You know what,  forget it.  Forget that Wix crap.  I've just fired up the old blog. So here it is. 

Hey, y'all.

There are a million events and lessons I wish I could've told you all about at their inception. However, either lack of time, wifi, or basic brain function prevented me from doing so.

So.

This is where I will catch up.

Colorado is a hard place to live, especially at 10,000 feet. I'll tell ya all about it.

After finding ourselves homeless, I learned I was wrong about most aspects of the epidemic. I'll tell ya all about it.

I've battled anxiety and depression every step of the way. I'll probably tell ya all about that, too.

Life has given me more kicks in the ass than I could handle. On the regular. Some of them completely self imposed and others completly out of my control. You'll probably hear about that, too.

On occasion, what I write about will have nothing to do with any of that; but instead be a random ranting about the total lack of contribution to society by mosquitos and why they should all die. Bats will eat other things. (That's just an example)

Read it, or don't. I'm writing it.

Eventually, I'll cover it all.

Blasphemy.

I keep laughing at this picture, and I KNOW it is so loaded with blasphemy. But I just keep laughing. Just one of many reasons I'm going to hell. I want to send it to my uncle Bob. He doesn't have my number, so it'll be anonymous text. Just that picture. (My uncle apparently thinks God talks to him personally, and tells him if he tells everyone what we're all doing wrong, he gets do be as big of a dickwad as he wants and still maintain his sainthood.) 

Also, I'm inspired to go buy googly eyes. I could googly eye the crap out of things. Visit every establishment in town, googly eyeing one thing. Then, whoever finds the secret googly eye in each place, wins a package of googly eyes. My googly eye contest. 

A thought about thoughts

There are so many things I want to say. So many things I want to write about. All day long, my brain is on. When I finally get to sit down and think and write, my brain has either checked out for the night or it's throwing things like a one direction fans who want an autograph and I can't get away. It's like a fight of thoughts. It's worse when it won't work. Then, I try and start a thought fight, but all my thoughts are suddenly pacifists. All I'll remember is a couple words. Lazy eyes? What the hell was I thinking about lazy eyes for? Back to blank. And sometimes, believe it it not, my thoughts are too intense, too deep, too dark, that I'm not real sure I WANT to write down. That could be trouble. 

Anyway, my point is, I really want to write, at times when I couldn't possibly sit down and write. Give me the opportunity to sit down and write? I can't think of anything to say. The solution to my problem, is just to have someone follow me around all day and write down every word I say. Then I scare the shit out of myself when I read it. I could probably cut out the human contact part of it, and just strap a tape recorder to the dogs collar. She's always following me around. Which is actually pretty damn annoying. Seeing the shadow of her paws from underneath the bathroom door is pretty annoying. Tripping over her because I moved two feet and turned back around. Yeah. The dog would capture it all. Problem is, I'd have to think out loud. Talk, when there are no other people around. Which is talking to myself. And I would look like a fucking lunatic, sitting on my couch having a full conversation with air. But I'd actually be talking to my dog. Which is way fucking worse than just talking to myself. She hasn't even been trained to roll over OR transcribe a conversation and type at 150 words a minute. Bad plan. 

To my fellow weirdos.

Had some self discovery. And the main point is, that the shit that I like, most people either have no idea what it is, or they do and just think I'm weird. AND the things that most people DO like, I don't. Pink Floyd is my perfect example. I HATE Pink Floyd. To me, it is just a series of sound effects. If I turn in the radio, and the actual singing part of wish you were here is on, I won't turn it off. Mostly because it reminds me if my friend, Gregor. But whatever. The movie-stand by me.  I hate that movie. I can't make it five minutes with that shit on. I've never seen Heathers or Fast Times at Ridgemont High. So when people mention it, I'm oblivious. Even though that's my age group. I was busy watching the three stooges, the Marx brothers, and Monty Python at that time. On VHS. 

So I can basically only really relate to other weirdos. Or people who I made weirdos by hanging out with me. Would Amis have ever learned about Mystery Science Theater 3000 without me?? Maybe. Her dad had a lot of tapes. If you've never seen Malibu express, I can't say I recommend it. Unless you're twelve and want to see some boobies. 

Hair on the face

If you are a woman under the age of thirty, you won't know what I'm talking about. Most of you, anyway. But you should keep reading, cuz I'm about to tell you about your future. One day, you'll be looking in the mirror, or driving in the car, and notice, for the first time ever, that you have a mustache that would make a 14 year old boy green with envy. You had convinced yourself it was just a shadow, and now you see it. You realize you have been in direct sunlight while in front of other people. Now you're sure they were never laughing at your jokes, or listening to a word you say for that matter, but just staring at the hair on your upper lip blowing in the wind. There's bleach for this problem, but I'm afraid it just makes it worse. The hair is still there, but because it's not bleach blond to clear, it glistens in the sunlight. Plus, then you have to touch up the roots. Soooo there's also hair burning cream. If you're blond, this is a good choice. It'll burn right off. If you are very dark brunette, not so much. You will have to also burn your skin. It says maximum time is 4 minutes or something. Yeah. Try 10. Burned skin, no stache.  Sacrifices. Even then, there will still be a few hairs, and let's be honest, it's fairer to call them whiskers, that will not be phased by the burning. Waxing is the best choice, just don't have anywhere to go for two hours after. Cuz your upper lip will be bright red and shiny. A few years later, you'll discover your first chin hair. Whisker. Sorry. You will touch your face one day, and find that you just tore your finger open on a piece of wire that is growing out of your face. You will focus on little else until you can get to a mirror. You could be walking the tight rope at the circus, feel that whisker, and it'll be the only thing on your mind. You'll probably die. So don't touch your face when tight rope walking. When you get to your mirror, tweezers in hand, you'll be ready for battle. Thing is, you an only feel it. You can't see it. So you keep feeling, trying to grab it with the tweezers, but mostly pinching bits of skin no where near the whisker. When you do find it, you'll be surprised to find out that it's root is in your mandible. You'll know this because A-it's going to take awhile. That fucker isn't coming out in one pull. Noooo. It's gonna fight you all the way. Then, when you win(and sometimes your chin is bleeding, so it's more like losing), this thing you could barely get a grip on, not even visible, turns out to be eyelash length, and jet fucking black. You push on it to try and bend it, and stab your finger. It has the tensile strength of two hundred captain America shields. It will be horrifying. And it's only the beginning. Men don't have to deal with unnatural hair. They say they do, because if ear hair. Ear hair? Are you fucking kidding me. They can have hair in their pits, hairy fucking legs, hairy bodies. They can look like someone tarred his crotch, then dumped a whole garbage bag of hair clippings from a black barber shop, and it's not unnatural.  Unattractive? Yes. But they're men. 

Just thought I'd share....

I forgot to talk about vagina hats....remind me.

So many thoughts I had to hit down to remember...my sister came over yesterday, and kid 3's Hulk fists were on the couch. She told us we shouldn't leave our sex toys laying around. An then all I could think was, if I were a gyno, I could use these. With only certain patients, though. The ones who don't suck. Walk Into the room with the Hulk fists on. With rubber gloves over them. Say hi, open two five gallon buckets of KY, and dunk em in. Ready for your exam?? 

I would think that was awesome. 

Then. I remembered I have a paper mâché mold of my belly when I was pregnant with kid 3. Boobs and all. And I had plans for it, but now it's just in the closet collecting dust. So, I feel like I need to do something with it. Like make a chip and dip bowl. Two dips, one big ass chip bowl. OR I would paint it, anatomically correct, and wear it at his graduation. The ultimate embarrassment. And then, on his 21st birthday, we could make it into a piñata. I don't know. What the hell else am j supposed to do with it?!

Then! A book. I don't know if it's more for stoners, or more for kids. A book, about stoner problems, written in a kid book format. You can teach kids to read, OR entertain high people. Dual purpose book. Kid format. See Dwayne? Dwayne runs slow. See Dwayne look for his keys. His keys are on the table in front of him. Dwayne does not see his keys. Dwayne get upset. Dwayne lost his keys. Sally sees Dwayne's keys. Sally laughs at Dwayne. Dwayne sees his keys. Dwayne laughs at Dwayne. 

Good book. 

There is a very real experiment going on in my house, and when I have the results, you will be alerted. 

Questions questions questions!

I miss the posts that had all the questions. I like answering questions. If you hated them, stop reading, and move along. I found a list of 150 questions, and I'm going to answer them. Not all at once, ain't nobody got time for that. Like 25 at a time. And I urge you to give me YOUR answers, because sometimes they're better than mine. Which kinda makes me mad, but I'll get over it.  Soooooo here it goes. 

P.S. If you're seeing THIS post, I require that you be absolutely shit faced, or baked out if your gourd, before you answer. 

1. Say something good that happened to you today. 

I ordered seasons 1 and 2 of MXC on DVD. They have already shipped, and I am over the moon. 

2. What is your general philosophy of life?

It is what it is. 

3.  What is the worst thing you have lived through?

Buzzkill question. So I'll say having to bury my son. No elaboration. 

4. How old is your inner child?

I'd say a solid 15 1/2. 16 seems a bit mature to appreciate drawing dicks on things, and laughing every time I hear the word "balls". 

5. Do you believe in a higher power, and if so, what name do you give it?

Yes. What name? Like, so I call God "Bill"? I usually just call Him God. Goofy question. 

6. Are you allergic to anything? If so, what?

Bites from gigundous, hideous, hairy, black spiders. Got bit behind the ear, once, while I was sleeping. My whole head was a hive. The worst part was knowing that in order to bite me, it was crawling ON MY FACE. Which is why I spaz out if a piece of hair touches my face when I'm sleeping. 

7. Write a haiku on the spot (5-7-5). 

Obama talks

Biden checks his phone for pics

Boehner is mad tan

8. Favorite animal?

Meerkats are pretty neat. They look shocked all the time. Otters are awesome, too. They never look stressed out, just chill all the time. 

9. Favorite USMB forum?

I don't understand the question, and I won't respond to it. 

10. Coffee, tea, or soda-how do you get your caffeine fix?

Coffee. Gallons of coffee. 

11. Idealist or realist?

Realist. Paint a pretty picture, and I'll say-hey, that's a pretty picture. A real pretty picture of bullshit. 

12. Are you lucky or unlucky?

Lucky. I should have a couple baby daddy's, and scads of DUIs. I've been lucky as hell. 

13. How much do you normally tip?

It's not tipping I believe in, it's over tipping. 

14. Last time you got sick?

I'm currently getting over a sinus infection. 

15. Favorite word or phrase to use when cussing someone out?

Fuck. Of course. Stupid fuck. Fucking fuck. Stupid fucking fuck. Can't go wrong with fuck. 

16. Best movie made before 1970?

Toss up between Monkey Business and Duck Soup. 

17. After 1970?

Unbelievably hard question. I might be able to limit myself to 5. Spaceballs, Airplane!, Tombstone, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and...Super Troopers. But the list could go on....

18. Within the past 5 years?

Even harder. How old is Anchorman? Who cares. Anchorman. 

19. What is your quest?

I seek the grail. 

20. Favorite TV drama? 

The Blackhawks recent string of sucking ass. 

21. Favorite sitcom?

Arrested Development. Hands down. If The Three Stooges would be second, if that's considered a sitcom. 

22. Favorite reality show?

Which ever one they decide to make about me. 

23. Favorite game show?

Most Extreme Elimination Challenge! 

24. Favorite talk show?

Ehhhhhh, not so much. 

25. A quote that sticks in your head?

Ha! Where do I begin?! 

Shirley, you can't be serious?

Bleeding hearts of the world unite! 

Because good is dumb. 

You go in the box, you feel shame. 

Great Odin's raven!

Your mother was hamster, and your father smelled of elderberries! 

Smoke if ya got em! 

Mother of God. 

I don't want a large Farva, I want a goddamn liter o cola!

Who you calling scruffy lookin?

I better stop.