LMAO!!! (I am so going to hell…)

The_interview1

*wipes tears*

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Vox Hunt: I Looove This Place

Show us a photo of a place you love.

Right_next_to_this_guy

Matters_not_where

But since it's not to be, I'd have to say the St. Lawrence River — the most beautiful place to ever connect two countries:

 

Connecting2countries

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Vox Hunt: A Fair Representation

Show us a photograph that best represents you.

No_whore_like_an_OLD_whore

Heeeee!!!!

 

No, seriously…this next one is more like it:

 

My_dog_placed_7th

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Vox Hunt: The Anthem of My Life

Audio: Share your life anthem.

Mine comes with video, too. (Sorry!) I can't say it's my total life anthem – don't know that I would have just one, but it's certainly the anthem of the last few years of my life.

 

Silence – Delerium, Alt Music Video

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QotD: (Not) Far From Home

How far from your last home do you live? Why did you move and are you glad you did? 
Submitted by Matthew 25.

Six miles. I moved because I was replaced by an older woman with a bigger bank account that he had been courting for three years behind my back. Am I glad I moved? Yes. I'm particularly tickled because she dumped him 5 months after I was gone, and the bank now has his house. (*rolls on the floor laughing, pounding fists and kicking feet*)

Ahem. (collects self.)

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Victim No More.

Victim_no_more

Well, this is it. I could write a book of everything I'd vowed I would change in 2008 – my "resolutions", as it were. I examined years past. I identified the fact that I suffer from a bit of a martyr syndrome, and it has cost me dearly. Nobody appreciated my sacrifices, in fact, they expected them, and when I had given all I had, I was cast aside like an empty matchbook. I found myself bewildered at age 50 –  homeless, living in my vehicle, or sleeping in two chairs pushed together in a small office I'd rented with the money I gotten from selling my beloved possessions. I lost 65 pounds (not a bad thing) and I lost my magazine – a large part of my identity. I had to sell it – but at least it lives on. I was beyond penniless, tired and unhealthy, heartbroken, wracked with despair, and my self-esteem was non-existent. I don't believe in suicide, but there were days I PRAYED for a semi-trailer truck to cross the center line and take me out. I was paralyzed with grief. 

 

After six months of being a sucker-punched wall of tears, I decided my fate would never change no matter how hard I cried about it, so I decided to start putting one foot in front of the other again. I was able to wave enough old bank statements and other bullshit past a finance company, and buy a older, but charming little house of my own. I was back in the city, not the suburbs, and all I had was a couch, a chair, a TV, a couple of lamps, a coffee table I'd found at a thrift store, a microwave, and my refrigerator was a beer cooler with ice in it to keep things cold. I remember well my first night in MY home – that cold December night in 2005, was what Dr. Phil would call a defining moment in my life. I remember I was warm – snuggling up on my sofa with some candles lit, looking through the picture window at the big, bare sycamore in the park across the street…and I was sharing a loaf of bread with a mouse that had taken up residence with me. I actually trimmed away the part he'd eaten and used it for a sandwich.  It was one of the happiest times of my life – even not knowing what my future would hold. I did know this much; I could work for McDonald's and make this mortgage payment. I would not be homeless anymore.

 

During this mess I'd made a close friend of (and subsequently fallen in unrequitted love with) a man who had been my Canadian contact for years, whom I'd only met once briefly years before at an event I was covering in Vermont. With very little history between us, he sensed in an e-mail that something was wrong and he picked up the phone. The rest is history, and another novel all unto its own so I won't dwell on it here, although I've come to a peaceful revelation about all that, too.

 

Within a year of losing my marriage, my home, my livelihood, I lost my mother suddenly, December 1 of 2006. (My father had been gone since 1995. My kids' dad died that same year.) What else could happen?  

 

Long and short of it was I knew if nothing else, I knew I was a survivor, and was eventually offered a good position at a large company. I got many things back on track – I was out of immediate danger, but I was still very, very sad, depressed, and bitter. In truth, I WAS undeservedly screwed over and had suffered some great losses.

 

So……..I've been feeling better about some things over the past few weeks and decided I had nailed down a life-altering change that I would employ as my New Year's resolution. My biggest detriment is that I am naturally incapable of being selfish – even when I should be, so, starting with 2008 – it would be the Year of BEV. I would begin to live for me – do those things I really wanted to, and not do the things I really didn't want to. I would do nice things for myself…just because. I would find a hairdresser who knew how to cut hair. I would buy small pretty things for myself that I normally wouldn't – "love myself gifts" if you will. I would take better care of my health and lose weight (blah, blah – more "gifts" to myself). I would revive some old hobbies and hone some new skills I had let fall by the wayside, to fill up my empty times, and I would make myself happy. I had it all figured out…up until about 6 pm today, when the epiphany hit.

 

In reality, I only have one single resolution. I must remove myself from the role of VICTIM. If I do this, the other things will fall into place. Throughout my struggles over the past couple of years, throughout my fall and rise – my accomplishments big and small, each little step upward, I have hung on to the victim mentality. It has become very much a part of my being. It has found a home here and must be fed. And I have fed it well. At one time I was a victim; it's true, but I haven't been a victim for a long time now – I just refused to let it go. Every good thing that has happened to me, I've been waiting for the hammer to fall…and when it didn't, I found a hammer and hit myself with it. Back in business.

 

So that's it folks. Nothing sparkly or of lofty aspirations. I'm not moving any mountains in 2008 - I won't be saving the orphans or running for Congress. I'm not sure I will lose much weight; I doubt very highly that I will quit smoking. I cannot promise that I will not have bad or lonely days where I need a pity party, or to cry on the blog….but I will not be a victim anymore.  

 

 

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QotD: Rituals For A New Year

What are your rituals or traditions for starting off a new year?  

There was nothing out of the ordinary for New Year's Day around my house as a child except perhaps the food. Many people have the "corned beef and cabbage" meal for good luck. We southerners (Tennesseans) had black-eyed peas. You had to have some balck-eyed peas on New Years' Day for good luck. I sort of quit playing those head games with myself a few years ago when I realized that every year was different in its fortunes and misfortunes, black-eyed peas and all. I do it if I think of it, if I don't, I don't lose any sleep over it. I believe eating special food on NYD is just a symbolic thing that starts the year on a positive note. Same thing with New Year's resolutions. Good intentions.

Some people can make New Year's resolutions stick — and actually hang on to them past February. I'm not one of those people. I can rationalize my way out of anything the minute my stomach growls, and can convince the Pope that my reasons are valid. This comes from being a heavy smoker who refuses to give up her drug. I can cut back, but give it up? Pffft. Not until the insurance companies will pay for hospitalization where they induce a coma for 3 weeks. I hear it all the time, "those cigarettes are your worst enemy…" Yeah, well…that's a double-edged sword. They are also my best friend, (dopamine, anyone?) and as long as I have that mindset, quitting altogether is a no-go. I enjoy my cigarettes; I don't. want. to. quit.

I only have but one New Year's resolution for 2008, and I won't post it here on the QotD response. I still have to bang it out in my brain a bit, and it needs a post of its own, so I'm going to get a cup of coffee and a cigarette, and get right on it. I hope everyone is enjoying their NYD, each in his/her own tradition.

 

 

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QotD: NYE 2008

Who do you wish could be with you, but isn't there?

 

Mr_U

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The Ultimate Driving Song

Sting – Sacred Love – 05 – Never Coming Home

"Never Coming Home" – Sting

Well it's five in the morning and the light's already broken
And the rainy streets are empty for nobody else has woken
Yet you turn towards the window as he sleeps beneath the covers
And you wonder what he's dreaming in his slumbers

There's a clock upon the table and it's burning up the hour
And you feel your life is shrinking like the petals of a flower
As you creep towards the closet you're so careful not to wake him
And you choose the cotton dress you bought last summer

There's a time of indecision between the bedroom and the door
But the part of you that knows that you can't take it any more
There's the promise of the future in the creaking of the floor
And you're torn if you should leave him with a number

And in your imagination you're a thousand miles away
Because too many of his promises got broken on the way
So you write it in a letter all the things you couldn't say
And you tell him that you're never coming home

She starts running for the railway station praying that her calculation's right
And there's a train just waiting there to get her to the city before night
A place to sleep a place to stay will get her through another day
She'll take a job she'll find a friend she'll make a life that's better

The passengers ignore her just a girl with an umbrella
And there's nothing they can do for her, there's nothing they can tell her
There's nothing they could ever say would change the way she feels today
She'd live the life she'd always dreamed if he had only let her

Now in her imagination she's a million miles away
When too many of his promises got broken on the way
So she wrote it in a letter all the things she couldn't say
And she told him she was never coming home
She told him she was never coming home

I wake up in an empty bed a road drill hammers in my head
I call her name there's no reply it's not like her to let me lie
It's time for work it's time to go but something's different I don't know
I need a cup of coffee I'll feel better

I stumble to the bathroom door, her make up bag is on the floor
It really is a mess this place it takes some time to shave my face
I'm not really thinking straight she never lets me sleep this late
I'm almost done and then I see the letter

In his imagination she's a universe away
Too many of his promises got broken on the way
So she wrote it in a letter all things she couldn't say
And she told him she was never coming home,
She told him she was never coming home,
She told him she was never coming home

I'm gonna live my life
And she told him she was never coming home
I'm gonna live my life in my own way

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Attn: Nancy Mitchell

BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA*takes breath*HAHAHAAAAAA!!!!

 

South_end_of_a_northbound_horse

I bet this pic will never make the cover of O Magazine"….

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Poor_Oprah

Gawd, I love the rag-mags… they flat don't give a fuck.

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