Little Of This, Little Of That

January 8, 2012

We have some bunnies.  They are adorable as only bunnies can be.  MDH got me two bunnies when his friend let him know that he had some bunnies he needed to find a home for.  Apparently, as he always does, he remembered when we were in the Farmer’s Supply store and I spent a good thirty minutes conversing with a bunny in a metal tub.  I love talking to animals.  They are in no way judgemental and they always laugh at my jokes. 

So we have these two babies.  They are furry and funny and curious and brave.  We name one Isabella and the other Nitro, which got changed to Snuggie, which got changed to Noogie(I have no idea where this came from, but I was the one who started it).  Now Isabella’s name is Izzy.  This is because we realized Izzy was male when he found his “special purpose in life” and started humping Noogie til he fell over sideways in a swoon. 

We finally had to move them to different quarters because Noogie emphasized her “not tonight, headache” with an attack that left Izzy sans hair on his nose.  MDH, darling that he is, constructed them a three-story condo, complete with balcony and burrow.  We actually moved lawnchairs into a semi-circle around them and sat outside drinking coffee and watching the bunnies for amusement.  (We have such a random life sometimes)

Just in case, we kept track of how long it had been since they were together and finally came to the conclusion that Noogie was not preggers.  Whew!  Dodged that bullet.  Well, not so much.

Rocky and I returned from town one day to discover four tiny little bare assed baby bunnies in the cage.  What??  Yep!  Four of em.  Crazy Legs told us he walked in the house and found Mini (one of our rat terriers) laying on the floor, eyes open, not moving.  And DeeDee on the couch with her paws up on the back of the couch, staring at the wall.  He couldn’t figure out what was going on.  The he checked the rabbit cage and there were the babies.  At that point, the dogs came out of lala land and started freaking out. 

OMG… bunnies are the cutest things EVER!  The fit in the palm of your hand, will try to hop out even though they can’t see, and they feed upside down!  I’m serious.  They get close to their mom’s tummy then they flip upside down onto their backs and start to feed.  Weird! 

We gave one away and sold the other three.  Ten bucks apiece!  w00t!  I was thinking about getting Izzy fixed but now I’m not so sure.  I wouldn’t mind feeling like a contributing member of this family again.  We’ll see how it goes.

Next……Intentions vs Results

I have a very good friend who had a brain tumor.  She was treated for it, did a bunch of rehab, got way better(even lost weight!!!), and it was all way awesome!  She was telling me the doctors told her she had a 50/50 chance of it coming back at some point in the future.  I told her that was great!!!  She said…Huh?  WTF is so great about that????

My intention was to say that a 50/50 chance is all we ever get.  Any of us.  We could wake up dead tomorrow, we could choke to death on a chicken sammich, we could be walking down our steps and get tripped by a tear in the space/time continuum(don’t laugh, shit like that happens to me all the time!),  a piece of space debris could fall out of the sky and embed itself into our brain.  ANYTHING could happen.  Every time you wake up in the morning you have a 50/50 chance of going to bed that night without a tag on your toe.  THAT was my intention.

Result?  I pissed her off and now she knows without a doubt that I’m an idiot.  *sigh*  I’m really getting tired of people finally figuring that out.  I had hoped to keep it a secret for a while longer. 

Intention: Wake up in the morning and decide what housework I need to do, then do it.

Result: I get so bogged down in all the things that need doing that I ‘m not able to do, that I can’t think straight.  I can’t sort things out in order of execution, I can’t bend over, I can’t put my arms over my head for any length of time, I can’t get too hot, I can’t be in an open area without something to hold onto in case I get vertigo, I can’t go down steps very good (hence the badly sprained right ankle and broken left leg that started on the first day of summer and ended on the last day, literally, which was caused by a step down off of a six-inch high porch), I can’t turn my head too fast or I will fall down, ……I could go on forever but I will stop here. 

Intention: Find out how the kids’ day went at school. 

Me: How was your day?

Result: *sigh*

Buddha: FiiiinnnneeeUH!  (whereupon he disappears into his room never to be seen again unless a) food is ready to eat, or b) I wake him up the next day to go to school.

Princess Bella:  Why, what did you hear?

Me: Uh….nuttin.  I was just asking.

PB: Well it was fine! (face getting red, eyes slightly bulging)

Me: Good!

PB: I don’t know why you always have to ask me that!  Nothing happened!  Everything was fine! Not one bad thing happenedalllday! (face very red, eyes bugged out like something off of Outer Limits)  Whereupon she disappears into her room, which lasts all of five seconds because Bella runs at warp speed.  She can only bounce off the walls of her room for a few seconds, then she has to have a larger area to bounce off of. 

Me: (alone in the room, slightly disoriented) Well, that went well.


I’ve been browsing around the blogosphere and I ran up on something truly amazing! is the coolest. blog . ever.  Nutmeg has the voice I heard in my head when I first imagined this blog.  THAT was what this was supposed to sound like.  Unfortunately, my blog comes out sounding just like me.  I wanted to sound all witty and funny and cool.  I guess this could be considered a P.S. to the Intention vs Result section of our day. 

Go check her out.  She rules.  And while you’re there, you HAVE to check out the “how I survive barney” section.  The woman has taste!  You will find yourself, ninety minutes later, holding your sides laughing and wondering where the time went!

Ok, seriously, I have to get something done.  I have been sitting here for hours and it’s time I earned my keep.  I could go make that bread in those new pans that I bought myself for Christmas.  They have cute little shapes.  But I’m not sure if the bread in a tube will work for that.  Maybe I should try to come up with something more productive to do with the bread?  Or I could do laundry. But I can’t bend over to take it out of the dryer, so I can only do one load until someone comes over and I have to beg them to get them out for me.  I could clean out the closet, but that requires arms over head, bending over….no, I guess not that one.  I could vacuum the floor!  Yeah!  Yay I found something I can do!! 

Crimanently, it’s sad when sucking dirt off your floor is the most productive thing you can think of to do in a day. 

Welcome to Life in the slow lane.



My Big Day

October 27, 2011

A couple of days ago I had the best day I have had in so long I can’t really remember. It was awesome!

No, I didn’t win the lottery or Publisher’s Clearing House.  I didn’t get a free trip to the Bahamas.  I didn’t get anything….except to feel fantastic, incredible, happy, healthy,   normal.  For me normal is the highest height I can aspire to.  It’s the highest feeling I’ve had since I got FUBAR’d.   (Thank you Arnold Chiari Malformation and MS….you suck a big green weenie)

It started when I woke up at 4:30 am.  Very unusual for me lately.  Normally I would hit the snooze about seven times and sleep until almost 5:30 am.  But I felt really awake and so I rolled with it.  I got up and fixed homemade biscuits and sausage for everyone for breakfast.  After I got everyone off to school and work, I sat down to read for a few minutes.  When I looked up again I decided that feeling normal ROCKS and so I would use that time to do something constructive.  I proceeded to clean up my paper avalanche around the computer.

When I die it is going to be from being suffocated by a large pile of paper that I couldn’t think well enough to decide what to do with. 

So I put the FAT principle into motion and divided everything into three piles: File, Act, Toss.  That eliminated about 90% of the paper.  Then I filed the F pile and that left me with the Act pile.  So far so good.  Then I tossed 3 years worth of old files and dug down to the current page of my desk calendar.  That right there is more than I’ve done in months and months. 

After I was done, I could actually get to my computer without climbing any paper mountains and without a native guide.  I was happy.  I then went grocery shopping with Rocky and Pony.  When we got back I put away groceries, loaded the dishwasher, did some laundry, and fixed dinner. 

Sounds like a small fraction of anyone’s normal day, doesn’t it?  Yeah, I know.  But for me it was like a life orgasm.  I got to spend a day being sorta like I used to be.  You know, like a real person.  Like a human being that can get up in the morning and look around and say…..I need to do this and this and this…..and not mean ONLY this and this and this but mean in addition to my normal stuff. 

What I can usually do is get up in the morning and look around and say to myself….how in the name of God will I ever be able to catch up with all this stuff?  Then I get really optimistic and say to myself….just pick a couple of things to do and don’t worry about the rest.  Then I look around and there is just SO MUCH that I haven’t done that I can’t decide what needs doing most.  Which makes me feel like a total slug and worthless in the extreme.  Then I get to feeling bad about myself and it ends up where I spend most of every day trying to keep from cutting my own throat for being such a worthless excuse for a human being. 

Because I can’t lift my hands over my head because it messes up my neck and I get headaches and vertigo, and I can’t bend down because it makes me dizzy, and I can’t stand up straight for long because it makes my knees go numb, and I can’t and I can’t and I can’t and I can’t……..!  My entire life is the things I can’t. Sometimes I just go ahead and do it anyway.  Then I spend days where I can’t think good, I can’t walk good, I can’t talk good, my head hurts, my neck hurts and that damn screaming tinnitus will not leave me alone.  I don’t understand what people are saying to me, and I don’t get what they want and I don’t know how to say that I don’t get it.  I am terrified of becoming stuck in that state one day.

But the other day……I had a GOOD day!  I live off of those like they are food.

Bella, Lassie, and the Chicken Biscuit

July 29, 2008

My Dearest Husband occasionally brings home biscuits for breakfast.  Since he works 3rd shift and he passes every food place in town on the way home he can do this without too much trouble.  He does it just often enough to make it special.  We all love it.

Today he brought us home biscuits for breakfast.  Bella got her usual chicken biscuit.  She, according to her, will only eat fried chicken.  Having said this, I can cut up anything at all and tell her it’s fried chicken and she will then eat it.  Anyway, she loves chicken biscuits, so MDH got her one.

When she woke up to her’s she was ecstatic!  She asked where it came from.  MDH, never one to tell a simple story, told her that Lassie woke up this morning.  Sensing that Bella would be jonesing for a chicken biscuit for breakfast, Lassie ran down the road to the store and whined.  The store keeper listened to Lassie and said, “What, Lassie?  Bella is hungry?  And she needs a biscuit?”  To which Lassie whined some more.  The shopkeeper listened again then said, “What, Lassie?  Not just any old biscuit will do?  Bella has to have a fried chicken biscuit?  Okay then, I’ll make her one right away!” 

Lassie whined to the shopkeeper some more.  To which the shopkeeper replied, “What did you say Lassie?  Toss in four more biscuits?”  Lassie whined a bit more.  The shopkeeper said, “Any old biscuits will do for the rest of the family, eh?  Okay Lassie.  Should I just put this on your bill?” 

Lassie whined one last time and the shopkeeper said, “You’re welcome, Lassie.  You have a great day too!”  Then he handed Lassie the bag of biscuits and Lassie ran out the door just as MDH pulled up.  Lassie jumped in the truck and they pulled out and drove home together.  They got there just in time to surprise Bella with a piping hot fried chicken biscuit just as she woke up for breakfast!

After listening to this whole long story in wide eyed wonder, Bella’s only reply was, “Who is Lassie?”




For those of you too young to remember, Lassie was the single most intelligent being on a farm in TV land back in the LONG AGO.  The family he lived with THOUGHT  they were smart but Lassie had them all beat in the smarts department by a country mile.  And every human for miles around understood that when Lassie came whining it meant that some dumb ass had gotten themselves into trouble.  The dumb ass was usually Timmy, Lassie’s “owner”.  There is some controversy as to who actually owned whom.  Considering the fact that Lassie took way better care of Timmy than Timmy took of Lassie, I feel that Lassie was the dominant character here.  That’s just my opinion.

Also, Lassie could convey vast amounts of information in that whine.  It was amazing!  All my dogs can do is look at me stupidly then five seconds later pee on my floor.  There is none of that “Lassie” type of information-passing going on here.  I mean, if Bella or The Buddha were to fall into a well, I would find out about it because all of the dogs would be milling about aimlessly near the well.  No one would come to me whining in a meaningful way.  No one would come to me and bark out that I needed to get a rope to pull them out, no not a hemp rope, a nylon rope.  They might come and lift their leg on my foot just for kicks and giggles but that’s about the extent of it.

DeeDee can do some tricks.  If I say we’re going to be rich, she will stick her nose up in the air.  If I tell her that daddy farted, she will cover her face with her paws.  She can sit, stand, lay down, dance and box.  That’s it.  No saving lives, no communicating complex information, no giving directions to out of the way places.  Just your average everyday dogs. 

Lassie was one of a kind.  Google her.  Maybe we can get a Lassie revival going.  Because to be honest, it made me feel old as hell when Bella asked that question.  And I didn’t like it.  Not one little bit!

A Peek Inside My Brain……..Caution Not For The Squeamish

June 19, 2008

As I was browsing through the usual mishmash of stuff that flows through my email the other day, you know, work at home, enlarge your penis….ahem!  my what?…., make $10,000.00 a day by buying my ebook, (yeah, right!), Martha’s latest project, (hey!  I like those!),  I got a message from Windows Live informing me that they had received my request to reset my password.  They what?  Now let me think a minute, because I don’t really remember requesting that they change my password.

But that doesn’t really mean that I DIDN’T do that.  Because I have a really bad habit of going off on tangents when I get on here late at night.  But after giving it due thought, I hadn’t been on here that late.  Not doing anything that might lead to a request of that type, anyway.  Hmmmmm.   Now why would I be getting an email like that then?

(insert wavy looking scenery here)  Let’s take a trip in the Wayback Machine.  Remember the time my ebay account got hacked?  That started with MDH’s email being hacked.  Now let’s take a trip in the Fastforward Machine.  Wheew!  Kinda disconcerting isn’t it?

Okay, so is someone trying to get me to click on the link in that email that is allegedly from “Windows Live”?

Now I’m all suspicious!  I ain’t clickin on no Stinkin Link!  However, I am going to change my password!  Just in case, you know?  Head those sneaky bastards off at the pass.  Beat them at their own game, right?

Hehehehe…….   I’m so damn smart!   I can’t wait for them to try to hack my email now!  The smartasses.  So I change my password.  It’s the first time I’ve actually done it in years.  It’s a strong password too.  I’m patting myself on the back.  It’s really late at night when I get done and I close up shop and go to bed.  (remember that tangent thing from earlier?)  I slept like a baby knowing that all was well in email land.

I got up the next morning and after sending Princess Bella off to camp, (that’s right, camp, I’ll tell you all about it later) I went to check my email, and what?????????   My password won’t work.  Let’s try it again.  It’s early and I haven’t had my coffee yet.  Hmm  my password won’t work….my password won’t workMYPASSWORDWONTFREAKINWORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!    Calm down now.  Let’s not get all upset. 

Breathe…….inhale…..exhale……..relax………WTF is going on???????      Alright, it was late.  Maybe I typed it some strange way, or misspelled it or something.  I’ll just reset it.  Yeah, I’ll do that!   Whew!  Okay. 

Nope!  Can’t do that!  I’ve tried to type my password in incorrectly too many times and I must wait and try again later!!!!!!!!!!@#@$%@$$@%#$!#@$#$#%$#

Okay, I’ll just reset it by using the “location and security question” option.  But wait…….I have brain damage and I can’t remember the answer to the damn secret question.  *SOB* 

Dear Microsoft,


I am an idiot who should not be allowed to own, operate, or even be near a computer after 9:00 pm and yet because I am technically an adult, I am allowed to do all of these things.  As a result I have locked myself out of my hotmail account. (insert sick smile here)  Please help.

P.S. Please don’t tell MDH or Rocky.  Thanks. 

P.P.S.  I beg of you by all that is holy PLEASE don’t ever let the kids know!!!!!  They would NEVER let me live it down!!!!


Now for the really humiliating part……to prove that this is really my account, if anyone wants to help me out, you could leave a comment to Richard, who is the Microsoft guy who is going to look at my email, and tell him that this is my account.  Because I get an email everytime a comment is left.  Thanks in advance, just in case anyone does it.  You have my undying gratitude. 

I’m going to go cry myself to sleep now.

2nd Hand Alcohol

June 19, 2008

I’m about to gag myself to death with the latest California brainstorm wanting to ban smoking in apartments and condos. 

Before you EVEN start let me say that YES I smoke.  Yes I know it’s bad for me and you and everyone else in the universe.  I have no problem with not smoking in a restaurant.  I will gladly wait to light up after we all get done eating.  I have no problem not firing up on the airplane.  I get it, OK?  I understand that my choice to smoke is just that…MY choice.  I understand that I have no right to impose MY choice on YOU.  By that same token, you have no right to impose your choice NOT to smoke on ME. 

  I happen to have the opinion that the OWNER of an establishment should have the choice of whether said establishment is smoking or non-smoking.  And that we as consumers have the option of choosing whether or not to patronize that establishment based on that, or any other criteria we want to employ.  If the owner makes his establishment a smoking environment and we choose not to patronize it because of that and his profits then go down, he must either bow to the bottom line and change his mind or he must accept the loss in profits.  On the other hand if his profits do NOT go down, then the opponents of smokers must then suck it up and go off to find a cleaner environment to plot the reduction of rights the citizens of this country can call their own.

I find it cosmically frightening that the citizens of America are blithely watching their rights being whittled away without so much as a whine.  The fight against smokers is only one example, but it is a glaring one.  In the scheme of things I can think of a dozen more rediculously obvious dangers than second hand smoke.  But millions of dollars in cash as well as matching amounts in time and effort are spent making good, decent people feel like second class citizens. 

I, as a smoker, have never driven down the road on a nicotine high and killed innocent people in a head on collision as a direct result of over consumption of cigarettes.  I, as a smoker, have never smoked a six pack of cigarettes and beaten my children because I can’t handle my nicotine anymore.  I, as a smoker, have never given my child brain damage that will last a lifetime because nicotine makes me angry and vindictive and violent every time I light up a cigarette.  But you be sure to ban me from smoking in a BAR!!!!!!!!  We wouldn’t want all those bar patrons who will be out there “drinking responsibly” to suffer from second hand smoke, right?

What am I missing?  I see on the news with sickening frequency stories about multiple teenagers in alcohol related accidents.  Dead, maimed, brain damaged, crippled for life.   And let’s not forget the innocents.  Those folks whose only crime was being on the road at the same time as someone who was drinking and driving.  Not one suggestion of a ban on drinking in apartments and condos.  Not one mention of bans on alcohol anywhere.   Could it be that there are far more lawmakers that drink than smoke?

I have six….yes I said SIX cousins who are orphans because their parents and their oldest brother died from second hand alcohol.  They were killed by a drunk driver as they were returning home from Christmas shopping.  I guess we should be thankful that they didn’t die from second hand smoke, huh?

Random Thoughts May 2, 2008

May 3, 2008


That’s the excuse I’m giving myself for having nothing to say. 

I hate politics.  Just vote for the liar who’s ass you like best. 

Every time a political ad comes on TV it reminds me of an old Saturday Night Live show.  Dan Ackroyd was the Jimmy Carter-like president who was just elected.  During his inaugural address he tells the nation that, due to becoming privy to information he was NOT privy to before becoming president, he will no longer be able to keep ANY of his campaign promises.  ROFLMAO!  

Privy.  What an odd word.  That’s an outhouse, right?   I need my OED for some background info here.  I love to find out the origin of odd words or phrases that we use all the time but never really think about.  For instance: “In cahoots with”  Back during the old days, criminals lived in shacks down by the river.  They were called cahutes(French) or kajuits(Dutch).  When crimes were commited, the POPO knew that all they had to do was go down to the river and the culprit would most likely be there.  They were “in cahoots” with all the other criminals!  I love this stuff!  *sigh*  I’m such a nerd.  A word nerd.  Dang!

WTF is up with the Austrian dude who kept his daughter and his incestous offspring (some of them at least) captive in the freaking basement for 24 years?  TWENTY-FOUR YEARS!!!!!!!!  And, not to make disparaging remarks about the intellect of the mother here, but how the hell did she miss that????  I mean, the guy was taking food to them daily!  She and the “children” were forbidden from going near the area where the door was located.  Huh?  I mean, just how smart do you have to be to figure out something is wrong?  Here he is telling her that the daughter ran away.  Okay, not so suspicious there.  But sometime later, she “drops off” three of her kids.  No contact with mom, only dad.  No bells yet?  How old were the children when he brought them out of the basement?  Why didn’t they ever say, “Hey grandma, can I go downstairs and say hi to Mom?”  That is a perfect case of someone being deliberately obtuse! 

Obtuse.  Another favorite word of mine.  Look it up, Muttonhead.  I’m not doing ALL the work for you!

So, my neurologist ran away and didn’t tell me.  I get my meds through one of those online thingies.  I was up for a refill, which required my neuro to re-authorize my scripts.  No biggie, we do this all the time.  NOT!  The online meds thingie sends me a message saying that they cannot renew my scripts.  I have to contact my Dr.  Okay, a little strange, but I’m about due for a visit anyway.  I call up and get no answer.  No answer, no answering machine, no answering service, no nothing.  For days on end.  I have no idea what’s up, but I’m not really stressing too much because I never liked the jerk anyway. 

So I talk to some other doctors, trying to get a few referrals so I can find a new neuro.  One of them tells me that my neuro has moved to the mountains.  No shit?, I say.  Yep, she says.  He sent a letter to all of his current patients telling them that he was leaving and to come get their records.  I never got my letter!  *insert sad face here*  This is the point where I start to feel a little ………….well, left out.  I mean, just because I’m not at his office once a month, that doesn’t make me chopped liver!  I really  never liked that guy. 

I’m now on a quest for a new neurologist.  *sigh*  I hate this medical crap more than I can tell you.  I can’t remember things well enough to be coherent when it comes time to give a timeline/symtom list.  Luckily, MDH comes with me most of the time.  I can’t remember because I have scar tissue in the memory centers of my brain.  Whatever that means. 

It’s fascinating to listen to MDH tell about it, though.  I have no idea about alot of the things he tells them.  I am apparently very different from what I used to be like.  I don’t remember who I used to be, so it’s like listening to a story where part of the time I was the main character and part of the time my understudy took the stage for me.  She had a lot of fun times!  They sound fun, anyway.  It makes me sad that she got to do that stuff and I didn’t. 

I get all emotional about it because I wonder how people see me now, compared to how they used to see me.  I don’t feel any different.  But I must be really  different, because I used to have lots of friends and now I don’t have any.  I guess people get tired of seeing that blank look on my face every time they talk about something we did and I don’t have any idea what they mean.  I understand that because it frets me something terrible when it happens.  I feel like a partial amnesiac.  I remember just enough to know that I don’t really remember much.  I had a whole other life that I have totally forgotten. 

The cool part is that at one time I was a pretty cool old broad.  I wish I had had a video camera on me at all times.  Then I could see me doing all that stuff and maybe I would remember it then.  I wonder how sad it makes MDH, having to keep the memories alone.  That frets me too. 

This is why I hate the medical stuff.  Because I am confronted with the stranger I used to be whenever I have to go.  It gets me all emo.  I used to tell people that I lost the eighties.  They thought it was a joke.  It wasn’t.  I don’t remember the music, the television, the movies, the major events in the news.  They are gone. 

Most of the time I can sit up here on the hill and be whoever it is that I am now and not think about whatever it was that I lost.  But I think that mostly I sit here and don’t think at all.  Most of the time I run just beneath the surface and I’m not really all that aware of what’s going on around me.  I try to be, but it’s hard to do because I have no idea what I’m missing.  I don’t know what I’ve forgotten that I’m supposed to be remembering.  Whenever I go into town, people that are complete strangers to me always wave, stop and talk, and I have no idea who they are.  I smile and nod my head and I have no idea who the hell they are or where they know me from.  It’s creepy in the extreme.

Sometimes I think that I should go out and make new friends that didn’t know me before.  Then I remember that I don’t know who knows me and who doesn’t.  Makes it kind of hard to do. 

Anyways, that might explain why sometimes I’m HERE and sometimes I just have nothing to say. 

Anyone else out there have something like this going on?  How do/did you handle it? 

Thoughts For The Day – Jan. 15, 2008

January 15, 2008

Does it seem odd to you that the CBS morning news should be reporting on Britney Spears court nonappearance in her child custody case?  Are there not a couple of areas in the world in which we are in military combat that might require more immediate attention?  Is there not a murderer on the run somewhere in the world who murdered an eight month pregnant woman, whom he allegedly raped, then burned and buried right in his own back yard in North Carolina?  Are there not weather systems going haywire?  Isn’t there a dog stuck in a well pipe on 7th street in some backwoods town in East Bumphuc Egypt?

And while I’m on the subject, does it constitute a low speed chase if only the psycho paparazzi are involved?  Isn’t it a prerequisite that the legal authorities be involved for it to be classified as a “chase” of any kind and to be shown on the national news, for God’s sake?

And, again, while I’m on the subject, does anyone really have an objection to Britney not being there to fight for custody of her children at the moment?  Before you all get up on your high horses and start to judge her as a horrible example of a mother for not being in there fighting for her kids with all her might, let me set you straight.  Britney did the most motherly thing I’ve seen her do in a long time this morning.  She let her kids go to the best place they can be right now.  Does anyone really think they need to be in Brit’s custody right now? 

Permanent Custody is a relative term in the court system.  Until a child is eighteen years old, or until a parent’s parental rights are terminated, nothing and I mean NOTHING is written in stone.  We’ve seen this over and over in this case already.  This could very well be Britney’s first step towards healing in a very long time.  Let’s keep our fingers crossed.

If I were her and I pulled up in front of that courthouse, with no chance of success inside and that gauntlet of press to run outside, I would probably have done the same thing.  Please note the “If I were her” at the beginning of the sentence.  Because every expression on my face on the way out the door would have been worth thousands to some undeserving asshole whose only ticket in is a camera in his hand and the dexterity to plunge the freakin button on it.  Which means a blind monkey in the right position could make that money shot over and over again.  So much for the “talent” portion of our event.

And that’s all for my Britney rant today.


The four hundred eighty five things you DID do today don’t count.  It’s the ONE thing you didn’t do that matters.  Don’t forget that.

Crackers trump the electric bill every time. 

You can spend all of your time working on a problem and someone who has never been involved will STILL think they can see it better than you. 

Criticism comes easy from the least expected people. 

Support comes from the most UNexpected people.

People who were deliberately absent when all the work was being done will make sure to point out all of the shortcomings of any project.  The harder the project, the more vocal the pointer will be.

Sometimes I’m a bitch.

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