old man liver

also known as Bitch'n Mona

a post in which to bitch about Old Man. who I shall credit for some of the damage to my liver. and psyche.

I think I don’t know how to deal with a man who’s not evil. Like, he’s not abusive or selling drugs or alcoholic or severely narcissistic or 15 years old or married or. . . .oh fuck. K, technically, legally, he’s still married. So. there’s that. Otherwise? just an old man that I’m ’bout tired of.

you know you wanna. me too.

I  bought new mascara which totally looks like a pocket rocket. gives me idears.

ancient chinese wisdom, meaning........bitch

Another Day Older and Deeper in Debt

Well, they take turns actually.

lemme just say real quick, on the subject of employment:::

Anybody would be LUCKY to have me!!! I’m more than smart. I’m practical. I’m honest. I’m helpful. I really do give a shit. And I’ve got common sense (about most things) ((STFU)) which is more than most people. ever, anywhere.

just something to make it until tomorrow again

no

I’m so not good right now. It’s nearly 6 am. I’m still up. Getting kinda goofy now, but not really sleepy. haven’t been sleeping much for a week or so now. yes, I have pills that’ll knock me out. but all day I feel so tired, so depressed, so nothing…  then at night, I have energy, I want to do things, I cleaned the kitchen and made dinner and did some laundry. I cleaned some.  I almost organized all the movies. thought about adding books to my database. I’d like to have lists, on my computer y’know, of all my books, and movies. I always think I have stuff, like, “Oh, I have that movie” or “I don’t have that book yet, I’ll buy it.”  which is how I end up with 3 copies of Needful Things. which isn’t one of my faves.

So lets try to get it all out, right? nobody is reading this, I’m not bothering anyone. I’m all twitchy because I don’t want to wake anyone up, making noise. my cats have fleas. the little one was swarmed when I got him, and he’s being treated. Sprayed with Adam’s thoroughly and often. We see the fleas dropping off him afterwards. I was getting snuggles from Big Love earlier and saw several fleas in his fur. He doesn’t seem to mind them much, which is why I didn’t know he had them. Ferg has some skin thing going on, so he’s always scratching. I keep telling myself I’m going to start giving him regular baths with head & shoulders, see if it helps. But we’ve got to get rid of the damn fleas. I think maybe I’m just about fucking over this climate. You really don’t appreciate something until it’s gone. I always complained that I hated the desert, wanted to live somewhere green and alive. well, there’s lots of alive. and a lot of it is icky and crawly and evil. roaches in the kitchen, fleas on the cats, and I can’t walk down the street without being paranoid that a tick is going to paratroop down onto me and get frisky. I get rather twitchy just thinking about it. I don’t like bugs. admitting, even to myself, that my kitchen has roaches just kills me. I never say their name. I just say there’s ‘bugs’ in the kitchen. it makes me feel like such trash, ghetto disgusting things. Cat messes and kid messes I can deal with. just take away the insects.

in case you can’t tell, the reason I’m so upset about the bugs is because I can’t do anything about them. I do try to kill the ‘bugs’ in the kitchen, to keep it clean, put the traps and power around, all that jazz. but it does rather seem like they are impossible to get rid of. I fucking hate them. and I feel guilty about the cats. I should be able to take care of them and provide for them properly. but I can’t afford to frontline them all. I’m mad at myself.

I’m sorta kinda looking for work. sent out my resume, but I’m awful at cover letters. and I don’t customize my resume for each job. it’s so stressful, I want it to be perfect, the awesome resume and cover letter, different and unique but reassuring and confidence-inspiring. and I know they’re not, and I don’t know how to make them be. I google it every time, how to write an awesome resume & letter, it just all seems so cliche and manipulative. and I don’t really want to go back to work. I’ve gotten in a rut, lounge around, watch TV, munching & grazing. I bitch & moan every time I have to wear a bra and any pants other than pajamas. seriously, all my laundry is pajamas. I hated getting up early and always being late anyway, frustrations and stresses of work, the constant battle against the clock vs. the paycheck. like, yes I would love to leave early on fridays. but I’m also fond of having electricity and a phone. it just fucking blows. and I know that I could do things from home, could probably do fairly well at it. editing, proofreading, maybe even writing. I just don’t know where to go, how not to get scammed. I need to do something. the holidays are coming up and we just keep getting further behind.

a collections agent actually got ahold of me last week. someone switched to a new collections company, so the number was new, and I answered it. I talked to the woman honestly, said, yes I know I owe money. but being unemployed means I don’t have the means to do a damn thing about it. and she said something about me needing to be aware of the consequences. um, yeah. thanks. y’know, I’m already going to the free crazy clinic for my prozac and ambien. they don’t generally prescribe the heavy stuff. if I can’t have some valium, I need everyone to stay off my back.

boy 2 is giving me stress. trouble at school, trouble at scouts. lying and acting out, I know he’s snowing this counselor just like he did the last one. of course if he’s getting one-on-one attention he’s great. that’s what he wants out of life. but the rest of the time, when someone isn’t being paid (once again, at the guv’ment welfare clinic) to listen to him, he still wants at least that much attention. and he will manufacture anything and everything to get it. hence the problems. there is no attention to be gained by quietly learning or doing homework. and I feel so shitty every time I shoo him away or tell him to wait a minute when he starts talking. but I know he knows when I’m trying to do something, or pay attention to something else, or trying to defuse a bomb, and that’s when he is the most insistent that he needs to ask me if ferrets could live on the moon and he wants a roller coaster for christmas. valium? pls? ativan. lithium. thorazine? vodka. but that occasionally causes projectile vomiting of a truly impressive distance. and volume. which generates a lot of cleaning for me, hence the downside. and I don’t want my kids on the montel williams show talking about mom the drunk. I mean, it’s true, I just don’t want it to be obvious.

a couple of times now I have taken the ambien and stayed up on purpose. it’s rather groovy feeling, floaty-like. but I’m still feeling productive, want to get stuff done. get the crock pot going, including actual potatoes that I peeled and chopped me-self. send out a resume or two and make a couple of phone calls. actually, what I really really want is to go buy the fourth season of Bones. I think it’s getting sick. I NEED to look at all the bills, see what someone is about to shut off and pay it. pay the rest of the rent. hey, guess what we’re not gonna have on Dec. 1st! RENT MONEY! they’ve been very nice thus far, but they are hinting that they have other properties, like apartments, that we might be able to better afford. jesus humping christ on a silver crutch, I really hate apartments. I hate shit jobs, call centers, cashiers, ‘customer service associates.’ drones. sheep. shit on the bottom of one’s shoe. I feel like I’m better than that, worth more than that. but how do I convince a total stranger of that within a minute? getting a job isn’t exactly cake and pie right now. and looking for him too. I thought I was lazy and unmotivated. wow. maybe that’s one reason I let him stick around. makes me feel less lazy and awful. but at the same time, depressing and dragging my ass down with him. it’s the sort of thing I excell at. finding a guy who can ruin my life in as many ways as possible in the shortest amount of time, and hanging on to him like my life depended on it, rather than being rational and moving onward and upward. well, down with the ship then, captain! how else?

so why don’t I want to sleep? why have I been up all night? avoiding the pills that’ll knock me out for a while. time is going by too quickly. I keep telling myself I’m going to do things, make it better, suck it up, be an adult and fix it. and then I sleep all day and think about how shitty it all is and how it’s never going to get better.

depressed, adopt another cat, eat some chocolate, look at lolcats.

and another day is gone, and another day is gone.

I don’t want to get dressed and go to scouts,

I don’t want to get dressed and go to the grocery store,

I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to think about anything.

I’ll think about it tomorrow.

tomorrow is another day, can’t think about it today,

can’t do anything about it today,

they’re probably out to lunch or they’re closed by now

or I can’t do it right now, I need to find a paper first.

something anything a pill a drink a funny

to make it all stop.

for another day.

poor baby

This is not mine, it was found on Best-of-Craigslist. But I completely agree. How can people be like that?? I always want to adopt them all, but I know that I have limitations. So I only adopt cats that have been spayed / neutered already. And I always adopt adults, because they are less likely to be adopted otherwise.  I always wish I could do more.

Imperfect Pet Owner Seeks Perfect Adopter

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Date: 2009-09-11, 7:36PM PDT

 

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I wanted a pet, so I got one. But I am tired of taking care of it, and paying for it. I might even be moving, in which case I would have to pay a pet deposit or spend an extra 30 seconds planning how to take along my pet. Maybe I decided to have a baby or get a boyfriend (or girlfriend). Anyhow, I don’t want my pet anymore. Oh wait, that sounds every bit as selfish as I am. I mean, I can’t keep my pet. Yeah, that’s it. Oh allergies- YES, I suddenly got allergies. No one will question that.

 

Now about my pet. I’ve had it since it was a kitten (or pup, or egg if reptilian) and now it’s middle aged, the age NO ONE wants to adopt, but didn’t you see- I need someone to take care of it.

Anyhow, since this process will be very upsetting for my formerly precious pet (and because I may feel an inkling of guilt) I want the adopter to give it a home where there are no other pets, so it doesn’t have to share your affections (even though I’ve been ignoring it for months). Now let me tell you how sweet, lovable, and darling he/she is. Also, allow me to fail to mention that he/she has a urination issue when scared, or he/she eat sofas, etc.

Oh, and I think you should pay a fee to show you’re capable of buying cat food. And plus I spent money on it 8 years ago and heck I can get a few boxes of diapers for the baby with that cash.

Besides, everyone knows that you can tell a person who’s taking your pet to be a test lab subject by whether or not they’ll shell out $50. If my pet is purebred, I will likely try to charge you hundreds. Because I spend hundreds and this is a very valuable pet. I just don’t want it anymore. But YOU should want it enough to help me recoup my original purchase price.

Now, I hope you’ll take it right to the vet, because he/she is behind on shots. And was never spayed/neutered. And make sure it gets premium food and all the things it deserves, but I am too selfish to even continue to care for it. And remember, this is a commitment- you better not take it and then change your mind ever because only I can do that. Now that I dumped him/her on you, he/she is too traumatized to ever face that again.

Last of all, I will now close by telling you that I need this person who takes over my responsibility to come along quickly, because otherwise I *may* have to take him/her to the pound. I probably won’t, but that threat is sure to scare someone into hurrying up and taking over my responsibility.

• Location: everywhere

Chiquita the Beautiful

So.

I had written about ten pages already. And some shit happened and it’s gone. And I needed it to be there. And I can’t do it again. I don’t have that much vodka.

Summary…..

My dearest love, my gato, neko, kitty cat, Chiquita the Beautiful, aka Chucky aka Tuck-tuck, is gone. I held her and talked to her and kissed her as the euthanasia kicked in. Just today. And I just ain’t good with it.

I had written out most of the whole story. And it got erased, gone bye-bye somehow. I needed to get it all out there, and I had typed it and thought I wouldn’t have to do it again. But now I do, because it needs to be out there.

She was the most wonderful spoiled little bitch kitty. My life was 30 times better for having had her. She was the best thing I ever could have gotten out of a marriage/divorce. Especially from ‘him.’

Oh Tuck, I love you so much. I am so sorry that you ever had to be in pain. I hope I did the right thing for you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Shared pain is lessened.

Hiya, just call me Mo for maureen. I hope nobody shows up here looking for anything deep or entertaining. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, but that’s not really the point. I just need somewhere to vent. A lot. And I’d rather it were anonymous. So here I is!

I’ve had a lot of things happen in the last year, especially the last few months, and I don’t deal all that well. There’s apparently only so much that prozac can do, though I usually have a few other things mixed in. (other prescriptions, a few cocktails, several cats, all the usual coping mechanisms.) I am pretty constantly trying to distract myself from actually thinking, because then I stress and freak out and it’s just not pretty. So I’m hoping that actually getting some of it out of my head will help. But I also intend to talk about my kids and cats and stuff I like, all that jazz. No, I don’t really like jazz that much. More of an alternative-rock kinda lady.

As this is a sort of introduction, here are some stats:

me: 30 yrs old.

kids: 2 boys – a preteen and a young teen.

cats: 5 – 2 girls, 3 boys, all fixed, mostly rescued.

location: the great and boring midwest.

status: divorced twice, unemployed, currently living with a boyfriend who frustrates the crap out of me sometimes. a lot.

K, that’s all I can think of at the moment in the way of stats. I’m boring. I do tend to adopt more cats when I’m depressed. So, yeah, I am the crazy cat lady, destined to die alone in a room that smells of cat wee. But they won’t eat me. They love me. Anyway, that’s a myth. Dogs are much more likely to eat their owner if they’re dead.

I have lots to say about a lot of things, I just hope that getting it out there will help me out.

Because, “Shared pain is lessened, shared joy is increased.” Spider Robinson