ABSURD CONFESSION DAY

Did you know April 5th is Absurd Confession Day? If not, now you do and I expect people to amuse me participating or else I'll make you wear a shock collar the next time you come for a visit!

My confession is that I'm a font junkie. My obsession started around 1996 when I bought my first computer. I really can't explain what it is about the world of fonts that caught my eye other than there's just something about being able to use fonts as a form of expression with any typed expression. Please don't ask me what my favorite font is because it varies from day to day from mood to mood from project to project. I can't emphasis enough the disappointment I have with the skimpy choice of fonts offered on blogs.  I suffer such immense mental anguish each time I compose a post.

My second confession (an added bonus) is most people would be surprised to find out that I have a collection of shoes many women would sell their first born to own. I even have shoes I've never worn...BUT they're sitting in my closet all bright and happy just waiting to be worn someday (or to be "transplanted" to my daughter's closet.) Recently I spent $200 for a pair that have never been on my feet since I bought them.  I guess I'm saving them for a rainy day (or to be "transplanted" to my daughter's closet.) For me, there's nothing like being asked where I bought the shoes I'm wearing. I have a doctor who upon entering the exam room I'm in never looks at me first. She checks out what shoes I'm wearing and then we go from there into my medical issues. I certainly admire a person who is so easily distracted and not afraid to show where their true priorities lie.

Okay, now it's your turn to expose those hidden things about yourself that few people know and I'll sit here waiting in breathless anticipation to read all your absurd confessions. Remember honesty is the best policy and certainly makes for a much better read than having smoke blown up my ass buns of steel.

OH MOMMY! MAY I PLEASE HAVE A GIRAFFE HEAD FOR CHRISTMAS?

It's hard to believe that this magnificent creature may very well be the next species to be added to the Endangered Species List. According to recent reports that's exactly what's going to happen in the near future. What's wrong with mankind? Why do we feel the need to hunt any living creature into extinction? I know many people are into hunting, but killing an animal just for the thrill of it is not only cruel, but just plain ignorant in my book. Can I get an "Amen" up in here or is someone out there going to school me on the merits of trophy hunting? I gaze upon these creatures and see absolutely no valid reason why anyone should want to slaughter them, but that's just me and opinions vary, don't they?

GANGSTA BEES AND BEDSORES

Gangsta Bee

I was going to write an intro for this post, but I think this post speaks for itself and needs no preface. Those people who have read my blog in the past will know to wade through the initial bullshit to come to an understanding regarding the purpose of my post. When two old friends chat online (this friendship I refer to goes back 50+ years), they don't need to make any sense. In fact, they rarely make any sense and that's the beauty of their *symbiotic relationship*.  And because I'm such a sweetheart, I'll even post the definition of a symbiotic relationship for those who don't know what it is right off the top of their head. Feel honored that I share with you the beast that tickles my fancy. It's called chain yanking and witty banter! It doesn't get any better than that in my book!

Symbiotic relationships are a special type of interaction between species. Sometimes beneficial, sometimes harmful, these relationships are essential to many organisms and ecosystems, and they provide a balance that can only be achieved by working together.

The cast of characters:
J - a close female friend and partner in crime since my unruly days of yesteryear
M - my BFF and a person who is all the things I'm not and that's why we gel
E - some random dude that's a friend of J
K - yours truly

"J", started my engine by posting the following video on her Facebook page with her sincere commentary stating that WE ARE THE WORST SPECIES ON THE PLANET!!!! (yes, it was in caps so it jumped out and screamed at me to yank her chain a little.) "E" who enters into the mix towards the end of the chat is "J's" Facebook sparring partner. Since they became Facebook friends, I don't think they've ever agreed on anything. Another symbiotic relationship in the making, but not nearly as deeply rooted as mine is with "J."

K: Worse than cockroaches or bed bugs?

J:  much worse, look at that disgusting

K: Hey, I'm a gangsta bee so my species is okay 🐝🐝 Look, there you are with me. We're just buzzing around and doing gangsta bee stuff.

J: K,  you're nuts! lol

K: J, Did you leave off "piece of shit" from your previous statement?

J: ya, I guess I did. You want me to add it now?

K:  Some things never change. Crazy as a loon and I don't care what anyone thinks of me. Hey, if M, drops by here tell her you haven't seen me but you heard me buzzing.

K: J, please leave it as is

J: K, yes ma’am...I can do that buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

K: Hey, is it okay if I tell people you said I'm worse than a cockroach or a bedbug?

J: I’d be honored...

K: I'm a free to be me GANGSTA BEE 🐝

J:  whatever floats your boat. lol

K: J, bees don't have boats, they have hives

J:  well, then whatever floats your hive

K: I got honey in my hive

J: no comment

K: I got honey in my hive and it's good to be alive

K: Gangsta bees rhyme like a dime in a crime

K: And what is the crime?

J: littering

K: swarming, swarming, global warming

J:  that too. lol

K: Litter is for quitters

K: And to think I'm like this naturally. That’s scary!

J: K, that's right, spread the word as you buzz along

K: Now, buzz off, right?

J: K, I know, but if anyone can spread the word, it's you

J:  But please spread it in a nice way

K: I'll spread my honey on my buns because honeybuns are fun, fun, fun…

J:  that explains it.

K: I think I'll copy and paste this masterpiece to my blog

J:  I think you should and give me ample prompts

K: This lovely chat we've had and a picture of the decubitus on my ass should keep everyone happy for a while. And of course, I’ll give credit where credit is due.

J:  The what on your ass!!??

K: Since it's glaringly apparent that you don't know how to use Google...a bed sore, an open ulcer on my arse... want to see?

J: naw, I’ll pass. Hope it's better soon

K: and I'm losing my hair, but it's all good because gangsta bees don't need no hair.

K: Losing the hair on my head...not on my ass

J:  I can relate to that one. Nope, gangsta bees don't need no stinking hair

K: I had debated posting the pic for my profile pic on Facebook, but the verdict is still out on that one

K: What's next? Shall we talk about our bowel movements or the virtues of menopause?

J:  Do what makes you happy!

J: Only if you make me talk about that crap (pun intended)

K: Did you know years ago I posted my colonoscopy pictures on Facebook?

J:  cool...bet you got a lot of comments

K: I sure did...it would have freaked people out if I posted my prostate pics

J:  ah, I didn't think women have a prostate

K: Prostate? Fooled you! Gangsta bees come well equipped, so when people tell me to go fuck myself, I can do exactly that. No problemo!

J:  wow, glad I’m not a gangsta bee

K: That's what BOB is for? Who's BOB, right?

K: BOB is not a bee, but BOB buzzes like a bashful bee. BOB is a battery-operated buddy BTW

J:  The honey's gone to your head

K: Uh oh! We have company! I had better behave myself (you know how well that usually works out)

E: Yea, it was all good until we discovered words like: disposable, no deposit/no return, plastic, Styrofoam, bic lighters, disposable bags, razors, diapers, throw it away not caring where it goes...

K: What about words like GANGSTA BEES?

K: Hi Ed!

K: Hey Ed, J said I'm worse than a cockroach or a bedbug. I don't think she loves me anymore.

J: K, you tell him! lol

K: What am I gonna do? I guess I'll retreat to my hive and lick my wounds.

J: K, good luck with that. I can't stretch my neck far enough to do that

K:  I don't think Ed needs to be told anything by me...you seem to have that nicely covered.

K:  I said lick my wounds, not lick my ass!

J: isn't that where your wound is?

K: They say a picture a picture is worth a thousand words. Okay, I'm off to the next hive now. You two play nicely or else, I'll be back, and you know what that means! Shock collars for everyone!

J:  [sigh]...have fun

K: Oh J, you weren't supposed to tell him where my wound is. Now, I'm embarrassed. Instead of being yellow and black like a good gangsta bee, I'm red and black. I’m a mess!

K: Good night  ❤️

J: K, red and black looks good on ya 😈

K: 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

I bet you thought you were viewing the
surface of the moon. Well folks,
this is my "moon" and  it has Hairy Ass Rot!

My Gangsta Bees look like fucking termites. Oh well! It's the thought that counts and on that note as promised threatened, here's a picture of my lovely ass rot! 

Wow! I have hair on my ass! Where the hell did that come from? I guess that's what old women are suppossed to do. [They don't hand out booklets about the finer points of growing old, so I'm pretty clueless as what to expect] As our locks grow thin, hair starts to sprout everywhere it shouldn't...faces and asses are a favorite spot. How charming is that picture? 

Tell me, how is one supposed to age gracefully when you have hairy ass rot going on? I can hardly wait for the next thing to short circuit or fall apart. Perhaps my mind will go next and then I simply wont care what I look like or how I feel.

THE COOKIE JARS

My cookie jars do not have cookies in them. My cookie jars have cannabis in them. The back row are Sativa (Green Crack, Super Silver Haze, Jack Herer) Indica (Zkittlez, Granddaddy Purple, Puck Yeah, Master Kush) and Hybrid (Sherbert, Chemdawg, Original Glue, SFV OG, Surfin' in a Hurricane) jars and the small front jars are holding a mixture of strains from VidaCann: TK 91, Kush Cake, Ghost Toast, Eran Almog and Alaska.

PACE WITH GRACE

"Pace with grace" keeps going through my head on what seems like an infinite loop.  First, how does one pace with grace? Is there some specialized step to make it graceful or is it just a matter of attitude and like a person who struts their stuff, they can pace with grace like a fine sashay. Second, how do I get rid of this continuous loop? I'm afraid I'll replace it with something far worse.  Earlier in the week I couldn't get the song Big Yellow Taxi out of my head and now I'm pacing with grace...

I went to my yo yo inspector today (Wednesday) as a walk-in and I was pleasantly surprised that I didn't have to wait all day to see her, but I can't say I was satisfied with the outcome.  I definitely need to figure out what's triggering all this anxiety and then find some way to make it dissipate without the use of all these pharmaceuticals. 

So far I haven't been able to find some middle ground...either I take no meds and pace with grace or I take the meds I was prescribed to take and feel zonked all the time. My anxiety level drops, but all I want to do is isolate myself and sleep. My only hope is that my body will adjust to the meds after taking them for awhile and I won't be a zombie anymore.  How I want my mojo to come back like a welcomed old, trusted friend and for me not to be caught up on this anxiety merry go round.  

I completed my last painting on 5/25/16 and now, have no interest in painting again because all I want to do is sleep. I'm wondering if I'll go a whole year again without painting, without writing, without doing much of anything. I guess time will tell. It always does!

P.S. The loop is gone and the pacing has subsided, but all is much too quiet on the home front... 

A GENERATION OF FREAKS AND GEEKS

I think back to the days of growing up in the "hood" when children interacted with each other.  We spent our youth by playing hide and seek, kickball, dodge ball, tag, hopscotch, jump rope, four square, and many other games like marbles, jacks, Quaker's meeting and when it rained we got on the telephone and organized a place to play board games at someone's house for the afternoon. On days when the girl's did their thing, we played with Barbie dolls while the boys did who knows what! The thought of being cooped up in the house alone only happened when we were sick or on restriction. Regardless of the weather, we wanted to be outside with each other.  When it was cold and snowing, we rode our sleds and ice skated and when it was summer we went to the public pool and found stuff to do outside in the sun. 

I often wonder why and when exactly those days stopped and the isolation began. Was it a gradual change or did it happen overnight? I often wonder how the decline in the sale of board games matches up to the rise in sales of electronic games. Is there a direct correlation between the two? I guess as electronics took root, children's attention and focus turned from each other and towards a world of imaginary creatures where one didn't have to go looking for an adventure because the adventure came to you at the flip of a switch. I often wonder why parents allowed electronic gadgets to become a babysitter, a friend and an entertainer. What we learned as children about teamwork, dispute resolution and organizational skills dwindled away and was replaced by the solitude a child now finds comfort in.  It seems children no longer play outside and I hear adults claim it's because it's so unsafe to be outside.  Has allowing children's lives to change so drastically created a generation of socially awkward human beings who have social anxiety issues? Have we given children an easy excuse to be clumsy, couch potatoes?
 
I won't dispute the safety factor, but I do know there is safety in numbers and being so isolated stunts a child's social development and skills. How can a child learn how to properly interact with others if doing so is never encouraged?  Has it become easier for parents to just buy the newest electronics for their children instead of insisting they spend time outside playing games with their friends or would doing that brand the child as being the neighborhood outcast? Play outside? What's that all about? Who would trust someone who plays outside and has fun doing it?  Have we raised a generation of freaks and geeks who are addicted to electronic crack?