Happy Gobbles - UPDATED with Photos

Don't be all in a hurry and just scroll to the photos... Won't take a but second to read the goings on in the land o Morgans.

(Wednesday)
I went on an interview today.... and ya know, why are all the interviews clad with clipboards and constant scribbling? No one can just talk to me? I spent more time asking about the damn clipboard than the job. I guess I'm not impressionable enough, but I do find that odd. Might not be the impression I aimed for, but no reason to write junk. I mean..... do you know how long I spent pressing these fucking pants just to watch you write shit about me? It's really not a fun game. I have no clue how to guage my performance. I didn't vomit, shit on the carpets or curse, maybe I'm in the running.

As I left the receptionist, easilly 65 of age asked if I was off to cook a turkey. She really was the ideal of all that a receptionist should be. People called asking what the fuck and she politely responded that she would find out, instead of just indicating she'd left her crystal ball of all employee activities at home. I told her I wasn't cooking a turkey, but two little turkeys!

Otherwise known as Game Hens. Some don't like the taste, I don't notice it. A personal turkey to me... is awesome. Fighting for white meat, dark meat, or the wishbone is negated. Personal turkey! Chicken? Some sort of damn flappers that are thawing in my fridge tonight.

I admit that I was supposed to go to Walmart for supplies. I defected. I cant find anything in there but signs in Spanish (learning!) and angry people. Want me to get angry too? Pleasssssse give this bitch a reason to get out of control. That I wake up not hitting the dogs for no good reason is about what I can handle. So a smile and and "excuse me" to avoid a cart fight was not the place I wanted to be. I went to Safeway.

Safeway welcomed me with open pricey arms. Everytime I looked remotely lost an elf in a red Safeway shirt appeared, all but perched on my shoulder to tell me exactly where I should go to get what needed. I almost handed him my list and told him to get to task. I love those Safeway people, but it's too expensive to indulge often with my budget. I actually said to the man "little turkeys" and he said "Follow me." He knew what I wanted even while using DM speach. Didn't even blink, just " this way, isle 7" and he was totally serious about getting me to where I needed to be.

Talent.

So I have the items, pie is all cooked and the scent wafting around the home. It's not specacular, but it's a decent meal for 4 of us. I did not find marshmellows, as my personal shopper went vacant on me, but I can get by. Will post photos soon. Happy happy for all, even those who annoy you.... just smile. If I can... so can you.

(Thursday)
I woke up ready to cook and asked for some help opening the yam can (my hands won't do it you guys... and an automatic can opener is nail on a chalk board to me, and frightening), and also to open the rolls. Rolls in a can that pops on ya also makes me uncomfortable because I don't like the surprise of it. Will it pop? When?

"My game is ending soon."
"It's going to end with or without you there to watch it, so come open this crap for me."

Can't argue with that logic, and he came out to help with the only two requests I had other than a possible third - please do not sample all day. Guess which one he faltered on?

By meal time, he'd eaten half the deviled eggs, some stuffing, a few slices of pie and was caught circling the turkey oven. "But I'm so huuuuuungry!" Sure as shit, he wasn't hungry when I presented the final version of my day long efforts. It's meager, don't laugh. Was more than enough food for two (4) and those mini flappers were more than enough on their own.

Here's me fixings. My flapper is on the left. I know... it looks like it limped off of Chernobyl or was fired from a cannon, shitting it's stuffing as it went. It was the test turkey for doneness, some damage was to be expected. (click to enlarge if want to).

Again, I don't know why they photographed looking so pathetic. I aplogised to one of them because it came out of the wrapping with bruises and looking like it really fought for it's chicken-y life.

Mr. Morgans gobble. (heh).

Went well we ate but I did see a half comsumed roll of Rolaids this morning and the sound of very angry bowels from the bathroom that is not mine. Shouldn't have stole and eaten a dozen eggs!

This is what I am thankful for:

Lastly..... Kylee actually stole my bra - remember You Steal it you Wear It - rule? Well she was dust so the Russian had to take her punishment. Told ya I haven't a boob to spare!


Hope you all had a great holiday too.

- DM

Gravy Train

Remember last week I mentioned my absolute glee over getting a buck in the mail with promises for another buck post survey? No survey has come but five more crisp dollars sprung from the mailbox at the exact time my cigarette pack started to rattle in that emptyish way that makes a smoker get nervous from the remote idea that cigarettes have been discontinued altogether and mob chaos is inevitable. I can't lie, if it got desparate enough, I'd dive in and smoke one of those nasty Virginia Slims you see in ashtrays outside a store that has the most offensive shade of lipstick wrapped around the butt. I would. Let's hope it's doesn't get that maddening.

So I'm up six bucks for nothing. I admit I like their style!

What are your plans for Thanksgiving? Mine are sitting on my ass with a large silly grin and a tall glass of egg nog and brandy. My guest list is very select, I believe Ellen and Dr. Phil will be in attendance, with any luck Judge Millian from People's Court will join to make sure everyone behaves. If I had my pick of anyone, I'd invite that crazy Jesus bitch from Trading Spouses over just to send me into giggles that I so desparately want to see in person, "She's not ChrisTIAN!!!! Gargoyls!" Oh, it's an orgasm in a single thought. Don't bullshit and say you've never wanted to poke a crazy with a stick. Long stick... but still. I try to avoid the insane, but that lady, what a treat.

In other news I've been watching Carnivale, and it has Spanish subtitles so TOTALLY is a two-for in that I can entertain myself and yet still be taking my lessons. Clever!

There are new photos on the Kylee (link on the right).

Happy Thanksgiving!

And uh.... sorry about the video, I cannot explain why it made me laugh, and not entirely sure I need to.

- DM

Let's get it started....

Two posts in one day! Not for lack of entertainment or being a nutty nervous nut nut, but more so because I worked on some of my Christmas projects. The crafts have been done for a few days now and I started work on my gift to Prada. This made me forget my mouth issues long enough to grin my fucking ass off.

Mr. Morgan's sister and I have a long standing ritual of "fuck you" of gifts. That simply means a gift that you give just to make yourself giggle. Example.... Prada has given .. (thanks!) me sea monkeys, ants, and fucking turtles. I gave her a venus fly trap set up. All of the mentioned died under our care, because we rock that way. I'm sure she happilly chewed her clenched fist to suppress a giggle at my turmoil of killing all these animals, and more so when the sea monkeys rolled their dead into piles .... then ate them. I'm sure that even from a long distance, she was quite aware of the look on my face to all of that. "are they?" ........ "no, no way." ........ "Mister!!!!!!!! They've gone cannibal!! Help!" Thought that shit was funny did ya?

This year, my gift is just evil. It doesn't move or grow, but I can't say more than that. It's so damned rotten I can't even tell Mr. Morgan what I've been up to. I personally think it's fucking funny, but it's not evil against her. At mimimum it's not expected and that's really all I am aiming for. I want laughter so hard that wine spews out of a nose with a burning sensation that sings my name.

Game on baby.... don't think I don't expect you to trump me, but .... don't think that I might. Weeeeeee...... Let's get it started! /hops.

- DM

Getting Ansy With Crazies

From a very old and discontinued blog o' mine.... this entry from a few years ago on this day.

---

Speaking of crazies, I had one roll into my office yesterday around quitting time. I was at my desk and heard a suspicious clunk from a piece of shit car. The car I heard seemingly coughed and died right in the middle of the street, setting into motion the driver freaking out. He sat in there pounding the steering wheel furiously, and all I was thinking is “Please don’t come in here.”

Like magic his head turned the direction of my building and sure as shit he got out to come in here. Claims Lady was at my desk, saw him coming and split like a chicken neck. Bitch!

He came inside, crazed and almost to the point of speaking in tongues.

“Blehoudofudohuh!”
“I’m sorry?”
“difoufd!!!!!” frantic flaps of arms and wild eyes.
“Uh…”
“Phone!”

My first thought was to tell him to get the fuck out here, we have no drugs. My smarter brain reminded me that it’s not wise to further agitate a crazy.

“Phone, yeah sure…. It’s not long distance is it?”

Damn my smarter brain for failing me on that. The man could Jet Li style hop over my desk and slit my throat and I’m asking if it’s long distance?

“I mean, fuck man call China if you want to.” As I slid the phone to him.

He starts frisking himself almost violently, then grabs his hair with both hands and screams “FUUUUUUCK!!! Fuck Fuck!!”

I retreated promptly. He babbled that the number was in his car and that he would retrieve it and come back.

“The welfare, I have to call the welfare office for us. We need to call.”

I wasn’t sure who WE was, but it mimicked a Gollum conversation. He dug around in the back of his car for five minutes, presumably for a gun to shoot the smart ass bitch who’d sassed him, but returned only with a slice of paper. By then I was all but blocking the entrance to my side of the building, and pointed him to a phone on the other side. Go be crazy somewhere else buddy.

No such luck as he came right back over to me. I visibly did the body language of Damn!

“Can you like help me push it out of the street?”

Gee let me think. Grime up my work clothes for a nutty stranger hopped up on something or decline. Also consider that he asked a 100 pound person to move a thousand pound ball of dead metal. Right.

“No, we are all ladies here… we couldn’t uh..”
“FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” when he screamed that, I mean he REALLY was screaming it.

“What am I gonna do, what to do, do do.”

I just sat there staring at him, for once in my life at a loss for words. I make the mistake of being a bitch to potentially dangerous strangers too often, I wasn’t going to do this now.

The last time I did I had been outside when a man in a turban rolled up in an unmarked van asking where the post office was. Yeah. That is the best time to smile and be as un-American as possible right? Not me.

“It’s… I don’t know…. That way.” I said and pointed.
“Do you know the road?”
“No, it’s just… look man turn around hang a right, go two stop lights and left. Cant miss the fucking thing ok?”

He looked at me like I was the biggest cunt in the world. That’s when the full scope of the situation hit me.

So.

If car dude wanted to lose his mind, that was fine with me. Some other things shook down but I didn’t hang around to see anymore. As I drove off I saw him walking towards me, and although I thought I was slick in locking my door and slamming it into reverse, I am quite certain he saw that little maneuver.

Today the car is across from my lot in a nice little tow zone. I’m curious to see how this story ends.

-DM

$$$$$$$$$

Because I'm feeling like a complete sell-out of a wife, I felt the need to re-post Mr. Morgan before his spray tan. Our vanity knows few limits, our pocketbook however begs to get the in-home orange lotion if we desire to not look like the walking dead. The generic one if posible. Carrot vs. Zombie is quite the dilema.

He really looks like he lost a bet in this photo, and I was behind the camera wearing something quite similar, except for the fact that I'd inadvertantly exhaled the nose plug onto the floor where it was later returned to me "is this yours?" How gross, I'm sorry Prada. Could have been worse, it's not like I lost a.... say ..... tampon in the hallway to disgust the staff and make them produce a broom as though shooing a rodent out the front door. I'm great for business.

I phoned the temp agency this morning and it was like an 80's movie.

"Oh... my ...god... DM I was JUST going to call you!"
/twirls hair "I like totally know!"
"So ok.... ok.... listen.... ok." then she twirls HER hair (I heard it). "I have something for you, but like, it's really a bummer time for me, I have people here and like, they want stuff, can I call you right back?"
"That would be SO tubular!"

Her concept of "right back" seemingly means "LIKE NEVER" and I didn't get a cunting call back. My idea of right back falls into the range of the same day, I'm not gonna bust balls and be picky over an hour... but jesus, did she wind her hair too tightly into oblivion and forget me altogether? I don't go away, ask anyone, even those with repellant.

I got a dollar in the mail today. A real dollar! As opposed to those bullshit checks claiming thousands of dollars off a car that I don't require. I held it up to the light and it was in fact American currency. For what? To talk. Has it gotten so dismal that I will answer a survey for one dollar? You betcha. I'm promised another when I do it. Generally I talk for free - a lot, so it's a good deal. I almost threw it out as junk mail, and upon finding said yap payment I got to thinking how many people actually DID, and began plans for staking out mail boxes and post offices to dive for cast aside dollars people didn't know were in there. I can be covert and we all know this girl will throw herself into traffic for a stray quarter, even before I was unemployed. I'm on the Secret Survey Snag and Streak mission. Not streak, streak, that would be entirely uncalled for, although people might pay me just to put my clothes back on. Hm, decent back up plan but I'd probably blow it all for bail.

- DM

Name Brands Need Not Apply

A huge welcome to the newest family member, introducing little Generic Morgan:

Prada has accepted a dog into her home. My sister in law is not very dog prone and began a search for the perfect beast a while ago, with the guidelines that it not shed, drool, bark, eat, shit or otherwise want affection. I was eager to help, but did mention that she would be hard pressed to find a dog that didn't poop. All the same I was on board to help her find that perfect, non-shitting animal. She was considering a private breeder or a pet shop and I gulped a ... ok LOT at the pet shop idea because we all know that most of those animals come from puppy mills which is one of the biggest herpes on the face of animal cruelty.

So while Prada welcomed me to the Dark Side for buying Ralph Lauren spectacles a month or so ago, I welcomed her to my own Dark Side with overwhelming refreshment that she'd found a dog she wanted - a rescue baby. I may have even teared up.

The little girl was available through a local chapter of "take one please" but Prada was not getting any return calls about the girl. I went to task and I really think some of it was luck and some of it was persistance. I got the number of Foster Mom and ended up chatting with the woman for a .... long..... long..... (save me?) long time. I reported all my spy information to Prada - things like that Foster Mom was losing a long time pet and had recently gotten a "replacement" dog, and fed Prads that info so she could use the "we also just lost a dog and the house seems to empty since..." angle. All of which is true. Not that Prada would need to lie, getting her to accept a dog at all is interesting, and her home is ideal, but you never know how picky people will be - sometimes even harder than getting a purebred dog. My rescue babies were a tackle to obtain, and it's fair because these folks really give a shit and don't want to see the doglett (thanks Miss Nev for the word) back even more confused about where it is.

Prada had a bunch of questions that are hard to answer, and as a dog person I softly smile at them. "What if we don't bond?" "What if I don't like it?" "Am I doing the right thing for getting a rescue?" Well, lol I don't really know. Bonding takes time and living with a dog is not the same as a cat. Also no two dogs are the same so I can't really say anything except right-fucking-on for getting a rescue pup.

Prada was eager and contacted the ridiculously chatty Foster Mom, and no shit... was able to leave with her within about 4 hours of my leg work.

I believe they are changing the little ones' name but for now I'm calling her Generic as she's been named at least 3 different things in her short life. They swumg by our house on the way home for a meet and greet and this is one sweet girl. I also happen to like that her front paws swing outward.

Very small and crazy skinny, but has a great little heart to her. We have no damn clue what she is, her fur is quite wirey and she has a handsome beard to her. I wanted to feed her immediately and always get sad when I see dogs who are hungry with no way to help themselves. I can only imagine her past, and the past of so many others... what a struggle for them and none of it their fault. It truly breaks my heart.

She looks like a meal for anything hungry, but having lived with the Russian for this long, it's not too hard to defend a walking crouton. Hoping it works out for lil Generic, second and sometimes even third chances rock and I am beyond happy for the family and that adorable beast. Way to go Prada, recycled dogs need and crave love too, it's so rewarding.

- DM

Being an Elf

Mr. Morgan left earlier yesterday to check on a football bet and when he came home I peeked out the window, as Kylee is very interested in ripping her stitches out from excitement. I saw him wrestling with something from the ass end of his car, wearing a the grin of the Hamburgerler. Did he win the football team itself?

No in fact on his way home he drove past a piece of …. Whatever this thing is: (preface – Honey, hide the goods… this is for blog…. /tuck tuck)



It calls itself a Cardiomaster 3000 and was free to any taker. Meaning “get this piece of shit away from me.” He was all to happy to oblige.

Kylee is too much of a ham (where does she get it from???) and wanted to be part of the score.

I cringed at it entering the house as we only recently unloaded four or five dead machines. This one entertains me, not because it was free and picked off the street without a blink to looking overly enthusiastic over another mans’ garbage, but more because when used… it frankly looks like the training grounds for porn stars. I’ve never seen such a thing requesting more forward thrust. I damn near went and got poppin’ corn to watch his workout.

Other news! My Christmas crafts are coming along nicely, and they are really awesome even if my studio smells faintly like a burned factory. If you don’t get one this year, it’s because I’m short listed or too broke to ship to you. Also, as previously mentioned…. I don’t have a fucking glue gun. Ok, I DO but the sticks are too big for it so I light a damn candle (innovation!) and melt each piece of the pain in the ass pieces, hoping to god my shitty hands don’t say “oops” and drop a melting stick onto bare flesh – which has happened. I have a pretty scar that I call Halloween 2008 on my ankle.

Don’t miss the Kylee’s…. the last two entries prove quite the mental strain on this house. Can link here for pictures and updates.

Until later. If you want a Santa Pack, feel free to plead your cause, good or bad, for consideration, time is short and quantities limited. Entertain me. Also, tell me your hopes for gifts this year. I've asked for a metal lunchbox with a thermos. It's a fairly good lock that I'll get it. God bless ebay.

"What do you like?"
"Metal lunch box with thermos."
"Any.... particular theme?"
"Well I like girly shit. Hello Kitty, Barbie, anything pinkish... I won't be embarrassed to carry it."

And that is way too true. Once I have work, it's a bold ass move to steal food from a metal lunch box. This is my intent, plus who else has a super groovy metal lunch box? Suckers!

Below a small dedication to Mr. Morgan who is very stressed over our money situation, and has really not given me a hard time about not being able to land work ( a little bit, but from frustration). I couldn't ask for more from a partner, he astounds me every day. I could be lewd and say I must give one hell of a blow job (wait didn't I just say it?) but lol no.... he's just truly awesome, considerate, patient, god KNOWS forgiving, and mostly... very supportive of my being out of my brain without work. The lyrics speak my sentiment, and after what seems like a lot of years but to many is still a baby state, I couldn't be more in love, and infatuated, with anyone. That's pretty neat and doesn't go without notice. He always mentions my art being impressive, and every day he tells me I'm beautiful when I know it's an absolute lie, I do have a mirror these days. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder? How could one not melt to someone who truly sees past the bad times and ugly days. The man inspires me, especially when I feel down and he'll say something to remind me that I am great with a "pffft" if I think otherwise. Pain in my ass sometimes yes, but ... he's my rock and I'd cling to it if we were sinking. So... to him.

-DM

Soon

I's gettin' to it boss... I be gettin' to it.

Been a bit busy, by my standards anyhow.... I should have an update soon. It's mostly been the Kylee Show since her spay on Friday, which I'll post something about once the hurricaine digests her sedative.

Don't forget about me... I'm here, just a bit tardy and do have new things to share.

- DM