Delores Melon

I check out certain Myspace pages on a regular basis purely for nosy sake. I have on many occasions encountered several that are listed as private for friends only. Being a non friend of these insecure folks, I simply move on.  On one page however, a private page, a note was included for those of us in  “no access”, that their page was private to keep out nosy people.
Now, here’s where I feel a need to bitch. You, (*generally speaking of course), have gone to the trouble of creating this page. You have added pictures of yourself, your dog, your cats, your boyfriend or girlfriend and yourself in a flagrant pose typically involving a bottle of some alcoholic beverage, whatever. Pictures galore. Your own personal musings. Your likes, dislikes, etc.

Now, before I get off track, I realize that the Internet is the perfect vehicle for providing this glimpse into your life, however dull or scandalous it may be, for those you love and loathe alike.  HOWEVER, you can do the same thing via email; via your own personal webpage; via a handwritten, and much more thoughtful, letter with pictures enclosed.

But no. You have chosen to use a highly publicized  platform to put nuggets of your life on display. Myspace is a very well known service. Finding people and learning about them is the hallmark of Myspace. If I were to list my top one hundred hobbies, perusing random Myspace pages would rank in the top fifty.

Now, thanks to you, I am not able to quell my curiosity. What’s worse, I’m now even more intrigued as to what it is you’re hiding.

Frankly I find this an injustice. It’s an attack on my inquisitive nature. Simple as that.

*stomps off in a huff*

Does e-mail spam actually generate substantial revenue for the companies that are behind it? I know I personally do not need a larger penis. I also find it suspicious that an electronically generated mass notice is definitely the key to me living the life of my dreams. Just exactly how do they know what my dream life is anyway? I also seem to have won tickets to Cirque du Soliel.

Would anyone honestly want auto insurance from a company that will apparently approve just about anyone? Low rates don’t always equate with stellar service.

Why are the most annoying things the most abundant? Wait, that’s what makes it annoying. I can honestly say I’ve never once heard someone complain they do not get nearly enough spam. I have, however, been disappointed in a lack of telemarketing calls a few years back but that was only because I had what I thought to be a rather witty come back. And now that I’ve long since forgotten my witty retort, I am once again inundated with solicitors calling.

I’m also ready to try some other ADD medications. While I’m OK with Adderall. I’m just OK with it. I’m not enamoured with it. I’m an optimist. I’m certain there is a drug out there that I will be enamoured with.

I’m also not the slightest bit in the blogging mojo. I tried. I’m done now.

My new baby kitties were “altered” last Friday. That’s the lingo in the world of animal doctors. Altered. I’m sorry.. did you just refer to the removal of the sexual reproductive system as a mere alteration? I think my pets would have a few other choice words.

Regardless of how it is termed, it’s still a necessity. This is what they tell me. Better for their health. Blah blah blah. All I want is to ensure there’s no little inbred kitties running amok and the chance of my little boy kitty pissing all over the place is close to nil.

I also think it’s highly sexist that little boy kitty seems to have fared quite better than little girl kitty. His is an “outie” operation. Hers is an “innie”. Her “innie” boo boo has also gotten infected. It’s gaping open and got icky stuff coming out. Needless to say we were back at the vet today. Luckily (*as if), it’s only slightly infected thanks to her licking it.

I’m a bad kitty mommy. I did not keep that insanely torturous collar thingy on her to keep her from licking her boo boo. So NOW I have to give her antibiotics, which is equally torturous, as well as put that collar thingy on her. I admit it’s my fault since I felt so sorry for her. She was embarrassed and didn’t like it.  *shrugs*

I did the good mommy thing by taking her back to the vet today. I also gave her a stern talking to about the necessity of said torturous collar. She didn’t seem very moved by our little talk. She’s been sulking all evening. But.. she’s not licking her “innie” boo boo.

I think I caught her brother laughing at her though. Young kitties can be so cruel.

I pride myself on my researching abilities. Nearly every product in my home has been bought after extensive research. Almost all of those products are performing either as expected or exceeding my expectations.

Except for the goddamn washing machine. Dryer too, but that’s not as annoying as the washer.

When it became apparent that a new washer and dryer would be needed in the not so distant future, I did what I do. I googled, I epinion’d, I amazon’d.  It did not occur to me then that the products I was veering toward were still relatively new to the market. See now, NOW, is when the NEGATIVE reviews start.

Basically there is this rubber gasket seal thingy inside the door. It’s a front loader. I’m assuming this rubber contraption is used to keep water from sloshing out and onto my floor. Whatever. Unfortunately this rubber sealy contraption thingy also creates a lovely spot for muck, slime and other assorted icky shit.

No, it’s not an oopsie on my machine. It’s an actual WELL THOUGHT OUT design implemented by the maker of my machine. Men had to have come up with this.

So now the mystery of ‘why does my washing machine smell like a swamp?’ has been solved. Unfortunately it’s not something I can call them up and say “Hey, this thing does something totally un-fabulous, could you please give me all my money back?”.

Nay nay. They want me to do things like leave the washer door open. Run a clean cycle with bleach. Probably other things too, but I haven’t read the manual yet. I found those tidbits out by reading epinions AGAIN.

Didn’t read the manual you say? Well of course I didn’t read the fucking manual. It’s a washing machine. I don’t read the instructions on the milk carton either. Yet somehow I manage to have cereal every morning.

I shouldn’t have to read a manual on a VERY expensive appliance to find out how to keep it from smelling like a long neglected fish tank. If I were setting up a fish tank THEN I would peruse the included material to find out how to keep it from smelling neglected.  Or I just wouldn’t neglect it. Why is neglect even the issue here? I use my washer nearly every day. That is NOT neglect. That’s downright smothering.

I guess it’s not THAT big of a deal. I don’t like the idea of this amount of maintenance for something that costs so damn much. Doesn’t make sense. Oh well.

Now I just need to figure out why the damn dryer acts retarded.

My strength amazes me. I have not only defeated the cold, but I have DENIED the flu my soul.

I’m bopping along, cleaning anything that gets in my way. I’ve become the exact opposite of my former self. My less energetic, less concerned with carpet stain self. A pleasant alternative or just a different kind of personal hell?

I have steam cleaner elbow. I spent an hour and forty minutes steam cleaning my couch on Saturday. We are still in a bit of awe and amazement at how this couch was transformed. The soapy hot water soaking the fibers, the vacuum from the cleaner sucking out the years of dirt and muck. I’m left with a brighter, deliciously clean smelling couch and a strange desire, longing even, to rid the chair in the bedroom of filth.

I gave the dog a bath earlier today. It seemed silly not to, as he is the biggest offender in dirt crimes. He didn’t mind it, in fact, I think he really liked the scrubbing. I’m sure he would have been just as happy to forgo the water part, but at least he got a good 20 minutes of loving. I doted on him. I kissed his freshly washed muzzle. I scrubbed a bit longer on his belly than I really needed too, only because I knew he liked that. He gingerly lifted each paw so I could rub the bottoms, and poke my fingers between the rough pads, soaping the little tufts of fur there. I dared not dawdle too long on his backside, careful to keep the fur on his tail smooth and not brush back against the way the fur grows.

He tried to jump out once. He made it to the door, which I’d forgotten to close all the way. I coaxed him back to the tub, lifting his front paws into the tub, pushing his backside. He nudged his muzzle between my knees and seemed content for the most part.

When he was cleaner and soap free, I let him hop out onto the waiting towel. He shook fur and water in every direction. I rubbed him with a dark blue towel that is larger than our regular towels. No one seems particularly fond of this towel, so today it was Tucker’s towel. The rubbing did little to dry him, but it did get him excited. He started hopping around, looking quite like a deer when it hops through a meadow.

Unfortunately this was a small bathroom. Nothing about this bathroom would make anyone think of a meadow. He hopped and slid and wagged and wiggled. Towels were sliding in several different directions. Water was puddled everywhere. Flyaway tufts of fur were poking me in the eyes, tickling my nose. It was clumping and sticking to everything.

I opened the door and sent him down the path of carefully laid towels. All of which were scattered in his romping.

He is now much cleaner and happier.

The flu did not kill me. It tried, but I survived. Now, however, another flu of sorts has me in its evil grip. The stomach one. Ew. I can’t help but wonder if all this cleaning is setting off some kind of revolt in my body.

Today is my son’s birthday too. He wanted very much to go bowling. Unfortunately, bowling and stomach bug do not mix. I’ll stop at that to avoid any visuals.

I’ve started taking fish oil capsules as an Omega 3 supplement. Obviously I researched this extensively. Unfortunately I’ve got fishy burps today. I’m not totally sure if that’s because of my stomach bug, since I did not have fishy burps yesterday.  Honestly though, the “alleged” benefits of this supplement SHOULD far outweigh a few fishy burps. Hopefully, this will pass.

I’ve reconciled with former ex-girlfriend, who will now be known as Fom, an acronym for Friend of mine.  I really just wanted a reason to use the word acronym.  I’m not really in the mood to elaborate on the reconciliation. Suffice it to say I aired my grievances, and all is well. However, perhaps I’ve learned not to rely solely on her for that camaraderie that I’m after. Maybe it’s still a good idea to keep my options open.

I would like to begin introducing Religion into my musings. It’s my blog, why shouldn’t I blog about whatever strikes my fancy? It’s a pretty good bet politics will never strike anything remotely close to my fancy. I think they’re all insane.

I sometimes envy people with multiple personality disorder only because they’re never alone, and always have someone with which to toss and idea or two around.

My stomach is not happy with me. My mother in law (mil) claimed that my father in law’s (fil) recent lower intestinal disorder was the result of a not so fresh sub. My attempt to school her on the finer points of food poisoning fell on deaf ears, and she insisted that his week long holiday in the bathroom was simply a sub gone horribly wrong.

How odd that I am now a victim of this alleged foul sub that I never even had the chance to meet. Oddly, Fom’s daughter is also enduring the evils that this sub was spewing. This is one mean sub. It’s attacking our town like a plague.

I’m forgoing my afternoon dose of Adderall in favor of doing absolutely nothing. I’m tired, my stomach is still filing a complaint and frankly the house is pretty damn clean.

In reading past posts, I am aware that I’ve left a topic or two open. I suppose it would be better to tie up those loose ends before venturing onto such complex ones like religion. That one could just go on and on.

And that concludes today’s musings.  Tune in next time, that is… if this flu doesn’t actually succeed and KILL me.

I have the flu. Well, it may be termed innocently enough “the flu”, but a lesser woman would be dead by now I’m sure. Oddly I still find myself compelled to clean the crevices and crannies that I willingly neglected over the past months.

It’s nice to feel this way. I like feeling like I’m an official functioning member of society. Even with the flu I’m taking an interest in cleaning. This feeling is familiar to me.

I remember when I was in grade school, I’d stay home sick and end up cleaning my room. Meticulously. Like today. I got out a toothbrush, comet and a bowl of water and set to work on a table lamp in the bedroom. This was after I’d torn the bed apart and cleaned it, under it and spot cleaned a few stains on the carpet. I even vacuumed the mattress and boxspring.

There’s an episode of Spongebob where Patrick falls off a cliff, knocking the top of his head off. In haste, Spongebob finds what appears to be Patrick’s lost cranium, and when it’s placed on his head, it “plugs in” to the receptacle. Then Patrick is transformed into a genius.

I feel like the dangling plug in my head has finally been plugged into the proper receptacle. Unfortunately my perfectionism is running amok. I need to learn to tone that part down. However, all things considered, being overly anal about dirt on the floor and vacuuming daily is a small price to pay for my “awakening”.

Maybe my kids just need to stop making such a bloody mess. No, they aren’t REALLY smearing red blood cells and platelets around the house. What they are doing is causing an excessive amount of crumbs everywhere.

My life is far from perfect. Nor do I feel content. I think my feelings of discontent come from thinking that there’s something I am supposed to do. I tried to do something before but time and time again, I’d fail and finally gave up. I think that’s where MY particular depression surfaced. The overwhelming feeling of “I really CANT do it”.

In truth, it was just the ADD causing the trouble and I really CAN do it. Now that I know this, I’m feeling more and more like I am willing to try again.

My dog just farted. Here’s what I don’t understand: he eats the same damn thing day in and day out. Why does he get gas occasionally, and why, for the love of Pete, does it smell so insanely toxic?

I could understand if he tried something new. OH.. and here’s something else. I’ve been trying to introduce a change in the diet of my pets. The kittens are cool with it. The older cat.. not so much, but she’s old, she’s cranky.

The dog. The dog will lick his ass. The dog will lick people’s feet. The dog will eat cat shit out of the litter box. The dog will tear into a garbage bag and eat the contents. The dog will eat the cats food. The dog will eat MY food. The dog will even eat his own fucking barf.

Now, do you think the dog will eat the new food? The lovely new food that cost a lot of money, has the best ingredients, and I know this because I’ve spent countless hours researching this. Do you think he’d eat this???

NO. He wouldn’t FUCKING EAT IT. Stupid damn dog.

I’ve not got any blogging mojo. Well, I might have some, but I’m too tired to put it to use. I’ve been exerting more energy this past week then I have in the past 5 years at least. So I’m going to put mindless tidbits about me here. If I don’t blog at all, I’ll lose the mojo completely and then, once again, let another blogging endeavor fizzle out.

Let’s see what my mind of amazing wonders comes up with…..

• I always flip my hot dog around after putting the ketchup on it.
• I use to sit sideways on the toilet as a kid.
• I’m paranoid that people pictured in magazines can see me on the potty.
• My parents were going to name me Philip had I been a boy.
• I take a prescription for migraine headaches.
• I got my first period when I was 13.
• I never mastered tampons.
• I’m definitely a cat person.
• I’m planning to start feeding my pets (except the parakeet), a raw diet.
• I’ve tried sushi; I really only like the California roll.
• I would rather wander through Staples than a shoe store.
• I’m very cynical in my views of religion at the moment.
• I’m prepared to vote for Hilary.
• My social skills suck prompting me to avoid social situations.
• I use Firefox and loathe Internet Explorer.
• I just spent the past 10 minutes doing other internet stuffs and forgot I was working on this post.

I’m totally amused right now. So beginning in I think January of 2006, I got hooked into this virtual online world. Literally a world online. Avatars, shopping, etc. A highly glorified chat room. Anyway, sucked the damn life right out of me. Seriously.

Anyway, when I left, abruptly, this past July, feelings were hurt, some were confused, etc. etc. I didn’t offer much in the way of an explanation. So, here we are, what… nearly 3 months later. The rumor du’jour is that I’m in a mental hospital!!!

ROFL!

Now granted, there are times when I’d think the confines of a mental health ward would be an attractive alternative to two screaming kids, a thoroughly annoying dog and messy house. However, let me assure you that at no time in my conscious memory have I ever stepped foot voluntarily or otherwise into a mental hospital. I also do not have any evidence to suggest this happened during an unconscious period either.

I’ll even go so far as to say there are a few who likely feel I NEED psychiatric help. In fact, I think it was suggested. But I digress…. the point is, I’m not mentally misfiring. I’m just me with a twist.

I do dumb things, I make mistakes, I have regrets. Yadda yadda yadda. I dare anyone to show me a perfect human being. “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone”. Can’t do it, can you? Didn’t think so.

So I actually find it funny that after all these months I’m still thought about. Thought to be nuts, but still thought of nonetheless. It’s heartwarming.. like indigestion. Although, I am curious to the story behind the story. Like who started it? Was someone bored, my name popped into their head and they immediately thought..”mental hospital”… OF COURSE! Yes, that makes perfect sense.

Why me? I’m not even there anymore. Wouldn’t it make more sense to start something like that about someone that is there? I’ve always held the belief that people start rumors for the entertainment value. So, wouldn’t it be a lot more entertaining if the subject of the rumor is actually there? I realize that people that start these sort of things typically are working with less than stellar intelligence. Therefore they likely do not work through all the details. I’m just saying. Seems pretty stupid to waste a perfectly good rumor on an absentee subject.

In all likelihood, the rumor fest was started in the incorrect assumption that I am in fact still there, just hiding behind an alternate account. I hate to dissappoint. OK not really. I enjoy it. Either way, it’s a wasted rumor. Yes, it did still make it’s way to me. However, since I don’t participate in those virtual shenanigans any longer, the rumor loses it’s effect by the time it gets to me. Pretty silly if you ask me.

Anywho. Not really feeling the blogging mojo anymore. What I’m feeling is this headache. I’ve got bad headache mojo working now.