My motorized heart was traded in for a hand crank.  Just a little slower, more toned down. This change has not been a decision on my part, it just happened. One day I reached into my toolbox for a firecracker and came up holding a coupon for soup.  

I don't want to go your kegger, I want your damn kids off my lawn.

The foundation of who I am is basically the same, but all the rooms have been renovated.  There's a davenport where the futon once lived and metal trivets to protect the dining room table from hot plates, where we eat together as a family, most every night.

I'm not mourning my old habits or regretting this slower pace.

I'm comfortable, except when my back hurts.

I listen to talk radio in my car, I use the "roast" setting on my oven when I make dinner and I like playing bridge and filling in crossword puzzles.  I work my 9 to 5 in offices doing book keeping, researching tax laws and color coding folders.

I take pleasure in orderly and neat.  

I like the smell of Murphy's oil soap and green tea.

I write checks, then I write the amount in the little check register above. There are pictures of kittens on my calendar. I really want a vegetable garden and a creek on a couple acres of land some place sunny.  Preferably, someplace where people don't litter Moon Pie wrappers that blow into my rose bushes (I'm talking to you, Tukwila!).

I track my spending in Quicken.

I have no idea what the blockbuster movie is suppose to be this year or if Britney Spears is alive or dead. I have no interest in dancing at "the club" or defacing public property.  

My ring tone on my cellular telephone makes a ringing sound.

I can't see the difference in high definition television and regular old television. I think you got ripped off.

I hate southern California and pretty much everybody between the ages of two and thirty.

I hate those cartoon shirts where the characters are posing with sunglasses and hats sideways, "hardcore".

I hate the bus and the loud poor people on the bus.

I think the furniture from Ikea and the PT Cruisers look tacky.  

I think opting for "condo life" before you're sixty years old is a sign that you are a dipshit.

I think all dogs less than thirty pounds are basically vermin in a sweaters.

I don't think you should wear those shoes if can't walk in them.

I don't think you should complain about second hand smoke if you own a car.  

I think I've gotten off track…

I like my fancy Miele vacuum. And my iron, I love my iron. Combined they probably are my favorite purchases to date.

Recently, I've been making lists before I go to the store and I compare quantity to price while I'm there. (Toilet paper can be the trickiest thing to buy, but I will not be fooled! The double roll, with the picture of the cartoon bear is usually the best value for your dollar.)

I would rather shop online or from a catalog than go shopping. I try to download coupons from retailmenot.com before I order anything. I love getting a deal.

I like food that has not been genetically modified or tortured before it gets to me.

The last time I ate fast food was a year ago. And I haven't eaten McDonald's in ten years.

Sometimes, I use foot powder. I wash my hands after I touch anything I consider questionable. I wash my hands when I have the thought, "I haven't washed my hands in a couple hours".

In general, I think the band is too damn loud and you should all pull your pants up.

I am the oldest thirty year old in world.

What the hell am I doing blogging on MySpace?

First a nap,

Then I watch my stories and knit a doily for my cats.

1. Bad guys wear brown or grayish uniform looking clothing. Often they are accessorized with metal studs and chain mail. They can easily be told apart from the villagers in rags, who are always good at heart.

2. If, during combat, you have the opportunity to jump and flip several times in the air, take it.

3. If you die as a major character, you probably aren't dead.

4. The gods can be defeated, almost effortlessly.

5. Kings tend to be good, advisers to kings tend to be bad.

6. If you fall in love with a man, someone will kill him.

7. If you cut off the flow of blood to someone's brain using presser points, you will always receive information you need from them.

8. The underworld is accessible by swimming to the bottom of a lake.

9. The easiest way to distract your enemy is to dress up in a costume, preferably one with a veil and dance sexy.

10. Your horse will never die.

Dear The Poor,

I have noticed that you receive a great deal contempt and disdain in our little ethos. I have decided to lend a hand and assist you to be more likeable and more affluent. I think once you become more palpable, others will no longer dislike you for being so lacking in the funds area. I think my tips will help you make friends and improve your chances of becoming The Lower Middle Class.

1. When you ask for things say please and thank you, perhaps a little smile will help your plight. Moreover, remember questions like "Spare a smoke?" and "Help me out with a little extra change?" end with an upward inflection. Otherwise, they sound like demands.

2. Stop having babies. Seriously, you cannot afford them.

3. Try practicing better hygiene. Things like smelling and dirty fingers tend to limit job opportunities.

4. Only take drugs that a medical professional has prescribed for you.

5. Practice differentiating private and public.

Examples…

Fighting with a lover. (Private)

Sitting quieting and reading a book. (Public)

Screaming and yelling. (Private)

Waiting patiently in a line respecting others personal space. (Public)

Disciplining your children. (Private)

5b. Practice differentiating friend and stranger.

If you need a medium to big favor, you may ask… friend.

Examples-

You need 10 dollars to buy diapers. (Friend)

You need to cash a check but don't have a checking account. (Friend)

If you need a minor favor, you may ask. (Stranger)

Examples-

You need the elevator floor button pushed because it is too crowded to reach, you politely ask the person near the buttons. (Stranger)

You need to know the time, so you politely ask the next person you see wearing a watch. (Stranger)

6. Try taking better care of yourself in general.

a. Eat home cooked meals; fast food is bad for you.

b. Libraries are free. They contain books. Books are a great resource of information on many things. (Refer to points two, three and four.)

c. Balance your priorities. The basics take the lead and the luxuries come last.

Food and rent are basics. New rims for your car are luxuries.

7. Proper discourse. Your ability to master verbal communication is your biggest ally in becoming accomplished in life.

I hope that helps clear some stuff up. Being less threatening and friendlier should improve your prosperity in money and associations.

Good Luck!

* I have always wondered what would happen if I left a public bathroom with my pants around my ankles. As if I simply forgot to pull them up. And shuffled around the room. In my head that's really funny.

* When someone is annoying me, sometimes I play the question game. I just keep asking them things. Hopefully, I seem annoying and they leave me alone.

* I disguise my voice and pretend I am this guy "Rob" and I call Blaine at work and leave long messages.

* I also hide from Blaine when gets home from work, so I can jump out and yell "Surprise!". I do this almost everyday.

* Sometimes I pretend to know things about things I know nothing about. I make generic passionate statements and see how long I can engage strangers with talking to me. Once, I talked to this dude about a sports team for about hour. I said things like, "Well, the coach, I forget his name, really needs to pull it together." or "they still have a chance".

* I have dressed up like a hippie and done things ( bowling, gone to the airport), just to see how hippies are treated differently.

* On our last vacation I prank called our friend's who were staying in a different hotel room, around thirty times.

I have been caring, intensely caring, for awhile now. I cared with every fiber of my being. I have cared about everything. There has been no detail that has snuck passed my caring. Maybe I didn't act on each impulse of caring, but I cared, quietly, inside. I cared endlessly for years. Sleepless nights filled with caring. I'm a caring machine. My caring output is set to incinerate.

I'm exhausted. I'm all cared out.

I have decided to try and care less. I hope this will help in retaining more of my energy since it won't be put out there doing all this unnecessary caring.

So just the big ones…

Bills- You may be paid in less gentle fashion. I may toss you down the mailbox all willy-nilly.

Work- I may perform your tasks in a less zealous level.

House- I need you to know it's neither here nor there if you're cleaned really.

Time- I can dictate nothing to you. I'm simply along for the ride.

Other People- Expectations be gone. One of us will only disappoint.

Personal little ones…

Cancer/ Alzheimer's / Flesh Eating Aliment - We have never actually met.

Fitness- I'll get around to you, maybe. But I'll probably have another round and a smoke first.

Hair Cut- You'll probably grow out before I'm dead.

Yard- I may mow the lawn with fire.

*Blaine is exempt from the caring cutback.

Dear Sluts,

Everyone knows you are easier than a paint by number. You do not need to dress as something "Sexy" for Halloween. Besides you are fourth cat or witch or pirate or maid in the room tonight. And those plastic outfits don't provide much warmth in the end of October.

I have an idea, just for you whores!

Why not go as a metaphor of yourself? It will be fun! It will be funny! It will get your point across without too much effort!

My costume ideas for whores...

1. The dumpster- Dress in green and hang around the men's room being your slutty self.

2. The town bicycle- Add a horn somewhere.

3. Port in a storm- Wear unproblematic clothing (nothing with too many buttons or layers) , remain sober and at the end of the night start offering rides home.

4. Vampire Slut- No, not Dracula. Dress as you normally do, and try to take home people you've already slept with. They will be grateful because all quality offers have left the bedroom since no one wants slutty seconds.

Other ideas that need work...

1. The Hallway

2. Butter face

3. Public lot

Happy Hunting!

~Rhi

type type type,

type some more.

Words.

Here's a poem, just for you.

I like to smoke, around grown up folk

I light up when ever I can

But the ballots all read that I'll cough and be dead

No more smoking in bars said The Man

But if you would like, go on, infect my tyke

You can smoke at the playgrounds and zoo

This isn't a joke, it's not about smoke

They've just stolen a choice or two

You're so proud to be free, like your options aplenty

Cause it's something our forefathers sought

If one day it's tobacco wrapping and another it's wire tapping

Then next thing,  there's no more free thought

By Rhiannon

Age 4

Why won't you take my cat? She is a good cat.

Shhhh... Blaine is sleeping. Typity, Typity, type.

I broke our refrigerator… with my mind.

I wanted a new one. Blaine said "we can't afford a new refrigerator", I thought "he's right". But that didn't stop me from mean eyeing the stupid old refrigerator. Blaine even sent me roses with a note that read, "I'm sorry this is not a refrigerator".

I ogled the brushed nickel ice beauty at his brothers house. I had a whole conversation with the family about it, asking questions, testing the ice/crushed ice/ water options. Why don't I have ice/crushed ice/ water options at home? Aren't I worth ice/crushed ice/ water options ? Yes. Yes, I am.

We got back from our vacation in Portland and the mafia in my head had succeed their hit on the ice box, it was dead. So was all the food inside.

Our NEW refrigerator gets delivered on Wednesday. I can only hope, for it's own safety that I like the cut of it's jib.

I have decided to use my new power to refrigerator away tonight at work. It never happened. Because if it did, there are some customers I would like to see sleep with fishes. I'm starting a mind mafia gang.

I will think mean thoughts about the things that you hate, for a small charge.

1. Houston really is THE fattest city. The argument I heard for people being so morbidly obese in Houston was that it was too hot to exercise in that climate. My counterargument- L.A.

The only bonus for me was that there was never a line for the salad bar, and that we were the only people, out of two thousand, that wanted to ride bikes around the Mayan ruins- which meant we got the guide all to ourselves.

2. Mother nature has more beauty tricks up her sleeve then a pile of Cosmo magazines. The lighting storm we saw at 3am in the gulf of Mexico was amazing. Every minute or so, a new part of the sky lit up and it was like daylight for half a second.

3. Fun can be sold. You can sell fun to stupid people and they will buy it. Activities included learning to dance like Austin Powers and a mens hairy chest contest. Needless to say, Blaine and I played a lot of card games.

4. If you ever are proud to be an American may I suggest a Carnival cruise. This will hopefully wise you up. The Mayan ruins are still used by NASA to pin point our exact calendar time and now as a fat lazy stupid American you can rent a jeep, ATV or segway and run them over.

5. The Sandlot 2 is a really long Nike commercial.

6. Blaine and I can have fun anywhere.

About one year ago, during a stressful period of my life ( Leaving the Monkey Pub, moving, breaking up, eloping the Vegas you know, normal stressful stuff) . I developed a tiny bumpy rash on my hand. I thought very little of this rash, as it was accompanied with dandruff, hair loss and weight gain. The hair loss and dandruff went away in about three months, but what a comical time! Imagine leaving the shower holding clumps of your hair. Ha ha.

I called the hand rash my stigmata. It was itchy, but manageable. I saw my Naturopath, she told my to take the Omega 3s. Ok, still really didnt help. It waxed and waned, growing and shrinking in size as the months flew off the calendar. Then, at my previously posted doctors appointment, I haphazardly mention "oh, whadda bout this?". The doctor took one look and said "you have a fungal infection". Yuck. In my hand? She said just go get some vaginal yeast infection cream and rub it into your hand for a week, it will go away. She also didn't do any blood work because her office forgot to tell me to fast before the appointment, oopsy. So, I tried the vagina cream. Nothing happened. Except my having to explain to people who used my bathroom, that the cream sitting out wasnt for my hoo-hoo. And the waking up in the morning in pain because I had been scratching my hand in my sleep.

Two more weeks of the weather getting warmer and my hand getting itchy. I went to the pharmacy and told them my story. The pharmacist said "You know Lotrimin for feet fungus is stronger". Ok, then. Ill try that. Four days later I woke up with a bleeding seeping swollen left hand. At this point the pain in my hand had peaked. I couldnt make a fist, I had to remove my wedding ring. I spent a day on the phone with health care people who told me I would have to wait until the end of September before a dermatologist could see me.

So I cried, on the phone with a stranger, I cried to get her to help me first. I couldnt use my hand at work. I hid it behind my back the first night and wrapped it in gaze the second. I had to ask my co-worker to make the muddled drinks, I was half a bartender. It was sad.

Blaine drives me to urgent care early on Saturday, we had to cancel all our weekend plans and make my yuck hand the priority.

I searched the internet with my symptoms trying to get an idea of what I picked up. This led my mind to racing that I had contracted a wide range of diseases mostly centralized to third world countries. In my head, I was dying. My friend Wynn talked me off the ledge. Thank you, Wynn.

The check-in nurse at urgent care saw my hand and asked, "Honey, what did you do to yourself? Is that a burn?" Which turned on my waterworks, yet again.

As it turns out, I had eczema. Two day of rubbing in steroid cream and its gone. The point is, doctors are stupid.

I bounced around the health care system needing help. No, Omega 3s don't help. No, vagina cream doesn't help. And please, for god's sake, don't rub foot cream onto your hand. Thank you to the nurse who saw me and prescribed the cream. She also told me the doctor could have easily checked to see if it was fungal at my first appointment. But, why check? Right? Its only my life she's playing with.

Apparently extra years spent in medical school will only make you dumber. And crying gets people to take you seriously.

Blaine is Right.

Blaine is right about 96% of the time.

Blaine is not casual with big life commitments, therefore he has made no children. He doesnt partake in drugs as an adult, because he has established maturity . He receives no government assistance, he has a sense of responsibility. He is employable above and beyond entry level. He makes a great breakfast and he mows the yard, sometimes both in one day. He has integrity, he will not sell himself to be liked. He does not lie, even if it means hell ruffle some feathers. He is vocal about his opinion, and can form one on his own without the aid of a television. He built like Greek god. He is an avid reader. He is a loyal friend. He is a champion for the underdog. He has perfect credit. He has a strong sense of justice and morality. He is a trained fighter. He will troubleshoot my neophyte computer skills after a long day of repetitive similar work. He is talented and funny, he doesnt need to go for the easy laugh. He is unstoppable once he decides to accomplish a task. Blaine is self made. He puts the people he loves first, and strives for empathy.

Blaine would never remind you how great he is.

I'm one those lyric specific people. I will correct you in the car, let's say for example, if you are singing the words wrong. I just can't let it go. The artist wrote those particular words to convey the exact meaning they wanted to float across. I would just like to point out,

it goes...

"LITTLE in the middle, but she's got much back"

This song is not a call for every sow in the room to dance and shake her butt. These apple and pear shapes are not what the artist was describing. Since said artist made the prerequisite that and slim waist line was also part of the package.The fact that your ass is big is not an accomplishment, merely your genectics. There are not many that have both the LA face and the Oakland booty.  I think a little piece of joy is robbed from the world each time this misunderstanding occurs at a Karaoke night in some bowling alley across the country.

Dear silly doctors who are covered under my new health insurance,

We have recently reunited (and it feels so good). My long absence from your offices were necessary because you charge for your services and so do bars. The key is not to prioritize what's on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities. And I had a full calendar with the drink, I hope you can understand.

What presses me in writing you is this, yesterday, in your offices, you seemed genuinely upset at my lack of illness. Yes, it has been five plus years since you weighted me and took my temperature. But is the face falling part of your Hippocratic oath upon discovery of my pristine health? Smoking, drinking and other indiscretions are perhaps to me as the waters pouring from the fountain Ponce de Leon was long searching for.

In short, ha ha, (cough) ha.

Go cure something.

Rhiannon

I wrote a joke. I told Blaine he could have for his comedy act, but he declined. Here goes..

Q- "What's the best thing about fucking a bear?"

A- "Dude, you just fucked a bear."

I'm such a cut up.

I threw up last night. I do not think it was from the excessive drinking I had been a party to. Perhaps food poisoning from the days earlier meal? Perhaps an emotional lurch from watching the last episode of the 1^st season of Deadwood (Why must it end?…. Cocksucker!)? Perhaps a random roll of the heavenly dice, I mean, who can argue with fate? Perhaps. Whatever the case may be, I do not enjoy vomiting.

“What’s that?” you say?

Nope, you can file that under Baby No Likey.

I drank 2 vitamin C mixes to make up for the violence that occurred on person last night. Random things….

*Amber coining the term “a violence” to describe bodily functions.

Example- No, no, you didn’t just have the biggest crap of your life in the bathroom at the Scarlet Tree, simply, a violence occurred in the bathroom at the Scarlet Tree.

*Speaking of violence, the crazy guy who talks to himself and a fat girl both wanted to go toe to toe with me this weekend. I say they battle each other first. Why you big girls always want to hate on me? Just playin’. Ach! Having trouble stopping. There. My frontal lobe seems to have kicked back in.

* My poor friend got in an accident and suffered brain damage… (no that’s not the best part) in the hospital he was having trouble discerning dreams from reality. Sos I go to visit him and he tells me he just got done playing basketball in the lobby with INSYC (awesome!). He’s fully recovered now, except for the shame he must live with of dreaming about INSYC and telling me. HA!

*I don’t think waitresses should wear flip flops at work.

a. It’s Seattle

b. It’s December

c. It’s disgusting

d. It’s dangerous.

e. It’s unprofessional

There THAT’S off my chest. I pity the fool who thinks different. (Whores! Ok, I‘m really done now for reals.)

* Also, not to expose all details, but when someone asks for doughnuts and you can magically produce the “air” variety to offer up, let's just say hilarity ensues. Well, for me. Sorry, honey.

Peace Out bitches!