I had a date this weekend. </span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >She told me I wasn't her "type"</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >We were nowhere near my disclosing the dressing thing.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" > "So why's that?" I asked.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >"You're kind of <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">scrawny</span></span>, but I like your voice, it's deep."</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >The way she <span style="font-size:180%;">flashed her teeth</span> reminded me of a<span style="font-size:180%;"> rabid dog</span>. She seemed as though she was <span style="font-size:180%;">gritting her teeth</span>, but that's how she smiled. It <span style="font-size:180%;">looked painful.</span></span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Physical attraction matters, initially at least, but I consider personality first.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >My friend and I will never fight over a girl. He's into bones, <span style="font-weight: bold;">malnourished</span> &<span style="font-size:180%;"> anorectic</span>. (what once was called "a carpenter's dream")</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" >When we're looking, <span style="font-weight: bold;">our eyes never follow the same girl</span> and that's perfect.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">Bones poking</span> from underneath is <span style="font-style: italic;">not sexy.</span></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-78162398713342828882011-05-22T19:58:00.004+03:002011-05-22T21:30:12.378+03:00helpless girls & broken dolls<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I have not seen my sister in a long time until the beginning of May.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Initially she appeared alright, sometimes a little <span style="font-weight: bold;">fuzzy</span> with zig-zaging conversations. She'd been zoning out often and<span style="font-weight: bold;"> <span style="font-size:160%;">returning</span></span> to the conversation on a <span style="font-size:160%;">new subject.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >She didn't answer questions directly but said what she wanted to.The <span style="font-size:180%;">question she evaded</span> never really appeared to have <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">registered</span></span> in her, like selective thinking.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Initially, she was very active. More and more, as the month progressed she's <span style="font-size:165%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">become passive </span></span>(far from her natural state)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >She'd been talking about morphine patches, Duragesic and Norco and I knew that she'd come across some people she can obtain them from.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Driving around with her as teenagers was tough. En route she'd have the window rolled down waving & shouting to her drug providing friends. Not wanting her on so much drugs and I'd speed by these "friends" <span style="font-weight: bold;">foolishly </span>thinking I could take her away from drugs.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I introduced her to a different circle of people, but <span style="font-size:160%;">she had no interest</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">Years have gone by.</span> So many, since she'd begun resorting to drugs on a daily basis in high school.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Spending days going into nights convincing her to detox and spending hours phoning rehabs begging for a spare bed. Once after an exhausting day/night of phoning, I warned the nurse that she may very well die and <span style="font-size:180%;">very soon</span>, if she could not locate a spare bed. Fortunately the nurse was moved and arranged to accept her in the facility. N was pretty much unconscious by this time and never protested the long ride to the hospital.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I was as strong willed as she was.<br />The guy she'd lived with for many years was shot dead in the ghetto section while looking to score for her.<br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >We are both adults now and N is obviously using chemicals heavily.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >She had a "<span style="font-size:150%;">stomach ache" (yeah, right!)</span> yesterday morning when she visited me so she spent literally the <span style="font-weight: bold;">entire day</span> sleeping in her bf's truck.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >When he got bored after a<span style="font-size:150%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> few hours of her sleep</span></span>, he disappeared and <span style="font-weight: bold;">turned up</span> that evening drunk. Since neither was capable of driving, they spent the night sleeping in the vehicle. <span style="font-size:180%;">So much for the "visit".</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >She DOES what she wants. I no longer try stopping her. My only hope is that she uses some<span style="font-weight: bold;"> caution</span> and <span style="font-size:180%;">doesn't get hurt or worse</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Her voice is a very weak, <span style="font-size:165%;">slow attempt at staying awa</span>ke during conversation. Sometimes she's asleep before she has finished a sentence, most often <span style="font-weight: bold;">it's just a couple words</span> before she's back to sleep.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >For someone involved , but not involved heavily into drugs, we feel mostly helpless. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >This isn't a child, though it can seem that way.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >N. once upon a time was a very pretty, bright and popular girl. I'd never dreamed then that she'd need drugs at all.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I was more <span style="font-weight: bold;">the misfit, the weaker </span> and obviously weird one. If either of us was to make drugs a way of life, I'd have thought back then, it would be me. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" > I don't feel like the winner, I feel like I'm <span style="font-weight: bold;">losing my</span> sister and that's a feeling I've suffered for so many years.</span><br /><span style="font-size:165%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Accepting defeat has been a long term process.</span></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-82417725670832132512011-05-14T01:32:00.004+03:002011-05-30T00:43:46.293+03:00Rest in peace, Mike<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">The owner of Toad's Place died last week.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">I have many memories of Mike serving behind the bar too, he mixed and placed a drink in seconds.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">NEW HAVEN, Conn. (WTNH) - The founder of Toad's Place located in New Haven passed away.</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-size:130%;" >Founder, Mike Spoerndle along with his friend and business partner Brian Phelps worked together at Toad's Place since it's opening in the 1970's.</span> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;">"The first time I ever saw him, he was at the door, collecting money, he had one guy in a headlock, and he's collecting money in the other arm, he's got one foot up on the door, directing traffic. That's how I met the guy, you know," says Phelps.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Many well known bands played some of their first live shows on the Toad's Place stage.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Toad's Place on York Street is a magnet for some of the biggest names in rock, country and pop. Bob Dylan, James Taylor and Bon Jovi all jammed there. The Rolling Stones made a surprise visit in 1989.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;">"He and I were always elated when we'd have a monster act here, that was always. First one we had here is Springsteen," says Phelps.</span></p> <p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Spoerndle's battle with drugs forced Phelps to finally buy full control of the company in 1995. But Spoerndle's legacy is much like the music he adored will always have a place at Toad's Place.</span></p> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">"He searched out new musical talent. He played it when others didn't even know about it. He brought it into the club for the first time ever," says Phelps.</span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-59189281150667866322011-05-01T23:19:00.001+03:002011-05-02T01:26:48.342+03:00doctors with dirty hands<span style="color: rgb(77, 77, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Some time ago, I brought a female friend (not my gf) to <span style="font-size:130%;">Yale New Haven Hospital</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >She had been calling me three or four times a day <span style="font-size:130%;">believing she was pregnant </span>as she hadn't gotten her ladies troubles for some <span style="font-size:130%;">months</span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >The guy who may have impregnated her was already living with his girlfriend and their infant son and wanted </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">nothing more to do with her.</span></span><span style="font-size:180%;"><br /></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Feeling pregnant and alone, she confided her worries to me. At the time she had no idea of what to do, though I could tell she was not in a situation that could welcome a child. Then she'd been buying </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" >pregnancy tests</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > left & right all turning out negative.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >She had no physician and her problem changed to a condition that led her to bleed excessively and within a couple weeks, she worried her condition was very serious. Finally she asked me to bring her to the ER because she bled very <span style="font-size:130%;">severely and incessantly</span> day & night, even with methergine(?) tablets a friend had given her.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >We went into the ER. I waited while she was led behind the main doors and shortly she'd come out to me and told me that the docs said they were <span style="font-size:130%;">unable </span>to treat her problem and directed her to the ob-gyn department where she could be examined.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >So, we walked to that door and there were dozens of women in the waiting room. But she did talk to the front staff and explained that she was <span style="font-size:130%;">hemorrhaging</span>, literally hemorrhaging to the point that ladies hygiene pads were no use. They asked for her </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">insurance info</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > and she said she had none and they<span style="font-size:180%;"> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;" >turned her away</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > in a quiet, business like tone.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >If she were meek as mice, she'd have left quietly as she was asked, but she wasn't. She raised her voice to a <span style="font-size:180%;">screech and screamed </span>that they were sending her out "to bleed to death on the streets".</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I remember this incident as though it were yesterday because I was so stunned that anyone in this shape could </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">actually be refused</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" > any type of treatment or even some advise. I also remember because her screaming those words <span style="font-size:180%;">just pierced</span> through my soul.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I led her out the corridor, all the while she</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;"> looked back & continued screaming </span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >at them.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">It seemed to her that she had one right only, which is the right to die.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Outside her <span style="font-size:130%;">major hysteria</span> had her crying & screaming to pedestrians and passing cars. "They threw me out, </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">they left me to die in the street." </span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I'll </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">never forget her words</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Suddenly the <span style="font-size:130%;">ob-gyn center director appeared</span> rushing toward us on the street.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Realizing a potential </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><span style="font-size:180%;">law suit</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >, he talked softly to her, persuading her to come back to ob-gyn, where she was now taken into the examining room ahead of the other women in the waiting room.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I took a seat, hoping they could help her. Shortly after, she had come out with a slip. She was told to return to the ER and show the slip, indicating the <span style="font-size:180%;">urgency</span> of her problem and need for <span style="font-size:130%;">immediate care</span>. Again I sat in the waiting room, but for a very long time. I thought about how had she been quiet & compliant , she may well have been dismissed "bleeding on the street".</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >She emerged looking much calmer and told me about all the diagnostics they'd done & of her follow-upt with their ob-gyn unit later that week, when they could come to some diagnosis and treatment.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-family: verdana; font-weight: bold;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuk0tF0ffzwTS0vp63pV9EiaXsN6R8BqYiXahnw4ziHDQ0gZZoLVSOwocJOKRbKDl7tNTfp0JtUXrn7z_5f6F7CNtJDo8-_dJ-Kr2SX9VEb84RmAKmTkHikL_QlO9y_RyokHaPL-6JGxQG/s1600/000iMAGE.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 186px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuk0tF0ffzwTS0vp63pV9EiaXsN6R8BqYiXahnw4ziHDQ0gZZoLVSOwocJOKRbKDl7tNTfp0JtUXrn7z_5f6F7CNtJDo8-_dJ-Kr2SX9VEb84RmAKmTkHikL_QlO9y_RyokHaPL-6JGxQG/s320/000iMAGE.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567720708786919714" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >We are still good friends. She mentioned the story on the phone the other day and permitted me to share it, as it is really a <span style="font-size:180%;">disgrace & a crime </span>that patients actually do get turned away, so much for the Hippocratic Oath & the professionals practicing it<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:145%;" > <span style="font-size:195%;"></span> ?</span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-21561980993234904562011-04-13T06:09:00.004+03:002011-05-02T21:44:31.506+03:00you couldn't mess around with granny<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid1215.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fcc508%2Fguyintaffdress%2FVID00123-1.mp4" height="361" width="600"></embed><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" ><span>Above, Penny dances with Granny's carnival teddy bear. Granny didn't think the bear needed dancing and cut it short.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Poor Penny wanting to take the bear out for some fresh air and granny didn't think her bear needed it.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Granny blew a major fuse over Penny's activities with the bear and she received royal hell for it.</span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-65546359885153534412011-03-30T21:44:00.004+03:002011-03-30T22:40:07.488+03:00feeling the pains of my labor<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I want to be wide awake, usually, in the summer. I get happiness at the beach, for some reason, I can just walk miles for hours, almost endlessly, it seems.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Someone told me it's the <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">iodine in the salty air</span></span> that gives people a lift.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >It's such a pain going to out of town doctors. I hate sitting in the chair <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">explaining </span><span style="font-size:100%;">& </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">convincing </span></span>docs that<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> "yes ! <span style="font-size:180%;">I need them"</span></span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >HIPPA law, this "confidentiality law" guards personal medical records from being disclosed. Under this law, the patient must <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">sign a consent form</span></span> if he permits his <span style="font-size:130%;">records released</span> to another <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">treating physician</span></span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Yet, if one has <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">a history</span></span> of an overdose, even <span style="font-size:130%;">an accidental one</span>, this information is readily <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">obtainable without the patient's consent</span></span>. No signature needed from the patient. For this reason, I have to travel way out and see doctors. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I feel as though I am doing something<span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-size:180%;">criminal & deceptive</span></span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I understand a doc's not wanting responsibility if a patient is suspect ,but everyone knows you can <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">take anything</span></span> if you really want to <span style="font-size:130%;">leave the planet</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">Circumstances CAN change. </span>Attitudes change,outlook & feelings change. One's life can change from agonizing to fulfilling.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >When I was given a script of Xanax 6 mg per day, one <span style="font-size:180%;">doc reprimanded</span> me at my next visit for <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >"taking advantage" of her trust</span>, because I didn't mention the accidental od. </span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Shouldn't I have been <span style="font-size:130%;">the one feeling mistrust ?</span> <span style="font-size:180%;">(my records released without my knowledge)</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >I'm very tired of the ordeal</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">.</span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-7672756304414581692011-03-29T21:42:00.008+03:002011-03-29T23:10:23.285+03:00gone to the birds<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I was asking around for an American yellow parrotlet(the European yellow are supposedly less vivid)I got a blue one instead, they seem to sell so fast.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >This one is from New Jersey.Melvin is very receptive, eats from my hand. He loves broccoli, but isn't fond of sweet fruits, like Percy.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >I'd love to pair one of these guys with a bright yellow female, but they're territorial and temperamental. If there is another male in view of a mating couple, the male may kill his mate with jealousy,Ouch!<br />Also fledglings must be removed from the father because he may kill male offspring.These birds don't make the best daddies.</span><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid1215.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fcc508%2Fguyintaffdress%2FVID00118-1.mp4" height="361" width="600"></embed><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Below is granny holding up a sketch she drew of<span style="font-size:130%;"> her beagle</span>.(it doesn't look like a dog)You <span style="font-size:130%;">couldn't tell granny </span>that.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRiYNH70tPdPabLn_uL0njTV0uDvOaEWGezkMsz9MCTdrMhBCl-WcNx_9b8ehbql7St9ogZFoYWne8W_sfwCcgRagVTCjFqZwi1OoJrnEQqVtkDm1VrMCl2kT3kWWuhx3xVZkbwSMxDfp/s1600/000iMAGE.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJRiYNH70tPdPabLn_uL0njTV0uDvOaEWGezkMsz9MCTdrMhBCl-WcNx_9b8ehbql7St9ogZFoYWne8W_sfwCcgRagVTCjFqZwi1OoJrnEQqVtkDm1VrMCl2kT3kWWuhx3xVZkbwSMxDfp/s320/000iMAGE.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589582794668700898" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >In the sketch, the dog appears to have <span style="font-size:130%;">5 legs</span>, but she had explained that one wasn't actually a leg, but a sign of his gender....</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >Oh granny, I still <span style="font-size:130%;">get a kick out of you<span style="font-size:180%;">..</span>.</span>.. </span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-51570355905206518172011-03-17T22:02:00.002+02:002011-03-17T23:24:25.503+02:00favorite dresses<embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid1215.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fcc508%2Fguyintaffdress%2FVID00104.mp4" height="361" width="600"></embed><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >The gown above is a pink silk chiffon,there's a sheath falling from the neckline and it's double skirted. It is one of my favorites. I like the length cause I don't have "good legs"</span><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid1215.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fcc508%2Fguyintaffdress%2FVID00125.mp4" height="361" width="600"></embed><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid1215.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fcc508%2Fguyintaffdress%2FVID00106.mp4" height="361" width="600"></embed><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >This dress is embellished with fake diamonds and gold at the neckline. It's got multi layers of stiff crinoline which gives it a flattering shape, but not comfort. It's getting old and I no longer wear it.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >I like just-below -the knee to ankle length dresses and prefer a stack heel to high heels & stilettos.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" >These images are very poor. Someday I'll have to photograph my favorites.</span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-26172762295059624842011-02-22T22:16:00.002+02:002011-02-22T22:18:38.476+02:00out of order<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">I miss my pc. It got infected a few days ago. I'll see what the repair man says. Either he can fix it or I have to replace it. </span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-77261400840469882502011-02-19T04:12:00.006+02:002011-02-22T22:16:09.300+02:00Felt like a cornered animal<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I have <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">a few</span></span> <span style="font-size:180%;">"friends"</span>?</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >That's <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">the wrong word</span></span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I have some people who invite me over</span>.<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I was <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >suspicious</span> of these people initially when while being asked over, would remind me<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> "not to forget wearing" my "favorite dress".</span></span> It's this stipulation that had me <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">skeptical.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Being a Friday night, they entertain with dinner & drinks in their home.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >They are <span style="font-weight: bold;">rich </span>engineers in aerospace. I'm a <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">high school drop out</span></span>. Anyway, I usually have no problems getting along with people.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >They paired me with a bleached blond "date" and took us out. I've always thought <span style="font-weight: bold;">the one who invites picks up the bill</span>, but on top of being miserable for hours, <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I got stuck with paying</span></span> my half and the blonds too.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >They got their usual laughs out of me, that <span style="font-weight: bold;">doesn't hurt </span>much. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I listened to their high class bs, one got a plaque, one blew 500 dollars at the casino,blah,blah,etc.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >While listening, <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">I recalled one night last summer.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >got plastered</span> at their house, <span style="font-weight: bold;">no they didn't force it down my throat.</span> Then thunder & lightening could be heard. I told them <span style="font-weight: bold;">I felt unsure of my drive home</span>,<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> being drunk & with the storm.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >They have <span style="font-weight: bold;">2 spare bedrooms</span> & routinely fit 4 couples overnight on couches and so forth. I kinda thought it was logical to keep me overnight, but when I mentioned this, <span style="font-size:180%;">they promptly showed me the door </span>and mentioned their cleaning lady arrives early on Sundays.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Shit"</span></span>, I thought...<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">are they really friends ?</span></span>, sending me off <span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">blind drunk during a storm.</span></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ></span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Friends, real ones are few.Phonies are a penny for a baker's dozen.</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Won't be seeing them anymore.</span></span></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-84104413844016818132011-02-15T05:13:00.004+02:002011-02-15T05:55:23.449+02:00my drunken Valentine friend<span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >My phone rang every half hour & even less throughout the weekend from one person.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >My friend living in New Jersey is <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">in trouble</span></span>......again.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >We've been friends since I was 19, I <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">grew up</span></span>, (to some extent) and he did not.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >In our late teens, he was incredibly aggressive, e.g.<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" > bar room brawls</span>, DWIs, <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">pissing in front</span></span> of a court house, etc.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >He was once a real <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">looker & ladies' man</span></span>. Before he got <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">knifed in the face </span></span>& punched out so much, his <span style="font-weight: bold;">facial</span> features are now crooked.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >He had to lie & claim to be suicidal to get detox treatment cause he had no insurance.<br />He was <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">in and out of rehabs. </span></span></span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >He's the typical Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Friendly, <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">helpful </span></span>and very considerate sober & <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >raging</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" > explosively </span>when drunk.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >He moved,<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" > married</span> and had <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">three children </span></span>over the course of years, we still kept in touch, but distance kept us from being best buddies anymore.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >He is facing <span style="font-size:130%;">jail time</span> and <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">divorce,</span></span> drinking heavily.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >My efforts <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >failed </span>from the beginning to help him at all. I still try.</span> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >He needs mental assessment & treatment loads more than jail. I mean this a guy 0f 40 with the<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> mind of an adolescent.</span></span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >That was my weekend, answering constant calls to a drunken, senseless, raging friend and that is the <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">purpose of friendship</span></span>, right? <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >to be there</span>, no matter what.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgytjpGKvoNoEQJ7Ml9eHaAR2H09MxnzxlgFGKksV1Xd_Ve1hFLO-Ze0zlx-9NGi479OoWzQvQXZ4rKBotOiV2oI-WSW9RKaoxsIEPhSnSm8SrVGzb8PYRSjGRqPMXqKIERIdvczCgiSvSr/s1600/000iMAGE-32.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgytjpGKvoNoEQJ7Ml9eHaAR2H09MxnzxlgFGKksV1Xd_Ve1hFLO-Ze0zlx-9NGi479OoWzQvQXZ4rKBotOiV2oI-WSW9RKaoxsIEPhSnSm8SrVGzb8PYRSjGRqPMXqKIERIdvczCgiSvSr/s320/000iMAGE-32.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573759159365139378" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">Above,he is seated beside my granny.</span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-54690091602355552432011-02-01T22:36:00.006+02:002011-02-01T22:49:58.330+02:00Anna<div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;color:cyan;">Last night I watched a film called Boating with Jack.</div><div face="Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif" color="cyan" style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">I liked it. It <span style="font-size:130%;">isn't glamorous</span>. I like raw & natural where things aren't polished up to a <span style="font-size:130%;">blinding shine</span>.I like <span style="font-size:large;">the <span style="font-size:180%;">everyday </span></span><span style="font-size:180%;">appeal</span> in things. REAL.</div><div style="font-weight: bold; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);">No matter how I strive, I could never be as <span style="font-size:180%;"><u>honest & exposed as Anna</u>.</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;color:cyan;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"This is me without make-up." </span> I accept <span style="font-size:large;">uncensored </span>comments. I am here to take <span style="font-size:x-large;">a bashing.</span> </div><div style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;">She writes straight from her mind to the post and "leaves". I think of it as leaving because there'll be a trail of comments, many<span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-size:130%;">anonymous</span>. She doesn't bother addressing them. Some <span style="font-size:large;">don't deserve i</span>t anyway. I like her <span style="font-size:180%;">"</span><span style="font-size:130%;">I don't give a sh*t</span><span style="font-size:180%;">"</span> type of <span style="font-size:large;">attitude</span>.</div><div style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;">She's free & relaxed. She mentioned something about being <span style="font-size:130%;">"in" to herself</span>, maybe I don't remember her exact wording..something about being <span style="font-size:130%;">narcissistic</span>. </div><div style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;">I think she has <span style="font-size:130%;">good reason</span> to feel this way. <span style="font-size:130%;">It's justified </span>because <span style="font-size:180%;">she's herself </span>& unique. </div><div face="arial" style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;">I would not be receptive to this type of commenting. </div><div style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;">So the comments seem like they <span style="font-size:130%;">came from hell </span>and there they sit, <span style="font-size:180%;">unattended & abandoned</span>, like ashes. </div><div style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;">We anticipate her eagerly, never predictable. Love it!</div>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-29087820504163167032011-01-26T20:12:00.012+02:002011-01-26T23:43:57.979+02:00Broken Windows<span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >After my 2nd discharge from the hospital(I was re-admitted for being unable to sleep)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >I had complained of insomnia during admission to the nurses, who failed to inform the docs.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >So the 2nd admission, I got <span style="font-size:130%;">another MRI</span> of the brain(doc noted it to be "acutely normal")I got<span style="font-size:130%;"> another EEG</span>, the electrodes are "glued" to the scalp with some gooey white stuff.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >I suspect these tests weren't that necessary, my only complaint, after all was insomnia.I was kept overnight and since I had a record of over doing it, denied me tranquilizers in favor of<span style="font-size:130%;"> Seroquel</span>.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >After discharge, I began thinking my neighborhood was getting much worse.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">Twice</span> in a week, my<span style="font-size:180%;"> windows</span> were <span style="font-size:180%;">getting smashed</span>. The first time, it was a window at the top of my long stairway. Not just the regular window, but also the<span style="font-size:130%;"> storm window was smashed.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >The next morning I was <span style="font-size:180%;">struck with alarm</span> noticing the damage.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >I called the landlord and since it was summer, he said it would be fixed before the week was over.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:arial;" >I wondered who & why anyone would be smashing my window. Then a<span style="font-size:130%;"> few days later another window was broken</span><span style="font-size:180%;">,</span> again close to my staircase. Another call to the landlord..so the guy who's to fix it, comes inside, I show him the windows and he <span style="font-size:180%;">tells me I'm the one breaking them!</span> All the broken glass was outside, none inside on the floor.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Now how is that possible? My ex came to stay with me and she verified that indeed, <span style="font-size:130%;">I was the culprit.</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >I was taking Seroquel nightly, as prescribed. It knocked me out so completely, <span style="font-size:180%;">I "barely" made my way</span> to bed.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-family: times new roman;font-family:courier new;" >Climbing stairs after dinner every night was a desperate subconscious effort to get into bed, one that I had no recollection of upon awakening.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >I was not warned of the drug being so<span style="font-size:130%;"> incapacitating</span>, or of the diabetes it caused me.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >Within a year after stopping it on my own, my blood sugar came down to normal.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255); font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >I got back on my Xanax and have <span style="font-size:130%;">never slumbered against walls & windows since.</span></span><br /><a style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgdeltvOqgcvn-jKVCIKPzneEQQ08UoKVmKCZjpsgJrLT_t_-yLpaJMm1ksAaTORNgRVBIS-A_8-vkNJYUTgR9zIIHushmVlQkEtc90EOlvscLhFZawg8fYVyTBTgP-zEb3snr-rDuWNc/s1600/0188.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 172px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgdeltvOqgcvn-jKVCIKPzneEQQ08UoKVmKCZjpsgJrLT_t_-yLpaJMm1ksAaTORNgRVBIS-A_8-vkNJYUTgR9zIIHushmVlQkEtc90EOlvscLhFZawg8fYVyTBTgP-zEb3snr-rDuWNc/s200/0188.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566589778312699762" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApBM2y_7TeCo1XomJxpyzpO_thZWwKJnutelBPXVA6LmtQTxQCpB3nD6ouv0pHVhc8tuoxCCuwdzLGHFWqo8SpSsRTRUaxmmHVsLPelYoMPEhr2qKDyFDhRMa_U3zaYfMFpey5sN2hVbj/s1600/0188.jpg"></a>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-35485654130852973192011-01-20T20:40:00.010+02:002011-01-20T23:01:34.546+02:00calls from granny<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >If anyone<span style="font-size:130%;"> reads my junk</span> much, here's a warning.....You will begin to loathe it. Much of <span style="font-size:130%;">my thoughts</span> are centered around dresses & the rest, my late granny.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >I think of her so much, cause it <span style="font-size:180%;">makes me happy. I really smile</span> when she enters my thoughts.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >In her declining years, <span style="font-size:130%;">granny's phone calls changed</span>. Her calls were up till then, short and direct, one "how are ya doing?", followed by short facts.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Later, I'd answer the phone late at night, knowing it was granny, as it became routine.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >"I don't know...I'm worried about the water bill."</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><br />"Really, granny?"</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >"I think one of my tenants is spiteful, he must be flushing the toilet all day."</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255); font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >"Hmm."</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><br />"He's no good. That son of a b*tch. "</span> </span><a style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGkG8T0L_v8bwoSLfD0U5cNlM-uYbHpIU_mEPTAxpaVE9iLF31yBysxXZh70ohVCcCU7esfmmi_ROVNCyeNRSC70OgqQBOLy83AnJAMm0VgJS1nHOm4bVGGqH8fT3QXfgv1xR6gM8hog7/s1600/000iMAGE-1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 389px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGkG8T0L_v8bwoSLfD0U5cNlM-uYbHpIU_mEPTAxpaVE9iLF31yBysxXZh70ohVCcCU7esfmmi_ROVNCyeNRSC70OgqQBOLy83AnJAMm0VgJS1nHOm4bVGGqH8fT3QXfgv1xR6gM8hog7/s400/000iMAGE-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564357633463300578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >"Let me change my shoes. I wanna be comfortable."</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><br />"Okay."<br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;font-size:180%;" >Pause.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >"The hairdresser ruined my hair!", she's jealous of me.",</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><br />"Can you hold on? I wanna brush my teeth before I get too tired."</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >"Sure."</span></span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >She'd <span style="font-size:180%;">bring her tooth brush to the phone</span> and I'd <span style="font-size:130%;">hear her brushin</span>g & a few minutes later <span style="font-size:130%;">she'd put the phone down and go rinse.</span></span> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">"I'm back!"</span></span></span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ><br />The calls lasted an hour or more, interrupted by various pauses while granny had me <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">"</span>hold the wire<span style="font-size:180%;">"</span> </span>as she did this and that.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Whatever granny wanted to do was <span style="font-size:130%;">okay by me</span>, cause she put up with my sh*t.<br />I really wish she'd call once more, <span style="font-size:130%;">announcing <span style="font-size:180%;">"</span>I'm back.<span style="font-size:180%;">"</span></span> but <span style="font-size:180%;">that's what dreaming is for.</span><br /></span>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7644674843776465946.post-8176391974285198562011-01-07T22:57:00.000+02:002011-01-13T19:58:14.899+02:00like Michael Caine<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Remember the movie "Alfie" with Michael Caine?</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >He gets the girls, a good variety of girls too. I liked Mary Asher, who played the hitchhiker. I loved Shelly Winters in the film too, so buxom & with very relaxed morals.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Well, the end is kind of sad, he spots his infant and former girlfriend with her husband coming out of church after the child's christening. He returns to Shelly, but she has replaced him with a younger guy.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" ></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:arial;" >Anyway... I thought this guy was pretty <span style="font-size:130%;">interesting</span> in the clip below.He was <span style="font-size:180%;">wearing such a unique outfit</span>, I had to film him.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"><span style="font-family:arial;">It features </span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:180%;" >kimono <span style="font-size:100%;">like</span> <span style="font-size:100%;">sleeves</span></span><span style="font-family:arial;">, a </span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >loud print</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> skirt, <span style="font-size:130%;">satin sash</span> and </span><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >a tie.</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> His <span style="font-size:130%;">headdress </span>is what stands out most, but it's not an outfit I would wear myself. I have a </span><span style="font-size:180%;">tendency not to </span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:180%;">mix accessories.</span> I think I dress very plain at least compared to this guy whose look I find interesting,funky and <span style="font-size:130%;">tacky. </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 204, 255);font-family:verdana;" >All types of people make a world complete.</span><br /><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allownetworking="all" wmode="transparent" src="http://static.photobucket.com/player.swf" flashvars="file=http%3A%2F%2Fvid1215.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fcc508%2Fguyintaffdress%2FVID00099.mp4" width="600" height="361"></embed>the guy in the silk taffeta dresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16393888432347341365noreply@blogger.com3