toniiiiiiiiiiight

i celebrate my looooove for you.
uh.
GOD no!!
and could someone please tell me where in the bloody fucking hell that came from???
i think i need to go wash my mouth out with soap.
uh, or my hands.
but.
somehow...
the meaning changes a bit.
the point is, i am appalled that i had that rattling around in my subconcious.
i am aghast that i let it spill off my finger tips.

so i am attempting to adopt a stray cat.
it is the sweetest little thing--barely past kittenhood.
aawww!!!
i've been feeding her tuna all day...
she's so sweet...
and she came into the house for a minute...
but we couldn't let her stay, because my husband is allergic.
he gets all asthma-y.
(wow that was quite a mouthful)
the kids are smitten.
i am smitten.
the kitten is smitten (if you didn't see that coming--shame on you!!)

so.
full moons are cool.
blah blah blah.

well, i was on a roll there for a second.
but then the wind shifted and i have found myself downwind of a paper mill.
gag with me if you've ever smelled a paper mill.
i've always wanted to be a lumberjack.
except for the cutting down trees part.
but the whole wearing high heels, suspenders and a bra?
sounds like a good life, to me.

um....
shit piss fuck damn.

i thought i had a moment of peace and quiet...
but the kids i put to bed are not asleep yet, and hence i am continually drawn away from this to reprimand them.
how do you say re-reprimand???
cuz i keep doing it, so i'm reprimanding, and re-reprimanding.
and for that matter, who was in charge of primanding them??
god help me.

well, either god is shaped like a small blue pill or i just took a valium.
just tricking.
i'm soooooooo not a self-medicator.
it always sounds like fun, but i don't know...
it's just not me.
i prefer my drugs to be happiness enhancers, not sadness squelchers.
heh.
look at me--some kind of fucking poet.
fucking some kind of poet??
well if he is, he don't know it.
(but his feet sure show it...
cuz they are looooong fellows)

again.
seriously--these are my cries for help.
if no one reaches out...
this might be my last night on earth.
in this body at least.
the idea of reincarnation is such a trip.
i would love it if you kept your entire mind each time.
that would rock.

this feels soooooo good.
no, i'm not going to tell you what i'm doing...
ha.
just kidding.
i meant the writing--the writing feels good.
but of course, my perpetually filthy little mind had to imagine that i was remarking on something that i was doing...or having done TO me...
but i wasn't.
no, no--i really wasn't.
come on, stop.
i wasn't talking about anything like that, i promise.
i wouldn't do that to you guys.
i really wasn't.
god dammit, just drop it! I WASN'T.
jesus.
(if anyone wants to quote shakespeare to me right now, that would be funny.)
but i really wasn't.
heh.

have i ever mentioned how my kids call certain things "hookers"?
yeah...
usually they just use that word to describe pull cords--like on a ceiling fan.
(don't ask why, cuz i have no clue)
but today...in front of my pre-school teacher friend...
they called the lock on my car door that.
"i want to push the hooker."
we had a good laugh, but i don't think she believed me when i said they just made the word up.

do you know what i hate?
when a really gaaaaaaaaay song has lyrics that i relate to.
oh, and not so much gay, as just, well...
country western-ish.
and not like the old style of country song, where the dog died and his mistress ran off with his wife's mom and the trailer park shut down so he had to get his mobile home mobilized....
no, i'm talking about one of the garth brooks type of songs.
so maybe i jumped the gun.
they're nice songs.
maybe i just have a cloud of gloom surrounding my memories of those songs because i was exposed to them during my incarceration at BYU.
just saying that requires me to spew out several choice phrases, so avert your eyes if you're weak stomached (you know who you are...):
god damn mother fucking cock sucking sons of bitches
yeah...
that was actually pretty disappointing.
uncreative.
tame.
god dammmmit.
just like my time spent there!
heh.

okay.
have i spewed enough for one session?
probably.
does that mean i'm ready to stop?
hail no.
i tried to make an audio post today but i lost the number.
well, that's a lie.
i have the number memorized.
sort of.
which, by the way, is an amazing feat--the advent of the cell phone has rendered my memory useless.
or unused, at least.
i don't know anyone's phone number if it has changed in the past 5 years.
(ooh, remind me to update my sidebar)
do i know every phone number of every childhood friend/relative?
well, like, duh and stuff.
i almost don't even know my own husband's cell number.
he's just "1" "send".
that's it, that's all.

and i think, on that note:
that's it, that's all.
love yourself, or no one else will...