GET OFF ME

I already have enough to do reading food labels,and now I have to check my chocolate?! The friggin' Aztec's made chocolate with cocoa butter, and um, cocoa and vanilla- real stuff, so why is this not good enough for us today? Sadly, it comes down to my "Golden Rule", follow the money. Turns out Cocoa butter is expensive and therefore many manufactures of candy replaced it with PGPR(an emulsifier made from castor beans which reduces the viscosity of chocolate and similar coatings and compounds." Wikipedia Wikipedia goes on to explain that"It is primarily used to reduce the fat content of chocolate. Since 2006, commercial-grade candy bars, such as those made by Hershey's and Nestle , made an industry-wide switch to include PGPR as an ingredient - a possible indicator of a cost saving measure by the commercial chocolate industry." In addition, they are using synthetic vanilla, and artificial flavorings. Holy crap! I would rather pay more for the real...

There I was,mindin' my own business, and everyone else's( ya'll know I do that!) when Lucy took my toe out in one fell swoop! I cussed like a streetwalker screwed by her john, and turned the air purple. Lucy ran like her butt was on fire( it will shortly be in a pot with fire under it, filled with onions for stew, so same difference) and Stickers stood there with eyes as big as saucers and her mouth hangin' open. I hobbled toward the chocolate stash and plopped on the couch with something besides my uterus achin' fer a change. Lucky I grabbed the whiskey along with the chocolate I plan on smearin' all over myself. Medicinal purposes you understand... Get off ME! My damn mule broke my piggy. You know, this little piggy went to the market, this little piggy went....well, my little freakin' piggy went snap! Get Off Me Mule!! It hurts like hell, and the chocolate is dwindlin' so I have to go to the damn store in mornin' and re-load. Ration list: chocolat...

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disapp...

I'm freakin' exhausted from chasin' these darn mules around screamin' at the top of my lungs and wieldin' all manner of threatenin' objects. Whew! Stickers got her uterus clipped last week, and she is more emotional now than she ever was. WTF? Tearin' around, chasin' everything that moves, howlin'and scarin' the shit outta Lucy, along with healin' her at every turn. Damn Mule! Ferget bandages and stiches, jest gimmie a straitjacket and a pot of boilin'water!! Get off Me! Didn't help that I took her dew claws too, since they were sharp as knives and they had hooked my Hoo Haw one too many times on "accident" Get Off Me!, try livin' here for One Day PPl, and you would know I can't make this crap up. I need an I.V of Vodka, and a vat of Chocolate to drown my sorry ass in. Insert Insane Laugh here. The Hubby escaped Sunday to Rawlins, and who can blame him? He took off like a man caught in a panty raid! I could have sto...

Ive become a hooker. Not the kind that trolls the streets( A Madam is completely different than a Hooker folks! Shame on you!) the kind that makes stuff outta yarn. And Mules if they keep their crap up....but I digress. I'm makin' stuff! Mostly a mess, and a lot of pot holders that God knows the world hasn't nearly enough of, but, I made em' so shut it! Amok, Amok, Amok! With the patience of some dear friends( duck tape is good for soooo much stuff!)and a lot of sittin' around with my tongue stuck out, my butt squashed and not readin' directions, I have managed to make....one scarf. One. shut it. Did you make a scarf this week? No, you did not. I did. So there. Its beautiful, and it doubles as a Lucy strangler in a pinch. I like to multi-task,and make stuff with more than one purpose. GET OFF ME! I am now addicted to yarn. I have enough to hang myself with, and the temptation to purchase more is almost as great as the need for more chocolate when I already have...

Middle Age is not really an age. Nor is it a state of mind. Its more like a Jackass you meet in a waterin' hole that decides,despite your lack of eye contact, general attempts to avoid any and all contact, your frequent escapes to the bathroom, and running off to talk with other people you don't like either, but won't stalk you later, that you are interested and won't shut up, go away, listen when you try to end the conversation,follows you around, tries to become friends with your friends,all the while standin' there like a wart no one wants to mention,look at,or acknowledge. Or,its like a candy thief that claims they don't eat sweets and when yer not lookin',or expectin' it, they steal your chocolate and beat feet with the very thing that keeps you sane,out of prison, and from rippin' heads off chickens, mules, and diving into traffic! S.O.B! One day you are high, tight, supple,lean and have the skin that grows on babies asses, lines are only on p...

What happened to all the nice guys? The answer is simple: you did. See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He'd tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn't feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you. At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were "just friends." Besides, he totally wasn't your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too...