Tasking

(read to the end, worth it)

Know what's worse than chores?

I'll wait.

Worse than chores is being me and knowing chores are out there, waiting and drumming their bulshit chor-ey fingers. I end up in such a state of procrastination that the chores themselves become a chore in just worrying about them. Can't nap, can't make myself supper.... the chores... are.... waiting. Why not just do them? Because that would give them the wrong impression and excite them for a steady schedule that I have no intention of filling.

However when done, I am so relieved and hoppy, priding myself over a simple task of ... being a clean human in a clean human habitat. Relatively speaking of course, taking the chance that Pantene is all the commercials claim that it is.

So I cut the Russian's hair. I didn't want to but hye was getting embarrassing, both to us and himself. A dog who does not shed eventually strides in with a firmly impacted... present? .... attached to his hindquarters that he really doesn't like to carry, let alone announce to others that this has happened. So we daily "Can I check the butt?" followed with "Good butt!" if it calls for such. When haircut day comes we try and relax the situation by singing "Doin' the butt!" duh-nuh duh-nuh. It's not his fault, all good in love and ass. Before:

After! Mad and shit for no reason.

Happier. Reaslizes that this was a good thing! And not only a nice new do, but Mama didnt hit any major arteries. Rock. I have a little man again, who has promised to never grow hair another single hair. Ever.

Keynote to my Saturaday.

"Psst.... Baby... " I said to my Mister. "I found a penis on my chip."

He of course was curious. "A what?"
"Penis."
"Where"
"On the chip, it's got a groin and everything, wanna see it?"
"Like duh!"


It also had an asscrack backside. Too awesome. I can't even bring myself to eat the damned anomoly. I simply stare at it and giggle, like I've never seen a peen or asscrack.

I've seen both just not in Sour Cream and Cheddar. Can I ever imagine blindly eating another chip knowing I could find another special? No, no sir I cannot. What if Jesus is out there waiting in a chip. That just wouldn't be Christian of me. That's a monumental joke. hope it translates.

Since everyone else is cashing in on these "miracles" you, yes YOU can bid on the Penis Chip and have in your very grasp a thing of undeniable magesty. Takers?

-DM

Tricked!

Never think that early spring cleaning goes without punishment. Or a fee, which is punishment in of itself. Mr. Morgan and I had company coming early afternoon on Sunday, that I prusumed was a tenative agreement that might have been solidified to my ears before say... one hour pre-arrival. In my marm robe, hair clean but very wet, make-up not even having a definition in my brain and the house looking how my house always looks - like we are squatting and assuming the identities of the last known tenants. We have a puppy, a really big one, and that alone speaks volumes about how the house only gets so good. Those of you who have birthed a child or met one... can understand the "fuck it" point of trying to keep up with the little monster and resign yourself to living in a way that you simply understand you will never have anything nice again. And end of day, you don't even care anymore as long as everyone is asleep.

We cleaned the house to impress people who were here for all of 30 minutes with a new puppy of their own, and I thought it was ironic to have freaked out in a tizzy of speed cleaning just to have company to who came in tow with an animal who promptly pissed on my carpet. Compliments to the chef for our efforts in canine style? I wish I'd gotten a photo of that little girl (losing my touch), we were too busy fending off a crazed Kylee, who didn't want to eat the puppy but quickly forgot the size ratio and was scaring the tiny thing. It's okay Juno... she scares me too.

In exchange for making the house look very nice.... the mailbox key went missing. 40 bucks to get my mail again, which is likely all bills anyhow. Irony. Shitty sack fuck irony.

On a good note Mr. Morgan is playing music for me, you tube style, not his own - of which he owns a gang of guitars and I lay as would a swooning groopie when he attempts his crappy learnings. For tonight, it's gentlemans' choice.

-DM



Ladies choice: /grin grin, anything with a happy hippy like beat gets me to prancing.

It might be.

ALL ABOUT US! Don't even think any problems you have are remotely important today. We neeeed this day.


Yep.


With luck I have some shennagins in store for my younster hubby o' mine. If things go my way, and they should..... I'm sending the Beatles birthin' day song to his accounting gal and she's going to blast it over the PA system as a sneak. But hey, it IS my birthday too yeah!

Nothing wrong with your Mister knowing you love him and set up a scheme. It is after all, OUR song on this particular day of the lying ass calendar.



-DM

Love is in the air...

Valentine's Day! I got some of 'deese.

And THIS card: (oh my god can I melt any faster? It's a 3-D card no less, more Raffe for your Buck! How he found this... either luck or why he was gone for so long).

When all I did was this.

I was not under the impression we needed to spend on a silly ass made up holiday otherwise created to get men into trouble should they not come home with some sort of offering. Him coming home is proof enough that he loves me. Or is simply guarding his shit, as I have had that shifty pawn shop look about my face lately. I have many Valentine's today! A 3 pack of them!

Kylee-tine.....

Simon-tine.....

And because I just love them.... another. All of them will be dried and placed around the house, I can dry a rose and make it last forever on a very small budget. These will not go into waste.

And yes lol there is a giraffe on the table that isnt the card. Don't be surprised, I disperse my herd quite strategically. Every photo I post is damn near a "where's waldo" of giraffe land.

To Mr. Morgan, I'm sorry all I did was wake up at 3am and sneakishly place the hearts I'd made the night before on your door. You came into my room while making them and I looked like a teenager caught masturbating in how fast I was hiding evidence. It made you very happy this morning and I am so glad to see you with a skip in your step, even for just a day and I also find it very cute that any unhappy front on us today you reply to "but it's Valentine's Day" and you kiss me and call me Valentine. Lots. I love you too.

- DMorgan-tine

Crying Wolf

Is there a limit to times one can ask their housemate NOT to throw dishes in the sink to feed/destroy the garbage disposal? I think there is a limit and it was once, about 300 times ago.

Mr. Morgan thinks putting shit in the sink is where it goes to be cleaned, dressed and sent to the prom. Not true. There is no pink taffeta, no smiles of being a princess, none of that. What it turns out to be as a pissy wife who happens to have sink items towards the top of her no-no list. Put shit next to the sink, it'll annoy me and will be cleaned much faster than a festering water soaked bowl of something I'd rather throw out that try to scrub. This, friends and family, is why I always ask for dishes on holidays. Or you haven't noticed my coat being twice as full as when I arrived. Hey, I ate a lot. /ahem.

We've had the garbage disposal replaced twice in the last year beacause of sink deposits and my inability to find them before that switch hops into go-go-gadget-disposal! Mostly it's shot glasses. On fun occassions, the sink is so grossly loaded with shit, I can't even guess whats down there because the water is backing up. This leads me to a very hopeful outcome that nothing is down there. I also rarely cook, so where is this crap coming from? Who is feeding him on the sly?

So in cleaning yeaterday, water back up, typical slur of name calling, I hit the switch with my hand in the vicinity of a fastly swirring, blade pointing north, knife. A steak knife, with mal-intentions in a garbage disposal is like the drag queen version of a terrible blender accident.

I lifted my hand and it was screaming red, pooring down my arm and sending off shock signals to everything in my person. But it didnt hurt. I bent my thumb and I swore I saw bone. Called Mr. Morgan and admitted my fuck up of the day, sobbing.

Now, this is the point where lying would get me very far. I had told him about the sink strategy. I do not use steak knives because I'm not qualified, everyone knows that. It's being in the sink cleary... was not my doing and I was angry for having been bitten very hard by a turret of metal. I almost demanded he come home from work to sew it back on. The guilting was impressive.

I then began to wash it and my eye drew to the side of the sink and I spotted a pitcher of crystal lite. Cherry. I hadn't been cut at all and was too fucking melodramatic to think otherwise. Should I call Mr. Morgan back and admit stupidity, which I'm well accostumed to, or try to use it as a point to stop the damn sink issue.

I confessed. /damn.

- DM

Stuff

Waking up to the ongoing "down there" problem is getting very old. I saw doctor and was told every is just fine short of a metabolic thing that isn't news for over years. So how come I don't feel just fine? How come the look on my morning face upsets my husband deeply enough that his morning face starts to look just like it. Give me a topic, any topic and I can tell why it sucks, I feel that qualified with a Master's Degree in how shit sucketh.

Job search is bare today, as usual, unless you are curious about the National Guard. That industry is just POPPIN' with opportunities. /eye roll.

To give things a nice change up I looked around to find ideas that don't suck, and it's a daunting task when you really want to roll in your pile of suck because it's become so comfortable and routine.

So. While fighting myself to be positive... my negative is chomping to negate my efforts.

The sun is shining very nicely this morning. (Big deal it's doing it's only task)
The dogs are happy and alive (Bigger deal, again their only task)
Disneyland is open (I'm not there)
Rent is paid (for how long?)

I could do that shit all day and night but it's unproductive, yet inviting. One that I can't argue with is how spoiled I am (for the most part) in my marriage. I walk into my studio and it smacks of spoiled, or a guilty cheating husband, but that isn't the case. I have a rocking computer, surround sound, a cushy chair that looks like leather but was thoughtfully selected as I would have frowed were it real cow. I've got more stuff than any person should have. I am almost chained to life by my stuff. God forbid something happen to me and someone be burdened with handling all my stuff. And trust me, I'm a gross human being, Someone would have to be paid a lot of money to even consider the level of lazy that is my stuff. At the same time I cling to each bit of it with claws and the countenance of a two year old ready to throw a world class tantrum if something was to be taken from me.

While I think how sweet Mr. Morgan is for the stuff giving..... I have to step back and look at his stuff. He's the owner of just as much shit as I am. Neither one of us can ever move to another house, or dissapear - what would happen to the STUFF??? We can't leave the stuff out and lonely, feeling like it did something wrong. Stuff, is a priority:

Cheers to a better next week. Incidentally, typing the word stuff this many times makes it one of those words that begins to sound completely insane. Who came up with that word and why is it so dumb sounding? It also gives creedence to the fact that the english language is a tricky bitch. Try explaining that stuff is your given allotment of loot. Then explain it's also a condition of your nose and sinuses being on strike. "I'm stuffed up" to a learner, might just translate to having so many material items that there is no room for more. /striken from vocabulary.

- DM

Two Points for Honesty

Thanks to those who are either of capable of blowing air up my ass, or really have faith in me. Many of you have told me that I outrank the average, and somehow that does give my life a lot of meaning. I appreciate you all being there.

Kylee's birthday is up, link is on the right.

For anyone who doesn't know Guster, dig in with a big spoon, a little one would insult them. I had forgetten about this song, and my GreenHopper said something that struck home and made me recall it's words. I'm taken aback by being told of my talents, and worth. I really don't know what to make of it except to be grateful and take advice to not let shit get me down and waste perfectly good useage of myself. I generally think that I rock, but the turns downs for work has really made me question it. I'll turn a feather and not let GreenHopper or anyone else down, including myself by giving up. It's hard though, depression has quite a hearty handshake. The below is an awesome song in general, but a lot is to that Hopper for telling me to sack the fuck up and stop living in self pity. I don't have to like it, but I appreciate tough love, complete honesty (and i do mean COMPLETE, sometimes harsh!) and a proper kick in the ass whenever I need it. I love yous!!!!

I think we could all take a lead from this tune, I can think of at least one aspiration from each of my repeat readers that have gone wayside instead of chased. Never too late, if I gotta, you're coming with. I am fortunate and blessed to know some insanely creative people who ... like me perhaps, just need to pounce.



By the way, at the about 3:02 mark... dude with the belt? Identical to what I was hawking the the interview hat day except blue.

-DM