Enter 2007 Left Stage.

New Year. It means many things to me, formost the wondering of how long I can keep in my mind that I'm not approaching the third decade of life. I don't see my antics ending anytime soon and I wonder if I look a folly. If I do I'll refuse to acknowledge it for a while. I like wearing pigtails and playing with toys (humorously finding a blob of Duck's plastic bubbles fused to the crotch of my favorite jeans out of the dryer, but I made it to work that way until Moon asked if I meant for gum to be fastened to my crotch. I beamed she was looking, then muttered some oh fucks because that shit meant to stay and jeans aren't cheap.

Right so 2007. How long this will be.

Looking back over my entries, 2006 offered two class action lawsuits, some mystery garbage, a couple of bras on my head, an Edmond added to the house, the endless dog battles, the JEFFS, and a fuck load of blogging. I must admit I smiled at how much I'd passed away to time while browsing the older entries.

Mr. Morgan did obtain his new rowing machine, and it's loud in a way my nerve endings are so baffled at they have simply gone to war with eachother for lack of option. This thing came with a heart monitor and he got himself up to 170 today, and said it was far too low. I silently raised my brow and walked into the room saying "Um... ya know... crack and coke addicts, when autopsied have hearts that seriously look like leather from the prolonged overbeating." Key note being AUTOPSY.

He replied he'd like to have a leather heart "It sounds tough!"


Happy New Year from the Morgan house...... whether this blog is read or not, it gives me a creative outlet I desparately need. Some of these are a tad older, but it's really a year in the life of my camera, which everyone knows to me is crack and I go no where without it.



-DM

Little More Ho Ho Hum

Finishing the Christmas tales.... when did Christmas become all about kids? Or when did people stop realizing I still am one and stiff me on the fun and games!

I let the little rats have their moment in the spotlight... as much as I possibly could.... below are a few photos of the family greed havers.

That's my nephew wearing Duck's gift. I couldn't wait to palm that thing off onto anyone.

This is one of my neices. I have... (mental count) a lot of those. They just file out from a room marching like smurfs as my head tries to name them.

This is my sister's child. Who looks THIS put out to be chilling in an elmo chair? She wants nothing to do with me, and I don't have much use for her. We exhange looks and go on our ways. It's entirely possible that she is almost a perfect replica of her Ount DM, thus we don't really need to inhabit the same room at the same moment lest time and space would implode killing all humanity. Bratty little thing though, that look is uncalled for, but I also was tired of the fucking giggling elmos. We got two of them and they never shut the fuck up from the back seat for two days of our travels. I tried to reason "Elmos? Have you heard of a razor blade? Scizzors Elmos? Stop your giggling, it's SO not tickle time!"

See why I say she is my little apprentice, maybe she knew the Elmo was a chore too.

Alas, the Elmos are gone, loot i strewn ALL over my fucking house, the dogs have chosen some gifts for themselves in our absence called a job. I didn't die from the arsenic egg-nog my step mother in law fed me, but at one point as earth started to spin extra fast I looked at Prada and she gave a nod, indicating I must have gotten the "lucky" glass.

Finally, to everyone who gave me live creatures..... it's on. I have enough feeing two dogs. Every one of you dicks is getting a turtle next year. Bitches wanna saddle me with shit to kill again? Turtles. All of ya.

-DM

Matchmaker make me a tooth!

(Note I'm told my Ount Vickie reads this.... no shit? Don't be shy... seriously, don't think my not being in contact is a lack of caring... I wish you Gram, Lynn and shit even my Dad were closer, and I don't mean geographically)

So I went to the dentist to follow up on why my somehow no-root-having tooth is giving me shit and he prodded and left me alone in the room. For a long time. We know this only leads to trouble.

I soon found myself with a set of model teeth, one in each hand saying.... Hello Mr. Tooth, as the other replied Why... Hello Mr. Tooth. Camera going like mad. Didn't care, warned not to leave me.

My luck, the dentist walked in and startled me... I dropped the blue ones and they instantly burst into mockery dust. He said "broke em you bought em" and I asked if any would be a good fit in my mouth, ya know.... since I now own the fucking thing.

I'd gone for a filing and he root canaled me. I had pointed to the part that hurt.... the VISABLE HOLE in the tooth, which still exists. The HOLE finally abcessed, and now I have to take shit that will no doubt end me in a yeast infection party time. And all because he didn't fucking hear me. I asked myself.... how do you not hear ME? Self had no answer.

He left me again telling me I had to take pills. Some gratuitous pain shit that I'll never touch and some antibiotics that promise I will die soon. He told me 3 pills a day. I said I thought that was a bit too many. He just looked at me. I asked if I could drink he looked some more and said I shouldn't and I told him I planned to. More scribbling in my chart... which yes I snitched the second he left me alone again. I sat for about 45 minutes all by myself and that never bodes well... plus... pills! So I snitched the mirror on a stick.

Look at how he aged me, that is angry dentist look. I appear ancient and ready for the fucking morgue. But fuck if I didn't take that god damned thing. Slipped it into my waistline then got a bit freaked he'd noticed I had to go digging in drawers to find another, which I did, and replaced.

Also while gone I turned my chest bib into a hat and was singing Matchmaker. (Fiddler on the Roof) When they returned I was still in this state of no shoes and singing. sitting indian style in the chair, playing with it's up and down levers, and looking like a caught child. Again, can't leave me without entertainment... I WILL find my own.

So ok fine. Force me. I have finally given in to the tooth pills after 5 days of bottle twirling and scowls. It's in my belly and I am convinced it is meant to kill me. I've heard them all in the bottle, mocking my fear of ingesting them, they think it's a grand big joke.

Why there have to be so many of them too is also baffling. My dentist said to take 3 a day, but the pharmacy told me four. It makes me wonder if my dentist re-thought how entirely nasty my mouth is and changed it up. now I'm GLAD I swiped his shit. I am more positive than ever that dentists truly are vindictive mean fuckers.

All for now.

-DM

Wrap up of the wrap up!

I got my record player. Something in the crickle cracking of it spinning it's endless circle of old decaying records fills with the biggest smile ever. My sister Beezus is to receive full credit for this grin. Possibly my most favored gift of the year because I asked for it, and a very specific record. One that made her go fucking apeshit when we were young, because I wouldn't stop playing it, and more so because I knew it was making her apeshit. Nice make up gesture.

I've played some Sabbath, Abbey Road and .... for an old friend, Bob Seger's Against the Wind because only he would ever know why it matters so much and makes me cry.

Hearing it, my 33 record on the player, scratching as it sang to me, I admit to having broken down in a way that is beyond history. I smile as I cry, that's a hard thing to explain and something I keep to self. Many times we sang it is all.

I asked for a few things his year. All were old ass toys I missed. I was not given a sit and spin but my neice was and I found myself ripping the box out of the hands of an infant, then collecting myself and claiming I just wanted to put it together. Bullshit, we all know I wanted to ride it!

Simon opened his presents too. Delilah just ate hers. I have SERIOUSLY never caught this little docile dog look so carnivorous in my life! Is he eating his own tongue or warming up for the kill?

Much nicer. Less hungry.

Mr. Morgan was mistakingly given a present meant for another /cough, child, and enjoyed it before it was taken from him.

The holidays were exhausting and I plan to show up quite much the zombie tomorrow, although I will bathe first, it's much needed.

Don't miss below for the stocking hop post, it was a grand success. Cheers loves.

-DM

"Wish I didn't know know what I didn't know then. The years rolled slowly past, I found myself alone, surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends, found myself further and further from my home. Against the wind....."

I'm older now... but still running against the wind.

Stocking Hop

Today began way too early. I came home from Walmart at 9am, but begun at 6am. To say it was painful would be an understatement.

I now sit with packages tied to my arms, and in a slutty, yet cute rendition of Mrs. Claus waiting for Mr. Claus to return from making football bets and begin the Stocking Hop. I've ribbon around my neck and even snitched Simon's Santa hat for a nice garnish. He doesn't mind, I asked first, but a cheese barter was involved.
---



Yes I know how crooked our tree is. It can't help itself.

Post Stocking Hop. Mr. Morgan was entirely happy, although not completely aware of how much work went into the big ass stocking. Fingers were burned, dogs were set on fire, the sewing machine coughed and died...... that sort of thing. I would love to gift the stocking to someone who will carry on the person present tradition.

Well Merry Christmas you guys........ I'll be on the look for the drunken relative (hoping it's not ME) with my camera handy. Let me know about your loot!

-DM

The Duck Hunt......

Many Quacks.... turn your sound up LOUD! (or quiet if in office, need to hear the effects)





I also have a surplus of those hats ... anyone who wants one, hit me up at dmorgan255@yahoo.com and consider yourself part of the Duck Army.

-DM

And the beat goes on.......

We still haven't remotely finished our shopping. Since when is everyone obligated to buy everyone else a gift? I don't expect presents just because I married into Mr. Morgan's family. This craze seems to get worse every year as the list grows longer. Fuck man, even Santa gets to pick between naughty and nice but noooooo our people get a reward even if they were fuckheads in need of beatings.

I think perhaps everyone should cut their interactions with people to one dozen. Twelve presents is reasonable. Anyone who didn't make the dozen cut, bummer for you. Not just with gifts either... altogether. Each person is only allowed to know 12 people. Less phone calls, less shit to forget.......because really, when you know as many people as most of us do, people fall through the cracks inadvertantly and you feel like an asshole when told "yeah so.... I missed you at my birthday party 4 months ago" followed by the piercing stare of -you don't love me enough to remember!-

It's not a bad theory. The 12 can change. It's reasonable to trade up a person here and there. Ya know, send a little card saying sorry... you've been bumped, Bob gives better head. Or something like that.

My idea would simplify things immensely and even alleviate the guilt. You pull a little card from your pocket as a hopeful stares at you in the "why didn't you get me a present" anticipation"

"... hm... no I'm afraid not, you didn't make the list this year. Good luck next year though!"

What bliss.

Meanwhile.... Mr. Morgan remains OUT OF FUCKING CONTROL. He got the Wii. Get then got the Xbox 360. Last night in a thundering sound I know well to mean he's exhausted another work out machine, the rowing device died. This actually offended him. He's out buying another one as we speak. Merry Christmas to HIM! Fucks sake.........

-DM

Post Party Pooped

Mr. Wolford's company party was last night, it's something I actually enjoy. We booked a room at the Adventure Inn - Roman Room (yawn) since it was directly next door to where the restaurant was. To say Mr. Morgan imbibes on this night is an understatement. In fact he woke up this morning.... shoved me awake and said "why am I so naked?" I considered making up something, but told him the truth. He was passing out in the hot-tub and I had to all but leg push him out, he fell face first into the tile flooring and woke up with a headache he gave a 12 on the scale of 1 to 10. But that was later.

Earlier.....

We left the house around 2, it of course was snowing just to make the game more fun, we checked into the hotel, picked up his friend and went on the hunt for his contribution to the gift pool.

Mr. Morgan was offended they were serving salmon at the party, so in protest bought a trout - eyeballs, head, whole nasty thing and put it in a wine bag. I expect as much from him, but felt bad in advance for whoever opened THAT shit.

I don't know who ended up with it our entire table (called the party table) drooled with anticipation. His friends' gift was a full sized framed photo of GW. I think I might have taken the fish over that. Either way, both were genious in gift choices.

The fish, later was stolen back by Mr. Morgan in a fast grab-and-flee, where it was then flopped onto the roof of the restaurant. His friend then tried to get a shoulder carry to get it back and try for a better trout toss. I was inside for most of this, I don't generally get involved in his man-time-antics but I do know that every time my table went empty, ( and they would all get up in droves and just file out) I knew all the boys were outside smoking and getting into trouble. Mr. Morgan draws a crowd in a way that he should be worldwide famous for. It's his night and I enjoy watching him in prime form, and sign some fucking contract to be on my best behavior and not ruin his moment. /laugh, it's not too often I agree to take the back seat to being in the spotlight of mischeif. But I did get in some.

After the party we had friends come back to our hotel room, where within minutes our phone was ringing saying this was not ok. We had not been loud, but because it's a sleaze joint I guess they presumed a porno was being filmed. Mr. Morgan said it was retarded but ok, they were waiting for cabs. All this while I had planned this time to get my Duck Hunt footage. Not five minutes pass and hotel desk is calling again saying they have to wait outside. In five inches of falling snow. Fucking cocks.

Outside are 3 girls across the way on their balcony woofing on a pot pipe so strong I damn near got high in the room itself. This was ok to the hotel. Our friends peacefully joining us for drinks was not. Logic.

I was able to Hunt 3 Ducks before the hotel was calling AGAIN saying the police were coming. What the fuck, so god damned unnecessary.

It was a good time and I even let someone eat off my tray. I kept seeing a fork reaching across and snagging, followed by the sound of happy lip smacking but I didn't stab him in the eye. I guess I really like him because I am a stabber if you go for my tray normally. This will impress Bosslady's Daughter lol. Tray grabber is on the left looking quite like a man who ate all his tray and most of mine. Or dead. Your choice. I smile a lot this weekend, even if I am hungover on a level hospitals would study...... I am grateful to know so many truly cool fucking people, it's been a decent year for that.


Have a lovely evening and see below if you missed Friday.

-DM

Beware the Vincent

It's proof. You go jewish and gifts cometh. Don't even gimme shit about opening early, it's Hanukkah and I am demanded to open things. The crazed ferver in which I do it however is questionable. See below, my eyes smack of opiates and candy canes.

That is Vincent. His Hebrew name is Samuel. Vincent is alarmingly heavy and expensive. I saw the price tag. He comes with worth attached right to him! That's bold!

Sure, my face looks ginormous, but spotted gifts do that to me.
Simon also loved the Vincent. Then we learned it was a demon.

We came come from gambling and I heard an odd "I love you" sounding from something. The fucking Vincent talks. I can't find where it's talk from, and the creepy fucker seems to be quite random with words. I won't lie, I flew three feet back from it when it talked. It's Chuckie like. I am now VERY scared of the god damned thing. Objects that chirp on their own are called Furbies and mine are locked in a closet for talking to eachother late at night.

Giraffes don't talk. They don't have vocal cords. So that mine speaks simply proves it's from the devil and plans to kill me. WTF is this thing. It's scared the whole house. It just arbitrarilly tells me "I love you". That's fucking creepy shit! But I'm petting it all nice because if I wake up and it is standing on the foot of the bed I am going fucking ballistic. I am SO not joking about this thing talking whenever it feels like it. We palptated it for where it is talking from.... nothing is in there, for real, there is no little box that it's yapping from. EEEEEEk

-DM

Shalom!

Right so I'm Jewish for the next 8 days. I even have my star and shit, it's way official.

Notice the star is attached by a paperclip and the chinese food in the background, we are a frugal bunch my people, we really see the value of a buck.

Bosslady's Daughter thinks I'm in it for the 8 days of gifts, but no, I am devoted to the true spirit and plight of my fellow bretheren. One of my stronger brothers is depicted below, gleefully pulled from Mr. Morgan's work pocket on arriving home. This is (sans the giant weiner) not a bad depiction of our friend who we here will call Shalom as is was his moniker during softball.

I told Mr. Morgan I had gone jewish and he is taking much fun in screaming hey Kike! Down the hall. Yes, I will get tweezers a snag a pubic hair as he sleeps then pretend to be sleeping myself. Rinse repeat until he is either bald, or doesn't think it's funny. ME making a joke never included that word. Ooft.

It was rather interesting how much "But I'm a jew!" comes into play though. It's really the answer to everything. Who is going to seriously fuck with you when you point out your ancestors were cooked in ovens and that as a people you are blamed for not saving the only son of God. That's heavy and I admit I've been abusing the term vastly.

Since I'm Catholic and already going to hell, yes, I can decide to be Jewish for a week if I want to and wear a post it note star with pride.

Below the Bottle Dance. About 1:49 in you can go ahead and covert. No person on earth can NOT say they don't want in on that bottle dance business. Seriously watch it, madly impressive.







-DM

The Wednesday Bean

I'm tardy. I know.

First of all my sister and I have reached a cease fire. We did the typical us thing and just began a conversation as if the salad had just been delivered and we'd been talking for 30 minutes. "So what did mom say when she called?" type of shit. Hello is way over-rated.

Office Jeff. Wow. I don't know what to say about your behavior today. Joking that I offered my vagina was not funny. You laughed, no one else laughed. While I have massive humor, I do not appreciate your reference and insinuation about things you know nothing of. This is why you are not my friend, and thus why you sound stupid when you talk. If you like to tell people I throw my pussy at other women, get your nuts off doing so, fuck... send me a post card with the responses. You need to be slapped. You are very rude and disrespectful to my marriage by saying what you did.

Seems odd to read me being serious when the last post was all about being a chipmonk, but you guys can understand that no one is above their crossing line limit.

Bosslady's Daughter tried to eat the bubbles from the Present Box. I think her whole body heaved for five minutes. Fucking told ya so! Can't go eatin' bubbles. No good comes from bubble eatins. I admit to peeking and hoping for a full on vomit.

All for now. And though brief, it's plenty, I am exhausted!

-DM

Alvin!!!!

So I got a Christmas bonus. Makes me feel a bit less fired. This WAS going to make a fine difference in gifts but I called Mr. Morgan's work and the answer friend asked me "When can he have an xbox?" I paused and replied he was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted and had he hired a representative? I jest a bit, I like who I was talking to but knew chicken neck talk was going. You men are JUST as god damned bad. Don't even fucking lie, I have proof.

Mr Morgan beat me home as Moon's car is toe up presently and she asked for a lift. I walked in and he thanked me for his Christmas Gift. XBox 360. I don't know how much those cost, and please don't tell me. He got that Wii not even a month ago. This man is out of control and I may need mace and handcuffs.

Meanwhile. I wore tissue paper making this video for about... two hours. He asked at about 1 hour 56 minutes, why I was wrapped. Was I his present. I said no. Said felt like wearing it. That it smelled right. We nodded and walked away.

Cheers loves.




-DM

Super Holiday Updates

Holiday plans have been firming up nicely. Christmas tends to be an anticipated yearly ulcer. From talking to other people, this sentiment is quite mirrored so why do we do this shit to ourselves? I received the following email from Prada on Friday, edited lightly.

"Just got off of the phone with Dad and (we'll call my step mother in law Pain in the Ass.... PIA for short) and informed them of our x-mas plans. I don't know if Mr. Morgan told you but we decided to hit them with a unified front. That we are going over there after my mom's house for a little bit and then we are leaving to spend time with our in-laws. So no x-mas dinner. I told Them that You and -Mr. Morgan- were going to have x-mas evening in (my town, about 40 miles from their homes) so you don't have to drive back and forth, and Mr. Prada and I were going to have x-mas evening with Mr. Prada's family.

Well PIA piped in "What about the Prime Rib?" I said that Christmas should be about us being together as a family and not about a piece of meat. I said we would be over there after we left Mom's...her reply, "I am not sure if we will be up by then." 10:30! I said I don't want to hear it because all of us will be up a lot earlier.

I'm all about that email. Couldn't have laughed harder because honestly, Prada and I both about lost our stomachs last time beef was served at PIA's table. She really is all about making a meal, then refusing to eat until the rest of us are about done, and goes sweaty martyr that she can FINALLY stuff her jowls after catering to us. Watching her devour her tray could easilly be the new diet fad on earth if marketed. I frequently sit across from her at the table, and I have seen more food in her talking mouth than on her plate. No wonder my fork drops early.

Most gifts have been purchased. There are the typical hard to buy for people, who damn near make me want to buy, and wrap a shitty box of cereal. Here, have some cereal and next year don't "oh I don't know what I want" when I ask. So if you get a box of Cheerio's..... it's a massive clue from me.

For Mr. Morgan and I... well we've not entirely decided, but we think (wanna guess which one of us thoguht this idea up?) we will be getting a nice flat plasma tv. Or LCD, or LSD.... fuck I don't know but it's not free. In exchange we won't exchange much at home. He deserves a lil somphin' so I sewed a life sized stocking in secret and plan to tie small inexpensive gifts to my limbs and what nots for him to open and sack race down the hallway in the stocking as his presents!

As a small hint of the Great Duck Hunt of 2006, I can leak the Security Team. They've been going through rigorous training to prepare.

-DM

Rewards.....

A pleasant update because I've done little but be a crying sack of person who is getting a lot of -get away from me!- looks. I pity those who can't flee me. So photo and video goodness is your reward.

Starting with some football day photos for Lank.

Yes, I STILL have the Gore sign up. I worked hard on that campaign and am very proud.


I am a KC fan, I do not speak for Simon but Mr. Morgan insists Delilah is a 49er fan because he is. Watching them lose I laughed a bit and made the bitch wear my KC hat. Look at the mournful expression. "Dress up is on Wednesdays mom... gawd!"


But fuck her, she's a chicken thief. I set my tray by the bed for two seconds, in quite a hard to access place. I swear she must have matrixed into the air, did a double fly kick spin and snatched the chicken.

Simon did very well with the present box. Delilah was not given a single item. That's fine, chicken theives getting nothing but the guilt of the stolen chicken. I'd say I hope she enjoyed it since she's on punishment, but I know she enjoyed it..... as I was enjoying myself prior. Bad bad girl.

Simon got Christmas gear. He too looks quite forlorn, and I should seriously consider a "Save the Dogs" informercial with how deprived these fuckers appear on film. I have maybe two photos where they don't act like we are starving and beating them. Otherwise it's the same "help us" gaze of hope.

Here is the Xmas box outfit, followed by one of the rare happy photos.




In closing I offer a short home video featuring one of my gifts. All I can say is to wear them.... wow itll fuck you up. Wait - one more thing, I got a box with a cardboard tab saying mini harmonia necklace. The box was empty asshole. For real lol. Ok enjoy.

Hard link in case above is being a dick. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GLgCq6Ns3E

-DM

Astro

I didn't call in dead. But I did walk into the building and stopped in my tracks, pausing to sniff a bit. What IS that smell? It got stronger as I approached my desk and it smacked me.... ooo that's the smell of a firing! I looked around a little, and I was the only one living in the cloud of the scent. Thought.... daaaaaaaamn and decided not to get too comfortable. Not to say my coat didnt come off, I entertained the idea of making her call someone to physically remove me, then I remembered - oh right - I hate this fucking place. Fire me! Promptly! /raises a hand in frantic "I have to use the bathroom" energetic fashion.

I don't really want to be fired. New job sounds like a chore and I'm pretty lazy. Bosslady hasn't spoken to me in two days except to gasp, and point out that one file in a drawer of 250 files wasn't in ABC order. I simply blinked, instead of being a smart ass and saying I'd hire Elmo to help me with the problem.

I'm down to one present left in the present box and I frankly think.... why wait NOW? I've already torn and chewed my way into all of them with a rabid happiness. I have been tardy to list what I've opened. I will. I promise. I can say I opened a packet of carrot seeds. I guess because I look all garden-y-like.

I did stare at those for a minute and had a crazed Jetson like fantasy that if I put a seed in my mouth it would turn into a carrot meal. That passed and I frowned at them for not being Jetson carrots.

The amount of shit I HAVE opened though is stunning. Impressive in fact and no you may not have any of it. You can ask and offer a barter through. Everything is for sale on this planet man. Until later.

-DM

-ps I still ache and hurt but I'm rather resigned to it. My mom called to make sure I wasn't dead (two weeks later) and I assured her that I was. Also, please do watch the videos I post.... massively classic. This is a huge fav of my mothers, but that's not why I post it. I just like it and have been a whiney bitch for a while. I encourage you all to blast the song and get your dance on.

Essay.... Fail!

I guess I am back to work. It's entirely depressing, so I decided to open more than my usual amount from the ever-growing-skinny Present Box.

I had a really fucked day. The kind of fucked I should have been paid for. I am currently on hold with the cable company, A-FUCKING-GAIN! since we've all become close pals. No internet at the present time and to me, that's like telling a heroin addict that they stopped making it. Much monkey posturing and freaking out. This of course, all in silence as I am on the phone with the crack dealer and if I piss them off I may never see cable-internet again and have my file marked as "crazy monkey bitch." So instead I have been making wild gestures and obscene references to throwing poo while Mr. Morgan and the dogs watch this with moderate concern because they know my life is not complete without a bi-weekly call to Charter. In the end I fixed it and remapped the network myself and the man on the phone.... "Technical Support" said Really? How? I was too polite to hang up.

At work, I arrived to not only a memo from my boss, but seven pages of it. All typed out with bold and underlines, bullets and lists of shit. This fucking thing looks like a Harvard thesis. She could have saved the paper and simply written YOU SUCK! Seriously.... seven pages of how inept I am. I almost scanned it to prove how crazy this woman is. Seven. My fucking god.

My pain has become a friend I greet in the morning noon and night. We have grand conversations. I have bribed it to jump free and eat my boss's brain. The deal isn't quite sealed but an agreement may come soon.

Well that's all for today. Completely exhausted. Reading my rap sheet all but sucked the joy out of an entire kindergarden. It even finished with a paragragh called "Summary". Ya know, because I didn't catch the 6.5 other pages drift. I tell ya, I want to call in dead tomorrow. I'm not sure I'd be missed. I think Moon would. Christ... 7 pages..... I feel like a fucking scolded child. I'ts stupid and written because she keeps it in a file to prove wrong doings when one gets fired or quits with anger. I've been there five years, I'm not fucking stupid, I know exactly what it is.

Prada..... I can like ... ya know.... pretend to be a teenager? Wanna hire me? Naw, you can't afford me. dammit.

-DM



ps - I was flirted with hit on in a store at lunch today. One plus to a dick of a day. No pun intended. He was in line behind Moon and I, sporting a very cool skateboard... which of course I was hawking, then ultimately had to say something else look a retard. It was an oversized board, he was not fucking around about his business. I made a comment before I looked up and BAM ... dude in war paint and holy HOT! I didn't make eye contact after that. I mentioned I thought the board was seriously cool, and he said "I give lessons" /gulp. I said I wasn't into breaking bones anymore but the board was quite nostalgic to me. He offered again this lesson thing. While it was bad to stare like we did and giggle out of the store like teeny boppers saying "Oh my god was he not sooo cute????" , it was quite elating. flattering, to be flirted with. Shhh... don't tell Mr. Morgan, he's forgotten his wife can still be attractive, and while beyond faithful.... madly wild for skaters and just seeing him twirling the board in idleness, my eyes danced. I miss that I actually once could do that, better than most of the boys no less. /sizzle.

Birdhouse

I have not updated for a variety of reasons. I am simply not going to say what happened with me at the doctor, because if you cared, you'd have asked me. This blog is not here for silent voyeurism to watch me get sick and never say a word. I know people have life obligations, but two flicks on a keyboard make the difference between being full of shit and someone who genuinely cares. I've noted this carefully and I can see who visits my blog. So to all the sick fucks who like to read my life ups and downs without a care, I pray you find a better hobby. I am entirely done biting back on my anger. I am tired of acting that things are fine when they never are and most days I have pain that I lie about. I take my lot with a good deal of grace but it doesn't mean I appreciate leaches.

Get your nuts off enjoying my honesty. /dismissed.

That said.... there have been many there for me and concerned about my health. They like to hop. I like to hop. This is very much my song for my kindreds.



I would like to say my own mother was one of them. shes wasn't. That is crushing. I am rather reluctant to be too personal about how I feel on that.

In other news .... I watched some new videos of my adopted son Ediberto today. Nothing, and I mean nothing will stop any self pity faster than seeing your child happy and opening toys and clothing, grinning as if he'd hit the lottery. He pranced! He hopped! He got into mischief but made up for it, grown a lot! The world gets a lot bigger when you take in perspective. And don't even say it, it's not a scam. It's a tiny orphanage for really fucked up kids. Cerebral palsy, blind, deaf, Mexican parents don't often have funds to care for them and throw them away... so this small bunch of rascals - and they are wonderful little franks - have nothing. This isn't the Sally Feed the Children bullshit. I did my homework. It's been nothing but rewarding to me.

I am also full blow on the great Duck Mission of 2006. This will be probably the best thing I have done yet. I have several camera crews set up, ok..... 3 of us. But still. It's a dicey thing to pull off. Wait for that, it'll be good.

-DM