I hope your thanksgiving and all of your shopping went well. Twas Black Friday… Twas Thanksgiving night and all through the house, Crumbs were disappearing, it must be a mouse. My kids stuff was flung around with no care For … Continue reading
As a connoisseur of all things sweet, it is a rare occasion when food crosses my palate and is met by an uncontrollable audible moan of rapture. My friends refer to this as a "FO" which, of course, is short for "food orgasm". The world seems to stop as my taste buds demand the attention of my entire body and mind.
Pain is my passionate lover tonight, and it laughs at my Medication suitors, who try to lure me away with their promises of comfort and rest. I am captivated by Pain’s domineering presence yet I struggle against its powerful control.
Somehow, I manage to tear myself away from its tethers, to find some solace on the page. To Words I come, bruised and broken. Desperate for distraction. Anxiously awaiting the temporary freedom that comes with being swept away by their magic.
Of course, medical marijuana would be a lot easier, but it’s not legal here yet, and this blog is all about word play, so here I am.
Who’s up for a bedtime story?
Once upon a time there was a mirror. This glass was far from clear.
Children had placed, and replaced stickers on it so much that some of the stickers were no longer recognizable as anything other than dirty adhesive.
There was a lingering smudge from the time the woman drew a heart with “I love you” for her husband after that steamy shower, and where he had quickly replied “more”.
There were even smudges from the dogs nose when he discovered and introduced himself to his reflection.
Of course, the typical toothpaste splatters, occasional hair, and everyday dust and dirt marred its surface as well.
This is not part of the story, but I’m seriously thinking about ditching this and getting some ice-cream. Ice-cream and another pain pill…
What? You think I should finish my story? It’s a story about a mirror. i could spend some time thinking, writing, “reflecting” on the many insights to be discovered, but don’t you think we all spend enough time in mirrors? Get some windex, wipe it down and live your life.
Now, back to that ice-cream…
This post was written in response to: Calling All Writers
She’s so lucky. Look at how everyone notices her. I don’t care what people say, they are definitely nicer to some people than they are to others. Appearance really does matter.
Funny thing is, she probably doesn’t even appreciate it. Some people are meant to be special, and it really sucks when the wrong person gets the perfect life.
I thought this doctor would be the one. I am so sick of them telling me to be thankful for what I have, and referring me to psychiatrists. I know what I am supposed to be, and if they aren’t willing to help me, I’ll take care of it on my own.
No one should have to spend their lives wishing they were something they aren’t. I’m done pretending.
She used her hands to help unfold her leg from underneath her. The numbness went away after a few minutes and she walked over to the bathtub where her instruments of freedom awaited her.
She slathered the lidocaine about mid-thigh and prepped the gauze and blade.
Phone handy? Check.
It took 8 minutes to get to the hospital from her apartment. She would make sure re-attachment would be impossible by mutilating the lower leg, but she’d have to be careful not to lose too much blood while the ambulance was on its way.
Who’s special now…
Ok, so a while ago I challenged myself to write 1000 words every day. I didn’t do it. I’m a rebel like that.
Challenges suck sometimes. What I did do is write about 730 words in one of my hypothetical books last night. I figure that is pretty close to 1000 words, and I just wrote until a good stopping point. It’s better that way.
I must admit that Stephen King said I should write 1000 words every day. Well, he didn’t specifically say that to me, but he wrote it in the book he wrote about writing. He would have hated that last sentence. Anyway, I’m rambling. Maybe so I can tell myself I spent time writing. Maybe because I don’t want to switch the laundry. Maybe because I want to.
Alright, fine I’ll get the stupid laundry out. Sigh…
Halloween and kids go together like peanut butter and jelly. A lot of adults are getting into Halloween now too.
Most of my readers know that I’m in a wheelchair, so I’ve been trying to think of some ideas that could incorporate the chair into the costume.
A few years ago I dressed up like a prisoner in an “electric chair”. It was fun and funny. Anyway, there are a lot of kids and adults in wheelchairs, and instead of just dressing up and sitting in a chair, here are some ideas to incorporate and decorate it.
Prince or princess in a throne. (Could probably just buy a princess outfit and some shiny gold material to drape the chair in. Stick on Velcro is a good way to secure the material to keep it out of the wheels.
Jack in the box- dress torso in stripes representing the spring and wear white mittens and doll type face makeup. A large upside down box painted bright colors can be the box. You should use an additional piece of cardboard against the backrest like the lid. And make a tinfoil handle you could attach to the box.
If you are an adult, the jack in the box idea could be turned into a stripper in a gift box. Stuff tissue paper around your legs, and wear a sexy top with a large bow on your head.
That’s all I can think of so far. If anyone has ideas, feel free to share them in the comments.
Trifecta Shades of green and brown against a backdrop of the bluest sky. Drops of dew sparkled and shimmered like glitter accenting the scene. A massive tree seemed to be calling to her, inviting her to climb its outstretched arms … Continue reading
This post was written in response to: Calling All Writers
“After all I do for you, the least you should do is take the fucking time to wipe the damn seat down after you pee.
Most people would have left your sorry ass a long time ago, but no. I stuck it out. Why? Because you’re my mother and that’s what family does. Take care of each other.
I doubt ‘wipe down mom’s mess when she can’t quite make it to the toilet’ is in that “take care of each other” guideline, but that’s what I do. You are capable of wiping the urine off if you get some on the seat.
It’s not like you are a fucking toddler who shits and pees all over themselves, then expects someone else to come along and clean up their mess.
Actually, maybe you are that immature. A spoiled, selfish brat who only gives a damn about one thing…her show.
You care more about your fucking tv show than you do about anything or anyone. I work my ass off all day then come home to a filthy house and mom sitting there watching tv.
The least you could do is make me a damn sandwich, but I guess that’s too much to ask. You are a lazy, selfish bitch. Maybe one day you’ll take too much of your medicine and put us both out of our misery.
I’m sick and tired of taking care of you. If you would have done things right and taken care of yourself a long time ago, you probably wouldn’t be in all this pain and need someone to help you, but since you didn’t, I’m the one who suffers. All because I am a decent person who is trying to do the right thing.
I’m letting you know right now that I’m at my breaking point. Either you get your act together, or I’m going to start getting really nasty. I’ve had more than my fill of this shit and I’m not going to spend my life like this. Are you even listening to me? Do you understand what I’m saying, or do I need to spell it out?…Mom!…Mom?
*I don’t know what your prob…oh my God! Mom? No…no!
911, what is your emergency?
*Alternate ending-”“Were you talking to me, dear? I forgot to turn my hearing aid on.