Wishers Beware

Have you ever had a wish list so weird, you lose friends?  I shared this mug, and swear two people disappeared from my Facebook friends list.

O M F G, that is a huge picture!  It’s a link from Amazon.  I swear!   It would be awesome if the mug was actually that big.  I totally want it.  I apologize for nothing.  And those two people claim they deactivated.

I’m about to lose my shit on these gif-making freaks and their huge gifs.

But then I saw this, and I really need it because I love candles. It’s just too damn cute!

This is even more obnoxiously huge…

And because I’m getting very scared of the sizes of these gifs and preview pictures from Amazon, I’ll only post one more, for the sake of not pissing off my readers.

Dean Winchester’s talisman

Thank GOD it’s not that big.  Otherwise Dean might say

That said, I’m off to add to my weird wish list, in hopes that hubby might at least buy me the coffee mug.


PS: I had a tough time finding a non SpongeBob naughty gif.  People scare me sometimes.



Who Am I?

I’ve very recently come to realize that I really don’t know who I am.  I don’t think I’ve ever known.  I’m not really my own person.  Do I even know how to discover who I am?  Is it too late for me?

Here are some things I do know about myself.

First and foremost, I’m a follower.  I always have been.  But for the record, I’m not a sheep.  Extremists will get that reference.  Sadly, being a follower (among other things) has shaped who I am today.  Therefore, many of my opinions and beliefs have been largely based on that fact.

Why?  I’m guessing it’s because I want to please people, because I can’t stand when someone doesn’t like me for an unpopular opinion or question.  Which brings me to my next statement.

I was verbally bullied as a child.  Mind you it was mild compared to today’s bullying.  But name calling and constant rejection leave lasting marks.  As does a strict, mistrusting German mother, who made me the submissive paranoid cynic that I am today.

I don’t know why I picked this gif, but it’s scary, and my mother was scary.  She had spies.

Whenever I was grounded, lectured, or yelled at, it literally felt like I was being emotionally beaten, and I would always retreat to my room for a tearful breakdown.

I swore up and down I would never become my mother.  But lately, I find myself saying things that remind me of the things she used to say.  I’m probably going to hell for freaking out my children so that they’ll behave when they’re not around me.  I do my best not to do that crap, because I know it could damage them in the long run, like it damaged me.

As a good friend just recently said to me, “But we NEED to do these things to protect our kids.  Especially today, and with today’s technology.”


Hi, Damien.

Should parents maybe just let children make mistakes, so that they’ll actually learn what consequences are?

“If you get a tattoo, I’m writing you out of my will” or how about “Don’t come running to me if you get pregnant.  You’re on your own and out of my house if you do” or “Don’t cry to me about your open heart surgery.  You insisted on smoking and eating bad food” or “If you ever get arrested, you WILL sit in jail, and learn your lesson” .  .  .

Or is that too evil?

Don’t play mind games with your kids.  It could have lasting negative effects.

I’ve never gotten arrested, FYI.  I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket, which bloody amazes me, considering how many mirrors I’ve broken in my 47 and a half years.

My mother might be proud for trying to raise my kids right, but I’m sure she constantly rolls in her grave, because I’m definitely not the good Roman Catholic school girl I was raised to be.

Quite the contrary.
I am not a … 

Anyway, my children clearly see this in my day-to-day behaviors.  And I’m certain I’ve been accused of being an inappropriate, unconventional parent many times.

Also for the record, even though I’ve stopped going to church does not mean I don’t pray anymore.  I still believe in and follow many church teachings.  Don’t bother trying to convince me God doesn’t exist.  My feet are solidly planted.

I may question my faith quite often, and throw a daily “why me?” at God, but I still believe there’s a supreme being out there, watching all of its creations.  It’s just easier to call Him God, rather than torture myself with more miserable what-ifs than necessary, which is another one of my huge life-long problems.  The what-ifs.  I’m still unsure of why I hone in on the what-ifs all the time.

Kevin said something yesterday that made me think, and I think I’ve realized why it’s the truth.  Whenever I don’t like something, and/or I don’t want to do something, I resist.  Yesterday, when I bitched about being required to provide proof to my son’s school that he requires glasses, I insisted I was acting that way because I don’t trust the system.

Another thing about me:  I’m a believer in many conspiracy theories.  When I find out about any little discrepancies, I run wild with them.  But I won’t expand on that right now, or preach about how it’s important for people to open their eyes in this new millennium.

So, when something seems a little too strict, or I feel like I’m under a microscope, I go bonkers.  Especially where censorship is concerned.  But that stems from my elementary school days, when I tried to ‘educate’ my friends (IN CATHOLIC GRADE SCHOOL!) by bringing in an unapproved medical book.

BOY were my parents and teacher pissed!  And of course the book was confiscated.  “You’re too young to know that stuff!”  I was 13 and ridiculously curious.  SHEESH!

I couldn’t resist!  And, it’s better than the first gif I was considering using.

I’m definitely going to hell.

Kevin is right though.  What he doesn’t know is that I’ve realized why I resist.  But he can probably guess, because he has seen my mother in action with her psychologically harmful words.  But this isn’t an attack on my deceased mother either.  Let’s just say I think I know why she prayed the way she did the last few years of her life.  Guilt.

I’m a damaged person.  I’m emotionally needy, therefore distancing myself from the big bad world so that I don’t get hurt.  And when I say hurt, I mean criticized, disappointed, or anything similar.  Because when those things happen to me, I curl into a ball for days, wallowing in self pity, hating myself for even succumbing to self pity in the first place.

On a more positive note, based on these few basic self-discovery statements, I can say that I have always loved writing, music, and travel.

With writing, there is self-expression through experience and emotion.  Anyone who truly knows me knows what a passionate and emotional person I am – another reason I distance myself from the world.  People often mistake me for an insane menopausal mess.  Also with writing is learning, and unlike my school days, I actually appreciate and enjoy learning in my middle-age years.  It helps me feel like I’m worth something.

Music, well, I don’t believe it’s necessary to expand much on that, except to say it’s the single constant in life which I can count on being there until my last day.  Even if the horrible day were to come where I either lose my hearing, or music is somehow (God forbid) outlawed, music will always be in my heart and soul.  That can never be stripped from me.  Listening to music (and occasionally playing my violin when my neck isn’t giving me grief) are the only times I can truly let myself be happy without worry.

Freaking long paragraphs…

Travel is something I experienced at a young age, and a lot of it.  I’m truly grateful to have seen so much early in life.  Those are memories I cherish, and rely on in dark times.

Everything else about me, I’m still searching for.  Hopefully it comes to me sooner than later, because that means major progress with defeating depression and anxiety.

I bid all of my readers an excellent day with a huge thank you for reading, and leave with something different from the musical world.  Why?  Because everyone needs something different now and then, when mainstream music gets to be redundant, and many songs start to sound identical.

I sure wish the creators of Animusic would make more!  And how ironic that it is all digitally created, given my above statement about technology.

And finally, holy crap, this was a long post.


PS: In no way was I ever physically or mentally abused.  The above statements about the things my mother used to say were NEVER meant to imply that.  My statements simply mean that she would say things that made me paranoid and constantly guilty for even stepping one toe out of line.

THANKS BRO!  Jk, bro.  JK!  Love ya!

Otherwise, I had an awesome childhood. I was spoiled, and got to travel a lot early in life, and after high school.  I’m still spoiled, by my husband and older brothers (who still look after me whenever possible).  I’ve just never reacted well to things like being yelled at, or confrontation of any type.  I still don’t to this day – hence why I keep to my house most of the time.

My former doctor nailed it when he said I have a fragile ego, and that I’m a person who puts on a smile and giggles for the sake of seeming like I’m OK to concerned loved ones.  He reduced me to tears with those statements alone.  What I don’t think he realized is how my mother’s sneaky parental mental tactics might have had something to do with it.  That, and the crap I endured in school.  It wasn’t really Mom’s fault.  She was just parenting the way she saw fit, according to her upbringing and experiences.

FAR from abused.  I just have permanent issues.

PPS:  Ooops.  I made this entry even longer.  I can’t help it.  Another fucked up thing about me:  I constantly feel the need to explain myself.




Assbikes And Shells

Today was a weird day.

The usual up at o’stupid-thirty until ridiculous af o’clock not only messed with my brain function, we had to be somewhere at 8:30, and I was confused because the sun was out.  Me plus driving plus half past dead isn’t a good combination.

And then when Kevin said “Are you ready?” within minutes of getting back home, I about cried on the spot, because I wanted a fucking nap – at 9:30, which really seemed like 3:30 in the afternoon at this point in my confused brain.  But I was too tired to cry, so I just slumped and said “Let me go to the bathroom first”.  And then we proceeded to drive 45 minutes (it seemed like 45 hours in my zombified brain) just to buy meat.

But the meat is worth the extra mileage and mental suffering and confusion.  Another bonus was breakfast at Dunkin Donuts.  Except the caffeine didn’t even make a dent in my lethargy.  It just made my hands shaky, which I absolutely hate.

So when we finally got home, I finished wiping my ass (don’t ask), washed up at the sink because I probably would’ve fallen asleep in the shower, and crawled off to bed – which I almost did naked, until I started shivering.  So I put on some fresh clothes and died until 3:00, when we had to head back out.

After eating 4 juicy ounces of pull apart cow, some leftover mashed potatoes and green bean casserole, my brain is finally aware of what day and time it actually is.  Only to be confused again tomorrow because my son has a day off from school.  I’ll probably forget to turn off my alarm, and I’ll be up at an obnoxious hour again for no reason at all.

Now excuse me, since I’m all messed up, maybe I’ll continue being messed up in hopes of fully waking up.  It’s after 5:00.

PS: I almost forgot about why my title is so screwy.  On the way home, we missed our exit, and continued until we found an exit that would take us in the right direction.  Let’s just say I was briefly awake when my husband took said exit at 50 miles per hour.  Said exit was a wicked S-shape, which isn’t as easy as it looks when you first go into it.

This gif looks really wrong. 

About halfway through the S-curve, I grabbed the OH SHIT BAR, and proceeded to scream at my husband to slow down.  “WHOA WHOA!!! This isn’t Mario Kart you know!!!”  And he proceeded to turn purple from laughing so hard.  But then some trucks started to box us in, and he decided to pass.

Have you ever heard of a mind meld?

We both had this in mind as we passed the obnoxious truck driver, and pretended to throw imaginary shells at him.  I can’t imagine what he thought.

And now for the best part.

My daughter has been having a crap day or two at college.  So I decided to text her and tell her about her father’s horrific driving habits.


JESUS CHRIST that’s obnoxiously huge!

And now I’m off to research how to resize screenshots from my phone.  LORD!

It Wasn’t A Fever

I swear.  But I still had really weird inception type dreams, where I was in bed, sleeping, waiting for my husband to wake up.

Back up a bit…

I went to bed at a decent hour, except I woke up at 3, thinking it was a week day, and that my husband was going to wake up for work.  And then I realized it’s Sunday, and couldn’t go back to sleep until almost 6.

I’m sick of this shit!  Just let me sleep!

…and considering the size of the damn gif, it’s pretty damn accurate – once again…

When I finally started to doze off, I felt movement in bed.  Then I was hot, and kicked off the sheets, and thankfully I didn’t strip naked, like I did in my dream.


  But maybe I wanted to strip irl, because … well, it’s been a while.

Sorry.  A bit TMI?

At any rate, I kept waking up in my dream within a dream, thinking that my husband was getting frisky.  Oh well.  There’s always next weekend – at 3 in the morning, when I’m awake for no reason at all.


MAJOR PS (edit)!

I literally just remembered other parts of the dream, which happened in between trying to get frisky with my husband (in my dream).

I picked up my grandmother to go visit my aunt Justine (RIP).  When we arrived at my aunt’s house, we got locked out, and couldn’t find any open windows.  Then someone showed up to return my aunt’s van, which meant keys.  Except I couldn’t get in the house for my driver’s license.

I love Steve Harvey ♥

After face palming, I got my license, and we took off in the van.  Where we were going, I have no clue, except that I was driving them to downtown Niagara Falls. I won’t post another gif of Steve Harvey.  Just think about the previous sentence in italics.

Anyone who is familiar with the area, knows what the Robert Moses Parkway is, and how it is literally on the edge of the Niagara gorge.  I’ve never liked driving it.

So in my dream, I missed an exit, and my aunt and grandmother were screaming to get off at the next exit, which was literally right on top of the exit I missed.  Slamming on the brakes, I swung hard right, and teetered on some weird edge, until the van miraculously floated down to the lower section of the parkway.

Right before I went into inception sex dreams, the van started acting of its own accord, driving backwards, doing donuts, and other weird Christine shit, threatening to throw us over the edge, into the raging waters of the Niagara River.

And finally, because I don’t want to write PPS, I think I’m addicted to gifs.




Patience Is A Virgin

I don’t know where the hilarious spin on the original saying came from, but when I first saw it, it was in a quotes column in the school newspaper where I went to college.  And of course my boyfriend had to go and say “Well then you must not have a lot of patience”, causing me to choke on my food, because he said it in front of his friends, who all knew I was a virgin before I met him.

The funny part is, patience is considered a virtue because of how rare it is.  Hmmmm, so is virginity!  Especially these days, where people don’t want to wait for anything.  But this isn’t a rant about jerks on the roads who always leave late, or the lack of courtesy in a checkout line, or road rage, or …. oops.

If patience is something that you have to work hard at (I worked hard at keeping my virginity – until I was 20, and I got drunk one night, and my boyfriend turned me into putty), then it shouldn’t surprise me when I hear how young the ‘average age’ is for a person’s first time.

Finally, a small gif!!!

But virginity and patience are both huge things.

Patience takes a lot of self restraint, which involves a lot of tongue biting, sitting on itchy hands when at the keyboard, and chewing gum like a mad person when stuck in traffic.

Uh oh.  The gifs are getting bigger.  But it accurately represents stuck in traffic.

Seriously though.  Why do teens set themselves up for the worst angst?  Do they not understand how emotional sex can be, even if they think they’re only doing it because it’s FUN, or because everyone else is doing it?  It’s not fun crying for months after your girlfriend or boyfriend breaks up with you.  It’s not fun being called a slut, even though you did it one time.  It’s not fun catching a disease or getting pregnant before you can even drive – or spell, for that matter!

Don’t be drinking or eating when you watch this.  Hot coffee just spewed from my nose, even though I’ve seen this video at least 10 times.

But I’m not here to lecture about sex.  This is supposed to be about patience, and I have ‘no room to speak’ about sex.  I too was very curious at an early age, much to my parents’ and a certain Catholic school teacher’s detriment.


I know it’s easier said than done, but I think if everyone just slowed down a bit, patience wouldn’t be that difficult.  People truly kill me when I hear them complain about how stressed and burned out they are.  Well, don’t make your kids play every sport there is, and don’t give them everything they want, and don’t bite off more than you can chew socially.

As an adult, raising children and work are enough without adding too many extras.  And that’s when patience dies, because there is no time for patience.  There’s only one answer.

Quit this bullsh*t, and make time.  Lessen life’s loads a little.

I can only imagine people’s reactions to that easy solution.

Aww!  Poor Mr. Furley only got a tiny little gif for his huge reaction.

Anyway, patience takes major practice, and if it really is a virgin, then there are a lot of people losing it at a ridiculously young age.  I won’t be pointing fingers at those who know they are to blame for this problem.


I’m Never Drinking Again

Famous last words…

As much as I hate to share this particular dream sequence, it’s a must.  Simply because it’s seriously paranoid.  And, I haven’t had any recent dream recall to really share.  Until today.

Last night I died slightly early.  Early for even me.  I don’t mean literally dead.  Although sometimes I wonder if dead would be easier.

After a few quick shots of whiskey to stop my coughing fit, dinner was a blur, and I proceeded to fall into the depths of sleep in my recliner, as I stuffed my earbuds in for some much needed ASMR.  I don’t usually slam alcohol.  I’m a sipper.  Otherwise I won’t remember anything the next day.  But luckily I recall a few deets for a brief entry.

Upon waking at 1:30 a.m., I stumbled off to bed – after chugging 20 ounces of ice cold water – and proceeded to wake up as I tossed and turned until 4:30.  Restless legs and extreme thirst from a nasty hangover suck.  So do dreams of drinking gallons of water and Gatorade, which took place in my chair before I actually went to bed.

When Kevin left at 4:30, I got up for another bottle of water, chugged half of it, went to the bathroom, walked off the creepy crawlies in my stupid legs, and stumbled back to bed – still fully clothed in yesterday’s clothes, which I’m still wearing.  EW.

I immediately went into some Twilight Zone-ish bizarro dreams, where I thought I was awake (Inception?), and proceeded to sit up (in my dream … I think) and kept calling Kevin’s name, hoping he hadn’t left for work yet.  But when he didn’t come into the bedroom, I resumed my position under my comfortable fluff – a down comforter that sucks you further into dream land than necessary – and continued with paranoid dreams – in my dream.

I’m never watching Inception again.


Then I was rudely awaken (or is it awoken? … I’m still hungover. Shoot me.) by some scary dude pounding on my bedroom window, prompting me to call the cops.  And then there were lights within seconds.  How the hell did the cops get here that quickly?  Whatever the case, I was still on the phone with 911, telling them how people were trying to get into my house in the middle of the night.

Then, when dispatch said the situation was taken care of, I left the safety of my room, only to discover thieves had somehow gotten in anyway, and took all of our damn furniture!  Well, we need new furniture irl, so I wasn’t that heartbroken.  Until Kevin came home with an enormous fish tank in his arms.

“BUT WE NEED FURNITURE!  Not a fish tank!” I screamed, glaring at the obnoxiously huge fish tank as he set it up.  Except it didn’t have fish in it.  He brought home fucking snakes.  And they were all hissing.

And that’s when my alarm went off.  Thank God, because I probably would’ve started screaming irl at any moment, this point in my horrific dream.

Even though my son had gotten on the bus, no matter how hard I tried, there was no going back to sleep.  Not when my husband brought snakes into the house…


Thoughts From A Massage Table

Don’t ever eat for at least four hours before a massage.  And if you do, make it something simple and light, like 4 ounces of applesauce.  And definitely try not to drink much. Save it for after. Otherwise, you’ll be sorry.

MY MY!  What a massive fart button!  By no means is a fart little when you’re doing your best to hold it in during a massage.  It’s the worst feeling ever.  And even worse is the massage therapist knowing you’re at war with your asshole during what’s supposed to be an hour of relaxation.

I should know.  A former therapist once told me that someone farts on the table at least once a week.

OHH NO!  You think it won’t happen to you?  Try again.  Nobody comes out of a massage without a least a little bit of embarrassment.  Especially since you’re mostly naked under that blanket.  And when it’s time to turn over?

Let’s all be thankful farts aren’t visible.  Gross sounds and stink factor are enough.

And if you’ve eaten ANYTHING even remotely questionable, and you have digestive issues, count on not relaxing, because you’ll be busy swallowing the entire time you’re on your stomach, just to keep your food from returning to its rightful owner.

Sorry.  I couldn’t resist.

I never learn…

Here were my thoughts a couple of hours ago.

Oh no.  I have to take off my clothes.

Screw it.  My body hurts.  Pain overrides embarrassment.

Oh shit.  I shouldn’t have eaten.  Especially chips and salsa!  I hope I don’t puke.

This table is crazy hot.  I’ve never been on a heated table.  I might faint.  Or puke.

The music is nice.  I’m tired.  But my food is still right there.

How will I turn over without exposing my boobs?  Or breaking the table?

Ahhhh… finally time to work on my back.

OH SHIT!  My food is gonna come up!

“Can we adjust this headrest a bit?”  “Sure.  Is this good?”  “Yes”.  Oh no it’s not.  I’m still gonna puke.  “Or… maybe a bit more.  Thanks”.

Who am I kidding?  I’m crushing my stomach just by being on it.

“I need a few seconds.  Sorry.  I have to burp.  I just ate a little bit ago.”

My poor therapist.  Did she just back up a few steps?

Ahhhh.  OHHH!!!  That hurts!  But it’s a ‘beneficial’ hurt.  It’s tolerable.

Carry on.

My stomach is rumbling.  I hope I don’t fart.

“These are some stubborn knots.  You’ve had them a while.”

No shit.  That’s why I’m here.  Because I can’t stand it anymore.

“Would you like an analgesic cream?”


“Bio Freeze doesn’t work.  Use that other stuff.  Thank you.”

Ahhhhhhh.  Almost done.  Then I can go home and burp and fart to my heart’s content.

“We’ll see you soon.  And don’t forget to drink your water.”

I’ll probably forget.





My Last Nerve

…just crapped out…

All thanks to Kevin, my husband.

He knows what a jumpy person I am, and given the weird shit I’ve seen in our house, I don’t like being alone – if that makes any sense, since I prefer to be a loner.

A month or so ago, we got a smart light bulb.  It uses less wattage, and it can be adjusted between true sunlight, tungsten lighting, and brightness preferences.  But you need a smart device and an app to make it work.  Otherwise, it’s useless.

I’m still getting used to this damn bulb, and periodically reach for the switch next to my recliner, where I sit on my ass most nights, watching Molly (my fish), listening to music, and crocheting.

Today, as I was talking to Kevin during his lunch, in the middle of me rambling about some new shirts I got, the damn light turned on.

…except I had no arms to jump into…

After my heart plummeted into my asshole, it took about 1 second to remember that the stupid bulb can be remotely controlled, and that my ‘funny’ husband was screwing with me.

HE thought it was funny.  I haven’t heard him laugh like that in a long time, so I let it slide … this time.

Ah, well.  Typical husband/wife shenanigans.


Dog Is The New Squirrel

I’m not kidding. It happened yesterday, when my daughter drove me across town for blood work. If they had checked my blood pressure, it might have been slightly elevated.

Why? Because my kid went full ADHD on me while she was driving! Hence my tendency to not leave my house. She has taken on my husband’s poor driving habits.  And since I don’t like driving, I rarely leave my house.  It’s like pulling teeth to get me to leave, unless it’s something I really want to do.

Me: After my blood work, I want to stop at Starbuck’s. I’m starving.

Kelly: You buying?

Me: I guess.

Kelly: I don’t know what I want yet, but did I tell you what Nathan did?

Nathan is her ‘platonic’ boyfriend, who was her boyfriend for 6+ years.

Me: What did he do?

Kelly:  Well after he picked me up, and we were driving to Starbucks, DOG!!!!!!!!!!

Somehow I knew by the way she was pointing, that she saw a dog on the sidewalk.

I’d use a squirrel gif, but since it was a dog…..

Me:  Did you take your meds?!

And we proceeded to laugh our asses off, because we both realized exactly how ADHD that was.  Then I proceeded to threaten to take her license away if she ever did that again with me in the car.

Starbuck’s was good, by the way.  The spinach feta egg white wrap is to die for.


You Make My Heart Erect

I not only need a hearing aid, but I really need to wear my glasses.

When I finished brewing my cup of coffee, my Keurig 2 had a message for me, which I promptly read as TIME TO DESICCATE THE BREWER.  At first I was like which ass clown programmed this particular machine?  And then I was like OHHHHH, time to DESCALE the brewer.  A person with a thin vocabulary might not even understand, and might possibly freak out, thinking the machine has scales.

But, since I hadn’t even taken one sip from my first cup yet, I can understand why my vision and general reasoning are still foggy.

If you’re wondering about the hearing aids, I have 40+ years of experience in pissing people off by making them repeat themselves at least three times.  But now, I’ve learned to politely ask people I’m not familiar with to please speak up because I have terrible hearing loss – along with lip reading to make good and sure I’m hearing correctly.  I still like to piss off family and friends on a regular basis though.

You know the State Farm commercial featuring the old Doris Day classic ‘A Bushel And A Peck’???


Well, guess what?  Refer to the title of this entry, and that’s what I thought I was hearing in this commercial, until just a few days ago, when I heard the original tune on an oldies music channel.

Thank goodness for captions on television.  Now where are my glasses……