Cemeteries and ceremonies.

I love visiting old cemeteries.
I love the peaceful feeling. I love to take photographs of interesting headstones and markers
I feel comfortable and calm in the midst of them.
I like to look at the names and the dates and inscriptions and imagine the people beneath.

But I never go visit my own lost loved ones.
In fact there are a few that I can't even remember which cemetery they belong to.
It isn't that I don't care, it's just that I can't seem to keep it fixed in my mind and that's weird because I remember SO MUCH STUFF. Useless, trivial, obscure stuff.
Maybe I block it out.
Maybe not 'remembering' makes me feel less guilty for not visiting.
I have no explanation.

Anyone else? No, just me then?

---

Speaking of cemeteries and such, many of you have been with me here long enough to know how my FINAL WISHES have changed and EVOLVED and how I've even written MY OWN SONG for the memorial.

So once again things have changed and yes, I still want to be cremated and yes, you still have to take a scoop of me with you when you leave, but the majority of my remains I want to be planted with a tree, so I can be the fertilizer. I mean everyone says that shit is the best kind of fertilizer and heaven knows I've been told I'm full of shit enough times in my life that seriously Ima have the best tree EVER and you can SUCK IT. I hope it's a fruit tree because it will have the most fruit, the biggest, juiciest, tastiest fruit ever, many people have said. 
Or it might taste like shit, to which I say HAHAHAHA HAVE ANOTHER BITE, SUCKERS.

ANYWAY. This is what I want: 

If for some reason this can't happen, my second choice is being put into a record (no really, a vinyl record that you play on a record player! YES THIS IS ACTUALLY A THING FOR REALS).

The album I want to be pressed into is, of course, Buckcherry's 15, and specifically the song Crazy Bitch. Alternate choice would be Carol Burnett's sign off song, because that would be appropriate.


So I would like the planting ceremony to be held at dusk, and wherever because why do I care, but I am going to need some hidden fog machines and speakers, because a nice ambiance with ground mist and spooky sounds, whooshes, moans, etc, is sure to freak some people out and make them check the backseats of their cars before they leave and if it's very successful, HAVE NIGHTMARES ABOUT ME. #SCORE!

MAKE THIS HAPPEN FOR ME OR I WILL EFF YOU UP FROM THE AFTERLIFE AND I JOKE YOU NOT, MISSY.

♫♪ Talkin' about my generation ♫♪

The last few days I've had to sit back and laugh as I watch all the "Generation Wars" ramping up, much like the "MommyBlogger Wars" a few years ago.

I can't even keep track of what generation I'm supposed to be, GenX I guess because really that one sounds the coolest so it probably is mine.
Also WTF even is Generation Jones? Because apparently I'm at the tail end of that as well, being born in 1968.

I'm going with JoneX. That's my generation.
If you're cool enough I'll let you use that for yourself but don't hold your breath.

My generation is punk and goth and indie music. It's huge hair and cutout sweatshirt necks. It's layered tank tops and leg warmers and shiny metallic jazzercise tights. It's British Knights and Kaepa tennies with the upside down laces. It's bulky thigh length sweaters over turtlenecks with sweater skirts over long john pants. It's clove cigarettes and Strawberry Hill wine. Culottes and (American style) knickers, prairie blouses, Jams shorts and Jellies shoes. It's fingerless lace gloves and layered tutus over torn fishnets with combat boots. It's poodle perms and big round frames for our glasses, sparkly blue eyeshadow and green mascara, banana clips and feathering combs and those stretchy round plastic comb-like headbands.

We were weird and unique and we liked it that way. I still do.

I mean seriously WE are the only ones who ever learned how to actually program a VCR to videotape multiple soap operas on multiple channels during the day while we were in high school/college classes and then program them to tape movies off HBO, Showtime and Skinemax so we could watch all the movies when we were stuck at home and not out carousing and cruising The Strip with our friends.
WE ALONE could squeeze that fourth movie on that VHS tape by carefully running back the credits to the end of the movie, and starting the next at that SPLIT SECOND after the HBO logo ended at the beginning of the next movie, all using three remote controls for TV, VCR, and cable box.

TOP THAT, YOU ROKU FIRESTICK DVRers with your fancy voice controls!

Also we had the bestworst music. You either love it or you lovehate it, and even the country music was so much better.

I know we all think our own was probably the best (and although I don't really like kids of any age, I find the current group of youngsters/young adults are bright and tolerant and learning to fight for their right to paaaaaartay what's right)... but I mean really, in the grand scheme of Things That Actually Affect Your Really For Real Life...does it matter?

It appears that ALL the generations have some things in common, like the willingness to argue over EVERY. DAMN. STUPID. THING. EVER and also take themselves far too seriously in the broadest generalizations.
Have we just run out of better things about which to argue?
Is this like why Hollywood keeps making the same exact movies over and over, like we truly need YET ANOTHER WHOLE VERSION/GENERATION OF A CHARLIE'S ANGELS MOVIE OMG NO THANK YOU PLEASE!

Some of y'all need to just

SNL Simma Down Now GIF from Snl GIFs

It's not paranoia if they ARE watching you. And not even through the microwave.

My work station is in the corner of what used to be called "The Dining Room" - which is funny because we usually ate in the living room - and I have this nice sunny 3-pane bay window next to me. I keep the shades up to get the natural light, and my view is basically my van, some trees, a bit of the driveway, and a corner of my mom's house next door.

Also I'm like That Old Lady Neighbor who sits by the window and peeks out through lace curtains to see what you might be doing and keep track of your comings and goings.

Not really.
Well, kind of.
Accidentally.

Because I look up every time I hear a car in the driveway past my house (it's a horseshoe drive in our little 'compound') because what if it is the UPS or FedEX man and they need a signature and I have to put pants or a shirt on really quickly??
Also I can see part of 15th street outside and I know when the mailman comes.  Since a large part of my business involves the USPS, this is important information to have.

ANYWAY.

I have mentioned before that I can tell when I've been reading too many detective/espionage books in a row because I start checking for tails every time I leave the house.
I get suspicious if I see the 'same' vehicle too many times making the same turns & lane changes that I do.
SHUT UP I KNOW.
But hey, I've been trolling the "president's" twitter feed so YOU DON'T KNOW. IT COULD HAPPEN.

Anyway ANYWAY.

So I'm sitting in my little corner nook, working away, and the back of my neck was prickling.
Usually I put this down to peri-menopausal hot flashes but my head wasn't drenched in sweat so I knew that wasn't it.
I turned my head to the right and glanced over my shoulder...

AND HE WAS STARING RIGHT AT ME.
I mean I'd seen a hawk sitting on my mom's back fence a couple of times so I guess he lives in the area - which, I might add, is ripe with big fat squirrels for the pickin', surrounded as we are by trees and trees and trees.

I slooooowly turned my chair and tried to zoom in a little...

OMG YES I KNOW MY WINDOWS & SCREENS ARE FILTHY SHUT YOUR TALK HOLE.

I thought I'd creep over to the window that has no screen and get a better shot...

Y'all this guy is YUUUGE - I must've spooked him because right after I snapped this he flew toward my backyard and I swear his wingspan is as big as mine.  He landed on my patio rail so I was sneaking into my room because I'd have had a straight on clear shot out of my bedroom window but as soon as I brought the camera up he flew off again.

#PeepingTomhawk

I'm onto you now, mister.

Dear Everyone:

I am SICK UNTO DEATH of Social Media and its denizens telling me what to do, how to feel, and who to be like.

If I don't speak out - loudly - on social media about THIS outrage or THAT situation, well clearly I am just "passively accepting" of the situation. Never mind what I say or do about those things in my real life.

If I express outrage or disdain about THIS candidate or THAT candidate - on Social Media - well then clearly I am a hater or stupid or a libtard or fooled by the media or just too naive to be allowed to live. Never mind that I back up my outraged or disdainful opinion with ACTUAL FACTS, usually video and audio with the actual words coming out of the actual person's actual mouth.
But that's just spin and propaganda, of course! Never mind that they actually said it out loud on video in front of thousands of people.

If I complain about these things - on Social Media - well I'm just WRONG! Don't like it, don't read it! Unfollow! Block! Ignore!
Never mind that some of the people attacking me are friends, and their friends, and their friends, and so on and so on and so on just like that shampoo commercial. Friends I've known since college. Since high school. Since ... Social Media.

So let me just say this one time - *I* am not trying to change YOUR mind or YOUR opinions when I state my own. HOWEVER, my (fact based) opinions are just as valid as yours. I'm not asking you to agree with me, but if you open a discussion and I take part by voicing my opinion, then you need to recognize your own shitty behavior when you go on the attack and try to make me change *mine*. You need to recognize that it only hurts your cause, it doesn't help it or make your opinion any more palatable to me.

And if you disagree, that's okay too. Maybe you can't help being an asshole. So I'll just leave this here for you:

Here's what I think about that.

Dear So You Think You Can Dance:

You make me sad.
For the first time since Season 1, I am not watching on TV. I catch up when I'm in the mood, using Hulu, and truth be told I skip through a lot of it. I do not eagerly await each show as I've done in the past years. I think I might be over you, and it hurts to think so.
You know, I was very leery of the whole Stage vs. Street thing, and even though we're closing in on the end of this season, I am still a little uncertain although I've come to mostly accept this format.
But there is an entire herd of elephants in the room, so let me address the biggest one first:
PAULA ABDUL.
Seriously, Nigel Lithgoe? Have you lost your memory as well as your mind? Don't you remember the trainwreck that was Paula Abdul on your other show (which should've been put down at least 5 seasons ago), American Idol? Watching her spit out her nonsensical word salad critiques is just painful.
WE DO NOT WANT HER.  And speaking of AI, you do remember what happened when you started switching up judges and formats over there, right? An avalanche of lost ratings and free fall into becoming a joke rather than a talent-finding show.
And then there's Jason Derulo. He doesn't seem particularly knowledgeable about what the show is trying to accomplish AND his personality is fairly lame in this context. I don't particularly care for his music (just a personal opinion) and his "dancing" skills aren't anything to write home about.
WE DO NOT WANT HIM.

We want Mary back. We want Adam Shankman and Christina Applegate and Anna Kendrick and Debbie Allen back as guest judges - most of them actually contribute something to both the show and the dancers, plus they're funny, clever, witty, and entertaining...all the things that Paula and Jason are not.

What is really burning my ass is that show a couple weeks ago where all three of you judges criticized the DANCERS for the terrible (and lame) choreography and the costumes. SRSLY? It's not the dancers' fault, and if you have a problem with the choreography and/or costumes then you all three need to grow a pair and point a finger at who's responsible, and it ain't those dancers who're up there on stage working their asses off.
It can't be any coincidence that there have been an unusually high number of injuries this season as well - either it's bad choreography or the dancers are injuring themselves so that you don't criticize them for things over which they have no control - trying to draw your attention to their moves instead of what they're wearing.
Nigel, Paula, Jason (especially Nigel): GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER BEFORE NEXT SEASON. I have a bad feeling that things are going to spiral downhill from here.

Hoping you pull your heads out of your asses soon,
Me

P.S. I do love seeing Travis and Twitch
P.P.S. #TeamGabby #TeamJaja #TeamNeptune

---

---

Dear ALL COURT CLERKS who quit because you suddenly got religion and same-sex licenses violate your beliefs:

I would like to know why it did not ALSO violate your "religious beliefs" to file divorce papers - especially ones listing the cause as adultery. Adultery is one of The Big 10 No-Nos. Or did you forget that in your eagerness to grab your 15 minutes of fame?
I'm glad you're out of a job now. I hope no one else will hire you. Ever.

With concern for your weird "value system",
Me

---

---

Dear Idiots Posting signs in your restaurants and stores and other public venues about how you will not be serving The Gay Type People:

You do realize that every gay person is not wearing a nametag or t-shirt that says "HI! I'm BIG GAY DAN!", right? You do realize that you will be turning away straight people who you "think" might be gay simply because of your own skewed perception of what a gay person might look/sound/act like, right?
YOU DO REALIZE HOW INSANE THAT IS, RIGHT?
And that you've served hundreds of gay people already without ever even knowing?
So how does it make sense to put up a sign like that? If I were gay, I would walk right in and you would serve me and never know, until I turned at the door to announce it REALLY LOUD. I hope people do that to you, whether they are straight or gay. Good luck (not really).

With concern for your complete lack of any logic,
Me

---

---

Dear Duggar Family and your supporters:

I can't even.
#Hypocrites #FakeChristians #Enablers #Liars #Cheaters #Pedophiles #Molesters #Adulterers #KeepingTheWomenBarefootAndPregnant #VictimBlamers #CoveringUpTheCrimes #Karma

I loathe you with every fiber of my being,
Me

---

---

And now, a picture of my boyfriend right before he left this morning:

Because #FakeUpworthyTitles Get More Traffic! Amazing! Unbelievable!

Dear "Responsible Parents",

We're in the middle of Prom season and graduation is just around the corner, so I thought the time was ripe for a reminder of What Not To Do on Prom Night and/or Graduation Night, and that is DO NOT RENT A ROOM AT A HOTEL FOR YOUR KIDS.

Oh sure, it gets the little brats out of YOUR hair, and you might rationalize it by thinking, "No probs, just Suzie and a few of her friends hanging out afterward and having a couple of harmless beers. At least they'll be off the streets!"

NO.

As a former hotel General Manager, let me just clue you in on WHY IT IS NOT COOL:

1. The hotel staff is not a babysitting service. 
You essentially abdicate responsibility for your kids - who, in fairness, *might* be decent kids when they're around you or their friends' parents (Eddie Haskells, all of 'em, FYI), but turned loose as pseudo-adults unsupervised in a hotel room? Not so much. They will be loud, obnoxious, entitled little shits disturbing all the real hotel guests. The front desk will be inundated with complaints regarding the rooms your kids are in. The front desk will be calling the manager, who will (hopefully) call the cops and have your brats removed from the property.

2. Your children will not be having a tea party.
Keep your head in the sand if you want, but someone will bring plenty of booze, weed, pills, roofies, and yes, in some cases there will be meth or cocaine. You think your kid will be the holdout? HAHAHA. There will be drunken shenanigans, property damage, puke in the corners, kids trying to break into the pool area when it's closed, running up & down hallways at 2am, etc etc etc.

3. There will be sex happening. Sometimes even date rape.
Sometimes that's why there's puke in the corner of the room or even a dresser drawer, because Little Suzie is giving Little Johnnie a beejay in the bathroom while 10 of their friends are just outside the door. SUPER cool, right? And did you miss the part about DATE RAPE? Open your eyes, it happens.

I have been threatened on more than one occasion by pissed-off parents, blaming ME for putting their precious little snowflakes out on the streets in the middle of the night. I usually replied that then perhaps they (parents) should've answered their phones when I called to have their kids picked up. And sometimes it was the cops as well, not just me, putting the kids out and confiscating booze and dope.

Keep your kids at home - you can leave if you want. Let them burn cigarette holes in YOUR carpets and bedspreads. Let them smash YOUR lamps and write on YOUR walls and mirrors with shoe polish. Let them vomit in YOUR plants, nightstands, trash baskets, corners, floors, sinks, bathtubs, and patios.
Or better yet - be a fucking parent and realize that prom night/graduation is not a free-for-all.

(Also, they steal all the towels.)

I have seen the face of Satan and his name is...

...BRIDEZILLA.
Satan has many names and faces, and they were all on that show called Bridezilla.

Okay, so I accidentally just watched one or two...seasons...of this show on Netflix.
WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK.

I have never seen more testicle-less men nor more rude, classless, nasty, trashy, horrible females in my life.
It was like watching a train-wreck happening in slow motion right in front of my eyes - I was horrified but compelled to watch, impossible to turn my eyes away.

All I could think was HOW AM I STILL SINGLE when these ginormous assholes are having weddings and making everyone around them miserable? They are not even humans. They were like sociopathic beings with sawdust feelings, crocodile tears, and permanent PMS. Or whatever that thing is that's like PMS on steroids...PMDD or something like that.

And none of them thought they were doing anything wrong.
I feel like I need to call a priest or someone to cleanse my house after watching that show.
#WhyIHatePeople

Now I have to watch a nice romantic comedy to get rid of the bitter aftertaste...like My Bloody Valentine.

Stream Of Consciousness - A brief & uncensored peek into my brain.

I dare you to try it. Close your eyes like you're preparing to meditate and just type whatever floats across your mind. No peeking! Ready? Okay. Now what? I can't think of anything because I'm tryig to think of something. I think this is why I stopped blogging. No, actually I think I stopped because I started making more friends and then my family started reading and I started caring what people thought. I mean I've always sort of cared what people think about what I write, but I don't get all weird about it because I typically try to offset my bitchiness with a litle humor and oh shit I think I just made a typo. OMG what if my fingers were on the wrong keys all along and this is a bunch of gibberish? Did I spell gibberish correctly? I wnat to peek but I won't cheat. OH cheating. I could write something about that. This will probably be the longest paragraph ever, sort of like one of Danielle Steele's paragraphs only without eleventy three commas per sentence. But she makes millions so I guess maybe I should try doing things her way. I wonder if anyone else ever picks up a Danielle Steele book and thinks well, I wonder who is giong to die or get maimed first? Because that seems to be a recurring theme, not to mention all the broken hearts that happen. Where was I going with that? Diphenhydramine. I don't even know what that is or why I just htought of it. I wonder if I spelled it correctly? WTF am I even thinking about? I am clearly a lunatic.

Your turn - I triple-dog dare you.

Brain Soup, extra chunky style

I am hanging by a thread and my hands have started to sweat.
I hate that I have slid so far without being able to catch myself.
I discovered that I have many false expectations, and I can't decide if  I should raise or lower them.
I am shadowed and overshadowed.
Shadowed is a weird word after you say it a few times.
People who ride around on their High Horses make me want to skewer them with jousting poles. It would be like making asshat-kabobs.
My hair is becoming naturally frosted.
Sometimes I feel as though I am mute, and I like it.
I hate being lectured.
A half-ounce of understanding is a lot more valuable than a pound of critique.
Critique and plastique are both highly explosive and extremely destructive with the right trigger. I don't think that's a coincidence. Plus they rhyme. I don't think that's a coincidence either.
Sometimes you just need a hug with no strings or words attached.
Trust is a 5-letter-word, like bitch or prick.
I don't understand not understanding loyalty.
Sometimes "it's not you, it's me" is really true.
Sometimes it's really you and NOT me.
Leave me alone.
Don't go.

INTERNETS! OH INTERNETS, how I've missed you!

I'm tongue-kissing the cable guy right now. I might blow him later, but that'll be for my own entertainment, since I HAVE MY SWEET INTERNETS BACK!

I thought I was going to die. I felt so out of the loop and cut off from civilization...it was terrible. It was like I was living in the middle ages or something. Having no internet was WAY WORSE than having no electricity, I'm not even joking.

So, what've you been up to the last week? All the deets, if you please.
And BIG THANKS to all of you who sent concerned emails & left comments--I always liked you guys the best anyways. The rest of you can suck it. :)
And giant thanks to The F-Man for stepping into the breach for me. XOXOXO

ANYWAY.
I'm cranky, crabby, crampy, rude, and nasty (oh sure, like you didn't already know that!)...but luckily I was able to vent most of it out on Cox Cable, as I made my FIFTH and FINAL call today, chewing my way through three layers until I got to a boss-guy of some sort. I guess I scared them, so GO ME.

I think I've got the Internet DTs.

So, this ice storm we had? It was like ICE FROM HELL, even though that doesn't make any sense, since one would assume that ice from hell would, in fact, be water or maybe even just steam.
It was awful and a little scary--all through the first two nights I would be awakened every few minutes with gunshot-cracks of falling branches. I've never seen the like.
I have about a dozen trees in my front yard, and most all of them are broken. My backyard is littered with debris, and did you SEE that picture up there? That's my house in the background, and my new view out the the kitchen window.

Wanna see some more?


No idea what kind of bush this is, but it's right next to my front porch & blooms out cheery red berries every year. They always look so bright and I want to eat them...but I'm pretty sure they're probably poisonous. Maybe I'll eat them anyways.




Doesn't that one twig look like it has a face on the end? Creepy. Click it for the biggie-size, and you can really see the face.



Evidently the branches were trying for a little tramp(oline) action.

We have a circle driveway that runs around behind my house, and here's what it looks like now. Complete with low-hangin' power lines, so that the circle is now halved.



Want to see the rest of the destruction around my house? Check it out. Click 'em to biggen 'em.

I did figure out one thing when I was trying to skim through bloglines after a week of cold-turkey: I don't really like some of the people I used to like. They've become all weird & excessively vain and uppity and frankly, I just don't have time for that nonsense any more. It only makes me have anxiety.
No, I do not mean a single one of you who showed your concern--thank you very much for caring and for being true friends.

In turning over my 2008 leaf, I'll be pulling out the weeds as well.
Thanks you guys, for all the lovin'. Back atcha, times three.
xoxoxox