Return of the Tart. My Christmas was good, Thank You!!

Yes! Tart has continued Not smoking AFTER the Christmas joy with the in-laws. Maybe this continues to be easy as I am sick, and my lungs are filled with mucus.

I want to talk about smoking cessation today as I just read an entire MSN board of normies discussing it. I thought of joining their board but then I thought my blog is the perfect place to discuss quitting smoking, especially, but of course not having to be, while mentally ill.

That is after all what I am, mentally ill. Forever tagged with the...tag, sometimes I wonder if everything I actually accomplish is due to superhuman effort and everything that might be wrong or even 'low' in my life is mental illness. Turns out if this is the case, then MANY present normies are in fact simply mentally ill or dumb enough to do something that some of the mentally ill treasure: and that would be smoking.

I had a nurse practioner that I adored (forget the Dr., I never saw him until my wonderful n. prac. left his practice) tell me something that stuck with me: Normal people don't smoke.

She knew my illness, she knew a lot about me, as a matter of fact she is the only medical professional I allowed to pray with me ~ because she was sincere, and not some nut-arse quack like the last one who only gave it lip service anyway ~ and it has been years ago that I saw her but her four word statement stuck with me.

Why do the mentally ill smoke? or Why do the mentally ill seem to hold on much more easily to a practice that will kill them, with many of them joining the die hard ranks of those who see little reason to give it up?

I don't know if the answers to that is as simple to everyone out there as it seems to me. Basically, we've got an outright corner on emotional upset and are the obvious ones to look at in terms of trying to treat our ills and not being afraid to use methods to kill the sadness, the emotional upset, heck for all I know it helps with voices. The fact that it kills, is merely a byproduct, and sometimes a welcomed one.

But it is a weak thing to do. Sure, I'm going to pi** off some that still holds onto it and might think I'm looking down on ya. I'm not. Do what you do, need to do, want to do - do you think my measly words are going to stop you? I knew the entire time I was doing it that smoking is a weak thing to do, and I smoked for 10 years before actually quitting for three, then smoked most of 2006, and now got off it. In other words, I participated in the weak for a really long time.

But even I know I'm participating in something amazing by quitting, and it does feel really good. I thought it would be excruciating forever, but that does in fact pass. Yes, I'll admit it, I probably gave myself the best gift for Christmas 2006. The best ones are the ones you work for. :)

There may be some assumption here that there is a point. Not really. Except, I would like to say I do understand why disturbed people feel a bit attracted to things that make them temporarily feel better, but are killing them in the process. But being disturbed/and or killing oneself is Not cool or desired, and those of us in that disturbed range, if we are not experiencing drooling idiocy, are cognizent about just plain wishing in fact to not be disturbed, or not as disturbed.

There's something textbook, literally, about that last paragraph.

Alright whatever.

I had a nice Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, (scored great gifts over all, THEY LOVED MY GIFT BASKETS!!! (Read: Ohmygosh, it was all worth it!), Emma was hit with everyone as she was SUCH a good girl and I enjoyed my family overall) and Christmas Dinner, and movie night at my Aunt and Uncle's. All despite wearing a patch a lot and having undiagnosed bronchitis. MMMMmm yummy, I assure you.

So I've been to the Dr. again (NOT the Doc. assistant, which was the first time around -What a joke!) and am on stronger antibiotics and an actual coughing pill. So my dreams are even MORE vivid and I am in a daze during waking hours. So I'm feeling pretty good. Except for the coughs that make me pi** my pants, no joke that really sucks and was the real impetus to get me to go back to the Dr.!! I'm a little young for Depends, ya know? You should hear my sick pleghm filled laughed as I watch you take that one in!!

Well its been two days since I wore a patch and I'm able to hide any evil so well that I think it's pretty obvious that this little health experiment is going to take. By the time I heal from the bronchitis I should be COMEpletely out of nictotine addiction/side effect range, or let's certainly hope so! Too bad these antibiotics don't last forever, I really like being spacy (yet in reality). Yeah, I guess we all do. :)

Merry Christmas to all!

I heard the bells on Christmas Day,
their old familiar carols play;
and wild and sweet
the words repeat,
of Peace on Earth,
Good Will to men.

I thought, as now this day had come,
the belfries of all Christendom,
had rung so long
the unbroken song
of Peace on Earth,
Good Will to men.

And in despair, I bowed my head,
"There is no peace on Earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song
of Peace on Earth, Good Will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep,
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep,
the wrong shall fail,
the right prevail,
with Peace on Earth,
Good Will to men."

Words by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, with music copyrighted in 1956 and 1975.

I am quite sure that Mr. Longfellow lived a while ago, yet I actually cried when I discovered what the second verse is, as how true to how I feel many times, yet the truth is right there: despite hate and the mocking of songs of love, God is not dead, nor does He sleep. Have a beautiful Christmas.







It was the greatest love, the greatest gift of all, and it came wrapped in swaddling clothes in a manger, and it's the best gift we remember Every Year. Tart wishes all: love in their heart, yes, I have some too, and a joyous Christmas. :)

Chapter Two: Pills Are My Life. (Well, Partly. Just When I think About Them. :)

Are you expecting a scathing tell-all of someone like Elizabeth Taylor, Judy Garland, Rush Limbaugh where you can read about the rise and fall of someone and the sordid details of their descent into a mind numbing, illegal hell from which they may or may not have arisen from?

AAAAANNNNNHHHHH!!! Wrong blog. Continue Googling.

Nope, bipolars everywhere are just going to nod with me on this one, I think, but I'm not sharing the sordid stuff that caused me to have to be on pills. Sorry. That one will be selling in bookstores in a couple of years.

This evening's bitching will simply state that about 20 minutes ago I took 11 pills. With a cough syrup chaser. This cocktail is a little heavier than usual, made up primarily of my usual evening pills (taken daily) with add-ons of antibiotics, Pre-msyn pills (I will ad drop: that's the only stuff that's even come close to doing what it says), and aspirin.

Is the medicine more bitter than that which I take it for? Usually, no. No big deal that I am a walking pharmacy at age 35. No big deal that I've been doing this since I was 16. No big deal that there's no choice in terms of treating a chronic illness, that may or may not be flaring on a given day. Don't take the cocktails, you WILL descend or rocket up into Hell. Period.

So all that makes it a no brainer, right? Sure, especially if, as Pooh would say, you are little of brain. Maybe a person that wonders what life could be without this particular anvil hanging around their neck might be more concerned? Silly thought. It's yer lot in life. Shine thru, Babe, shine thru despite it all. Use those brain skills for something more significant than that which seems to be passing as self-pity. (LOOK, silly inner voice, I'm just trying to INFORM, okay? Get off my back.)

I'm getting madder and madder. No, that's not crazier and crazier, just angrier and angrier. What I do to curb it all is: Sit very, very still until bad thoughts pass. See what juicy tidbits of survival you can learn from me?

If every idiot that offed themself would just have sat still, made no movement and waited for the thoughts to pass, then got help, well, we'd have a lot less offed idiots. Same goes for people who hurt themselves or, for that matter, end up hurting others.

I don't state my 'staying still' thing as trite at all, because I have to do that a lot especially recently when I am overcome with all 4 of my recent issues, and that especially applies to smoking. I can't light up anymore, I can't deep-breathe carcinogens. I can't scream every time someone pisses me off. Standing still, Honey, until urges are over, is ABOUT ALL I CAN DO. And look how well its working so far!:)

Chapter One: Cause I'm sure it's amusing.

Unh! Let me tell you about a common problem or faux pas that this bipolar commits every once in a while. Ready? Taking on waaaaay too many duties/challenges on at one time for myself.

Sounds like nothing right? That's where and why it becomes easy to do. But this one little thing is what is more likely to send me to the funny farm, or just turn me into a screaming banshee with everyone running for their life. Honestly the first (hospitalization) is worse for me. Being a screaming banshee is an admitted release, then after head hits the pillow for sedation I seem better in the morning.

For those who love lists, and complete and utter clarification, I will name the four things that are either simply occuring or I have done to myself to have plunged my life into living hell. For your information and sick enjoyment:

1. Christmas. Yes, that would be me as the sole person to think and do anything for 10 to 12 people that are not even blood linked to me. I will pinpoint this into 'Merry Christmas' as it is one day to impress a bunch of idiots and NOT 'Happy Holidays' because there's not too much happy about them for me that I can see. Do bipolar Jews get to drink and be stupid regardless of medication interaction? Then Chanukkuh's lookin' good to me. Happy Holiday to ya.

2. Like a fool I quit smoking. This is one thing that I am doing, a choice that I have forced upon myself. I have pointedly taken away something that at least at the time that I thought brought joy to me. Yes! I highly recommend torturing oneself in the middle of other activities that are ALMOST equally as torturous all together as a unit, as your main torture. I'm not asking for pity, I am asking for respect. I really believe I have found that I am one of the most monstrously strong individuals comprehensible. And I've realized that there's no one to give props or be proud of me or continue this but me, as there's nobody on Earth that relates to my downward pull into Hell, or the triumph that are my sometimes day to day moments. Why I tell any jerk on the Internet is cause I can. :) That is not to say I'm not appreciative of the people who know me and say something supportive - thank you, both of you. All a tough, bitchin' person needs is a couple of people like that and you rock.

3. I got a cold. Wouldn't it be bad enough just to have a cold, any time of the year, and just feel like smack? Only when I blow my nose hard do I realize my ears are plugged. So I try to only use the extra dopey stuff the Doc gave me at night so my senses aren't completely blunted but what a f*ck it is.

4. Couldn't get much worse, right ladies?! How about that Monthly Visitor? I couldn't make this sh*t up, yes, my period arrived on top of all the other crap. You thought my tirade concerning smoking was unwarranted? Please refer to concepts of me in Hell, once again pulling bootstraps up on own, although I would be such a bitch if I didn't admit prayer to God is what really pulls you up.

While we're talking about God, He's the only One anymore that I trust to discuss this to. Being the rageful biplar that I am He gets a lot of 'hate' mail too. I am mad. Why does he leave these big burdens on me with no one to talk to? I do have some loving friends but at 11 p.m. and later when I'm having an emergency I'm just too must of a thoughtful f*ck to bother them, and that's the truth. I'm pissed at the burden(s), and I'm pissed that I 'seem' to be left alone to shoulder them.

If you put yourself in my place, surely you can see how much sense that makes. Perhaps I should leave this as a warning, don't take on too much cr*p! Somehow, I think the sensible wouldn't dream of doing this to themselves and this will be a page out of my book in the chapter, "How to Make a Normie Laugh At Ya, Since They Know Better Than to OverBurden's Ones Self." Hey you saw it here first.

'Burbian critters and Foxes that Don't give in.

Young raccoons. (Webshots)

Apparently we've got a raccoon in the vacinity. I try to go to my Dr.'s appointment this a.m. to finally get my cold treated, and my neighbor is trying to tell me the 'exciting' news that either she or her neighbor have a rabid coon under their shed and Animal Control has been called. That would be the truncated, more easily to understand version as none of it made too much sense at the time...and I had translation later from Mom, cause I didn't want to be late.

We do get critters around here, besides the usual squirrels, and things like opposums and raccoons are exotic for us. Had a 'possum a couple of months ago that required Animal Control's removal. Emma barked like crazy at it so I had to poke it with a stick and it turned around and hissed at me, confirming that it wuz indeed a-live. So I guess my neighbor's trying to save Emma's life frum a po-ten-ti-ally rabid critter. That was nice of her.

Why do people assume bonafide wild animals are always rabid? Seems rare to me that animals do get rabid but perhaps I am naive. I must admit, I thank my in-laws with giving me plenty of projects and things to do for Christmas so that I do not submit to this intoxicating hint of hysteria.

:):):):):):):):):):):):):):):):)

Artic fox. (Webshots)

Nope, we don't see these around here (although I HAVE seen red foxes dashing across roads (luckily not hit), lovely creatures) but this pic plainly shows an upright individual living in a cold a** world. That's how I'm feeling. STILL NO CIGARETTES - DAY 3!!!! When I literally feel my spine bending downward, as it can be wont to do, I straighten up, for me and all the folks that need that sort of thing badly. I have not given in and I'm not gonna. You're looking at a smoke free fox. Here's to mud in yer eye.

Toooootlin' Along

Grand Canyon Railroad, Steam Locomotive, #4960 Williams Depot, Arizona, Webshot pic.


Day Two is tootlin' right along. As in second day of no smoking, no cigarretos, nada, zip, haven't had ANY!!

I got to do a little fun shopping, as in, Hallmark shopping. Love that company, the products, yada yada perhaps you've heard it before from me? Well, purchased three more ornaments, all for the very deserving and its just a fun thing to get to look at those. Some have moving parts, like the Ark one and you turn the crank and animals get on two by two. So of course, I find Husband turning the crank and before seeing the sign the pointedly 'asks' you to do so, I said, "You were one of those kids that touched things, even tho you weren't supposed to, huh?" Which was just a silly. See, Husband's told me that he really was one of those rotten, nightmare kids that ran around and was difficult to tame. (Which can't be entirely true, because his brother gave me an adorable pic of Husband, age 4, sitting sweetly in front of his parent's home. Rare moment of stillness? Perhaps.) So, he has assured me that any son of ours is destined to be a hellion, just so I know. SEE!! The real reason we don't have any!!! HA!

Nothing is a shopping downer to this bipolar than having to shop in the boring places. This would include auto parts stores, auto part sections of bigger (and potentially more interesting stores, like Walmart/KMart), places with tools in them AND an Auto Parts section (Sears, you know I'm talking about YOU!), or computer component stores, at least the part of the store with computer stuff I have no earthly idea what they are for. In short, anything Husband is really interested in. So for penance for my Hallmark high, I had to be dragged to the bor-ing section of Best Buy for some com-po-nent to fix Husbands computer. Was so depressed at having to stare at circuit boards, etc., that I didn't even force him to look at movies, an instant perk me up for yours truly.

So, having returned home, computer time is recovery time. Sadly, computer time almost always included a smoke at some point, so that's suckin' for me right now. Oh, happy Sunday. I feel so pure and clean, trying to purge my stinkin' bad BAD habit, even though I haven't stepped a foot into church. :)

All you gotta do is write from the heart babe! Sign up for your blog NOW! (Shouldn't I get a gratuity for this? Blogger you know how to contact me. Don't be stingy.)
:)

Goodbye 3 million cancerous substances!!

Don't worry, she'll find her way down. (Webshots)


Went to a party tonight where nobody asked about my 'kid status.' I felt I should report this since I went off so badly from the last party.

I have had zero (0) cigarettes today. This is on a "God Grant Me Serenity" daily basis thing but I'm kicking it, ahem, not only for the Christmas crowd which I didn't even want to have to explain or deal with, but for good.

Strangely, today has not been so bad. I am wearing the patch, which time has taught me works best for me. Cold turkey would be a joke and today would have been hell for everyone if I took that route. Two major flareups of stress where I had to remind myself that I don't smoke anymore, that I AM BETTER THAN IT (or the need, or cigarettes, or nicotine, or the stink, or its stony finger of death pointed at me) and just got over it. I know how beastly this can be so I'm really waiting for the big one to drop but I have already kicked into the part of me that gets angry and luckily this time its against the right thing. I'm like, I'm not going to mess this up and you/it can't make me. Period.

I guess you call it willpower. When properly channelled, I have lots of it. We ALL know I have willed myself into near-normalcy in the past, and I have in fact kicked the habit in the past. A smoker for ten years, I stopped for three, only to start up this January for some unnameble emotional reason that I have yet to understand. Well, no matter, I'm kicking the crutch out.

There are no fireworks, not much kudos, nobody lives with my demons but me. Since everyone else is busy doing the same, I'm not surprised I don't hear too many 'Wow, good for you's.' Again, got to give yourself the strokes. Cause I am a tough bitch. :)

Pug Meeeet!!!

Yes! This is one of the cutest things ever! I don't even have to explain how utterly wonderful that 'large dog in a little dog's body,' largest furbaby of the the Toy Group classification is! Okay, I'll further it and say that they are wonderful lap dogs, just cute as a dickens with curly tails, floppy ears, small barrelled body. Mine has the temperament of a Homeland Security hound, unfortunately she has a bit of a hair trigger. All mayhem spills loose when say, a package or delivery person comes to the door, as she just loses her mind and barks insanely while going in circles (circles are a definite puggie trait as well). BUT, they are not all like that. My mother's pug is very laid back and has an almost imperceptible bark. My mom thinks mine should be on antianxiety medication, which is almost funny but she is serious. Now I know how parents must feel about medicating children, cause I'm like "not MY dog! Do they make meds for a beast that small?" :)

Anyhow, a pug meet is where folks bring their pug babies, let 'em off leash and, well, they do what doggies do: run around after each other, sniff each others bottoms, and look for their pug parents forlornly when they realize they are a little lost. If you love pugs its just the funnest thing to be in the prescence of 20 or so snorting little darlings.

So behold, I have a slide show for your enjoyment. I had to stop myself from using the 'disco' version, as it was just hilarious but really lent an inappropriate raunchy tone to it, and these are just innocent little puggies havin' fun. Hope you're not offended by all the bottom sniffin', cause that's what they do! Smiles to you. :)

Pret-ty.

Garden Gate, Bainbridge Island, Washington, Webshot pic

I Wanna Talk About It Some More

Since I’ve got this monstrous debilitating disease that I utterly refuse to disclose to strangers (is that so crazy?) yet simultaneously I possess a sweet demeanor that obviously suggests that I must have a fantastic gene pool to pass on, I am a target for the kind of crap that I discussed below. This amazes me somewhat, or perhaps a lot, because people are usually judged for what they do, their job, their business usually for men and maybe even sometimes for who they are.

But it turns out, at least in Middle America, you are significantly judged by if you have children or not, and if so, how many, how many grandkids that’s produced for you, etc. And if you don’t have kids, is it because you hate kids? (which I guarantee you will lower your amount of party invitations), or if you are unable to have children (oh, poor you), just never had the chance, or whatever is floating through your querers mind, whether they give the list or just start suggesting it. Admitting to not particularly caring for children is akin to being a Nazi or someone who would probably eat their young, so it is reassuring after all that you haven’t produced. But no one wants a Nazi at their party or in their social group.

Not that I have ever responded to any of these queries in a negative way. No, despite the fact that extreme prying is in fact extremely offensive, I try to give answers that reassure and make everyone feel better. Never mind that I’m offended cause I’m more of a medical or research subject than a person, mind you, and certainly my issues are as anathema to these kind of people (and sadly this is quite rampant) that I don’t matter anyway. Certainly, I should be able to understand how important it is for them to discern the answers to these important underlying factors.

Case in point, same party on Sunday. As Husband and I walked into Host’s house he immediately said something to the effect of, “Oh yeah, you guys don’t have kids.” Which is true. So we kind of nodded. Then he says, “Do you want to have kids?” apparently testing for those Nazi tendencies. So, I was not about to be sour immediately upon entering party and I played the game. “Well, I certainly haven’t ruled out having them.” And I kid you not, I actually gestured to the lower half of my torso, where my girl parts do reside, and pretty much said something like “I think they still work.”

This must have satisfactorily proven that we were worthy to enter, to mingle with others, that we were not going to be offended by the existence of children at the party (which we, uh, already knew) and were not going to take anyone’s kid home for a snack.

This is not fiction. This really did happen.

It’s known around the office that Husband and I are childless, however, I would die a thousand deaths if Husband tried to explain to everyone I am Bipolar and that I am doing a really good job of taking care of myself and our animals. I am sure that any discussion or trying to make my life look good to others or even explain it would be met with dazed stares, lack of comprehension and probably some sympathy for Husband for having married such a weird, problem filled, incomprehensibly burdened individual. It’s why we both just avoid it. I’m just not one of those brave, boisterous, idiotic people that puts my problems on a plate for everyone to see and says “See, that’s why.” I will have to work on that in my next life.

Instead, I have a lovely demeanor, oooh especially when I’m ‘on’ and it maketh no sense why I don’t see the sense of having more little me’s to nosy strangers whose its not any business of anyway. It’s not like I treat normies as cruelly as I am treated, quite the opposite, hence why I’ve said many times on this very blog that it takes monster patience to deal with them. It should be no secret why I am presently self-sequestering myself as much as I possibly can, I’ve taken a lot of abuse, in the workplace and face to face. It’s a case of you’ve gotta be the better person and by God that takes so much energy, and I just haven’t mustered it back yet.

Hey, it’s my blog, you get to hear me bitch. It’s my life and I’m telling it to you straight.

But seriously though, men don’t have this problem, not nearly in the same way. It’s just a rotten society and I’m tired of it’s ‘standards’ being shoved on me.

You are now blessed with an additional 'rant.' Enjoy:

I can’t help saying that so many illness are brought on by people themselves. You shove enough sugar into your body, you’ll probably be diabetic. I saw this first hand in my own family. You eat enough crap and watch TV or sit all day, you’ll probably get heart disease or a lovely form of cancer. You don’t deal with your problems, neurologists are waiting to diagnose you. The list is endless of the fact that many people bring their own probs right onto themselves, whether they want to admit it or not, and I certainly don’t think they set out to or even mean to.

I was born with this. Officially diagnosed at 16, I could easily look back and see the bipolar behavior personally from as young as 5 and I bet my Mom could take it farther back then that. So what is all this about? I’ve have this forever, I did not bring it upon myself, it's hereditary, and it is debilitating (even the Federal Government thinks so). I’ve been breaking my back to pretend to be normie all my life – and yet still I must be subjected to discussion of everyone’s ills as though they were a badge of honor, whether in the line at the grocery store and at some party, yet never discuss my own because that would just be too much for most people. Am I cranky and pissed and tired of it all? Yeah, and I have every right to be.

I Wanna Talk About It

For all you Moms out there who keeping telling every woman of child bearing age (who yet does not have any) that motherhood is so wonderful and we (okay we’ll switch to I now) am not leading a fulfilling life by not having any, I just want to say this – you’re full of crap. I can only believe that you are all trying the Big Dupe into making everyone around you as miserable as you are. YES! I do mean this.

It is unconscionable that every party and every 40 and up woman who is not actually too busy tending to the actual children will, at some point, go on a tirade about how either how I SHOULD have kids, or that I simply cannot understand real love if I only have furbabies.

I do not shove my furbaby life on anyone. I do not inform complete strangers of their inadequacies as a human being simply being they don’t have one or understand that kind of love. PLEASE, for the love of God STOP DOING IT TO ME, especially by using your wretched children and your wretched life to guilt me.

Are YOU going to pay my psych bills, my medication, or compensate for the angst, worry and emotional distress of my family as I go into psychosis and give birth in a Quiet Room while utterly insane? Do YOU have ANY COMPREHENSION, really, of MY LIFE? How can you be so selfish to assume that I am selfish by not producing offspring. Do I have to explain to every idiot that I am bipolar and in fact, so far, been very responsible to my illness?

Yes, I went to a party on Sunday, and yes I did run into this problem again, from total strangers. I was ‘on’ so to speak, my very social self and talking to everyone and having fun. I talked in length to some poor woman who could barely get into her seat, cane and everything. We were having a lovely conversation about furbabies, I about my present and most recent ones, her about her most beloved dog, which she admitted that at that time was like a child to her. This went on for some time. Then somehow in the end it soured when she informed me that you don’t have a bond with a dog like that after having children. I suggested that perhaps it was because you get busy with the children and you can’t really bond with dog the same way. I really was trying to be my most empathetic, she knew that was all I have known, and it was never a cut on her, her children, her God or her Country. She proceeded to tell me that the dog got plenty of love, as the children gave it more attention than she ever could and that I just couldn’t understand because I didn’t know the joy of children. Conversation over, she somehow got herself up and that was it.

Yeah.

That has pissed me off ever since. If I had simply got up after her initial tirade of 5 children, 12 grandchildren obviously an enormous sense of pride for her (and good for her) I could have cut off further crap and the eventual inevitable guilt trip. I am not accepting the guilt trip, I’m just pissed that people try it over and over and OVER again. I don’t need this. The upshot is that I feel now that when I see these people who obviously are bursting to tell me about their kids and grandkids I just shut down. I don’t share who I am, I don’t want to talk to them. I am already pissed that I can’t talk about bipolar like most people talk about their arthritis, high blood pressure, Diabetes or heart disease, lumbago, cancer, nervous disorder, what have you. I always feel that I must have that demeanor of someone who does not suffer, as it is not socially acceptable to discuss it. To talk about your offspring and the wonderfulness is socially acceptable, not a mental illness with a big rotten stigma that would take 40 minutes to pontificate fully about anyway.

So if I can’t talk about my reality and have to pretend I’m not even in it, you all can keep your big fat mouths shut and stop completely pissing me off. Oh I guess the right people will never even see this, cause they too busy with their kids. Well, pass it on, would ya?

Who Would YOU Date?

In one of People magazine's new polls this week, 54% of respondents would rather date Jude Law, and 46% wanna date Jack Black. 46% is nothing to sneeze at for Jack Black, a regular (okay somewhat hyper) guy against SUCH a Sex Symbol as Jude Law.

That would correlate with my view of the dating public being either Superficial as compared to Just Plain Smart and In Reality, with just over half going for Jude's supposed superficial naughty good LOOKS and nearly half for Jack's bad boy, silly, exuberant, funny PERSONALITY (and I'm putting it out there -he's cute too!). Not to mention that Mr. Black seems true blue to his wife, adores his new son and seems MUCH less likely to bonk the baby sitter/nanny, merely on principle alone.

After all, being smart, comical, grounded and fun ~ with personality ~ couldn't possibly outlast Botox and a drained back account for every court case paying off every nanny and minor a guy has come in contact with, could it? Yeah, I think we found a winner in Jude Law here. What a smackdown.

What are people thinking?

I'd just like to say I would like to have been alerted to answering that poll, as we all know I would have upped the pool by voting 250 or more times for Mr. Black. You see, a date with that guy would be awesome because he'd be sitting across you sipping his wine trying to seem normal while harboring, basically, the inability to carry it off, which is all I ever do in life. Then, a look would come over his eyes, sort of like inner darkness welling up within. Next, the eyebrows, the curling of the lips - now you know you're in for it. It will be like an explosion, perhaps literally, his gut swells forward, buttons popping off his tux (I am not saying this is a bad thing) and the table is rocked too and fro because he can't take the foo fooness of it ANYmore (the resturant) or perhaps he's got a great idea he's been mulling and he can control it NO LONGER. Wow! Talk about the passion, the fun, the hilarity of it all. Whatever happens after that you feel like you are talking to a real guy, who has 'good energy' as they say, perhaps even one who experiences mania occasionally :) or really just knows how to have fun and be silly.

Date with Jude Law: sips his wine and booores you to death with his foo foo English accent on topics you can't understand because they're Eeeennglish. He thinks you want him because 54% of People readers think they do, but what neither they nor he understand is that he is utterly boring. A person like this can only get sex from minors or bored costars because they are the only ones stupider than People readers to fall for it (minus myself, of course. I read it merely for research/educational purposes). Sooo, you fall asleep in your Fren du pah pah soup, waking up alone thanking yourself that you got rid of him, if only your face weren't covered in soup to do so.

I think this is a no brainer, unless you like leaving foo foo restaraunts covered in soup.

This is for you Tenacious D ;)

Need a Lift?

Hey, I'm just here to help!

It's BAAAAACK!!!! And the Grinch is Gone!

That's right folks, my Christmas Spirit has returned. For those of you who were in deep mourning (and I say that only half un-seriously) over the fact that I was deeply hurt by MIL's comments over a week ago, I AM OVER IT!

To toot my own horn, I am impressed by my own resilience. I was just inches close to returning all baskets (just baskets cause I want to fill them myself) to my craft store and hand out $10 gift cards. Never one to want to make people uncomfortable with my 'lavish' gifts I was ready to give up. And I was very cranked and horrible to live with during that week, I assure you.

But plans are resumed. Thanks to mysti, I will be apple buttering and vanilla loaf baking to my hearts content since she gave me these recipes and heck, the idea for it, too. I've been planning this since October and NOBODY's GONNA STEAL MY BLISS.

I've realized I'm one of those people that really enjoys giving things at Christmas. I don't expect reciprocation, I'm not working toward getting better gifts, I just want to make things that turn out to my satisfaction and see joy on at least one person's face. I'm honestly not really sure how that fits into the Gift of Christ, as that's what the season is really all about, but the things I just stated are what gives me joy about it. Also, I love the feeling of conceiving a notion and seeing it all the way through, like I did with my Thanksgiving brownies, ribbon, tag and all. It didn't matter that it was extra work, or that no one wraps brownies like little presents for Thanksgiving. The entire affair made me enormously happy. Think of product, make product, wrap product pretty, hand out product. You heard it here!

Sloths are slow creatures...very...very....slow.

Three toed sloth from Costa Rica




This is not me today! No sir! I woke up at 7 a.m. hit the convenience store for the essentials: V8, skim milk, and Mountain Dew. Then to McD's for some non-filling breakfast (their food is fun to eat but it doesn't stick to you) which I brought home to Hubby who is on the slow boat to getting to work. Poor guy. On a day that I've gone out and done something, separated all my laundry colors (which got a ton of stuff off my bedroom floor) and have a load swishing away right now, checked my email, read my NYT's, looked wistfully at clothes online, he is not quite with us and waiting for life to get better after shower.

Well, Tart, you'd say, that sounds awfully manic of you! The thing is, I don't FEEL manic. I feel awake and clear. Everyone has been b*tching at me forever, wake up, do something with your life, do laundry, clean this and I do it and its practically no fun cause everyone else is puffy-eyed and hating life.

Sucks to be you! Enjoy slaving at your job today. Hey, mania's what got me out that rat race in the first place! :)

Oh...pshaaw!

Mmm mmmm! That sun is NICE!

This One's Mine..Alright?