It’s raining fast and furiously out there now. And of course, it has to do it at night when no one would be out hammering, sawing and running around on motorcycles or ATVs. We had some mild thunder and lightning earlier, too.

Yesterday’s outing was fun. I got my usual sirloin tips, eggs and pancakes at the IHOP, compliments of Tammy and Mark, and Tom got his usual ham and cheese omelet. It all came to $30. So did our can/bottle refund. The GC they sent paid for $25 of our breakfast. This was at 6:00 in the morning before the screaming little kiddies were out and about. We also wanted to get to Walmart after the isles weren’t so jammed up with boxes, but before the crowds hit there, too.

I couldn’t resist trying Revlon’s new nail art, Moon Candy. I thought it was a two-in-one lipstick at first till I realized it was for nails. It comes in a long tube. One end is the base color, the other is the glitter overcoat.

So we ended up having a little fun there, though only a third of the $200 we spent went to fun stuff. I love all the different soft, furry, colorful throw rugs and pillows they have, but I never really had any use for them.

While we’ve been doing quite well with not shopping our money away, living paycheck to paycheck like we used to, and buying tons of crap on credit, Walmart and Raley’s are the two stores we don’t hold back in. We easily spend $500 - $600 on groceries a month. It’s not so much because we’re getting a ton of stuff so much as it’s because we buy a lot of expensive items, especially me. Crab cakes, butterfly shrimp, cooked foods, gourmet sweets… I love to eat and I love the variety, so as usual, I woke up today choosing food over hunger, accepting the fact that I will always be heavy because of it. Someday I will probably be ghastly obese.

Since I can’t bring myself to diet hard enough and consistently enough to lose weight (which would only come right back) I’m trying to stay within the same 5-pound range depending on where I am in my cycle. I tend to gain 1-2 pounds of water and 3-4 in fat due to how hungry I am the week before periods. I dropped 2 pounds and will have the next 3 weeks to lose the remaining 3 pounds.

I also got a fleece-covered memory foam mask to try out when I’m on nights and needing to sleep with the window open. My silk one’s strap is getting a bit worn out.

I had to sample perfume, as always. Curves on my left arm, Lucky You on the right.

A while back I said I got Maybelline’s Whisper lipstick in One Pearl Fits All, and while I loved the moistness of it since it’s a gel-based lipstick, I found the color to be too light. It was barely visible. So I looked at all their colors online and got the Mad for Magenta I thought I would like best and it does. It’s the perfect shade that’s not too light, bright or dark.

When we were getting a new bag of bedding for the rats, I found a cute stuffed white rat with pink eyes, ears, feet and a tail in the cat section. Tom started to point out that the rats would only chew it up and destroy it in no time, but I wanted it for myself. They don’t make stuffed ratties for humans, so the cat section is one’s only hope for rats and mice.

A fun toy for rats is empty boxes they can have fun tearing up and nesting in, as well as things made of wood and metal. They can, however, even manage to chew through some types of metal.

I think that’s all the fun stuff we got, though we also stocked up on a lot of non-edibles like lotion, toilet paper and air freshener. For the first time in my life, I was glad to wear glasses when I accidentally sprayed Glade’s Starlit Evening, which I wanted to try, right in my face. That would’ve really stung like hell. Somehow I can see Andy, laughing, shaking his head and saying, “You dummy.”

Later…

Still raining long, hard and steady. I love the sound of the rain on the tin roof, which is one of the few things I’ll miss about this place.

Yesterday turned from fun to funny when Tom returned from the bank. After we returned with the groceries, he left me here and went out to pick up the mail and go to the bank to get what will hopefully be the last full payment for the Jes pest. Because the ATM limits how much you can withdraw, he decided to go inside and just deal with whatever sales pitch they wanted to throw at him. Instead of a sales pitch, the woman said, “You know, you’ve really got an awful lot of money in your account.” We currently have a savings and a checking account and most of our money is in savings. Pointing out the dangers of being ripped off should someone steal our debit cards, she suggested opening additional savings and checking accounts free of charge so we could scatter the money.

Tom mentioned that we’re thinking of buying a house without getting too into the subject and hit with all kinds of offers and suggestions there, too.

So I’m laughing my ass off while he’s telling me that he told her the money comes in faster than we can spend it since all he does is work, but he didn’t mention the inheritance that everyone but myself thinks I’ll still get. Then again, maybe I will. After all, the rich get richer while the poor get poorer. LOL, I hate to say it but it’s true.

She asked how we budget our money (I guess they have plans for that, too), and he shrugged and said, “When I want something I buy it.”

I was laughing so hard by this time. “Did you tell her less than a couple of years ago we were so broke we nearly killed ourselves so we wouldn’t starve on the streets?” I joked, even though it was NO joking matter at the time. It was downright stressful and even terrifying. Sometimes it really does take disaster to get one to smarten up with their money and SAVE! Buy cosmetics and stuffed rats instead of $300 dolls, and beware of Gillian O’Malley’s intimates. They make their sizes too big. Hell, my ass is swimming in a size small.

What was so funny about the whole thing is that we never thought anyone would ever suggest we protect our money by scattering it. We’ve made good money before; we just weren’t smart about it. We also didn’t expect to be alive beyond the first of October 2011, so it makes being told to scatter the money even funnier and more special. I just really hope we do get to spend it real soon on a new house!

As I wrote not too long ago, I had a dream Tom got a promotion that led him to second shift and a raise, but it never happened. We wondered if maybe I was just having a weak spell. It happens to all psychics no matter what kind of psychic they may be. Then Tom learned that although it’s temporary, they plan to add a third shift at work. Hmm… I wonder if the dream of him telling me he got the job and kissing me goodbye on his way to work when it was dark out could mean they’ll put him on graves for a while. They are going to give him a raise after all, though, and ironically that will be in April.

I will cover last night’s dreams in another post, one of which may mean something good. :)

I’m returning the favor and fucking with Maliheh’s head just like she did with mine. I told her I got her friend add, sure to emphasize the fact that it’s about time she added me, cuz hey, we are friends, right? But then I said that when I clicked on it, it disappeared.

Later…

Bourbon Pecan Pralines ice cream rocks! Just had to say so before getting into last night’s dreams.

In one of last night’s dreams, I was sitting in a restaurant discussing the “final application” to the park we want to get into, and how I was nervous in an excited kind of way. But I swear the people I was discussing it with were the late Jim Rome and Al Mandell. Something about going just past a yellow house with green trim, too. Is that where our future house is supposed to be?

In the next dream, I had a psychic reading done by this guy who reads palms, does tarot cards, and things like that which I’m not sure I really believe in. But what could it hurt at just 7 bucks? Or so I thought. It turns out I misunderstood the guy when he stated the cost. The reading was really $107 and must be paid in cash. All I had on me, though, was a 10-dollar bill.

I started getting a little nervous and looked around the dimly lit room. The guy who did the reading and almost all of the talking sat behind a desk smoking. Another guy stood leaning against the wall, arms folded in front of him. He smiled when I glanced his way, though the smile wasn’t genuine. The desk guy then told me they were affiliated with the mafia.

“Oh, yeah?” I said, trying to appear calm.

He nodded, took a long drag off his cigarette, and said, “That means we will get our money.”

I said I couldn’t get the money for a few days, and the guy said he was going to have his buddy follow me home to see where I lived in case I didn’t pay up in a few days like I said I would. So I went along with it, feeling I didn’t have much choice, and let the car slowly follow me as I walked down a sidewalk in a residential area. I scanned the houses for which one I should pretend was mine and decided on one with no car in its carport. I walked up to the side door and made like I was pulling my keys out of my purse, then smiled and waved at the guy in the car. Once he was out of sight, I ran to where I really lived.

The last dream I remember was rather sad. I was staying with a large wealthy family. No one forced me to be there, but I don’t know why I was there in the first place. They were paying me a fortune to do who knew what. After a few days – a week at the most – I felt a heavy sadness over how much I missed Tom. I ran to the little guesthouse I lived in after chatting with guests in the main house who had come for someone’s wedding who had gotten married on the grounds somewhere.

Suddenly, I knew I could no longer stay there. I just had to get home to Tom. Yet when I pulled out my cell I couldn’t remember the number to call him! Nor was it stored in the phone anywhere. A laptop sat on a small table and I went to see if I could send him an email but couldn’t get online. I began to panic at the thought of never being able to reach Tom and him thinking I’d forgotten him and actually liked my new life living with these rich people.

I should write down the series of strange dreams I had before I forget them. They’re just bits and pieces of senseless things, but I always thought it was neat to be able to look back upon dreams from years ago. Even fragments of dreams could hold meaning in them one can’t see at the time.

In the first fragment, I was part of a group home similar to what Molly’s in. At least I think it was supposed to be for the mentally fucked in the head. Anyway, I was in some field with a dozen or so others. Half a dozen of them were fellow group homies. The other half were staffers, but the “staffers” were a mix of former Valleyhead staff and detention officers from jail. One was “Teddy Bear,” the DO I liked that liked me back. The field had a grassy section. Someone asked why there was more grass there than other areas which were predominantly patches of dirt.

“Probably because the ground forms a bit of a dip in this section and is able to hold more rainwater,” I said, half hoping to impress Teddy Bear with my answer. Then I asked her if I were fat and she nodded.

Then I realized I had ballet slippers on and did some amazing spins I could never do in real life. One of the residents commented on it and I said, “Here, I’ll do a whole routine.”

Next thing I know I’m waking up from a nap. I’m in back of the group home on the top of the steps leading to the kitchen. Surprised to see that it was dark out, and hoping there were no bugs crawling on me, I groggily pulled myself up and stepped into the lighted kitchen. No one was there and I felt kind of hurt that no one saved me any dinner. I considered washing all the dishes that were piled up in the sink but then thought better of it.

I turned and headed back outside. Next thing I know it’s light again and I’m where a main road and a side street form a T. I had to get home to my parents’ house and started to turn down the side street until I realized that was silly. All I had to do was follow the main road a few blocks, turn right and there they would be. The house was on the corner. When I passed by our neighbor I thought it rude of the adults that lived there to allow their kids to keep their toys on the sidewalk. There was even a “cage” of sorts for the kids to play ball in without smashing windows or hitting cars.

I rounded the corner and climbed a series of cement steps, finding it weird that they led to a window and not a door. But when I saw that the window was open, I climbed in and was then inside an empty bedroom (mine?). I heard my mom talking on the phone in her bedroom next to this one and walked into the room. I kept hoping she’d notice me, put the phone down and want to chat. When she didn’t, I walked down a hall and into the living room where I noticed the front door was open. I thought that Dad must’ve stepped outside for a minute, and then woke up.

This isn’t the first dream I’ve had where they were still alive.

Death has been on my mind a lot what with so many people dying lately. I once wished both my siblings dead so bad that’s how pissed I was at them a while back. And now one is and one may not live more than 5-10 years. But the more I think about it, the more I am sure that I didn’t influence the situation at all. There’s been too much of a delay. Besides, my parents would have died a lot sooner than they did if my anger could actually influence death. A lot of people would be dead right now because of me if my getting intensely angry could kill. So I would say that no, my getting pissed off in 2000 and then again in 2010 had nothing to do with Tammy’s illness.

But death is still on my mind, my parents’ death, my brother, my foster mother, and then how Tom and I nearly killed ourselves to escape death by poverty.

Tom researched lung transplants some more and found that they only take what’s called lobes from live people and not a full lung. So that’s why they prefer the donor to be dying. That way they can take a whole lung or even both lungs.

I don’t know what to think at this time. Things could take a fast turn for the worst and she could need the transplant within a year only to have it not take, or she could not need it for 5 years and end up with a successful transplant. Or maybe it will be a severe infection that ends up killing her since her immune system is shot as well.

This is pure speculation but right now I think we’re going to go 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s. Larry died in his 50s, my parents in their 80s, and I wonder if Tammy will die in her 60s and me in my 70s. Unless God decides to have me killed in some way I don’t suspect, 70s makes sense if Tom were to live a normal lifespan. Most people make it to their 80s and he’s almost a decade older than me. I always knew I would kill myself the day he died if he died first, so 70s kind of makes sense.

If that’s true, imagine what my parents would’ve thought if they could know decades ago that none of their kids would outlive them. Assholes or not, I’m sure they wouldn’t have been happy to know that. They beat their own parents by 5 years.

Although I know I would definitely want to, I would have to kill myself if Tom died before retirement because I wouldn’t be able to make a living that would sustain me. After retirement, I could technically live as long as I was close enough to buses, though I still wouldn’t want to. Back when I lived alone when I was young; that was different. That was new, that was fun, that was adventurous, and cursed or not, I loved my independence and had my whole life ahead of me. Living alone as an old lady would be a whole different story.

Wish I knew if those who claimed to end up in hell after attempting suicide are for real or just saying that to deter others from trying it. Oh well. God has always had a deep hatred for me, so maybe He’ll send me to hell even if I don’t kill myself someday.

Time to get some proofreading done till the Jes pest starts his daily racket. Tom thinks it’s perfectly normal to hear your neighbors every day, even if they’re 200’ away. Oh, really? I thought it was only normal if they were just a few feet away. I guess he may have a point, though, cuz even though I can’t believe Jesse can hear us from inside his house like we can hear him from inside here, he should easily be able to hear my music when it’s blasting when he’s outside. Probably even the treadmill.

Although it was pretty much what I already knew or at least figured, Tammy was kind enough to leave me another message. Poor thing sounds horrible, though. Her cough sounds worse than the one I had when I had that killer flu. The only thing I’m unclear on is what the probability is of her needing a lung transplant. Either way, it could take a few years as the donor needs to be on their way out and the proper match for her or else her body will simply reject the new lung.

She also talked to Walter and said the same thing – in late April I can expect some money. I guess they’re still trying to sort out the mess Mom and some other guy made, no doubt with the help of God above, in order to help stall our plans even longer. But just what other hurdles may we be up against that have nothing to do with how much savings we have? I guess we’ll be finding out soon enough. If we don’t get out of here by the fall, that’s it. I give up. If something isn’t meant to be, then it’s just not meant to be. We’ll go rent some other place if we’re just going to keep being delayed from buying a place for one reason or another. I just would prefer not to live with our landlord.

Yesterday morning I looked at the clock and saw it was coming up on 8am. A sense of dismay came over me to know that any minute the peace would be shattered by the Jes pest somehow. I just didn’t know if it would be with hammering, sawing or loud vehicles. This damn cock just can’t stay indoors and sit still to save his life! I wish to hell it would rain more often but the rain in these parts has become as scarce as rain in the desert. It just hardly ever rains here anymore and it’s been that way for two years now. No one should have to hear their ONE neighbor that’s hundreds of feet away every single fucking day of their lives. But I know that no matter where we go, there’ll just be some regular annoyance there, too. We’re just doomed in that department.

It’s going to be 74° here today and unfortunately, I’m on nights, which is going to make crashing at noon a bit tough. Trailers are a tough thing to live in when you have a rotating schedule and a funky cooling system. Tom’s got the thermostat running on the computer, but we may have to turn the water on the cooler soon as the fan may not be enough. I’m tired of this having to heat really early in the morning and cool during the afternoon. I just want a normal house with a normal roof and walls! Having such low ceilings doesn’t help either, since heat rises. At 7’ there isn’t much space for it to rise to in the afternoons. sighs For now I’m just going to enjoy the next 8 hours of peace till the noise starts up again. Really wish this bastard would break a leg or that something would lay him up for the next 6 weeks, but every day that it’s not over 90° or raining out, it’s out there pounding away at something or running and gunning whatever. That’s about 300 days of the year.

Unfortunately, I’m in a very sad and angry frame of mind right now, and getting a bit concerned for my family’s well-being as a whole. I fear something up there is bound and determined to pick us off one by one. Let’s just say that if Tammy dies I’m going to go from concerned to downright scared.

Tammy left a message yesterday and she sounded awful. Very strained and out of breath. You could tell talking was hard for her. For the first time since having that dream last summer where Tammy died, I’m worried it may end up being an unusually delayed dream premonition. I didn’t think much of it at the time since most dreams I have that are true or are going to come true end up coming true within 12-72 hours of the dream. Occasionally it’s been months or years, but not very often. Yet it’s looking more and more likely that yes, she will indeed need a lung transplant. According to the statistics, though, 50% of those who have a lung transplant only live 5 years. It seems like an awful lot to go through for so little, but what else can she really do at this point? All the infections she had caused scarring in both lungs during the year she wasn’t treated and they were trying to make a proper diagnosis, which then caused the lungs to harden in some parts, making it very hard to get oxygen.

It just sucks that right when we finally get the past worked out and have grown close that this shit has to happen. But why? It’s hard to believe it’s a coincidence. Mom and Dad, I could see because they were old and sickly and it’s common for long-term couples to die in the same year. But then Larry died and now Tammy’s gravely ill. Does God want to kill her so He can have fun beating us over the head with money and know we’d have no one to run to for help? Is there some other family curse going on? If she doesn’t make it past the next 5 years or so I’m going to seriously wonder if I’ll make it to 60. Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it. For a while, I wondered if I’d even make it to 30, and less than two years ago I was pretty damn sure I had more than a foot in the grave, but I’m still here. So maybe the transplant will allow her to live a full life. And maybe the death dream doesn’t mean a damn thing.

The job promotion dream didn’t mean anything cuz he didn’t get it. We’re ok with that, though, cuz it might actually be a good thing. We would’ve preferred the hours and for him to work less so he could have a bit of a life after working all these 58-hour weeks. But second shift is more at risk of layoffs, and while he would’ve made more per hour, it would’ve been less money overall due to working fewer hours. He doesn’t know yet who got the job. Let me guess… a young black guy? A foreigner?

That’s another thing. I’m tired of pretending I don’t have a problem with blacks just to keep people happy. I do. Not all of them, of course, but I have a problem with the ones who use their race as a weapon against others and as a means of getting ahead no matter who may get hurt along the way. I have a problem with the ones who use the law to screw whites that piss them off just because they can and because they know we’re living in a time when anything they say will automatically be believed no matter how untrue it may be. I have a problem with the ones who are never charged with hate crimes, who are given easier sentences than whites convicted of the same crimes, and the ones who can have their black pageants and their black this and that WITHOUT being called racists, quite unlike their white counterparts. That’s what I have a problem with. Meanwhile, if this pisses anyone off who may read this, well, that’s your problem.

Andy asked me if I searched for the pretty blond cop he told me about that walked some girls into court or something like that. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Maybe I’m the one sporting the brain tumor.

I have a lot more to write about but I think that because this entry’s getting long enough I’ll break it up into multiple posts.

Later…

I’m going to make my LJ blog a voice post blog once we get moved. I’ll only be able to make up to 5 posts a week, but it may be fun and something different than the usual text blog.

Tammy also said she was still going to try to catch Walter and find out what’s going on, but I’ve given up there. I just can’t believe the bastard above would allow my parents to abuse me, then let me profit off of them, even if it were just a few grand. Then again, a few grand could never undo what they did to me anyway. All it could do would be to help make things go a little easier and a little faster. But since God doesn’t want us getting a place of our own, of course He’s going to do all he can to stall and delay things. Then when we finally do defy Him and get what we want, I can just imagine what punishments may be in store for us, but I’m not going to let it stop me.

Another week and Tom will actually talk to the people in our favorite parks, which have the strictest criteria for getting into, and see just what we’re up against. If the hurdles aren’t worth getting over, there are still other parks that are plenty decent enough. He still wants to check out that park where the people own a percentage of it and the monthly payments are only about $400.

Been thinking about it and I would give up a lung for Tammy if I could. I still think it’s a bit much to go through for what could be so little, and I doubt I’d be a suitable candidate, but if the hospital and insurance people paid for all the expenses, I could fly there and go under the knife for her and be back home soon enough. Obviously, we have the same blood type, whatever that may be, but I’m 8” shorter, I did smoke for 18 years, and I have asthma. My asthma may be dormant, but it’s still there. It’s like with a recovering alcoholic. Just because they haven’t had a drink in a while doesn’t mean they’re not still alcoholics.

Her daughters aren’t candidates for various reasons, and Mark smokes, so he’s out of the question.

She mentioned seeing some show about a woman who has lots of rats and even sleeps with them. LOL, I’ve gotten so many people to see rats in a whole new light. Now whenever they see or hear of rats, they think of me and my furry little friends. We’ve slept with our rats in motels, but it’s not something I like to make a habit of because I’m a light sleeper and they tend to chew holes in bedding.

Romeo, Sugar, and I were all playing earlier, it’s so cute how they compete for attention like dogs and nudge each other aside so they can get under my massaging hands. Romeo really loves to burrow in the sleeve of my robe. Sugar likes to play tag, Romeo likes to use me as a secret hideaway.

Later…

My henna tats now look like old coffee stains. It was a definite waste of money, but at least now I know what it’s like.

Tom’s sleeping in this morning because he was hungry when he woke up to pee earlier and was up for a couple of hours while we discussed Tammy and other things.

I feel so bad for Amanda Knox and how they overturned her acquittal and are retrying her case in Italy. I not only believe she’s innocent but what a fucked up judicial system Italy has! I thought this country was bad. She must really hate the hell out of that country by now. I wouldn’t blame her. Other than speaking a gorgeous language, the country’s full of bigots with a joke of a legal system. They obviously don’t have Double Jeopardy, which we have here that prevents one from being tried for the same case more than once. From what Tom said he read, she doesn’t have to return to Shitaly. They can try her from home. But what makes it even weirder is that they can’t extradite her if she’s convicted again. I would just change my appearance and run.

I cringe at the thought of just how many times the corrupt cop who helped railroad me on behalf of his welfare bum buddies would have tried me over and over and over again for their little letter if they could have. OMG, I won’t even go there as far as what I’d have done to them had they tried to fuck me over a second time. Let’s just say I would’ve made a very nasty example out of them as to just what could happen to those who use and abuse the law against others in the name of power, control, and hate. But hey, they weren’t 100% invincible. The cop did lose his job after all.

How I wish I’d never had the great misfortune of having trolls like the Kimolly Duo latch onto me! But when you’re a heavy blogger like I am it’s bound to happen sooner or later. If it wasn’t them, it’d just be someone else.

Sometimes I’m not sure I want to bother with any Ask account at all, figuring Andy and I could share pics via email and keep in touch on Facebook. That way he could create whatever accounts he wanted and do what he wanted over there. Not that I’m condemning him or anything like that, but I thought that by now he too, would find most of the people there young, dumb, naïve, dull, and immature in every way. Lady Di is a rare gem on that site. I just thought he would’ve outgrown these sorts of people just like we outgrew prank phone calls. Some of the calls were funny, but looking back on it I see how immature it was and couldn’t imagine myself finding it a fun pastime as I once did. I really prefer to hang with more mature, stable people both on and offline, but hey, that’s just me.

I’ll go ahead and use my new account, though, but if they find us, I’m gone. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of sticking around. I’m going to make sure my answers aren’t in the stream, but I guess it’s ok to allow for anonymous questions. Since I can’t imagine ever being able to talk Andy into disallowing anonymous questions, I hope he’ll at least keep the account he’ll use with me as secret as possible. I’m not even going to ask Lady Di anything. Those trolls must know we were friends there and I’m sure they’re watching her feed for anything that smells of us.

For blogs, I made one for friends only, one private, and left the other one just sitting there. I’ll slap Tumblr links on my FB wall for my friends there. The trolls still don’t know about that blog.

Mary is still shopping her unemployment money away, and I sometimes wonder if she has other sources of income I don’t know about. If she does, it’s none of my business, so I haven’t asked.

Why do people continue to associate with abusive parents? I just don’t get that. We encourage people to leave abusive lovers, but not their parents? Why? Just because they “gave birth to them?” Just because they’re “getting old?” Abusers are abusers! Period. Yet I hear of so many people who are adults and on their own that put up with so much shit from their evil parents.

I swear I will never ever again have surgery no matter what any doctor says. It’s scary but true to know that any surgery I’ve ever had has only worsened the situation. The only surgery I ever really needed was the one to put my arm back together. But if they had just left me the hell alone in Boston I wouldn’t have later developed problems with the bullshit frame they tried to reconstruct, and if they’d left me the hell alone in Phoenix (though they had to operate for fear of tumors they couldn’t see in X-rays and CAT scans) I wouldn’t be suffering on and off today since it turned out that all I needed was for the damn frame to be dismantled.

How did Susan Atkins get to be so damn hot? I have always been fascinated by the sick, twisted minds of the Manson family and their heinous crimes. I was browsing YouTube videos when I saw a link to a jailhouse interview she did in 1976, 7 years into her life sentence. She was 28. I always thought she was the best-looking of the Manson girls, though the most evil. But what I saw was not only an incredibly beautiful woman, but one you would never in a million years think could be the monster that she was. I could say the same thing for Leslie Van Houten’s later interviews. She just seems so damn “normal,” like she could be anybody’s mom working any job, etc. The kind that would smile and happily gab with you if you ran into her in the grocery store and offer to help you out if you needed it.

Susan was a little shorter than I usually go for, but oh what beautiful long straight brown hair she had! Love those dark, dark eyes, too. Her makeup was perfect and her skin seemed flawless. She must’ve gotten hit on like crazy in that place. She didn’t sound anything like I’d expect, though. She had a high-pitched girlie-like voice that I kind of didn’t expect from her. I expected something a bit more forceful and louder.

While she was responsible for what she did, I do buy the part where she talks about LSD making you do things you wouldn’t normally do. I totally believe that drugs can alter the mind and one’s behavior. None of them have denied being guilty and all but Charlie have expressed remorse. But are they really remorseful? I guess only they would know. The ones that are still alive, that is.

Gotta really, really wonder what the hell kind of people can marry and have kids with these people. I can’t believe it’s even legal. No criminal, especially one expected to be behind bars forever, should be allowed to bring a baby into the world. For what? So it can have to go live with someone else and then possibly deal with the shame and embarrassment of knowing who its mother was when it’s older? How selfish and thoughtless! If you want to let crazies and various fanatics marry these killers, at least don’t allow them to have sex and reproduce for God’s sake.

Later…

I’m a little late with today’s entry mostly because I’m busy catching my Tumblr blog up to date. The blog the trolls don’t know about.

Tammy said she had a doctor’s appointment in the morning and was going to talk to Walter and then call me, but I never got a call or a message on Facebook, so I’m a little concerned about her. Hopefully, she’ll be ok.

Sure wondering what’s up with Andy, too. LOL, lately he seems to be a lot more forgetful than I’ve ever known him to be. I don’t know if something’s wrong, if he’s just playing with me, or if he’s not getting all my emails, because there have been too many things lately that I know I’ve mentioned either directly or in journals yet he acts like he hasn’t heard a thing about it. Today he asked who the fuck was Kathy and I thought, you’ve got to be kidding. This is a joke, right? I swear I sent the entry to him on how she dumped me for bashing God, but email doesn’t always get delivered. In an age where communication is supposed to be easier than ever, it sure doesn’t seem that way at times when your Facebook and email messages don’t go through.

Let’s see… I have period cramps, caught Nane before she crashed, and now I have a grin on my face over the sheer frustration the trolls are going through. I admit I sometimes like fucking with them in an indirect sort of way. Like with archives that hold blog titles that they just can’t quite open. Yeah, I learned that if you set your blog to friends only, one can still access your archive on MO unless you hide the archive tab. When they click on a title nothing will happen, though. I also decided not to back up entries on LJ every day. However, I figured I’d at least throw titles on even though the body of the post is blank so all I have to do when I’m ready to bring it up to date is fill in the entries. That’s gotta have the fuckers pretty confused, too. Molly spent a whole 20 minutes today trying to figure out how to read entries on both blogs, LMAO.

Wish I could snap my fingers and jump ahead a week. That way we’ll know if he’s going to get the promotion, and we’ll have a much better idea of how hard (or easy) it may be to get into our top two favorite parks. I still don’t expect anything inheritance-wise. Like I said, if my parents weren’t much help to me alive, why should they be now that they’re dead? We’ll be fine on our own, though. What we’ll have to decide – if they say our credit isn’t good enough for our top parks – is do we want to wait until it is, or do we settle for the runner-up parks?

Fucking Molly asked Andy a question on FS. If she contacts my friends or me again I will be contacting the group home she resides in. She’s in their custody and she’s their responsibility. So if there’s any more unwanted contact, I will have the group home remove her online privileges. Period. It’s that simple. So… the ball’s in her court.

That was really stupid of me to post my FS link in my blog. I figured that with just a few days to go there it couldn’t harm anything. Had I known she was going to contact Andy I never would’ve posted it. She said some stupid shit like, “Who is behind this account? It needs to be taken down.”

It really bothers me that after I know damn well I asked Andy numerous times before to block and ignore her that he answered her. I really think Tom’s right and that he actually likes trolls. Well, as soon as the shit starts up on our new Ask accounts I’m out of there. He finds this immature shit funny, but I have better things to do with my time.

There are actually a lot of things he says or does that I know I told him about and it makes me wonder about him. Is he ignoring me? Is something wrong with his memory? Or is he just playing games?

I deactivated my old Ask account. I’m sick of Kim’s shit as well, and I don’t want to be logging in and out of two accounts. Jumping back and forth like that would be a pain.

What they don’t know and what I won’t put online is that just to make them wonder what the hell happened to me, I’m going to stop updating MD and LJ for a while, set MO to friends only, and just share links on FB to my Tumblr blog.

Still no word at work about the promotion. Hopefully, he’ll be given a second interview. He should find out tomorrow. And I should strangle him. He just came and stunk up this room with Bengay. I never did care for that wintergreen scent. Time for some opium incense.

I’ve still been having hunger issues that just won’t quit, but I totally give up on trying to control that. I just can’t. So if I could adapt to gaining 50 pounds as I have over the last 25 years, then I’ll just have to adapt to 50 more, and another 50, and another 50…

I missed Nane by half an hour or so. She was sweet enough to wait around for me, but as I told her. I’m on nights now so I won’t be up before she crashes for about a week.

If all goes well, next week should be our final full rent payment. We’d have been out of here a year ago if we hadn’t changed our plans and decided to go for the gold, so to speak. Good things are worth waiting for, but I can’t wait to get out of here! It’s going to be so nice living in a place that doesn’t get so damn cold at night and hot in the daytime. It’s in the 80s in here without the cooler running yet it’s not even that hot out. It’s only in the upper 60s. I can’t wait to have a real roof and normal walls surrounding me! And a fast connection, and well, I could go on and on and on with all that I look forward to.

Looks like my henna tats, which went from piss-yellow to diarrhea brown, are starting to fade.

Although I don’t miss my parents one bit, it’s still hard at times to know I can no longer simply reach for the phone and call them. It seems like just yesterday that they were just 10 digits away.

The only good thing I can say about them was that they were liberal. They didn’t think it was wrong for a woman to decide what to do with her own body. They didn’t think it was wrong for two people of the same gender to love each other. They hated those of different races (though I never knew them to have anything against Asians and American Indians) and just about everything else under the sun, but they were otherwise surprisingly liberal. I guess part of that is due to where they were from. So maybe it’s not so surprising after all when you were born and raised in the first state to allow gay marriage.

Tom’s snoring away right now, and my nocturnal friends are playing. I can hear them loud and clear in the other room and I even wonder how Tom can sleep through their racket. Rats are pretty wild at night. They wrestle with each other, make highly audible chewing sounds on their Coke box, and sometimes I’ll hear a squeal or two if one gets a bit rough with the other. So cute how they jump up to the top of the cage for treats and backrubs whenever I walk by. Now I hear their bell with the wood chews jingling.

Had a dream that Tom got the promotion only it was for $15, not much of a raise. He may turn it down in that case because while he may already make a lot of money and get good benefits, second shift is riskier as much as we’d prefer it, and once he accepts whatever, that’s it, he’s locked in. So if my dream means anything at all, he’ll have to think about it and weigh the pros and cons.

What didn’t make sense was him kissing me goodbye on his way to work at night in another dream (in our new house?). They don’t have a third shift where he works.

I have to think about what to do with my Ask account. Well, I don’t have to, but there are 4 possibilities. I could keep using it. I could abandon it. I could deactivate it and use a secret account till my stalkers find it or Ask shuts down. I could deactivate it and never use Ask again.

Molly’s harassing Alison through her fellow group homies. A guy named Michael, who Molly’s mentioned before in her blog, was apparently ordered by Molly to friend her (Aly didn’t accept) and tell her that Molly misses her and the same old crap she’s been doing for a decade now. Aly said she’s given her enough chances. Michael said she’s “mean.” Aly blocked him.

Alison also gave me Kim’s latest FB link to block. She’s going as Kim Lee these days, but said she’s probably already got me blocked. My first thought was, why would she block me? She’s the one that stalks me, so why would she block me and be unable to spy on me, even if there isn’t much to spy on there? But she did. That is so trollish, too. When I read up on trolls I learned that it’s not only common for them to first reach out to their victims via a cry for help (like Molly did with Aly and I), but to turn the tables and play victim as if we’re the ones bothering them.

Kim probably has other accounts no one knows about that she keeps tabs on people with, hoping they’ll eventually go public. I would if there was a way to keep my friend’s names hidden when they comment or like something of mine, but as of yet there’s no way to do so.

Believe it or not, the hives I got from wasting time and money on that Alli crap are still visible. I still refuse to diet, too. I’ve not only learned that yes, you CAN be fat AND happy. It’s just not worth all the hunger and aggravation for such minimal results. I’ll do what I can to remain fit, but that’s as far as I’m going these days.

Really worried that Mary’s going to end up on the streets. She won’t stop shopping. I hated to sound like her mother, but as a concerned friend I told her to be careful and she just laughed. But it’s not funny!

It’s one thing to end up poor due to circumstances out of our control. It happened to me and it can happen to you, too. But what baffles the hell out of me is why people that are smart enough to know better go and shop away money they don’t have and that they know damn well they should be saving. These are people that are on unemployment, for God’s sake! If our lovely government can decide to tell Tom and I to fuck off for “not working long enough,” think they won’t hesitate to make street bums out of you, too? Well, hopefully they won’t, but they just might. Again, if it can happen to us it can happen to you. There is nothing funny about homelessness. The 36-hour taste my husband and I got of it felt like 36 months! Really, it’s not funny. Don’t foolishly put yourself at risk. It’s ok to want things, but do learn to say “no” to these things till you have a job or win the lottery.

We had a vehicle at the time and it was bad enough being on the street even though we could park it in various parking lots and sit in it. But what if you don’t have a vehicle of your own? Would you be laughing then? If your only choice was to stand outside in the cold or the rain, would it still be funny?

Mary’s too far to rescue should she end up on the street. It’s easy to say, “I’m nobody’s caretaker,” and “It’s their problem,” and “I don’t want anyone else’s problems bringing me down,” but what kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t take in someone I was close to that needed it if they were in my area? They’d do the same for me, wouldn’t they? Well, if they wouldn’t, then I guess they weren’t a true friend. But that’s beside the point. The point is that I just don’t get people at times. I guess for some people it’s like gambling. Sometimes you get on a roll and it’s hard to stop, and after being locked up for 14 years, Mary has had to go without for so damn long. I can understand her eagerness to want to catch up on life’s fun things, but I do worry about her just the same. I know I can’t tell her what to do. She’s an adult, I’m not her mother, and I have no place in telling her how to live her life, so she better hope that the God who allowed her 11-month-old daughter to be murdered gives a shit a little more about her well-being and will see to it that the checks keep coming until she finds work if she’s not going to stop the overspending.

Just saw a banner ad that says, “What does leadership look like?” Then there’s a picture of a black person. So, so very 21st century. Next thing you know ads will appear saying, “What do followers look like?” Then the white guy will be pictured.

Later…

Alison asked me not to post what she told me about Kim in my blog, and I won’t. Actually, I’m trying to give the impression that we’re no longer friends. Nonetheless, Kim asked her a week ago if they could be friends again, and Alison told her it’s best to leave things as they are. She still feels angry for being made such a fool of and I don’t blame her. She also realizes that there’s no point in resuming a friendship that never truly existed and realizes how insane she is what with the sheltered and made-up world she lives in. I agree. Kim’s world is nothing but food, computers and role-playing.

I totally believe Alison is right not to forgive her. Forgive crazy and crazy just fucks you over all over again. There’s no reasoning with crazy. Crazy can’t change. Better to just leave someone you dislike and can’t trust to be themselves rather than try to change them, cuz people simply can’t be changed. Well, they can, but only if they want to and you usually need some degree of sanity and reasoning to do so.

Alison hasn’t heard from Kim since then, but a couple of guys from Molly’s group home tried to unsuccessfully befriend her. She’s got Molly blocked and Molly uses others to try to get what she wants when she can’t go directly to the source. Had to laugh when I learned that her mother changed her PW on FB for bashing fellow group homies. That’s something she would do. Molly can’t get along with anybody and I mean anybody.

Andy and I should probably be careful what we say if we ever communicate with people like Lady Di from our new Ask accounts. In fact, if we were smart we wouldn’t ask anyone else any questions at all so as not to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.

Oh, that crazy Connecticut cunt, though. It doesn’t think I know what questions on Ask are from her, but I do. My first thought was to just give her stupid, crazy, boring, senseless questions an equally stupid, crazy, boring, senseless answer, but in her sick, twisted mind, that’ll mean we’re friends again. Well, we’re not. We’re never going to be either. Same goes for Kathy.

But Kim is crazy and knows nothing but food, fantasies and cyberstalking, so I don’t want her getting the wrong idea and taking my answering her to mean we’re buddies again. But rather than go non-anonymous, I’ll just ignore what comes in from her (and yes, I do know what’s hers) until I get sick of it enough to shut it down again. Besides, if FS is shutting down, Ask probably will too, won’t it?

Tom was interviewed but may not know anything till next week. They actually interviewed tons of people. The finalists are going to have another interview on Monday or Tuesday. If they care about who’s most qualified, then Tom has a great chance. If they only care who’s got the youngest, darkest skin like so many places do, then he doesn’t. Funny, the number of people who have told me they realized I’m right about certain things. Maybe they’ll realize I’m right about God, too.

I have been battling PMS hunger like crazy for 3 days now. I eat, I’m hungry, I eat, I’m hungry… Every month I reset my weight back to where it was before the PMS hunger set in. I probably could lose weight, even with a fucked up thyroid, if it weren’t for PMS undoing the weight that naturally comes off during the first two weeks after periods. But I absolutely totally REFUSE to ever diet again. I do want to eventually get my thyroid checked and I do worry about gaining more weight. I don’t mind staying where I’m at, though, because it’s what I’m used to and it does have its advantages. No guy’s going to pester a big girl like me if I were alone at the pool of whatever park we move to. Also, if some 120-pound chick gets it in mind to casually threaten me simply because she may be taller, I’m sure I’d get a kick out of the look on her face when this 145-pound bitch with a temper and a definite distaste for being threatened tosses her halfway across the room. So yeah, life in full figure mode does have its advantages, and these curves aren’t going anywhere anytime soon anyway.

What people can’t see can work in one’s favor, too. You can see the muscle in my abs, shoulders and calves, but the rest of me doesn’t look muscular at all because it is covered in so much fat. So I don’t look nearly as strong as I am and that in itself can be an advantage if you’re underestimated.

Later…

Cray.

I laughed knowingly when I caught a part of an older man’s journal who said he hated some of the new “words” coming out, like cray, and didn’t get today’s “creative” language and spelling. Like most young people, I found it amusing and entertaining when I was young, but at 47 I can’t help but see it as immature in some ways. To each their own, and no, I’m not saying anyone should change, but for me, there are no such words in the English language as cray, meh and some of the other shit that’s out there these days. I can deal with chillax perhaps because it is a combination of two words that actually do exist and are spelled properly. However, it’s almost the visual equivalent to nails on a chalkboard when I see sometimes spelled like sumtimes and probably spelled like probly. I can see “I luv u 2” to save on limited character spacing, but it’s really no wonder each generation is getting more and more illiterate.

While I’m ranking on people for some of the stupid shit they do to annoy me, it never ceases to amaze me just how many people get so damn upset over what others choose to write about in their own journals. Just so, so upset like it’s a personal insult or false rumors against them. Why do so many people get so emotional about other people’s journals and take things so damn personally? Like everything’s about you and your own precious little opinions. Want to express your opinions? Do it in your own damn blog cuz I’m not about to write mine with you in mind. Really, why read people’s blogs if it’s just going to get you so upset? Just wondering, is all. :)

Some of you act like you were forced to read my blogs or you just couldn’t help but see it. Sorry folks, but it doesn’t come to you. YOU go to IT. So if you can’t handle it, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut and move on. Complaining won’t get you anywhere anyway with me because I write for ME. I’m too selfish to write what others want to hear, and as I’ve said before, there’s no such thing as writing to please everyone anyway. So if it hadn’t been for the one who criticized me for being willing to defend myself against anyone who threatened or attacked me, someone else would’ve criticized me for doing nothing and allowing myself to be assaulted had I said that that’s what I would do instead.

So never assume your opinion will change things. It is heard but it is not necessarily a tool to shape, change, or mold people into how you think they should be.

Ok, I guess that concludes my bitchfest against humanity for a while. :)

Now I’ve got till the 31st to decide if I want to put my old Ask account back to sleep when FS shuts down, or just abandon it like Andy did with his account. I definitely don’t want to be logging in and out of two different accounts. That gets to be a real pain.

Later…

Tom and I discussed things and everything’s still on for picking a place out in April. Everything is still going as planned and falling into place nicely. So unless anything arises that we can’t see, we should have 70 days or less in this little old dump with our engine-gunning landlord up the hill.

I just burst out laughing and then I felt my eyes sting with tears of happy anticipation. It just seems so unreal. Although we didn’t struggle the entire time, we’ve been living in nothing but tiny dives since 2005. To think we are that close to owning a real house with sufficient space, more than just a few wall outlets, and an extra bathroom, is mind-boggling. It’s just so hard to believe. I thought we’d rent undersized dumps for the rest of our lives.

We won’t give the good news to Jesse (which will be bad news for him) until the place is officially in escrow. bursts out laughing again Escrow. Listen to me. Damn, that’s really me saying that.

I can’t wait to get the show on the road! Not just for obvious reasons, but there are so many other things we’ve been putting on hold until the move, some by choice and some of it not by choice. I can’t wait to have a fast, reliable connection that doesn’t cut in and out on me!

I’m looking around me in the room in which I’m now sitting. I’ve seen these walls for half a decade now. It seems so weird to know that in 70 days or less, I’ll never see them again. It will be the first move in a long, long time that I will be excited about instead of stressed or sad.

The lack of dreams is a bit weird, but I don’t see everything in my dreams before it happens anyway. I just thought I would because I saw many details about the last two places before we found them.

Did my own nail design and hated how it came out. White, pink and green specs on royal blue and turquoise backgrounds. After I removed it I applied Nicole’s Iceberg Lotus, one of my favorites.

Now that my nails don’t look like a child had some fun with them, I’m ready to write. I was asked on Ask “You seem very negative. Is there anything that makes you truly happy?”

Pretty sure I know who asked this, too. I was a bit surprised. I thought we were done with each other. Aren’t they supposed to hate me? Either way, I didn’t mind answering the question and thought it’d make for a good blog entry.

Yes, many things make me happy. :) I realize that I can be a rather dynamic and dramatic writer who may come off as angrier, stressed or sad than she actually feels. I’ve noticed this in my writing before. Reading back on some things I said to myself, “I don’t remember feeling THAT upset.”

If I wrote, “I hate streaky nail polish, argh!” It could lead one who doesn’t know me very well to believe that streaky nail polish really pisses me off big time when in fact it’s just a small annoyance. But I write how I write. :) This doesn’t mean that I haven’t had many hardships that have helped hone my way of thinking and being. I have. There are many reasons I am the way I am.

To answer her question about what makes me truly happy - some of those are small things like a good book, a tasty meal, or my favorite music. Some are big things like the love of my husband, having enough food to eat, and not having to struggle to pay the rent. Things are TREMENDOUSLY better than they were a couple of years ago when things got so bad it damn near killed us. For years we tried desperately to grasp the reigns of our lives but it wasn’t to be for quite a while. But now we’re once again in the driver’s seat of our lives and we intend to keep it that way for as long as we can and try not to fall prey to circumstances out of our control, be it the economy, evil-doers, etc.

As someone else said, people would be just as quick to question me if I always wrote positive, happy things. They would demand to know what it was I was hiding. I’m not stupid. I know how people are. What some accept, others will challenge.

Later…

Sure enough, Kim’s at it again on Ask. So much for being a “changed” woman. She asked whatever happened to “Tia” and if we still keep in touch. Why would anyone else ask that? Then she said, “What makes you think this is Kim?”

Well, maybe it was Molly, Alison, Judy or someone else altogether, but somehow I doubt it.

Today I got more online attention from those I don’t care to get it from as opposed to those whose online presence and attention are always welcomed. Sad, huh? Makes me wonder just what it is I’m doing wrong. I’m sure someone on my-diary will be quick to tell me. That site seems to be the leader in insults for feedback, perhaps because it’s easier to hide there under false identities and email addresses. That’s ok. I can quit picking up messages there if I get tired of the same old kiddy drama. :)

I also got my first henna kit today and boy did I fuck up! First I had trouble transferring stencils, then I had trouble with the consistency of the dye. You squeeze the dye out of a bottle through a metal needle and the problem was that I kept getting such thick lines of dye that was hard to control. Because there was too much dye, it obscured the design I was trying to create. Sometimes the dye would stop flowing altogether due to little air pockets, causing me to have to squeeze a little harder and get an even bigger glob of dye.

So my thumb and index finger “rings” look like worms, my stars and hearts are distorted, my leafy vine looks more like a grapevine, and I don’t know how to describe the last two designs. They look alien. That’s all I can say.

OMG, this is too fucking funny! Since reactivating my Ask account, what I suspect to be Molly, asked if I thought I was going to hell right around the time she answered her own question from someone asking her to guess who they are who supposedly checks her out on FB daily (I have her blocked there). I thought it might be her due to the way it was written, the nature of the question, then seeing that she was around at the time. I deleted this question.

Today, however, I get asked: Do you keep secrets from people?

I ran and found I had a blog view from Harlingen where Molly’s from that came in around the same time as the question. Molly’s group home is in Austin and she hasn’t said anything in her blog about going home anytime soon. This told me it was probably the mother, who has harassed me before right along with her darling daughter. Deciding to give Mommy Dearest a big shock at best if I were right, and at worst, not causing any harm if I were wrong, I answered with: Hello, Mrs. M. Long time no hear. That depends. Usually no. I just don’t feel I have anything worth keeping secret that’s that valuable. However, I may keep secret a party or a gift I may want to surprise someone with. Or I may keep secret the fact that I think so-and-so looks shitty so as not to hurt their feelings.

I posted my bio on OD last night and am flabbergasted by all the views it got. Been getting a lot of views there anyway as opposed to any other blog I’ve ever used, but this isn’t just for a few minutes as in most cases. This is for hours. There are a few people that have spent over 2-3 hours in it and many that spend 20-30 minutes in it.

Someone flung insults at me on MD mostly about God and “waiting for my dead parents’ money.” I thought of posting an altered version of their lovely feedback but decided to just ignore them for now. The email addy they used was bogus, too. My favorite part was when they said “Read your journals.” 

Haha, I don’t need to read them. I wrote to them. I know what’s in them.

It’s raining out there today. It began late yesterday afternoon. No barking, motorcycles or saws yesterday, but I got some hammering before the rain and was thinking to myself, “Come on, folks, give it up! We’re in the woods. Aren’t the woods supposed to be peaceful?

Anyway, tomorrow it’s back to dry sunshine and the usual buzzing of saws and intermittent loud vehicles. At least the dogs have been amazingly quiet. Don’t know if it will stay that way until we leave, but it’s nice for however long it lasts.

I’m getting impatient with wanting to move! Not because it’s so horrible here or anything like that, but my days of renting little old dumps have finally caught up to me. I rolled with the punches as best I could for a while and now this isn’t good enough for me anymore. Or for Tom. We want space and a place we can call our own! Renting was fine for a while. I liked the idea of having the repair expenses be on a landlord or a management company, but it would be plenty worth it to do it all ourselves. This way we could do it our way and at our convenience unless it was an emergency.

Sometimes I wish there really was such a thing as prayer and that I could pray to speed things up, but know that things have to play themselves out the way they were meant to and all I can do is make the best of it.

We learned our bank does manufactured home loans, so they may help us if a homeowner doesn’t want to finance us.

Things are still looking good and if all continues to go well, we should be getting really close. Just maybe Tom will be right and we’ll pick out a place sometime in April and be out of here in May. But this is it. The bum living ends the day we leave this dump. After Tom got his job I kept telling myself to just enjoy the money while it lasted because we would surely be poor again since we already have been a few times, but I can’t accept that anymore. Enough is more than enough. Just like I refuse to be anyone’s legal victim ever again (or any other kind of victim) I refuse to let society, the economy or God force us into poverty ever again. We’ve done our time struggling and living like bums. Never again! We will do our part to save and be smart with our money, but we won’t let anyone do their part in destroying us and taking all we’ve worked for. Even if God took his mighty fist and slammed it down upon our future home, there will still be money saved in 3 separate locations and insurance to rebuild with.

Tom will be interviewed for the job I strongly sense he’ll get. My vibes say $16.60 an hour, though most people who do the job he’s interviewing for get $18. If it’s not a big enough raise, he’s not going to take the job because A, second shift is never as safe as first even if the hours would be better for us, and B, he would lose tons of OT which could actually mean making less money if he didn’t get much of a raise. Without bonuses and OT his pay would now be 28K which is really just average. Average to most people but rich to us after receiving $1200 a month for years from Unemployment. There will still be some OT on second shift, just not as much.

I know I should work out today since I skipped yesterday, but I just don’t feel like it. Losing and regaining the same damn 5 pounds is rather discouraging. And oh, that PMS hunger! There’s just no controlling it. Tomorrow Tom’s stopping by the mail place to pick up our packages on the way home from work and is also stopping off at KFC. I’m going to eat and eat till I’m so sick I don’t ever want to eat again!

Decided to give Tom the Kindle holder for his tablet. I don’t like it much after all. Because the headboard shelf is rounded on the edge it couldn’t clamp to it very well and it fell off. Fortunately, it waited till after I got up to do it. It’s also a pain in the ass getting the angle just right and keeping the print in portrait mode instead of landscape, and a pain to take in and out of the holder. I like to use it while I’m on the treadmill, and I have to take it out to charge it, too. Lastly, it kind of sucks to think you’ve got it raised up high enough at bedtime just to accidentally punch it when you’re fluffing up the covers. I would really rather just hold it at this point.

Later…

Again with the Estrella jail view on MO (I forgot I had two entries about that lovely time) this time appearing to be in Minnesota, though I strongly believe it’s the same person with a dynamic IP which means they share an IP that changes often. All their other info is the same. Same browser, same OS, same everything. This time they spent 13 minutes on my blog and browsed my ‘about’ page as well as the entry leading up to being thrown in jail. I don’t know that it’s connected to Nancy or the blacks, though, because they haven’t been to my other blog. I think it’s someone with an interest in Estrella jail, though. Either someone who was there or knew someone who was there. I’ve still got the jail entries set to friends for now.

Got a direct hit from Houston on the same blog Mommy Dearest viewed. Wonder if there was a connection there?

Either way, I couldn’t resist the urge to unblock her on Facebook and tell her that I answered her question, but please leave me alone. I wished her the best but reminded her that I didn’t want any contact with her or Molly.

If I’m right and it really was her, she’s got to be reeling with shock trying to figure out how the hell I knew it was her, LOL. I’m surprised she didn’t hit back with a nasty reply and more legal threats. But she hasn’t done that and she hasn’t denied or confirmed anything. Maybe she’s just waiting till she thinks up the best words to say to me.

The troll keeps peeking in on me nearly every day, sometimes more than once. I used to think she was looking for Alison’s name, and maybe that used to be the case, but now I don’t know. She views every single comment I get which is pretty much only from Adonis since I keep communication to a minimum there, so I don’t know what she’s looking for. She can’t possibly read every single word I write. She’s not in long enough. Maybe she just likes making her presence known, in her mind, on my tracker.

I made sure to avoid news headlines today. If you want to remain happy, reading the news is not the way to do it. We make no excuses for pedophiles whatsoever yet we make all the excuses in the world for rapists. And people wonder why I prefer to spend so much time alone or with my husband? Funny, ain’t it?

I’m not going to say in public how I knew it was the troll’s mother who asked if I keep secrets on Ask, but I realize that a lot of the rude questions I got in the past could have been from her as well as the usual trolls and whoever else. I forget at times that yes, mothers really do do this shit at times and can be no better or more mature than their daughters when they should be setting a better example for them instead. It’s just hard to fathom that an adult in their 50s – a mother of 3 and grandmother of 2 – can be so hateful, vengeful and immature. But the sad reality is that they can. They can be every bit as bad as their fucked up offspring and sometimes worse. Imagine if her students knew just what their teacher does in the privacy of her own home at times. Some example she is, huh?

She sure is tall and anorexic looking, though. Molly’s gained a lot of weight, though. Probably all the drugs they keep her doped up on.

All I ever wanted for the last 4 years was a life without these people in it. I don’t want to be their friend. I don’t want to be their enemy. I just want to be as meaningless to them as one of the snowflakes they stood in when posing in front of a private plane. They may have money and I may be forever poor in comparison, but they have NOTHING else as far as I’m concerned. To me, they are just another grain of sand lost in the dirt that surrounds this place.

But what do I have? Huh? What do I have that keeps them hooked on me? I obviously have something that is so damn interesting that’s had them tailing me for this long, and what I sadly realize could be for the rest of my life. Really, I can’t do anything without them knowing about it. I can’t allow for comments just anywhere because they’ll stalk, follow and pester me every chance they get. I can’t do much of anything unless I don’t use my name or make sure I’m careful about who can find out about it. For now… their money won’t save them when they cross the line and go too far.

Later…

LOL, Judy blocked me after peeking in on the entry I just posted about her, which I had removed by the time she peeked in on me again. My mentioning seeing her pics must’ve freaked her out, hahaha. Ah, but I have no sympathy for Judy M. Or her darling daughter. I just hope these two don’t start shit with me all over again. Worst-case scenario I deactivate on Ask again and I go private on MD if they start harassing me there, too. They never have yet, though I suppose they could start. Meanwhile, I wonder if Judy will be back tomorrow to add to the 46 minutes she spent on my blog today.

Later…

Now she says on Ask that she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, she hasn’t asked me any questions, please do not contact her again. I just told her I was sorry for any mix-up on my part. Do I think I could be mistaken about who asked me about secrets? No, I don’t. But I don’t want any trouble either.

She just thanked me and told me to have a nice life. “You too, ma’am,” I told her.

Now let’s see how often she comes to my blog tomorrow.