Skip to content

Archives – March 2007

Let’s see now -Where was I?

Friday, March 23, 2007, 3:46:00 AM

…Perfectly square, a line that’s plumb, the Pyramids were easy – just cover the moon with your thumb. The sun isn’t hard to follow, that is, if you’ve got time to swallow. Some have more time than others, as we witness our fallen sisters and brothers. For some this eternity is only a minute, but not for we who are in it…

So, as I attempt a significant return to my blog, I suppose I’ll start with the fact that I do not have a job at all. Instead of that money-dripping job I previously typed all about, I am now employed by “my mother’s estate”, such as it is. Basically, to make a long story short – the background check for that high-salaried position came back with the fact that both a deceased brother and my deceased father both had criminal charges and jail time, so it was decided by some paper-pusher in California that I was too much of a risk and I was terminated the very first day I worked – which was the day after Christmas. Now, it should noted that I do not have a criminal record of any kind (okay – so I’ve had a couple speeding tickets – in a couple of states), and both of the offenders in my family are no longer alive to influence me in any way (unless you are one who happens to believe in ghosts – but even then, proving such a thing would be difficult at best.) It should also be mentioned that I was not biologically related to either of them. That seems “fair” and “proper” all the way – I mean that’s an iron-clad way to deal with that information.

The fact that I grew up in the presence of alcoholic idiots who destroyed themselves is the “official” reason I got canned. I don’t drink. I don’t steal. I have an extra-ordinary work ethic. I worked my way through college, but I must be untrustworthy because my family’s full of dead, sad cases.

So, I searched again and found a job as an “Enrollment Couselor” for the University of Phoenix. Two weeks into that job, my mom fell in the driveway and broke her hip. Well, that was enough to force my resignation, because her shit is not together and I’m lost in a sea of paperwork, lawyers, rehab centers, hospitals and accountants. Not to mention her house has sat in a state of disrepair for more than ten years and should I have even mentioned calling in a handyman or an electrician I would be cursed and damned by my sweet old mom until the cows came home (and we never had cows in the first place). It’s now my grand pleasure to remove moldy, funkified, yuckiness from her house and make her house “social services” compliant so that she can return there. And upon her not-so-triumphant return, I will be her full-time, not-stop caregiver.

I have used almost every penny I have to keep up with my bills and now I get to move into the family house and take care of woman who once responded to the news that I had cervical cancer as such, “You’ll do anything to get attention,” and she never asked me about it again – but she did expect me to come and clean her house every weekend.

I have a good capacity for letting things go, and I will do what’s right even if it’s the scarey, hard way to go, so I am not complaining, but I am nearly out of juice and I’m only 35. And it is here where I’ll break in with a little  news for those who don’t find the thought of having  children(or adopting a baby) after the age of 40 a problem. I suggest you speak with the children who are left to take care of parents who are a couple of generations out. I have never seen my parent’s pre-white hair color in real life. I should have had a life of my own, but instead I was forced to be responsible for the welfare of my parents since the age of 25, which is about the time my father started his long, drawn-out ride to death. I changed both my parent’s diapers before I changed my own children’s. 

Now onto hockey. I still find time for that, so things aren’t all gloom and doom. And yes, I’m still a CAPS fan to the bone. I’ll be sitting in my usual seat for the CAPS last home game against the Sabres. I save all year just to be sure that I can sit ice-level for the last game of the regular season. It’s become my own little tradition and at $250 a pop, that’s quite a challenge for some years. I am not sure I have the know-how to explain it, but no matter when in March I buy my ticket, I ALWAYS end up with section 110, Row A, seat 6. That seat is always the first option given me by TicketBasterd and that’s the one I always take. In fact, I’ve never even checked to see if there is another seat available. Perhaps once I was in section 106, but I did not get my ticket from TicketBastard that time and it was a mere fluke that I ended up with a Row A ticket that year. Anyway, I’ll be there and full of hockey happiness.

Speaking of the greatest sport in the Universe – those Predators sure do come out of the gate like MFer’s on fire, don’t they? It’s almost as though their lives depend on getting the puck in as soon as possible in the first period. WOW. Oh and even though Olie Kolzig and I are about the same age, I still want to be like Olie when I grow up.

As for my feet and all their trauma, well, let’s just say that I’m sitting here blogging with a plantar faciitis boot on my left foot and a plantar faciitis sock-like thingy on my right foot. Mostly every step I take has some element of pain, but hockey be praised my two broken little toes are wiggling pain-free nowadays. My knee replacements are failing and I still need more surgery on my left foot, but I can wear regular shoes instead of my fracture boot and a post-op boot. I still have not a single clue what the hell happened to allow me to gain 70 lbs. in about three months, but my body has finally shown signs of being more tolerant of the extra weight. I have lost about 10 of those pounds, but that’s mostly because some of my medication gives me what I like to call “the sick belly” and eating becomes something completely undesirable when that happens, so I can’t say I lost those pounds the healthy way. With all my knee, ass-bone and feet problems, regular exercise is a chore, if not actually bad for me. Does anyone have an indoor pool I can borrow?

I’m not thrilled with leaving any readers of my blog with more gloom and doom, but I can’t not type this out and I feel like sharing. I was driving behind a truck with two people in it today and from out of the passenger side window was thrown a bag full of something onto the shoulder of road. As I passed the bag, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the bag was moving. I pulled my car off the road and retrieved the bag. When I opened it, there were five puppies inside. Two had been killed upon impact and the other three were crying ceaselessly. There are two vet clinics very close to the puppy-drop location, so I hurried them to the closest and they were checked out and will be taken to the Humane Society to be fostered before they find permanent homes. HEY A-Hole PUPPY THROWER – I HAVE A MAGNIFICANT MEMORY AND YOUR TAG NUMBER IS BLAZED INTO MY NOGGIN FOR LIFE, SO YOU WILL BE HEARING ABOUT YOUR APPALLING DISPLAY OF LAZINESS AND INHUMANITY FROM THE AUTHORITIES VERY SOON IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY. IN MY DREAMS, I’M THROWING A SACK FULL OF YOU AND YOUR FAMILY OFF A CLIFF BECAUSE I SIMPLY CAN’T BE BOTHERED WITH SUCH TRIVIAL THINGS. For someone like me, seeing that play out right in front of my eyes is like taking hot pokers to my brain.

It’s a very good thing I could release my sheer rage into music – a-hole puppy-thrower is very lucky indeed. Peace – mia

No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: