Happy Birthday to my youngest sister, Neisha!

The world may be fooled into believing whatever you choose to tell them. Hell, the world is already fooled by your pretty face and your sweet voice.

But I won't be fooled. Not anymore.

Tell the world whatever you want. Bask in your false glory and revel in your unearned adoration.

You know the truth. And now, you know that I know the truth.

There are four fucking lights, bitch.

Not am wasted.

Not even was wasted.

Have wasted.

Feel free to imagine the duration of your choice. All are correct.

---

Last night, I thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that this (imagine duration of your choice) could be salvaged. All I needed was a teeny tiny bit of help. And I got shit, as usual.

Tonight, it's too late.

Wasted.

It would do me absolutely no good at all, to know exactly when, exactly what, triggered our derailment. It's not like I could do anything about it, what with it being in the past and all.

But I still wonder. A lot. More, I'm sure, than is healthy for me.

What/where/when/why did things go so awry between us? What it truly my fault, as I've always assumed? Or was it merely the result of a misinterpretation or an exaggeration of something I did or said or wrote?

It was so fucking sudden. Everything was fine and dandy. Then, a second later, everything was fucked-up. And I suddenly didn't even know her anymore. And suddenly I wasn't sure that I wanted to know her anymore.

I honestly don't know where we stand these days, in regard to each other. Outside? Inside? On the line? What line?

What fucking line?

I guess I think that, if I knew for sure what had caused this, then maybe I'd know that thing which is more important than anything else.

Maybe I'd know if it was fixable.

But, I don't know shit. I only suspect shit.

And I suspect that things are irreparable.

And I wish I knew why.

I suppose that, truth be told, I'm not really doing okay. Oh, certainly better than I expected at first, but all in all still not very well. I kinda feel like a little kid in the back of a car, on the way to some exciting destination.

"Are we there yet?" I'll ask myself a million times a day.

"Not quite," I'll answer myself. "Just a little while longer."

And every time the question gets asked, there's a little more urgency than there was before. And every time the answer is given, the reassurance is a little less believable than it was before.

As a result of this constant little dialogue, I seem to have lost the ability to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. So my nights are marked by a series of naps, and my days are marked by an unending series of yawns.

I find myself with zero patience. And it's only through some combination of altruism and fear that I've managed to at least feign patience for as long as I have. Which isn't very long. It just seems that way.

---

Let me see if I can get this right. This is a joke that TremensGirl told me this evening.

So this nun went to live in a convent. Upon her arrival, the priest told her that it was a silent convent, and that if she lived there, she wouldn't be allowed to speak. She agreed to this condition, and moved in.

For five years, she was completely silent, and the priest sent for her.

"My child," he said, "You have been living here for five years, and you have done very well. As a reward, you may now speak two words."

The nun thought about this for a few minutes, then finally said, "Room cold."

"Oh dear," the priest replied. "I'm so sorry. We'll get that taken care of right away."

And so they fixed the heat in the nun's room. And she was silent again.

Another five years passed, and the priest sent for her once again.

"My child," he said, "You have now lived here for ten years. Congratulations. As your reward, you may now speak two words."

The nun thought about what to say for several minutes. With a raspy voice, she said, "Bed hard."

"Oh dear," the priest replied. "We'll get you a better bed right away."

And so they replaced the nun's bed , and it was very soft, and she fell silent again.

Another five years passed and, once again, the nun was summoned to the priest.

"My child," he said, "You have lived here for fifteen years. This is quite an accomplishment. As your reward, you may now speak two words."

The nun didn't hesitate at all. "I'm leaving," She said.

The priest thought, for a few seconds, about what the nun had said. Then he responded.

"That would probably be best," he said. "After all, all you've done is bitch since the day you got here."

No cheating! No looking at answers already left, and no poking around through this blog for answers. Just answer the questions. After you've submitted your comment, you can poke around all you want.

---

Who knows me best? The race is on......this is funny. YOU fill in the blanks about ME ... even if you don't have any idea....and leave a comment with your answers.

PLAY WITH IT .. ITS GONNA BE AWESOME

My name:

My age:

How old do I act:

Summarize me in three words:

Where did we meet:

Take a stab at my middle name:

How long have you known me:

When is the last time we saw each other:

Do I drink:

Do I smoke:

Am I happy:

Am I a good person:

Do I get along better with guys or girls:

What was your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me:

What's one of my favorite things to do:

Do we have any inside jokes, that no one would understand:

Am I funny:

How do you make me smile:

What's my favorite type of music:

Have you ever seen me cry:

Can I sing:

What is the best feature about me:

Am I shy or outgoing:

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules:

Do I have any special talents:

Would you call me preppy, average, sporty, punk, hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby,
or something else (what):

Have you ever hugged me:

Kissed me:

Slapped me:

Whats my favorite food:

Do you know anyone that has a crush on me:

Have you ever had a crush on me:

Am I dating anyone:

If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be:

What's your favorite memory of me:

What is my worst habit:

Have you ever had a dream about me:

If you and I were stranded on a desert island, what is the one thing I would bring:

Are we friends:

Do I believe in God:

Who is my best friend:

Where do I work, if I work:

Whats my favorite drink:

Describe my average weekend:

What about my week:

Here's the view from my deck. If you would indulge me for a minute, please. Ignore the rotting woodpile and the bird feeder, and just look at the tree. See anything? About ten feet up, on the left side?

Maybe, maybe not. I certainly notice something, whenever I'm out on my deck. Here's a closer look:

How about now? See that damn face, turned to the left? I'll tell you, once you notice it, as I did a couple of weeks ago, it's impossible to look at that tree without seeing that face.

One more picture, zoomed even more:

Now, to me, the face isn't as obvious as it was in the last picture. But it's still there and, at this magnification, I can see just a tiny hint of an eye. An eye looking right back at me.

This tree-face, along with Dilly the Armadillo, is one of my best friends now. I call him Treeface, which is a stupid, albeit descriptive name.

Upon seeing Treeface for the first time, I was of course reminded of all the Jesus and Virgin Mary sightings that keep showing up on the Internet. Pieces of toast, rust stains on sidewalks, stuff like that. I thought, for just a brief minute or two, about announcing that The Face Of Jesus had appeared on a tree in my backyard. I figured that maybe there'd be profit to be had.

But then I remembered, I certainly don't want those people here. Weeping and wailing at all hours of the day and night as they prostrated themselves all over my lawn.

I also thought about that Face on Mars that so conveniently was photoshopped away disappeared soon after it was first noticed. I thought that maybe Marsface had somehow relocated and changed his identity to Treeface. Via some kind of interplanetary Witness Protection Program, perhaps.

But I certainly couldn't disclose that theory to the world. The freaks who would show up then would be even worse than the bible thumpers. If you can imagine that.

At 5:30 or so this evening, I said, "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Things are much better now, but all the stress has wiped me out.

Since last Wednesday, I've looked forward to several things. Most of those things have come and gone, usually with much less impact and import that I'd envisioned. But one thing has remained in the to-do list I keep in my head.

Last Wednesday, I bought a couple bottles of Schlenkerla Marzen. And they'd been sitting in my fridge until tonight. Waiting for tonight. Waiting for the night when I wouldn't feel like going out, because I'd have to work the next day. For the night when I could sit on my swing and drink yummy beer and contemplate the universe that surrounds me and suffocates me.

Today was a so-so day. I really can't give it a better rating than that. I played Half Life 2 all day, then I went to this country-fried place for my grandmother's birthday dinner. I ended up paying over $3.00 for one french fry, and it was gross. Cold and raw and bland.

After the birthday "dinner" was over, I went to Famous Dave's in Clarksville and had some real dinner. Then I came home, and opened up a Marzen (1509), and sat on my swing and relished it. Then I had another one (1526). Then, I was out of Marzen.

Waaaaaaaaaah!

I think that, the sad thing is, this was probably the highlight of my week. It could have been so much better.

I want a lot of things from this life of mine. Most will prove to be unattainable. But some things, I could have, if only I'd do a better job of planning ahead.

I wish I'd bought more Marzen, when I had the chance. Another bottle would be terrific, right about now.