Worthy

He fell into a blue funk and said the worst thing in the world:

"You need to find a young man who can fulfill you."

What? WTF? I know it's depression and frustration at his slow recovery talking, but this just really hit me hard. It's like he cannot or will not see how much he really means to me and how I truly have eyes for no one else.

He is feeling his age and calling himself an old man. My heart aches for him and has ever since his accident. I don't care how old he is or how old he feels, he is the man and the soul that I implicitly adore, and I weep when he expresses the idea that I would ever want to trade him off for someone younger or supposedly better able to fulfill me.

Two more weeks and he can walk again. Hopefully then, his spirits will rise and he'll see the error of these misguided assumptions regarding my needs and desires. Until then, I weep for him since he refuses to do so himself.

Ew..

Llew woke me up around 2 this morning saying "What the hell?"
"What is it? What's wrong?" I asked.
"I think Chester just threw up on me."

No, Chester hadn't. How on Earth could we have been lucky enough for him to have only done that? Noooo. Chester had crawled up on Llew's chest and pooped on the blanked right above Llew's breast bone. EW!! Apparently, Chester wasn't feeling well as this was obviously a product of diarrhea, and pungent fumes were immediately wafting into our horrified nostrils.

I got up, wiped as much of the goo off the blanket as I could, pulled both the blanket and comforter off the bed, then got the only available blanket in the house for us to both huddle under. This poor excuse for a thermal blanket is nothing more than a glorified rag with a case of gigantism. We froze the rest of the night.

When I get home this evening, I have to take the covers to the laundromat and scrub them up nicely. They're too large for my washer and there's no way their going back on the bed until their scrubbed thoroughly. EW.

I'm so sleepy and still colder than hell.

Wednesday Quiz-a-thon

Since Wednesday is Friday this week, the Quizzolator will now present the Masses with much quizlage.

( quizlage be here! )

One More for Good Measure

Just in case any of my LJ buds ever thought I didn't pay attention to them....

I scored 10/10 on my LJ Friends Quiz.

How well do you know your Livejournal friends?

LJ Friends Quiz by hutta

Fan Mail

It still thrills me when I get email for Barry from fans. I know it's good for his morale and it excites me that folks are finding his website and developing interest in his music once more.

Even though it looks like the days of Shriekback are now officially history, at least the soul of the band is back into the swing of things and creating perhaps some of the best music of his life. Surely more fan letters are heading in our direction even as I write this!

May the Goddess Bless Eddie Izzard

For he always makes me feel much better even in the gloomiest of times...

Eddie Wisdom (from GLORIOUS):

I'm quite interested in death. In a kind of morbid way.

I like my coffee like I like my women. In a plastic cup.

And they always find in archeology...a SERIES OF SMALL WALLS.

And Achilles....Immortal man! Immortal body! Except he had an Achilles heel. What an irony!

People occasionally say, What the fuck is this? To which I reply, He he he. You say that now...But...how are you at Canasta?

If they've got a bazooka, don't run away because it's easier to hit someone from a distance. Run towards them...and grab hold of them.

The Grim Reaper should update. It's 1997! Get the sieve, throw it away and get a...lawn mower!

Armageddon is Australian for "I'm a gettin' outta here."

I..I wiped the file? I wiped ALL the files? I wiped the INTERNET? I don't even have a modem!

And from DEFINITE ARTICLE:
And we'll poke people with sticks to make them cry. Go on, cry ya bastards!

If you've never seen an elephant ski, then you've never been on acid.

And some people do those squeezy hand shakes...Those crusher hand shakes...You know, that small dick, I've got a big handshake kind of...The compensation handshake...

And there's a moral to this story...or at least there was suppose to be a moral...but since I'm dislexic...it was, in fact a marble.

No one's put a flying bird, a bird that can fly in an airplane because that wouldn't be flying...it'd be flying...

I'll be promoted in the underground system. I'll get my own darkness.

Guns and banjos! Interesting band...

I don't wanna learn! I wanna go out and smash things with hammers.

The tuba! Who chooses to play a tuba? Surely the tuba is a punishment thing. Surely it's community service. You've been sentenced to three years on the tuba.

This is your brain...this is your brain on turkey

Yea and verily, tomorrow hundreds of thousands of Americans will share the sacred observance of Thanksgiving. From its mythic humble beginnings when the Native Americans had yet to realise that the White Devils were here to give them diseases and take away their land to the first official observances not too very long ago, this has long been a day of stepping back from one's humdrum life and consciously noting the blessings that so often go unappreciated and ignored in the wake of darker goings-on.

But there has been a change of tone in this holiday over the past decade. A lot of people don't even call it Thanksgiving anymore. It is now dubbed TURKEY DAY and it has become a day those of the crop and waddle persuasion have come to dread with fervour. Everyone loves their turkey. We devour it in copious amounts and then, blissfully and sweetly, do we drift off into a tryptophan-induced stupour.

I have heard that, not only does turkey cause drowsiness, but there is also a mild euphoria associated with the consumption of large amounts of the tryptophan found in the aforementioned fowl. People focus more on the eating of turkey than they do on the things/people/situations/what-have-you for which they should be thankful. Our Thanksgving, aka Turkey Day, has become a day in which many Americans give thanks for the turkey and the chance to enjoy an almost ritualistic trypto-high.

This adds a whole new dimension to the deli phenomenon of smoked turkey. Can you imagine what the 60's would have been like if the Hippies had turned on to turkey instead of Ye Holy Ganja?
"Hey man, pass me a leg, will you?"
"Sure, dude..." ::giggles::
"Damn! This is good shit! Hey, Moon, you wanna hit?"

So we have George Washington growing marijuana, yet the modern gov deems it illegal and will go after a pothead with more moral outrage than they will a murderer, it seems; yet, here we have Benjamin Franklin, who wanted the turkey to be the official bird of the US. Good ole Ben was a prophet, man. He was probably a trypto-head himself and he knew that someday, far into the future, Americans all over the place would be stoned as shit on this bird. He had it going on.

As for me, I'm looking forward to my hit of turkey tomorrow. I like the dark meat the best, and I'm going to nosh on it with an empty stomach so the high will come quickly and with full force.

I'm a trypto-head and I'm proud of it. All my family and friends are trypto-heads. We're all going to be half-baked on baked fowl and we're gonna be loving it. It's a blast, man!

It's so much fun that it wouldn't surprise me if the gov decided to outlaw the consumption of turkeys. They'll have turkey raids on unsuspecting farmers and many folks will end up having to secretly raise their stash of turkey deep in the woods and hope that the helicopters don't spot the birds. The only way to be able to have turkey will be if a doctor deems it medically necessary. What a bitch, eh?

I just wonder what would happen if you ate turkey, washed it down with some mixed drink, then lit up a doobie to help digest. Hell, you wouldn't wake up until the following Thanksgiving when it would be time to do it all over again. Now that's a reason to be thankful!

Be Afraid...Be VERY Afraid

The Feudal Mistress just forwarded this joke (yes, I said JOKE) to all us serfs.

Hmmm

Did you know... ?
While both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, according to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their antlers until after they give birth in the spring. Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting
Santa's reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen - had to be a girl. We should've known....... Only women would be able to drag a fat-ass man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.

Why O why is the Feudal Mistress telling jokes and acting almost human? Surely this must be a sign of the Alpaca Lips.