50 word story

Concept blatantly ripped off from FOOT EATER. My attempt at a 50 word short story, minus the title:

Sweets for the Sweet.

“Hurry up and get in here, you miserable old whore,” the mad bastard with no taste buds shouted. “And bring some of those extra large Tootsie Rolls, too.”

”I’ll be there in just a minute, dear,” she replied, gingerly touching her black eye. “Just need to scoop the litter box.”

Babysitter available, cheap rates!

SOMEbody needs a NAP!

In the 80's...

See if you can guess what I thought was the first step to becoming a rock star:

A. Talent

B. An actual band

C. An album cover

D. Some...songs?

It's like Everything But the Girl only without the talent, instruments, songs. Much better looking though.

With apologies to Stephen. Though if he wants me to take this post down, I'll have to figure out what it'll cost him.

Happy Friday! I'm off to get legless and whimsical about the death of my youthful dreams. That sounds sad, but it's not. Hey, I'm still thin, anyway.

The obligatory update post

Weeeeeelllllll now. Been a while again since I updated. But I'm home today, and I'll tell you why:
Some miserable, festering little arsehole of a criminal wannabe broke into our house last week and now I'm home waiting for the home security company to come and install a home security system. I don't think the 'perp' was a pro, because all he took was SPOUSE'S iPod, though he walked past SPOUSE'S wallet at least once before going upstairs, and finding SPOUSE actually in, to his shock and dismay, left very quickly through the front door.

We think he saw me leave for work in the truck from the back driveway (yes, we have two driveways - I can tell you think we must be RICH BEYOND COMPARE), didn't realize that SPOUSE'S car was in the front driveway, and assumed the house was empty. OR, and here's the disturbing thing: he may have thought the male of the house was gone because I drive the truck, and maybe he'd hit upon a defenseless, sleepy female, all alone in the house after hubby'd gone to work. The Waltham Police, bless them, were here before SPOUSE was even off the phone with them reporting the break-in, and they said...get this...they said that there have been some break-ins in the area lately, with nothing taken. Now this doesn't frighten me so much as PISS ME OFF. Unless it's just vagrants, going around to empty houses, using the toilets and taking showers, then leaving without taking anything - what can a thief have in mind breaking into a house and not taking anything? Hmmmmm? I'd have killed the little bastard.

And I'm a bit bemused by it at the same time. If he went upstairs looking for jewelry, he'd have found a lot of junk, costumey stuff with skulls on them from my old punk days, and a novelty kids' watch or two. And, really, he would be welcome to it. Any jewelry I own that is worth anything, is on my finger, and it's insured. Everything we have that is worth stealing (and worth our reporting because of the deductible on our insurance) is too big to get out of here without the entire neighborhood descending upon the thief like a bunch of angry, poisonous gnats.

The neighbors, whom we have finally gotten to know thanks to this incident and one or two yard sales they've had in the past few weeks, are, if possible, as pissed off and freaked out as we are. "Hey, I've lived here 15 years and I've never heard of anything like this happening." Or "Yeah, that guy has been here 30 and he says he doesn't remember any break-ins at all." Which makes me feel wonderful. Welcome to the neighborhood!

Anyway, we're keeping an eye on some of the neighborhood teenagers, in case any of them are in sudden possession of a new iPod with some terrible music on it. Not that we suspect any of them specifically - they seem like your average, sullen, skateboarding teens. But isn't it sickening how your sense of trust can be destroyed, in an instant? It sickens me that we have to lock every window and door when we go out, and it sickens me that we have to have a security system installed so we can sleep at night.

The world sucks.

Fucking Blogger won't let me type in the Title Field box, so "Fucking Blogger" is my title for this one.

There's this THING going around that some call a meme and I call a fucking-pain-in-the-ass-chainletter. Fresh Hell has tagged me. Now I'm supposed to come up with 8 weird biographical items? On a MONDAY?

Prepare to be bored.

1. I was constantly sick as a child, and if I'd been born 100 years earlier, or even 50 years earlier, I doubt I'd have made it to puberty. I almost never get sick now though. So I've determined to use sick days whenever I have a hangover, otherwise they wouldn't get used.

2. Attempts were made to turn me into a Catholic in my early years. It didn't take. Seriously, I'm supposed to believe there's a benevolent-father-megalomaniac-sociopath with a big beard in the sky who loves me, but will nonetheless wail on me at any moment, and I'm supposed to be GRATEFUL? Fuck. Off. I'm much happier, and much less fearful, now that I'm an atheist. I make my moral decisions not from a fear of fire and brimstone in the next life, but from the simple desire not to behave like an asshole in this one.

3. Like FH I cannot nap. I'm sure there are pictures of me as a child climbing out of my crib because - yeah, right! The Three Stooges has GOT to be on somewhere! I wish sleep was optional, because I could get so much more stuff done. Actually, I wish eating was optional too. Sometimes I forget to and then bad things happen.

4. When I was about 6, I asked my mother why some people became nuns or priests. She said, "I suppose they have a calling." So I refused to answer the phone for about 3 years.

5. I haven't eaten meat from any landwalking animals in about 10-12 years, but about once a year I get a guilty pleasure from stuffing my face with pork fried rice. I fucking love pork fried rice. LOVE. IT.

6. I once farted and followed through...at work. Proud moment. Probably from a bad batch of pork fried rice.

7. Lack of talent aside, I tell myself I'm not a rock star because I'm a morning person, and don't like working at night. But really, that is half the reason.

8. I fucking hate memes. I won't tag anyone else, the madness stops here!

For the ladies

This is in answer to Fatmammycat's most frightening Friday Carrot Top obsession.

The BIG YIN - NEKKID!!

And that's pretty much all I have today. I need to work my fluffy little tail off this afternoon, and shall reward myself with a pint or several dozen at some Harvard Square bar or other. A most powerful thirst is 'pon me.

Happy Friday everyone. Tip your bartenders.

Old? Me? Maybe...

Or just in possession of outdated equipment. (Insert saggy boob joke here.)

I'm listening to an album. As in a vinyl LP - 33RPM. It's The English Beat's "Special Beat Service." Man, this shit still sounds great to me.

That's how old I am.

Here's what I've done so far today:

1. Had some caffeine for the first time in over three weeks. Uhhhhh...ZOOOOM!!!!! And HURRAY FOR CAFFEINE. I've missed you, buddy.

2. Put up the bat house on the back of the garage.

3. Worked out for 50 minutes on the exercise bike.

4. Did laundry.

5. Tried to paint a couple of walls that are still pink and annoying to me. Paint has gone bad over the winter, from several freezes and thaws. Knew we shouldn't have stored it in the garage - it's Ralph Lauren paint, about 30 bucks a gallon. Stupid. At least I saved the label so I can have them mix me another batch at Home Depot... Oh, I just LOVE Home Depot. And they have good reason to love me. I could spend days in there, and all my money.

6. Screw this inside shit. It's beautiful out there and since I can't paint, I might just as well get outside with my book, and maybe a glass of wine, and enjoy myself.

Coffee and wine in the same day after a month off one, and three weeks off the other. When I come off the wagon I do it in fine style. Spectacular. If I don't die from all the sudden toxicity hitting my system, it's going to be a LOVELY evening.