A strange moment

I thought I’d add just a short strange but not as depressing post, since the last few were nearly suicidal.

Email to Dianne: Can I get a model of the human brain? Or even better, a brain preserved in a jar? Or a brain preserved in some resin, like they do with scorpions for tourist junk?

Odd thoughts said to Dianne:

What if the Sandman isn’t just some strange fairy type thing? What if it’s a grotesque monster in another dimension. Then at night it masturbates in the exact spot as us  and its sperm or vagina spray is so strong it passes through dimensions onto us, but it comes through so thin its like a light mist, even maybe a gas. That makes us fall asleep.

It’s a little sad they didn’t have the internet forever. Imagine if there was internet when Abraham Lincoln was alive. If he was gay he could’ve met someone awesome. Or maybe someone who had a fetish for super tall people that was a better match for him than his wife.

Things that happened:

My sister ate heroin two weeks ago. She didn’t die. But I had to stay in the ER with her for 9 hours. And help her poop. Maybe I’ll tell that whole story eventually, but not now.

I’m looking to changing what this site looks like, so that there will be a dual focus on my writing and the blog. I want to blog for fun. I write because I have to, I need the stories out of my brain. Right now I feel forced to blog so I dread even writing. Too much pressure on myself.

Once every couple of weeks we have to put our bearded dragon in a bath of warm water to make her poop. Its disgusting. Really disgusting.

I’m watching all of How I Met Your Mother. I want a teacup pig (even though they don’t really exist).

The time to party

That was this whole two weeks (There was plenty of unrelated drama, but I’m so tired of talking about it). Granted, partying for us means lounging around doing stuff we like the most, going to dinner, visiting water animals, and making the dogs wear party hats. Our partying has mellowed out since we’re a couple of old fogies now.

First it was Studly’s 9th birthday. Yes, my dog has a birthday. We have a little party with all the dogs and my niece and nephew (I think they enjoyed it as much as the dogs did, which was TONS).

Don’t squeeze him, he’s full of food!

Blurry, but I think that may be from all the partying

Sparkly things, shiny hat, new toys, and still posed for pictures. What a dog.

Studly wore his stylish birthday hat and picked out a fabulous pink dress to wear (sadly, not pictured). They ate banana yogurt (too hot to bake a cake this time of year), and he opened presents. I wanted a pinata, but Chihuahuas are terrible at that. Maybe I could train them to play pin the tail on the donkey for next year…

Not all the animals are party animals

Not all the animals are party animals

 

Dianne’s birthday was half relaxation (mostly her playing unending hours of Skyrim), a small party she went to with a few family members (I am still excluded from these events, but I got left over cake anyways), the Sea Life Aquarium, and dinner at Mimitas (Cuban food), with a few of our very awesome friends (hosts from party described in The Outside, it Burns). Add in a few Amazon.com indulgences and this is likely the best birthday she’s had in a few years (I don’t think she recalls much of the one where she drank all the Patron on the planet, but that’s a story for another time). Oh my look at all my strange sentences in parenthesis.

CthulhuFluxx

I felt its power and was compelled to add it to my shopping cart.

My gift to Dianne was our final foster dog, Big Butch. His nickname is Sausage, which is difficult to explain at best. (Adoption of a foster dog by the foster parents is termed “foster failure”, in a very endearing way). We unfortunately had to leave the rescue we volunteered with due to many hectic things in our personal lives. We still love the group, animal rescue, and will likely return to feeling like superheros to furry animals someday. Until then, meet the final member of our furry pack.

Think of him saying this in Eeyore voice.

Think of him saying this in Eeyore voice.

dianne and big butch

They’re so excited…… they just can’t fight it. And now that song will be in your head for DAYS.

 

Everything Crashing

My sister moved in with us. Yep, with 2 of her kids, and her two dogs. Thankfully an absolutely amazing awesome incredible person we used to volunteer in an animal rescue with took her 20 year old cat, and the litter of 3 kittens she just came home with one day.

This is just going to be a brief mentioning of odd moments.

I have not found a way to explain OCD to any of them. My niece is getting the hang of using the term, but she still doesn’t get that I pull out my hair because I have to, and I can’t stop myself. Even if you relate that she is constantly sucking on her whole freaking hand and can’t stop, or that my nephew needs to wear gloves to clean and arrange things in certain orders, this still doesn’t make sense.

My sister justified staying overnight at her new boyfriends house because she “needed to pay her phone bill”.

There are still bloody handprints on my walls from I had that nervous breakdown a while ago, and everyone is used to them now. I like them.

My niece asked me how long I’ve hated Jesus. Which was difficult to explain that I don’t hate him, I just think his story is a bunch of crap.

She then mentioned when she grows up she wants a mustache like mine.

I’ve discovered that Dr. Seuss was an awesome person, because he didn’t like children or people. We could have been friends, except that neither of us like people, so that likely wouldn’t work out.

I’m trying to find something to do for Dianne’s birthday. Everything I find has reviews saying how good or bad it is for kids. I want to punch those reviewers for only giving opinions related to entertaining spawn.

My sister brought a hoard with her. My house looks like an episode of Hoarders waiting to happen.

She also brought cockroaches.

Our completely insane and blind cat Luna got a new pheromone collar to help calm her down. Included in the pheromone powder coating is a glitter powder coating. This makes no sense.

Today my niece explained she picks at her lips because she likes the blood. My nephew was sitting next to her wearing a full camo face mask that made him look like a serial killer.

I am having some pent up rage issues. I have never used the excessive streams of profanity that came from me as I did last night when we played Left for Dead 2.

When things are horrible, watch this video.

 

(Links to things added later. I’m too tired.)