Mildred Ratched Memoirs: MSN Spaces

Showing posts with label MSN Spaces. Show all posts

Saturday, May 22, 2021

National Confession Weekend

I've been reading some of my old posts from back in the day when things just got started in the blogosphere and I realized just how different things are now. My original blog was named Abnormally Normal People and it was located on MSN Spaces. In the past, I've mentioned Psychedelic Pariah a few times, but like Beetlejuice don't say his name 3 times in a row or else he might appear and trust me, you really, don't want that to happen! On this particular day Psychedelic Pariah was acting human. I guess no one pissed in his Wheaties! ha! That didn't happen often. When I first started blogging I did so under the screen name, Red Kitten before I became Mildred Ratched. Although I think part of me has always been Mildred Ratched, a crusty old bitch with a don’t fuck with me attitude.

To tell this story I have describe few characters that were created for the Psychedelic Pariah's benefit. The Red Dyke was a character I created due to the name-calling Psychedelic Pariah slung my way. He was a bully right out of the Trump playbook long before there was a Trump playbook. In fact, if I remember correctly, The Red Dyke wore high-top Birkenstocks with a tight red body suit and well, she was a superhero, of course! She let her long, wavy, chestnut hair flow free. At one time I had a drawing of her, but it's long gone. The Blue Mute was another blogging buddy of mine that felt Pariah's wrath, also. We did nothing to Pariah other than be a thorn in his side from time to time by merely existing, I think we became the Troglodyte Twins in his mind. Charming, huh? Imagine that! Me being a thorn in anyone's side! ha! Actually, I took what he meant as a slam and turned it into something rather funny. I think it pissed him off that his insults didn't bother me and instead turned them into a joke.

Imagine someone like Donald Trump...you know, someone who loves to stir things up, yet unlike Trumplethinskin, Psychedelic Pariah was highly intelligent and he was a very talented writer (I hate to admit that.) You had to stay on your toes with him or else he'd crucify you. I never quite figured out what his deal was and then he disappeared never to be heard from again as did many of these people on MSN Spaces. For many the blogging fever waned and for others it became a part of our lives and now we mostly, exist in peace and harmony except for the occasional annoying spam here and there.

As you read what I've copied and pasted below, please pay special attention to the comment "Kathy" leaves in response to my post titled National Confession Weekend I wrote in the spirit simply having some fun because my next post is my response to her.

The idea for National Confession Weekend originated from the following chat I had with my partner in crime, The Blue Mute the night before I wrote the post titled National Confession Weekend:

The Red Dyke says:
I’m listening to Unchain My Heart by Joe Cocker….makes me want to get up and dance

The Red Dyke says:
all I need is my pole

The Red Dyke says:
believe it or not I have one in my living room

The Red Dyke says:
lol

The Red Dyke says:
maybe I need to write that as a confession in abnorms…I have a pole in my livingroom

The Red Dyke says:
I wonder how many women can say that

The Blue Mute says:
you have a POLE pole??

The Red Dyke says:
yes

The Red Dyke says:
a pole…from ceiling to floor

The Blue Mute says:
for what….

The Red Dyke says:
dancing

The Blue Mute says:
so you like to dance with poles

The Red Dyke says:
I like Irishmen better

The Blue Mute says:
HAHAHAHA

The Red Dyke says:
the pole can be used for anything you want it to be used for

The Red Dyke says:
hey…remember I’m a saucy tart?????

The Blue Mute says:
oohhh yeah!

The Red Dyke says:
saucy tarts have toys

Sunday, April 05, 2020

Quarantined Day #5

No results yet! Martha got her results and thank goodness they were negative. I'm sure mine will be coming along soon. We were tested at different sites. Remember her site hunted for her G-spot whereas mine went so far up my nose it tickled my tonsils then they slapped my ass and sent me on my way to be happily quarantined so I'm sure that has some effect on the delay in getting my results. I feel fine, but waiting to be told that I'm fine is difficult. I've been staying busy with outside projects mostly. The other day I put fire ant bait out because the fire ants are trying to take over my yard and one of my little dogs keeps getting bit by them. If you never have had the pleasure of meeting a fire ant, you're lucky. They're truly miserable little creatures and the bait didn't seem to work, so today I dumped some gasoline on them...take that you little bastards! Bite my baby again and I'll light a match next time and set the whole yard on fire. ooops! I hate when that happens!

Today, I got a little sidetracked with talking and chatting and texting with old friends. I think that type of interaction is more important than me getting out in my backyard and cutting down a tree or planting something here and there. The first person I interacted with was an old blogging buddy from my days back when MSN Spaces first opened their doors in 2004. We chatted for quite awhile and it was good catching up with her. I was glad to find out that she's still writing and that she's doing well. My second friend I chatted with was an old neighborhood friend from back in the day when Mildred was but a twig on the tree of life. Again, we caught up and all is well on the home front. The last person I started texting with was an old friend from my Kinsman Hall days... good old "Doctor Detroit". He lives next-door to the virulent cesspool known as New York. I just wanted to make sure he was okay and I ended up talking to him for hours and hours and hours. And yes, we talked about important stuff like partridges in pear trees and child birth and conspiracy theories.

In between chats and conversations and texts I managed to drop a tree. Imagine that! When I got a good look at the wall behind the tree it screamed PAINT A MURAL ON ME! So, I decided to paint a mural on that wall. Now, all I have to do is decide what to paint. I believe it HAS to be something to do with a partridge in a pear tree, but that's always subject to change. I'll mull it over and post a picture of the finished product in a decade or two. Right now, I'm going to bed. I'm really tired. I was really tired last night, also. In fact, I went to bed around 9 and I never do that. I must be getting old or something. I guess it happens to the best of us.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

J&M BITCHFEST

What I'd really like to bitch about, I can't because it involves a lawsuit. Yesterday, I spent all day giving a videotaped deposition. I came home frazzled. My mind was racing and I felt in need of some TLC. Oh yeah! That's right! She's [me] in friggin' time out, so TLC wasn't going to happen. She [me] has this notion that she needed to take a break from men because she has impaired judgment. Isn't that fucking special? She [me again] might as well just wear a chastity belt. In the meantime, tiny twattlers have moved in and they have let the old love canal get overgrown with cobwebs and who knows what else is in there. The jolly Green Giant could have moved in and she'd [braindead me] never know! From the valley of the jolly... Ho! Ho! Ho! Green Giant! Hear the echo??? I really have to say women are dumb bitches sometimes! I mean we can be really S-T-U-P-I-D at times!!! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

From a man's perspective, I was told at an early age "I was sitting on a goldmine" and what did I do? I ran with every loser within a 50 mile radius. A real freak magnet here! Yeah, I was sitting on a goldmine alright! I should have hired myself out to a circus. She walks! She talks! She crawls on her belly like a reptile freak! Oh shit! Wait a minute I think I'm supposed to be bitching about someone or something else other than myself! Pardon me while I regroup and pull myself together. [small break to think] This is my blog and I am the Captain. The Captain would like to introduce you to Tennille (or Jnuts as I have always called him). I'd like to take you back several years when I first knew Jock was "the chosen one". (Jnuts, when did we start on MSN Spaces? Didn't it first open its pearly gates in late 2004?) Anyway, here was this guy blogging about his prostate. I knew then I had died and gone straight to blogging heaven. Here is Jock's rant titled "Footloose and Diaper Free" :

So, it wasn't as bad as I anticipated. There was no rectal exam. This was merely a PSA blood test. If my bloodwork comes back elevated, I will worry about the old finger bang at that time. Which is fine, as my 'roids have been acting up lately and the only way someone is going to shove anything up my ass is after they give me a bottle of tequila and they are in possession of a jackhammer. When asked if I wanted the rectal in addition to the PSA, I politely declined by saying, "only if you buy me dinner and call me daddy." My offer was refused. I DID get a Tootsie Pop and a blue ribbon enameled pin signifying "Prostate Awareness." I was already aware I had a prostate, but I took the pin anyway.

How could I leave that alone? I couldn't! I tried! But the force was strong within him! I answered the call of the wild with my own little twist titled "A Visit To Dr. Pain's Office" but included his delightful and very insightful words on my blog as a lead in for what I wanted to say:

I'd like to take this opportunity and turn a simple medical diagnostic test into a Men Are From Mars and Women Are From Venus moment. I believe every man I've ever known who has had a prostate exam has described the doctor as having fingers the size of tree limbs and the personality of Marquis de Sade. It's not difficult to picture the doctor coming into the examining room, snapping those latex gloves and telling the patient that the procedure may be a little uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? How about humiliating? And the poor fool isn't even being offered dinner and a movie to go along with it! I know medical staff do their best to preserve a person's dignity, but how dignifying can a prostate exam be if you're a male or a Pap smear and mammogram be if you're a female? The majority of people reserve access to the vajayjay, the twins and the Incredible Hulk exclusively for their significant other. Now, here we are with an almost total stranger and we're PAYING them to prod and poke us. Nope, we aren’t in some sleazy motel with a prostitute! We're in an examining room with our doctor! From a woman's perspective, I'd have to say Pap smears and mammograms are most likely the equivalent to the prostate exam. Guys, you're lucky because prostate exams aren't routinely done until a man reaches middle age. Ladies have to endure the joy of Pap smears and pelvic exams annually from the time they first become sexually active. Mammograms aren't started until later, but are routinely done at an earlier age than when prostate exams are started. For the men who have never had their significant other complain about the whole female going to the gynecologist ordeal, let me fill you in. We not only get the Pap smear and pelvic exam, but we get a rectal exam also. We also have a breast exam and then are sent to have a mammogram depending on what age we are. What can I really say about having a complete stranger stuff my breasts into a cold metal vice and flattening them to the width of a pancake except, "oh boy! Where can I get one of those gadgets to have at home?" (Okay ladies...are you laughing with me?) I guess the most difficult part of the whole exam experience is the waiting for the results part. Yep! We feel great! We didn't notice any lumps or any other abnormalities, but you never know! You always hear horror stories about someone who feels great one minute and then finds out they have cancer the next. I'm not a fretter and can only imagine what the wait for test results must be like for someone who worries about every little thing in life. They must drive themselves and everyone around them crazy in that period of time. How does anyone reassure or console someone like that? I have a suggestion for both genders. Guys, do something special for your lady to let her know you're there with her in spirit during this process. It doesn't take much to let someone know you care about them. A nice dinner out? A romantic getaway for both of you? Ladies, the same goes for you. Our guys need support, too (remember they're whiners!). How about tickets to a ballgame, taking him to a movie he wants to see (and you pay for it or it doesn't count) or buying something slinky from Victoria's Secret to wear for him? Just remember it's the thought that counts and doing something small may mean the world to the person you love. Actions always speak louder than words and here's an excellent opportunity to say 'I love you" very loudly!

So there you have it except for the comment our beloved Jock left for me as a response to what I had written:

Leave it to you to take my insipid tale about Nurse Ratched and turn it into something extremely worthwhile. I loved it and agree, except for one thing. Men are whiners? Oh, you must die! I'd come over there and slap you, but my back is killing me because I had to do dishes today. Damn, the pain is so intense from standing there it feels like I'm getting ready to give birth! Oh, and my hands are now all pruny and I think I'm coming down with the flu, because I've been sneezing and have a headache. Although, the headache could be from standing over the sink while steam rising from the water made me dizzy and disoriented. Mommy! I need to take a nap.

Gratitude statement: What can anyone say about or to someone like Jock, but a simple "thank you"?