Thanks GW

We anxiously awaited our check, which in a letter was said to be 1200. We jumped, as we very much need it. We've not been checkbook fucked for a while, lately, we are, so that letter was met with a crazy jig.

I marched to the mailbox tonight and there was a check. I skipped the whole way home, happy as a skipping girl gets. Only to wonder why it was 450 less. I instantly blamed myself as my ex-husband "forgot" to file one year much to my surprise. We do not know if that is the reason but we are deflated.

I'm tasked to call about it. I frankly don't want to drop my name. "Oh it's YOU.... we forgot about ya, but didn't forget the interest."

We are not to be evicted and no lights are going off, it's not that emergent but enough that credit is being employed as a medium until shit levels out. Mr. Morgan is not used to that medium and is actively, but silently, losing his shit. For me, I've been there so am not freaking whatsoever. I can live in a car again if need be but it sure isn't ideal.

So I suppose I call the IRS tomorrow and play dead? I already am and don't even have a phone in my hand.

Beavers

I've gotten my theme for Hallow 08. It plans to rock all that needs rocking. What's left of my Army knows, but we aren't talking. Kylee has no clue what Hallow around this house involves. I grin to shock her.

Some of this is a repeat from the Daily Kylee.... but it's all I have for this weekend.

The backyard, the pool, the walkways all needed desparate "gimme my next hit of crack" type of attention. On each side of the yard something has bastarded it's way through the fence. One is a full grown very pretty tree, and the other is the flowery bit below. I think it's pretty embarrassing that the only good thing about our yard is the benefits we are reaping from our neighbors taking such nice care of theirs.

Mr. Morgan had a full lazy audience.


When the weed whacking began, it was greeted like a game. I've never seen anything hop so fervently, except perhaps a gazelle under chase. I had been outside in my pajamas, rolled up hoping for sunshine while this miracle happened. I told everyone to pause while I got the camera. No one stood still. She thought the weed wacker was a game. While I deeply care, I admit I sat watching with my lense in action should she lean too close after being told no 50 times.

Pool is clean! Green be gone! We blew up my floaty and dunked the dogs swiftly, as it was hot outside and much like with Leedy, we still think it's funny.

Kylee went frantic.

She could not find the OUT area and began to cry. We are rather conerned she might try to take a dip when we are working, but also doubt it since she has little insterest if we aren't in it.

Simon.... tolerating me as usual.

He gets very warm too with the coat he was born with, I have to think it's a blessing, even if he thinks it's punishment at the time., Thus the language barrier.

That dark splotch is Kylee diving as though she is a gator.

Then begging for the spot on my floatie. Click on any to enlarge, all of the Simon's looks like he's been left for dead. God love a wet little dog, they simply shrink.

-DM

Who wants to swim?

My cries of our brand new pool being the color of a neon sign seem to be unbelieved. So here. Welcome to my nuclear power plant. I wasn't kidding was I?

This giant money pit is collecting swarms, and I mean SWARMS of gnats and god knows what else. Mr. Morgan is trying to get it under control, but also doesn't understand why I am I not remotely considering getting into that swamp. There are so many reasons I look at that thing and say "oh fuck no" but supreme is .... I have a vagine. Whatever is in there might give me an infection. We ladies know well that protecting the vagine from anything with potential to make an antibiotic run is key to daily living. Plus, I'll stand under a hose first if I get that hot. I'm not a frog, and I'm not getting anywhere near that disgusting thing until it's fixed up. He's trying.

Below is a duplicate that will be on the Playground blog, but Kyles still insists she's a lap dog. I've seen her hop and jump onto his groin so many times that even I cringe and bite a knuckle with "oh day-um!" I've felt her weight, he takes it in stride. Huh?

Happy weekend, make sure to stock up on your West Nile Virus, if you need any I'm sure my backyard can offer you a discount.

-DM

The Latest

Thanks all who replied to the prior entry ( I say while prying a catalog from Kylee's mouth, she seems to want to make a pruchase!). No money in her account. Denied.

Things may or may not come to head over the Fam Drams. I did not take the advice some gave me. I went low ball. I've too long to dealt with this gracefully, and have more than once encouraged others to not lose their shit as well. I've thought it over for the last two days and .... I went out of what I normally would do being 30 years old. Old habits die hard, and I, went, low ball remembering that nothing good comes of it, but that what was the line from Delores Claiborne? "Sometimes being a bitch is all you have."

What did I do? I got someone else involved, because I'm little and sneaky as it gets. I knew well what I was starting, more so after posting what I had. I can't lie. I do not want anyone hurt, but how can I say that after saying I knew what I was starting. I want to say I was doing the right thing, and I was, but there is certainly personal retribution and I knew exactly who was my go to girl. Kindred.

The Morgan Sisters talked at length, and that is a situation that is not ideal for anyone under fire. We'll see your evil and raise you a flaming pitchfork. One sister is the walking ideal of family and white carpet. The other chain smokes and runs a mean ass salsa, also wears a chicken suit to KFC. Polar opposites, it somehow works on a crazy beautiful level of eye contact being a language. But cross the line on us, and it's game on. I shame us both for the inate ability to be able to shut down and get raw, almost instantaniously. I always gave myself a hard time for it, but oh shit! I have company! and it's FAMILY.

At the moment we are just all here for Sr. Morgan, (sorry I have no funny antidote for today... it's on my brain) even if we snitched, of which I'm told while taken aback, he is thankful for. Mad as I am for being disrespected, and mad as Prada is for.... everything about it, our foremost worry is for his well being, which trickles down the line unfairly to Mr. Morgan and alike. I think god or the peanut butter guy sent me to this FAMILY, and it's no coincidence. I find great comfort in not being the only strong woman to speak up. I also want to not e that when I was told Sr. Morgan didn't think I was strong to do so, I was surprised. Am I too polite for my own good? I don't hush my mouth more than anyone else.... it was an odd, but nice compliment because yes I am. I call it coniving, but take your pick of words. I'm not mean unless pushed or if I feel someone could get hurt, including myself, that's when I get sneaky. Otherwise I'm a flower (can you feel me blooming in the sun?).

So that's the update. Convention is done for now and I'm off to die, after partying my ass off tonight. The dogs don't understand but are joining the conga line all the same.

-DM

ps - to Prada.... we never have, but let's go out sometime without the proper manners. Be fun, you don't get to see me outside holiday/official events. I'll hire a babysitter. /grins.

Unbelievable.

This is worth it.... please give me comments. What I reveal was not in the confidence of my faith (or lack of). There is one piece that I was specifically asked not to share and I hold to it. I'm human too just as much as a reverend, so I'm allowed my outlet. I will do what I shook a hand on.

During the most stressful time of year at work came the weekend from hell. I (we) have literally worked 7 days straight and it’s important that I have my head straight before tomorrow mornings’ shift, and I am not sure it can happen.

Ever met a person who is so offensive, demanding, selfish and ungrateful that sharing air with them makes you want to throw yourself into a casket?

Mr. Morgan’s father, Julie and Marley came over to enlarge the doggy door that Kylee has swiftly outgrown. I can’t deny her so she is rapidly becoming the most portly dog on the block. She appeals to me with those hazel eyes and says “I’m not being greedy, I just wondered what it tastes like because you seem to be enjoying it so much.” The door gesture was nice, and extremely appreciated. It also looks fantastic.

Swap side to this deal was I quickly was hit by Julie with “We need to talk, please.” This was after I was told that smoke bothers her since quitting. I thought, and? I will NOT leave my own home to smoke outside. She marches in like she owns the place, judging each and every thing in it. We cleaned the entire morning, scrubbing, vacuuming, procuring drinks that she would like. I did not stop smoking in my home. Period. Let’s also remember this is the same woman who smoked inside all the while we thought Mr. Morgan’s father had lung cancer.

She was already making me insane. We gave her a drink, of course it wasn’t her “flavor” but it would do. There are portions to the conversation she grappled me into that in confidence I said I would not repeat. So I won’t but I remain with a brow up, and am not impressed at all by the information. It almost didn’t need to spoken, the tension between my in-laws walked in so thick I just started to shake my head. My father-in-law has never been anything but happy and kind to me. I don’t even know if he likes me, but he has manners and knows his son chose me. I return the respect in kind.

So, we two ladies went outside and the …. I’m not sure what to call it….. self-absorbed thinking came blurting out. Recall she was in the hospital for about 3 weeks, from getting carried with pill cocktails. Sr. Morgan was there everyday, sometimes twice per day and she actually said he left her to die. “Why didn’t he help me?”

I had to pause and think how to use my words and not start a fight. She insists he stepped over her “dying” body to walk the dog. Hm.

“How long have you been married?”
“20 years.”
“You think he waited 20 years to let you die?”
“Yes.”
“Just…. Uh devils advocate because as a hypochondriac I understand how difficult it is for others not to know when it’s serious and not calling wolf.” That was a generous thing to say because there is a STRONG difference between someone being truly afraid, and someone self-destructing for attention. Truly, hypos don’t want attention, they want to not be scared. She isn’t scared, she wants attention, wants to be liked and thinks that is the angle to apply it. (again as said later, bullshitting a bullshitter.... don't waste my time).

“He didn’t help me and I think I want a divorce.”
“Should you really be telling this to the right person?” hint hint……. It’s not ALWAYS about you! But I was calm and very polite. Until later.
“He doesn’t care, we wants my life insurance money.” (GOOD FUCKING LORD! Slap slap)
“Well do what is healthy for you, but I think he is a good person who stood by you after what you did to everyone in the family. I really think you should tell him, not me.” Honestly, if it’s THAT bad, pack your shit, rent a camel and take your shoes for a walk. Easy.

So there is that, and the item I won’t discuss, and frankly don’t believe. I walked away to listen to her complaints on the dog shit in my yard. Watch your step then or keep on the sidewalk, life isn’t that tricky, and if stepping in dog shit wrecks your day then you should have on a clown mask because everyone thinks you’re a fool.

We were to watch Marley while they had supper, not a problem. Except. And heeeeeeere we go with the all-about-me continuum. Forgot a dress purse. Fine borrow one of mine. But it smelled of smoke because, ya know, I fucking SMOKE! Don’t take it then. Also, forgot perfume. I brought out 3 choices, and all stank to her opinion.

By now it’s meltdown of “get out of my home” inside my head. Finally they are ready to go eat – it’s JUST food, jesus! And she starts digging in her bag for tranquilizers. It got to the point of being so frantic for the pills that Sr. Morgan was rolling his eyes and looking defeated. At 6pm heading to supper you need a tranquilizer? Did we learn nothing from the trip to the ICU? She didn’t come out and say it, but distinctly implied they’d been taken from her purse since having arrived. Anything else you want to be a guest in MY home and insult me by? I can wipe your ass if you need it, I’m waiting to be asked – or told my toilet paper hurt/caused a fucking hemorrhoid. We are clearly junkies just hoping to steal from her unlabeled bottle. Sounds just like us. In actually I was watching my vicodin, that is for emergency only (I don’t partake but if a tooth goes over the weekend or alike it’s good to have to get a Morgan by, go figure we CAN handle our fucking pills).

Called my art doodles, and a “good start.” Hands start twitching and I’m about to start name calling and making her cry for the first time that day that weren’t crocodile tears. The pity party had ended, guest or not.

Foward to today we took Sr. Morgan to supper, which was again about her and I really lost it. It began with her demands to the waitress, the same place we ate prior and she comsumed 3/4ths of it then whined until it became free. The whole meal was her making everyone repeat themselves because she was sitting at the end of the table. Lean in! Again everything about her is such a strain. She then wanted a photo of Sr., Mister and her daughter, and Senior said... um... what about these two? Meaning the daughters boyfriend and myself. The bitch actually said "Well they aren't family."

My anger wants to go to tears but I won't let it. I have however been in THIS family for six years. When do I get the club card?

I'm done with her. I have a horrific day ahead of me and did all I could to be cool. She is toxic to everyone and I hope she asks that when I fake hugged her that I couldn't flee fast enough, even if it meant that her to go box flew onto the ground, not intentional. I'm certain she will now cry to her husband, who will cry to Mr. Morgan, who then will give me shit. She's aware her antics can effect lives/marriages and it makes me furious. I really need for her to be away from me. I truly pity my father in law, I cannot imagine living with her daily bullshit. It wore me to the bone in two days. After what she said about him, my respect really dropped. I say it often enough, but bullshitting a bullshitter is about the most transparent thing in the world. To use it for pity, is about the most aboreable. The shit he's done for her....... don't whine when he's pushed to the limits. I love the man, and have pushed his son to the limits too, but my god, enough. God forbid someone calls me for an intervention, I reserve 5 spots for myself in advance.

End epic.

-DM

Balloons

(Same from the Daily Kylee...... but without edits!)

As my annual gag of just being a smart ass, when I talk to people who plan to attend my convention I make shit up. This year was that I liked balloons. It's not untrue. Last year I said I was all about chocolate and the shit rolled in. That one WAS untrue. I did not expect balloons, even when told earlier last week "you are being taken care of." Jesus. For what? Godfather.... may I approach thee? What have I really done?

I really thought they were kidding about the balloons as much as I was. Nope. Because of the run (below) I made her wear it. Remember..... steal it you wear it, well.... run from me... wear it. New rule.

So I get home with my usual spray of one purse, one bag of ... whatever, and all these fucking balloons waving in the wind like laughter. I open the front door and it's like someone hit the god damned trigger on the gun because both of the dogs went screaming into the road. All while I'm still attached to these fucking balloons that I no longer even like. Thank god for my neighbor. Except.... she asked if she could help with the balloons. /pause. Balloon coveter, I get it, but screamed that it was better if she could catch one of the two dogs who were bolting like a fucking prison break. The Russian was the worst, he chilled under a car as I am in chase ------ with ALL those damned balloons and purses in tow, a car that was RUNNING, ready to go. I flailed and about threw myself on the hood of the car screaming at his little ass. Not ok Simon.

The neighbor caught the Muslim, and I caught the Russian. Was he sorry? Oh let's talk about HOW sorry. My neighbors god love them, laughed at me running with balloons, bags in tow screaming names, my arms out to grapple an animal an kill it, spilling my entire purse all over the (not more) fucking!!! sidewalk. Did I mention I wore a dress today and can't walk even without anything to weigh me down? It was a scene. Again, bless my neighbors, they've seen us dive naked from our little pool plenty I'm sure. We stand at the fence though, listening first because trhey do often have grandkids, and we are somewhat thinky about that sort of thing. I don't want to scar a kid.

For most, I't's a duplicate for main blog..... Video though, thats new!




-DM

Coke addict

My nose won't stop running for 4 months. What gives? It's getting me looks that I wish I'd earned, or could at least be high enough to laugh at and confirm.

Short weekend, but when aren't they? I worked on my (thanks Bosslady's Daughter to remind me, because I wasn't aware) non-paid artistry and it's coming along nicely. I continue to stare at it, knowing that while completely unseen by others for the most part, I can gaze upward and know exact what was trickling down the faucet of my head when I did each little segment. It most likely, looks all the same to anyone else and why shouldn't it.

We ..... and I mean Mr. Morgan, drained the pool today after an entire week of me bitching and carrying on that I'd not seen that color green since the last Lucky Charms commercial. When the news broke word of a West Nile case in my area - a hummingbird - I was about to get an icepick and stab the thing into deflation if it was not handled how I'd repeatedly asked.



Assalamu alaikum to the GrandMaster (who likely will beat my ass for this). It's the Muslim weekend. Cheers.

-DM

........

Today was horrid on levels that look like a DNA model, each molecule representing something bad, worse, hated, scorned, scoffed, cursed at, tripped over, and insert your own.

So bad was my day that on leaving work I flew out of the parking lot so fast someone would have sworn my car had been stolen, I don't drive like that. Today, I did.

My head was throbbing, my stomach ill and I get a block from my house and there is a child in the road. Just standing there with the idiot look that quail often have. I waited for about 30 seconds, which feels like 5 minutes when you want to be home and some idiot is in the street doing nothing but holding you up.

Taking my day into consideration, yes, I did.... I screamed at the kid and hell yes I cussed at him "get the fuck out of the street!" almost HOPING a parent would come out and dare to start this battle. Not today my friend, not today. First of all, had a parent come out, then they could hear me..... also meaning if their ears work so do their eyes and I could have plowed that street standing little brat down and kept going. Watch your kid, and if you won't..... then you will hear me telling it to get it's dumb ass to safety and out of my way. That's my way of being nice today.

Entered the house to the first inside turd I'd seen in weeks. This turd was imported FROM outside, clear by the weeds it had danced in. The process is being confused I'm afraid. I yelled at her too and even the Russian just for being Russian.

Removed turd, shamed the dog, called Mr. Morgan for moral support of not going to a pawn shop for a pistol and he, of course, was on a break. During this very short call the turd was back in the fucking house, but now slobbery and moistened. Because I didn't get to know it enough the first time.

At this point I came into my room to write to you fine people instead of losing what is left of myself today. This girl is done!

-DM