Mental Constipation

(He doesn't read my page, but just in case ... no infringement intended, Moooog)

I am suffering from writer's constipation. Not that I actually consider myself a "writer" (in air quotes) per se ... only in the simple fact that the verb which is used to convey the act of putting my hard lumpy thoughts on the computer screen is, in fact, 'writing'. Thus making me, the noun in question, a 'writer'. Boy, that was confusing.

There ... now that I have THAT outta the way.

*crickets*

Seriously ... constipated ... in the head. That can't be good for a person.

The weekend was good. My bud came for a visit. We drank 'wodka' with cranberry juice and 7Up. She spent the entire evening wearing this:

It's a Scottish cow hat. There were parts of the night where she was divulging highly poignant, personal and serious thoughts into the warm summer's eve air ... all the while with this thing on her head. At one particularly tense part of her story, I burst into hysterics (to her bewilderment) and then had to apologize profusely ... but I couldn't help it, she looked so bloody funny. Pretty hard to take that seriously, really. What a derf-wad.

My girls had so much fun with her. They love to have company ... and we are hermits, it would seem. They called her "Aunt Donna" the entire time she was there. (Which would be in reference to my mother's sister) She answered to it, though and they coined a new band name: 'Blondie and the Aunt Donna's ... no wonder they like her so much ... she's one of 'em. (Apparently, Stretch ~aka Blondie~ crawled into bed with her in the wee hours of morning and informed Pauly that it was alright if she called her Blondie as Pauly answered to Aunt Donna ... geez that was cuter when described verbally.)

Pauly had recently done a mortgage for a guy she new from her teens - turns out I had met him (back then) as well. They are sorta buddies and she had gotten an email from him while she was there. I proceeded to tell her that he and his friend who's name turned out to be Jon had been at my (childhood) house, messing around with my keyboard and guitar ... IN MY ROOM, NO LESS! (note to self - ground Shorty and Stretch upon their 12th birthdays ... GAWD, I was BAD!)

I snapped that pic (up there) and she emailed it to him with the story of how our evening was going. I haven't seen him since I was probably 15 years old. He remembered me ... somewhat fondly from what she was saying. Then between his emails and my sputtering memory, we pieced together how we knew each other ('cause I couldn't remember how we came to meet). Then she pipes up and says; (reading from her crackberry) he sez "ask her if she remembers 'Eddie'?".

OMGWTFSOSLOLROFLMAOFO (did I get them all?). I nearly fell on the floor. I had completely forgotten ... I played tonsil hockey with one of their loser friends at a beach party and the other two presided over the evening in complete dismay. I remember both of them shaking their heads and asking me "WHY EDDIE?" I didn't even remember the event, so I couldn't tell you what he was like. (Though, judging by the reaction - I would say he must qualify as one of the many toads I had kissed whilst looking for my prince)

Apparently they were both quite jealous at the time. Nice compliment for me. My Hubs has been ruthlessly razzing me about it ever since. How I was such a meanie to all the boys ... he was chanting some chopped up version of Georgie Peorgie puddin' -n- pie ... kissed the girls and made them cry ... 'cept with words I'm not gonna repeat remember.

Yeah ... my Friday night was a blast!!

Sunday, my father came for a visit. It is the first time I have seen or spoken to him in over three years. It was ... okay. Uncomfortable ... but okay. He enjoyed the girls quite a bit, and they love to have attention company. I was wishing that Sunday was still Saturday so I could de-tensify myself ... alas, Monday - she came.

She brought a present, though (Miss Monday)... Hubs and I got our "absolute discharge" certificate yesterday. Woot!! We are free ... it is official! After all the shit that went on last month, I have to say I didn't think it was ever going to happen. Please - PLEASE, Universe ... let's never have any credit issues again, k?

All in all, things are fine. We are into single digits, counting down to vacation. Narci is giving me a great deal of grief about my going on vacation for a whole week. He's not real happy about the fact that I will not be reachable. (Imagine) Given the fact that he can't even log IN to the mortgage system ... dumb ass. I guts ONE TING to say to you, Narci: NINE MORE DAYS!!! *blows raspberry*

Happy Tuesday, Bleeps!!