Oil Change

I begun this entry quite different when from Mr. Morgan's room comes a commerial "Remember me cancer? Remember how much you made my family cry and worry? Remember how much pain I was in?" As my brow came down and my jaw slowly fell open, I thought WHAT THE FUCK! Thank you cable tv. I appreciate your clever timing. I will remember THAT.

"So, are you going to take me to the doctor tomorrow?"
"The.... girly one?"
"Dur, yeah."
"I will look stupid sitting there."
"No you won't lots of men go, but I will admit they all nod at eachother with a specific look of painful wanting for a sports game."
"I don't know. Probably."
"You can just drop me off and come back. It's not like I invited you into the room to watch the fun go down."
"Well....."
"No wells. Half the reason men are in that room is because they've done something to a woman in that office. We refuse to forever take sole brunt of your greedy pleasuristic inability to contain primal needs! You wanna keep using this? Take it to the mechanic! The appointment is at 1:15"

/end scene.

Again, will let you all know.

-DM

Enough already

I am trying to post. Really I am. I just have nothing to say but to regurgitate the same bullshit I have been. Malady update - I see my gyno tomorrow midafternoon. Nothing fills me with more joy than to call that officce and declare myself desparate for a hand up my vagina to palpate my organs. /sigh.

Mr. Morgan is not a very happy person today. Or yesterday. He is a Mope Monster. He was mad earlier and went on quite the tirade that I "STOLE" one of his ciggarettes. Hush Prada, this is the perk of getting to read my blog... you keep shit to yourself and don't start a marrital war so grand that it would make the earth implode, he does not smoke even remotely the amount I do, sorta a social smoker.

I told him jesus, it was just a smoke but he went on a Defcon 2 meltdown as if we were stranded on an island and I'd stolen the last banana.

I know he is annoyed that I have this pain. I conveyed that it was an inconvenience to myself as well, and I'd happily trade off. I do not really want to die anytime soon, and having a hospital visit to remove something is equally desireable.

Anway, today's present was Jax n' Ball. I have never under stood the rules to the game. Do you bounce it and try to collect all the pokey things? I remember seeing kids with this ghetto game a few times, but never understood the enthusiasm over it. It's possible because I have no hand/eye coordination and resented it, curled a lip and walked off in a sulk.

I tended to be pretty busy on my cabbage patch kid Big Wheel as those games went on. I never learned to ride a bike. Laugh all you want. It just never happened because of that cast I wore, but boy could you hear me coming on that big wheel! Ah... good times. Will let you know where to send the flowers tomorrow.

-DM

Ovaries Unite!

So... at what point do I get serious and know for certain my inards are not fucking around? The pain persists, but it's not keeping me from activities or bitching at strangers because they feel just FINE! Is a noisy girly pain something to address? How fast? My female anatomy has never fired up before so I have no clue what this mutany is all about or what peace offerings to present. I tried to mute it with motrin, it laughed. I contorted into streching positions, then the dogs who were watching laughed. I give up. Any nice personal relating would be nice and comforting.

Todays gift, well I cannot post it yet. It says to wait 72 hours for full glory. Half of our lives is spent waiting, I swear it. I will say after a two hour gestation period, it's slimey.

-DM

TAKE NOTE

I've thrown quite a few posts up since everyone left for the silly holiday, I know many read from the office, don't miss a single entry, it's worse than missing your fav soap opera. So heads up and enjoy.

-DM

Bubbly Uncertainess

Today's present is a bit baffling. In a minute for that.

I haven't felt a whole lot better physically, although I inadvertantly passed gas on a serious enough level that I heard my chair say "Ow... DAMN!" I read appendix troubled people are not able to do this as happilly as I did. But what the pain is remains undertermined, unwanted and very annoying to anyone who happens by me. Ever seen a person take one look at you and run? That's when you know you have hypochondriac-ed them into aviodance. I just hope that if it's gas, that I fart my way into calmness, not caring who I might offend. It's also entirely possible I have an ovary that is tired of not being used and wants to get a better job. Whatever it is, it's angry.

Back to the present. Candy Bubbles. The idea I guess by reading the bottle, which was all too happy to say it's made of shit I eat everyday, is to blow bubbles and eat them. Several things instantly occured to me about this gift. First one being they presume to know what I eat. That's a major assupmtion. Secondly, I have eaten bubbles as a kid and it takes likes soap. There is no stretch of the imagination that will make me eat anything in that container. I wonder if my mother put the gift giver up to this and said to swap it for soap to punish me for my potty mouth.

I have eaten a good... deal... of soap in my life. At one point I actually craved bar soap. liquid soap drills into your tongue and creates a level of salivation I cannot ever really express without curling into a ball and dry heaving. So! I shall not be eating bubbles. I may take it about and see who will though. I'll test it on the dogs first. They'll eat damn near anything and are trusting enough to be the perfect specimens to experiments this crap on.

Sorry you all go back to work tomorrow.

-DM

Octopi!

Ok fine. I admit it. I could not stop myself from the Present Box. I knew where it was but it takes climbing a good tall chair to reach it and what other reason, if caught, would I have to be lurking in his room with a chair and a guilty expression.

If you subcribe to my theory of time, well I am perfectly in reasonable range to be opening one. Additionally, one was for New Year's, and I don't celebrate that so waiting would be a waste. In conclusion, I am therefore allowed two today.

Rules are so wasted on me. I didn't sign a contract about these presents and frankly, I am pretty certain the sender knew I was not going to be able to adhere to them. I am physically unable to stop myself if I know there are presents in the house.

I am still down with a cold, but rented up some good (I hope) films to pass the time. I have the new Omen, but never saw the old one, and one part of some Stephen King short story books made into a movie. Also rented Monster House. It was slim pickings today, but those should get me by and distract me from being convinced my appendix is slowly trying to betray me and explode, oozing deadly goop into my abdomen.

So.... what IS this thing?

I dont really know. If you look at the package, it shows a couple of kids wearing the rubbery beast on their heads. The text calls it a "Hot Spikes SUPER MONDO Hydro Flex Inside out Stretch Ball." So obviously, the people who named it didn't even know what the fuck it was and last minute gave it a calling. I tried the hat angle.

I did try to look enthusiastic, but the thing is like a god damned vice hoping to squeeze out your brains, steal it and begin a tentacle nation. I'll find a use for it. Happy ... damn vacation will fuck you up, Saturday? Give fond wishes that my appendix is quite happy where it is.

-DM

Flappy Favors

I am a spoilted girl today! We were out walking the dogs as I was bitching my hats had not arrived when the mailman pulled in front of my house with a big ass box. My lips pursed instantly as my mind went into a "PRESENTS!!!!!!" spiral and I stopped walking for a moment as Simon choked himself, unaware of the pause. I then ran to the door all but kicking and biting Mr. Morgan for the first rights to touch said package, hip shoving and hand slapping like a couple of ill behaved children.

For me. Me me me me.

Of course I got into it right off. And rules. Fucking rules. I am not prone to rule following, it's for the lemmings. A present a day for a month. I frowned. I am not Jewish.

Mr. Morgan, seeing THIS look in my eye upon opening, STOLE my box and hid it from me.
Flat stole it, but not before I was able to snag one box and sprint off with cheetah speed - meaning your ass is actually running ahead of the rest of you - as I screamed "MINE!" waving it above my head in triumph as I trotted away.

I must say it's a very cool gift, as well as idea. For me to stay out of packages for a month.... wow, clever torture. I rattled a good deal of them before they were confiscated and there are some interesting sounds coming out of some of those boxes. As it was taken from my hands don't think I didn't have to be dragged down the hallway, attached to one side of the box, growling and pleading my case.

The gift I made off with was a triplet of those soak and play washclothes. They arrive like vaccum sucked pellets and turn into cool stuff. Not only are they a long running favorite of mine, Mr. Morgan likes to watch too. We take turns poking it into it's washcloth adulthood then admire it.

I'll post each day what I open. I'm not supposed to start until December first, but what the fuck, is it an advent calendar? Lol, I will behave, as Mr. Morgan said, a lot of work and thought went into that. I suppose my greed can take a back seat there. It made my day. Thank you.

-DM

Thanksgiving Obligations

I don't know what I am supposed to be thankful for today. I am not crabby, but I won't say I'm in a great mood either. I have a cold, which is enjoying it's snotty havoc to kick off my vacation in perfect, coughing, sneezing, blowing boogers on eveything style.

Thanksgiving to me is lame. I'm not a fucking pilgrim. I never landed on a rock. In fact, I don't even know a single indian. What am I celebrating here?

To sum up my fuckedness:

I'm almost out of cigarettes, which simply makes me smoke more because cigs are fucked up in that way of making you nervous. It's quite a sick cycle.

I cannot breathe through my nose lest I swallow a gallon of goop from my sinus cavity. That's not only fun but delicious. /gag.

The peice of shit dvd player faltered all night (I cannot sleep without tv on) so I was up frequently, bitching at it, waking up everyone else because I refuse to be unhappy alone. That was very appreciated by the family as you can imagine.

I'm hungry, but not hungry. The sort of belly where you know you want to eat, but every food item on earth sounds like shit, so I have been pacing the house in a pink nightgown and laughably a thick winter coat, barefoot, and mad that I want to eat but it's just not happening.

Lastly, I have decided I WILL join Mr. Morgan to his family's thanksgiving. I do intend to use my cold to ward off the unwanted hugging rituals. Forever with their hugs. Just tell me you like me, I don't need to be touched. Pass me a note or something. Stop with the sentimental grabble-fest. It's not like I won't be back.

Attending Thanksgiving over there means hair prep, and god forbid someone toss my cranky ass into the shower and hose me down. Additionally, there are numerous fake smiles and ... lies. I hate to lie. I'm terrible at it, but I am frequently asked things that are clearly asked for the sake of asking. I'm not sure a lie is any worse than a falsely intended question, so I rationalize it that way.

You all know I find it very disgusting to gather around huge piles of food. Celebrating glutony is not my thing. Exception being a good buffet, but that's for another time. Another reason I do not enjoy eating over there is because, well... what I just said - I don't celebrate food. I eat in extremely odd patterns and items. I have not died yet, but Mr. Morgan's step mother watches my portions and has in the past accused him of controlling my food, that I am anorexic. This is a little more background of why I crave to give her a mouth lashing she so desparately deserves. And maybe a brick to her car window. There is no balls in talking behind my back, and more so talking about things that are so beyond untrue and NOT her fucking place to ever even consider. I....Just... Eat.... Weird. How much more clearly can I say that? Plus her food makes me vomit each and every time I'm over there.

So well, Happy Thanksgiving gang. I hope you all have a wonderful (albiet stupidly over-rated) holiday.

Comments please, let me know how you spent you day.

-DM

November Vaca

It's ... christ, fuck it I won't try to lie. People I spent hours doing this tonight. And weeks of reviewing songs to get it right. I am frankly glad to see this fucking thing posted and out of my hair. I set up another video dedication blog since my vacation is coming, even though I am going no where.

Thanksgiving is upon me and I have not decided if I will attend with Mr. Morgan or not. This is a tense subject at home. I'm fine with a can of yams and some Lost cd's. Over-rated. We'll see.

Look at it. I plan to not post much for a few days to give everytime time to digest.

http://novembervaca.blogspot.com/

-DM

L33T

Our weekend was, well interesting. Mr. Morgan had that look in his eye for a couple of weeks....... the look a man gets when he is mentally conjuring up the right words to say he wants something very expensive.

I'd been watching the look, and noticing some whispering phone calls, and I knew conversation topic was great excitement over the item.

And ladies, I don't know about your men but anytime mine begins with "So listen.... I was thinking...." it means he wants something and is about to justify it's price as though I care what he spends. But I always let him flounder around, explaining how it's completely reasonable and in the long run will save humanity and end all the war on earth. Or whatever it is he thinks he needs to explain about making a purchase. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate him letting me know when he's going to drop a couple hunskies, I just think it's rather cute. He never asks, which he needn't, just really goes into a tirade of WHY it's a necessary addition to the house. It's funny and I sit with a very amused raised eyebrow listening to it.

This time it was the nintendo wii. Apparently wii is pronounced We. Ok.

Much like the playstation, people were camping in tents with little bbq fires in front ofthem at every store we checked out. They were an agreeable bunch for how cold it is and were eager to chat us up with what they knew about stock and what time chaos would ensue.

At the Best Buy there was a family with I fuck you not, TEN kids. I know some of those little fuckers were borrowed. That's total greed and I'd not have noticed if the line campers we chatted to didn't bring it up with a bitter hostility on their breath. The scene was apt to turn into a crazed war of ... lol, gamers. That's sorta funny in and of itself.

So I woke up Sunday to a note on the pillow from Mr. Morgan saying he could not in his very soul live another minute without a wii lest the demons would rip him into 24 equal sized chunks. He was gone for many, many hours.

He came back with one, victorious and laughing that behind him were two older gay men, just talking away, and with him as well. At some point a couple of teens tried to cut in line and Mr. Morgan was having none of that. I remind you, it's ass cold in the mornings here and he'd been camping this limited supply item since extremely early in the morning. He's not a violent sort, but being 6'5 and .... well how he looks, I guess it can influence people to comply sometimes. Following, he said the gay fellows clapped and gushed.

"Ooooooo.... papi I thought ju were going hurt heem!"

Funny shit. Anyway, that all I have for now. I'm on vaca in two days..... holy impatience!

-DM

Tale of the Tail

No clue on the font, it fucks with me sometimes.....

Talk about running up a tab. Six years ago Delilah cost me 3,000 to aid in her dodging death. One year later she added a couple hundred dollars to that. Since then she'd had a pretty good streak of not costing much more than food and board.

Lately she'd been acting weird. Very clingy, jimmy legs and what nots and following us everywhere, even into the john and leaning on a leg while one is trying to have their morning movement. Not desirable. This morning I noticed she hadn't been eating, and this is a dog who eats all her food then runs Simon away from his tray and eats his up too. She's rather greedy by nature.

I had been bothered by the behavior change, but the appetite change is huge when something is up with a dog. Or any animal I suppose, including humans. As I went to leave she blocked the door. I told her to move ass, I had to go. She refused to move. I had to drag her away from the door to get out and she then began violently shivering/shaking.

So I went to work, in tears, called Mr. Morgan and told him he needed to get off work early and come take care of this, that it could not wait. He came home noonish and said she was a mess and we needed to take her NOW.

I flew out the door towards home.

We took Simon with us, since he doesn't understand and freaks himself out if left alone without his sister. They are truly inseparable.

Delilah sigh, poor beast, endured fingers in her rear, down her throat, in her ears and anyplace else that wasn't checked, including many vice-like holds from the staff as all of this was happening. I wish I spoke dog because she stared at me, while her mouth was being held shut, with a look of "You TOTALLY fucking said we were going for ice cream, and I have a finger in my butt! That is NOT a sprinkle Mom you lied!" The vet gave me a very unapproving look when I told her no, neither dog has been vaccinated since after five years of age. It's not healthy, and it's how I feel. She did not push the issue.

At the end of the exhausting many hour visit, of which I think they used my dog to test every piece of equipment in their arsenal, our bank account is coughing and gasping and Delilah is on many medicines that she has already expressed severe disinterest in. We've tried to reason with her, but she keeps countering the offer until I wave the bill in front of her face and she relents, takes the pills.

We also have to start a twice daily ear regimen that is fairly science fiction looking. Involves rinses and swabs and microscopes or some shit. It's ugly.

But as Delilah always does, she got her pound of flesh (literally) for the torture as one of the girls helping didn't know she was half sharpei, and is alergic to sharpei's, and burst into some pretty impressive hives. I felt bad but... read the paperwork, I said what she was. She didn't seem to mind wearing red blotches for the sake of Leedy's ears, and I found that endearing.

I'll keep you posted. She is by no way cured or close to a level I consider a happy healthy girl, but hopefully this medicine will help. From the outside - I'm sure that two adults ditching work over a dog seems far fetched, but they are our loves and we make no excuses about that.

Especially me since I bought her for 50 bucks on the day she was set to be put down. That was about 10 years ago. She is a staple in my daily life that is non-negotiable. Below is a couple videos of her, one enjoying a bone, and I'm pretty sure she was meant to have opposable thumbs, she is pretty good at the grapple maneuver. Taken a while ago. And of course a gratuitous Simon and Sally (my stuffed giraffe) photo.

-DM

Charter loves me

I've been busy, and mostly battling the cable company. I've had no home internet for two days, which means both adults have been sulking around the house wondering what the fuck to do.

We meander around the juice boxes, hoping. Nada.

It took me two hours tonight on the phone (two hang ups..... a couple of obvious fuck offs), and if you have ever called me you know how torturous my phones are with the static and clicking, to get the shit fixed. I believe I may have promised to kill one of the operators wifes if he would just give me back my crack.

"Are you going to hang up on me too?"
"No maam"
"Are you lying?"
"Absolutely not."
"Well the others lied."
"Don't worry maam I am going to set up a conference call so I make sure you are properly transfered."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"I may love you."
Laughs... "That's good.... please hold."

At the end of the night the fabulous fellow who helped me, after I swore my ovaries to the billing department, was laughing good and hard at how I talk and whatever it was I rambled about, said I made his entire night. That was a great thing to hear.

Not surprised by it, as I know how it is to take calls and hope and pray it's not a fuckhole. I pride myself on not being a fuckhole, it's not their personal fault although I have asked.... did YOU do this to me? Broad silence "I'm joking, I know it's not your fault, can you help me sir?" I hate making the help me calls, but shit has to get done. Our payment .. get this shit .... 350 bucks for cable and internet not received since September. And I got it back on. Boom baby, thats some bullshitting.

We mailed it, just hasn't been processed, no idea where it's been hiding. But being a human and telling someone you are stalking a metal box mournfully, pacing, and that the dog needs nightly spongebob to stop the epilepsy.... well it will get your shit turned back on if you do it right. And they will love you and laugh, and give you internet. That's all I care about. Proud of self.

-DM

Never Fear!

I will be updating tonight, I know there has been a lapse and I wish I had a profound and stunning reason for it. I have nothing. No reason at all. I'll update later. Stay tuned.

-DM

Attack of the Spotted

Ever seen a dog take a poop then with their back feet go mad digging up grass or whatever as though to bury it? That backwards leg thrust? Keep that thought in mind.

I was sitting in Mr. Morgan's room looking over the movies he'd rented for us. I've had one of those groin ingrown hairs that all good groomers get when they use their husbands piece of shit razors. Nothing that my doctor would see, recoil and say daaaaaaaamn to or anything, but painful all the same.

In prances Delilah, and I swear she did this on purpose because I was in her spot by "Daddy's chair." She climbed into my lap under the pretense of LOVE ME! so I gave her some pats and what nots and she pulled the sweeping foot claw..... right there.... on the ingrown.

Gasp.

After my breath returned to me I let out a yelp loud enough to make birds fall out of the sky. She got no less than 5 or 6 good leg kicks on it and her nails are anything but trimmed. Freddy Kruger would have done less damage.

The crotch you guys.... the crotch. Bitch thrashed up my shit and trotted of with a gleeful spring to her step. This is not an invitation to talk about my nethers, just something I had to type instead of booting her in HER crotch to see if she thinks it's fun to be on the receiving end.

OW!

End note, props to the Dems who made shit happen. I will have a political entry at some point, waiting a little while, and ya know..... crawling on the floor holding myself like I've been clawed. Just wait, I know where to buy a cup and I will get even with her sneak attacking ass. Maybe even a face mask and a hockey stick because she can consider those nails gone. Manicure city bitch.

-DM

Riddle Box

Next question. If you were on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere, what three people would you want to share the island with?

I continue to call “full of shit” but ok.

That’s a tricky question because it doesn’t note several important facts. Is there food on the island? If not I may need to pick a heavier person to later kill and eat.

I think I’d need someone from the previous Survivor games. I don’t care who, as long as they were one who could start a fire, since I tend to flee from flames, I don’t have that talent.

Third, of course Mr. Morgan. I would need someone to play with. I can envision some wild coconut wars.

As for you Mutt, why not answer the questions yourself?

-DM

High School Pondery

Anonymous said...
As I am currently a high school freshman, I'm interested in your memories about your best and worst high school experience. Thanks in advance.-Mutt

Per the question asked of me, well hm! Doesn't high school in general pretty much suck? I don't really recall too many extreme highs or lows. I know I was, and remain a giant pain in the ass to whoever I live with, so my parents definitely had their hands full with me. I wasn't a bad kid, rather just found a way to do what a I wanted without killing my stupid self or anyone else.

I think a few of the lows was at homecoming I threw a flag mid-routine and the wind graciously swept it an ich from expectation and it dropped on the ground. I cried in the parking lot for hours until my ride showed up, and I remember people walking by and whispering "she's the one who dropped her flag." Thanks..... I hadn't noticed!

I was also ditched at senior prom, that stands out. My long time boyfriend at the time left state on an emergency visit in the east where his sister lives. That or he simply didn't want to go and fluffed me off. I did have another offer but ugh - the alternate and I had gone out once before to the movies. He was nice enough, but when we got into the theatre he kicked off his dirt caked cowboy boots and flopped the most disgusting feet over the chairs in front of us. Toes were hanging out of the holes in the socks and shit. Um no. I waited for marriage to tolerate that sort of foot. So I never went to prom, but I stood there that night with my parents flashing cameras, I was dressed and waiting to go. Oh well.

Good times, let's see. I don't really know. School was never really bad or good. I didn't think much of it. It was a place I was expected to go everyday and bring home a paper listing the albphabet in the highest possible order.

My best friend through those years dropped out as a freshman, so I don't really have the cruising the hall with your kindred memories. And plus, I was a cheerleader who had nothing in common with other cheerleaders, I didn't roll very often with that crowd and would get the looks, but never the to my face opinions for frequently being across the campus smoking with the ... I think the were called "stoners" back then. In my uniform or not. Not implying I was a rebel, just was what I was and those people were far more interesting than nail polish.

I had two girlfriends in high school, and that was interesting and a fond memory, but my family reads this so there will be no graphic explanations for my more perverted readers. I am half fag, but not practicing as I am loyally married. Lol Mr. Morgan hates that term.

So there you go and thanks for the question, although I doubt it's sincerity or honesty. If I am wrong, sorry.

-DM

Minor Whatevers

Yeah, I've been away. Plotting the cure to global warming and shit and pondering how rebublicans think anyone who isn't is somehow lessor. I gave up right?

Ok, in actuality I've been sitting here listening to Hair. I have no idea why I had that craving, but I sat here thinking .... wow I need HAIR. Grow it, show it! Woo.

Then I went hat shopping.

I dropped off a nice large package of pricey doggy treats to the house that caught Simon's ass on Halloween, with a giant thank you note, of course written by Simon, thanking them for their hospitality, and a small ps at the bottom from Mr. Morgan and myself expressing gratitude.

I haven't felt very well at all lately, so have been slow on posts. You'll all to forgive it, but I promise to perk up and get on track again. Questions always help me write, so don't be too shy to submit any, in fact I welcome them with a drool.

Hope you all are well.

-DM

Post Hallow Update

This may get long, Halloween over. Thank god. I had fun but one thing really fucked it up for me. Photos and video below, but no skipping, you have to know what happened.

I was decorating and of course the greedy fleas were already circling, 5 of them being from the new neighbor house. What IS it with the Jeff house that mandates at least a half dozen fucking kids? They were being curious vultures and chatting me up while I was thinking "scat, go get your costumes, I'm doing shit." They mournfully kept mentioning they hadn't a pumpkin, and stroking the few uncarved ones I had. I said to ask their mom, but they could take one if it was ok. I was DONE carving pumpin-kins.

After a bit they came back to beg one and I flopped the big one on them and said to get lost, but they insisted their mother said they could only carve it if they returned it. I told them I never wanted to see the thing again, it was a gift.

I went to my studio to rest a minute and got to surfing my websites, and I come out .... front door wide open. Dogs ... boom ... fucking GONE. I went on meltdown. I was about to get into my costume and had had a drink or two, where I would never consider driving but my dogs were loose somewhere and I know how they love to run under moving vehicles.

I am still.... not quite ok.

I'm screaming up and down the streets asking anyone if they saw some dogs and .... cmon you all have seen my dogs, they are pretty fucking obvious. The worst answer I got when I asked "Have you seen a spotted dog?" The answer was "No, not recently." Wtf. Anyway.

I go back home and someone has called saying they caught Simon. I was Nascar-ing it around the block. The man waves me in and has a trail of tiny dashounds behind him. I'm like "That's not Simon" and he points, to where there Simon sat with a look (you parents out there have seen it) knowing he was beyond busted for running off.

Back in the car for Delilah, asking the trick or treating kids if they've seen her and sure enough, bitch is trotting down the sidewalk 3 miles away heading towards the Casino. Insert a massive, and I mean MASSIVE string of expletives ordering her into the car.

I then went to tears. I was SO scared they'd be killed or stolen or otherwise never home again. That feeling.... wow. Frantic is not the word. You all have felt it, you are in control until you know things are ok then you lose it and begin to cry.

That's when I began to get angry. And I remain very, very, very ...... VERY angry. When home one of the Jeff brood said wayyyyyy too casually

"Did you find your dogs?"

Imagine my face and how my hands rose to strangle him as my eyes went huge and instantly red with fury

"Did you let them out?" I asked. He just stared at me. He knew he'd done something wrong but instead of ringing the bell and admitting he'd fucked up, he let them run off and ran off himself like a pussy inable to own up.

"You know they could have died. You can't just walk into people's homes! What is wrong with you!" again controlling myself not to fly across the yard, kick his ass, then kick his mom's ass for not controlling her clan who doesn't have a lick of sense. Those are my fucking babies, you all know on a sinking raft I'd probably save them over anyone I know.

I left it there because I knew MR. Morgan was speeding home, scared they would be killed too, and that HE was going to be the one to deal with this shit, as I was, and am still in no sanity of mind to handle it rationally. Two missing dogs home = wonderful...... ass beating on a fucking breaking and entering brat? Priceless.

Ok photo time. The night went off fine and I had some fantastic company, thanks to Bosslady's Daughter for the filmwork. Note to Anon. from a while back.... nope my lashes are still not fake.

Exhausted by it and by loading all this. I want comments. Like .... a bunch.

-DM