I stated last week that I would be writing a letter to myself. The more I pondered it, the more I found that I might have to write four letters. One to each of me.
~Alara is the eight-year old. She always wants to make everyone happy, even at the cost of her own happiness. She's the creative well and also the one most easily hurt.
~Stevie is the BAMF (bad ass mutha fucka). She's the one who doesn't take shit from anyone, and tries her damnedest to protect Alara.
~Stephanie is the 50s-era mom (who's not really a mother) who finds pleasure in a tidy yard and home and 5.30 dinners. She's in direct cahoots with Mr Realist.
~Steph is the one who ties them all together. She's the one most often seen in public and more like a filter than anything else. She tries her best to keep a bit of everyone available.
Now, do I write one letter, or do I write four?
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Bitch and Moan Monday
Good evening, LDs. Everyone know what day it is?
It's Bitch and Moan Monday!
Yay!
Like Kisha, I generally try to be a happy person, and I uber-hate confrontations. But sometimes rainbows and fucking glitter have to take a backseat to fire and brimstone and the half-evil side of me coming out (Mr Realist thinks I need a 333 tattoo). It's why I'm romantically involved with Kisha's B&M Monday. I save up some nuggets of brimstone and tongues of flame, and let them all go on Mondays. It's a perfect fucking day to bitch. Mondays suck most of the time.
~~
How many of you caught a cold over the winter? Normally, I get one big cold - snotty head, chest congestion, and on occasion, have had to go get enough antibiotics to kill a small, third-world country of all its disease. This past winter? Two small colds, nothing to shake a stick at.
LDs, any time this comes around, I can usually power through it - dope myself up on DayQuil and NyQuil (and it has to be the green-death fucking flavor; cherry makes me want to barf ropy goat chunks) and lozenges and ibuprofen and hot tea and chicken noodle soup with peanut butter sandwiches (don't knock it till you've tried it) and sweat the shit out at night.
But Mother Nature's got to be a fucking cunt this year and give it to me the end. of. June. right. before. July.
Mama, are you kidding me? I've been miserable since Thursday. Temperature running between 98 and 99. Before you tell me that's not possible, hear me out: my normal body temp when I'm perfectly healthy is a flat 96 degrees. I've not had a sickie temp over 100 since I was in college, and that almost ended me up in hospital. On the off hand, explain this one: my hands and feet rarely get cold. I've been known to walk out in 3+ inches of snow in flip flops. I am a space heater. It's why I have to get into bed first in the winter and why I could live in Alaska.
Anyway, back to Mama being a twathole. I think I've consumed a bottle of DayQuil, one of NyQuil, a bag of lozenges, enough tea to float me to England and ibuprofen to knock out the same third-world country from before. I just hope I'm feeling better and not so coughey tomorrow. Fuckin' Eclipse opens at midnight:01 tomorrow night, and I gots my ticketses!
So, LDs, what's got you Bitching and Moaning on this OMFG-gorgeous Monday here in the Midwest? Step in dogpoo out in the yard? Youngest kid put the hose in the open windows of your car to 'cool it off, mama'? Or has your day gone beautifully (bitch)?
Let me know...let us all know.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your coughey
Ms Dreamer
PS: if you've ever seen someone live/in a movie smoking pot, and after they've inhaled the smoke and they're holding it in their lungs and they get the snorty coughs because they don't want to cough or exhale yet? Yeah, it's how I just sounded. :)
PPS: If you've noticed, I've changed a bit. I'm no longer Mrs. Dreamer - that's in no way a reflection of Mr. Realist. I am still happily married to him. But since I'm still my own person, I'm Ms. Dreamer now. I loves my Mr. Realist. He needs to come back here for a snuggle.
PPPS: Mama Nature? GTFO.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Dear...
You know, LDs, I talk loads of smack, bitch quite often, rant, rave, use the eff word liberally, and most of the time, don't give a damn what people think of me.
Last night, Kisha's post made me look at myself. Not in a different way, but really look. So I'm taking her cue and writing a letter to myself. It's going to take me a couple of days, to sort out my thoughts, but I will let y'all read it. There will be some laughter and probably some tears.
But it'll be cathartic (thirty point word there).
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your pondering
Ms Dreamer
Last night, Kisha's post made me look at myself. Not in a different way, but really look. So I'm taking her cue and writing a letter to myself. It's going to take me a couple of days, to sort out my thoughts, but I will let y'all read it. There will be some laughter and probably some tears.
But it'll be cathartic (thirty point word there).
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your pondering
Ms Dreamer
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Written Word Wednesday
I know I've been lax on the WWW, LDs, and I am sorry. It's been getting away from me; not only am I not writing here, I'm not writing at all. I'm stuck, as usual. If I could have a week to just be: be calm, be quiet, and be creative; I might get some writing done. Alas, my week vacation isn't until September, so I might get some done then. I'm going to try to spend a couple of days soaking up the nature in southern Illinois.
So, if you're still interested in Ashley and Andrew, let me know. If you just skip over these, let me know. I don't want to keep posting if no one's reading. :)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
~~
The buildings were tall trees of brick and wood and glass. We came to a stop outside of the Hale, Booth, and Sanders building. Daddy was Cole Sanders, one of the best lawyers in the state of Mississippi. He exited the carriage and helped me down. I brushed small wrinkles out of my dress, straightened my bonnet, and took Daddy's arm to walk into the building. Inside, large fans manned by light-skinned quadroons circulated the air, making it feel cooler; the marble floors helped keep the temperature down. We walked past the guard, who tipped his hat, up to the second floor, and into Daddy's office. I sat down in one of his chairs after pick up a paper fan off of the corner of his desk. He went over to his safe and opened it. Turning, he handed me ten dollars.
"Should this be enough until I find you?"
"Daddy, this will be plenty! I wand to find some lace and new material for a dress Matty's going to make me." He nodded, helped me up, and escorted me to the door.
"I'll be here for about an hour, and then I'll come over and we'll shop together. I do need a new tie, and probably a new shirt as well. You'll have to help me on that, darlin'. Have to look good for the ball this weekend." I'd completely forgotten! I was looking forward to the dance. Music, food, enjoyable conversation, and hopefully a young man to come calling in the future. I quickly kissed Daddy's cheek and swept down the stairs, tucking the fan into my wrist bag. The guard near the front door tipped his hat to me, then rushed to open the door. I gave him a polite 'thank you' and he smiled back. I walked outside into the sunshine and headed down the block.
There was a large dry goods store in the building next to Daddy's and that's where I expected to find the perfect summer dress material. Matty was wonderful at understanding my scrawlings for new clothing. I walked up the front stairs under a large awning that read "Stewart's Sundries" and into the store. Pleasantly cool and full of the wonderful smells of spices and wood and oil on the first floor, I walked toward the purchasing counter. A petite woman was dusting the glass behind the counter and stopped when she heard my footsteps approach.
"Good morning, miss. Is there something that I could help you find?"
"I don't think so. The materials are on the second floor, correct?"
"Yes. I've just received several bolts of lighter weight summer materials in lovely pastels."
"Thank you," I replied and headed for the stairs. I stepped off of the top step into a large, open-air room with seemingly hundreds of different materials. There were large wall racks of rolls of unbleached muslin and sheeting and denim, along with racks of bolts full of color. I saw gingham and satin, cotton, and canvas, most with colors and patterns to please the eye. I walked around the center, searching for the perfect cotton for my dress when I heard giggling. There wasn't anyone but me on the second floor that I could tell. The windows were open, so I assumed it was children outside. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the giggle came again, louder this time.
"Catherine's on her way, miss!" I heard from below. Who was Catherine? Just then, a girl poked her head around the corner at the top of the stairs. This must be Catherine, I concluded. I wasn't sure if she saw me or not, because she looked back down the stairs with a huge smile on her face, then took off for a back corner. I hid behind a rack of cloth, wanting to see where she was and what she was doing. I heard a heavier set of steps; belonging to a man, I guessed.
"Catherine, what are you doing?" I heard him ask. "Where are you, little one?" By the tone of his voice, I wondered if they were father and daughter. I wanted to pop out and tell him she'd headed for the south corner, but I didn't want to scare either one, and the mischeviousness in me wanted to see how this would end. "Catherine, come on. Mother's waiting downstairs!" He continued toward the back of the room.
Suddenly, a small hand poked out from under the curtained bottom of the rack I was next to and touched my arm. I gasped, but reached for the hand and helped the girl it was attached to out from under the rack. She stood up, brushed the dark brown fringe from out of her perfect brown eyes, looked straight into mine, and said:
"You're beautiful. Andrew will love you eternally." Then she turned and bolted for the stairs. Who was Andrew? I stood up and was promptly knocked back to the floor. I hit my head, but wasn't hurt, thanks to the bonnet and my knot of hair.
"Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry!" someone exclaimed. I attempted to sit up, but the corset wasn't giving me much room. I opened my eyes to see a young man crouched down next to me. I looked into eyes of cerulean blue and flushed. I had never been so close to a man before in such an intimate way. Dancing, yes, but never like this! He reached out his hand to help me up. I placed my hand in his, and a shock traveled down my arm and settled in my heart. He helped me to my feet and then attempted the help brush me off. I wanted to slap him for bolting into me so rudely, but I didn't want to mar that perfect cheek. Of course, if I did, I would be touching it.
"Are you ok, ma'am?" he asked, both concerned for my health, yet not willing to let me go that easily.
"I'm fine. Nothing broken, nothing bruised...yet," I responded.
"I'm quite sorry. I was just trying to corral my sister Catherine. Why were you hiding?"
"I didn't want to scare you or your sister," I said, secretly relieved that 'Mother' meant exactly that. "I was just trying to stay out of the way."
"I'm Andrew."
"Ashley." The fluttering in my heart blossomed to my stomach and became more pronounced.
"I don't recall seeing such an angelic face here before. Are you from Hattiesburg?"
"No, my father works here and it's our Thursday outing. He works next door."
"Really? So does mine - Paul Hale."
"Cole Sanders is my father."
"Well, Miss Ashley, we have that much in common."
"I don't think I've seen you around here either."
"I go to school at the university. I'm studying business and law," he said, unconsciously straightening up. I smiled.
"Why were you chasing your sister?"
"Catherine is...well, she's a little rambunctious. She loves coming up here and playing. She pretends she's a queen or something. We were going into our fathers' office to meet him for lunch and she bolted this way. She said something about a princess. I didn't here the rest, but Mother sent me in here after her. The woman downstairs is my aunt. She finds Catherine refreshing and amusing." I nodded. As I was thinking of something else to say, Catherine came up and tugged on Andrew's shirtsleeve.
"Mother says it's time to go," she said, looking at Andrew and then at me. She smiled, and it was slightly unnerving the way she looked at me; like she knew me and what my future held. Andrew reached out for her hand and she took it. Then she reached for mine. "There. Now we're a circle." I didn't understand until I looked down and realized that Andrew was still holding my hand. He looked down as well, and just as quickly, we released our hands. His face flushed, as I know mine did. I could feel the heat all the way into my toes. He and Catherine turned to walk downstairs, and I heard her say, "See? Princess."
He turned to look at me, then turned back to Catherine and whispered, "No. Angel." They walked down the stairs together, and I had to find a chair.
"He called me an angel!" I almost fainted right then. I took several deep breaths, willing myself not to faint. My legs felt like waving palmetto fronds. I stood and went to the nearest rack and began looking through the materials. I wasn't really seeing them. I was anticipating the next time that Andrew might 'run' into me.
~~
Thoughts? ConCrit?
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Ms. Dreamer
So, if you're still interested in Ashley and Andrew, let me know. If you just skip over these, let me know. I don't want to keep posting if no one's reading. :)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
~~
The buildings were tall trees of brick and wood and glass. We came to a stop outside of the Hale, Booth, and Sanders building. Daddy was Cole Sanders, one of the best lawyers in the state of Mississippi. He exited the carriage and helped me down. I brushed small wrinkles out of my dress, straightened my bonnet, and took Daddy's arm to walk into the building. Inside, large fans manned by light-skinned quadroons circulated the air, making it feel cooler; the marble floors helped keep the temperature down. We walked past the guard, who tipped his hat, up to the second floor, and into Daddy's office. I sat down in one of his chairs after pick up a paper fan off of the corner of his desk. He went over to his safe and opened it. Turning, he handed me ten dollars.
"Should this be enough until I find you?"
"Daddy, this will be plenty! I wand to find some lace and new material for a dress Matty's going to make me." He nodded, helped me up, and escorted me to the door.
"I'll be here for about an hour, and then I'll come over and we'll shop together. I do need a new tie, and probably a new shirt as well. You'll have to help me on that, darlin'. Have to look good for the ball this weekend." I'd completely forgotten! I was looking forward to the dance. Music, food, enjoyable conversation, and hopefully a young man to come calling in the future. I quickly kissed Daddy's cheek and swept down the stairs, tucking the fan into my wrist bag. The guard near the front door tipped his hat to me, then rushed to open the door. I gave him a polite 'thank you' and he smiled back. I walked outside into the sunshine and headed down the block.
There was a large dry goods store in the building next to Daddy's and that's where I expected to find the perfect summer dress material. Matty was wonderful at understanding my scrawlings for new clothing. I walked up the front stairs under a large awning that read "Stewart's Sundries" and into the store. Pleasantly cool and full of the wonderful smells of spices and wood and oil on the first floor, I walked toward the purchasing counter. A petite woman was dusting the glass behind the counter and stopped when she heard my footsteps approach.
"Good morning, miss. Is there something that I could help you find?"
"I don't think so. The materials are on the second floor, correct?"
"Yes. I've just received several bolts of lighter weight summer materials in lovely pastels."
"Thank you," I replied and headed for the stairs. I stepped off of the top step into a large, open-air room with seemingly hundreds of different materials. There were large wall racks of rolls of unbleached muslin and sheeting and denim, along with racks of bolts full of color. I saw gingham and satin, cotton, and canvas, most with colors and patterns to please the eye. I walked around the center, searching for the perfect cotton for my dress when I heard giggling. There wasn't anyone but me on the second floor that I could tell. The windows were open, so I assumed it was children outside. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the giggle came again, louder this time.
"Catherine's on her way, miss!" I heard from below. Who was Catherine? Just then, a girl poked her head around the corner at the top of the stairs. This must be Catherine, I concluded. I wasn't sure if she saw me or not, because she looked back down the stairs with a huge smile on her face, then took off for a back corner. I hid behind a rack of cloth, wanting to see where she was and what she was doing. I heard a heavier set of steps; belonging to a man, I guessed.
"Catherine, what are you doing?" I heard him ask. "Where are you, little one?" By the tone of his voice, I wondered if they were father and daughter. I wanted to pop out and tell him she'd headed for the south corner, but I didn't want to scare either one, and the mischeviousness in me wanted to see how this would end. "Catherine, come on. Mother's waiting downstairs!" He continued toward the back of the room.
Suddenly, a small hand poked out from under the curtained bottom of the rack I was next to and touched my arm. I gasped, but reached for the hand and helped the girl it was attached to out from under the rack. She stood up, brushed the dark brown fringe from out of her perfect brown eyes, looked straight into mine, and said:
"You're beautiful. Andrew will love you eternally." Then she turned and bolted for the stairs. Who was Andrew? I stood up and was promptly knocked back to the floor. I hit my head, but wasn't hurt, thanks to the bonnet and my knot of hair.
"Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry!" someone exclaimed. I attempted to sit up, but the corset wasn't giving me much room. I opened my eyes to see a young man crouched down next to me. I looked into eyes of cerulean blue and flushed. I had never been so close to a man before in such an intimate way. Dancing, yes, but never like this! He reached out his hand to help me up. I placed my hand in his, and a shock traveled down my arm and settled in my heart. He helped me to my feet and then attempted the help brush me off. I wanted to slap him for bolting into me so rudely, but I didn't want to mar that perfect cheek. Of course, if I did, I would be touching it.
"Are you ok, ma'am?" he asked, both concerned for my health, yet not willing to let me go that easily.
"I'm fine. Nothing broken, nothing bruised...yet," I responded.
"I'm quite sorry. I was just trying to corral my sister Catherine. Why were you hiding?"
"I didn't want to scare you or your sister," I said, secretly relieved that 'Mother' meant exactly that. "I was just trying to stay out of the way."
"I'm Andrew."
"Ashley." The fluttering in my heart blossomed to my stomach and became more pronounced.
"I don't recall seeing such an angelic face here before. Are you from Hattiesburg?"
"No, my father works here and it's our Thursday outing. He works next door."
"Really? So does mine - Paul Hale."
"Cole Sanders is my father."
"Well, Miss Ashley, we have that much in common."
"I don't think I've seen you around here either."
"I go to school at the university. I'm studying business and law," he said, unconsciously straightening up. I smiled.
"Why were you chasing your sister?"
"Catherine is...well, she's a little rambunctious. She loves coming up here and playing. She pretends she's a queen or something. We were going into our fathers' office to meet him for lunch and she bolted this way. She said something about a princess. I didn't here the rest, but Mother sent me in here after her. The woman downstairs is my aunt. She finds Catherine refreshing and amusing." I nodded. As I was thinking of something else to say, Catherine came up and tugged on Andrew's shirtsleeve.
"Mother says it's time to go," she said, looking at Andrew and then at me. She smiled, and it was slightly unnerving the way she looked at me; like she knew me and what my future held. Andrew reached out for her hand and she took it. Then she reached for mine. "There. Now we're a circle." I didn't understand until I looked down and realized that Andrew was still holding my hand. He looked down as well, and just as quickly, we released our hands. His face flushed, as I know mine did. I could feel the heat all the way into my toes. He and Catherine turned to walk downstairs, and I heard her say, "See? Princess."
He turned to look at me, then turned back to Catherine and whispered, "No. Angel." They walked down the stairs together, and I had to find a chair.
"He called me an angel!" I almost fainted right then. I took several deep breaths, willing myself not to faint. My legs felt like waving palmetto fronds. I stood and went to the nearest rack and began looking through the materials. I wasn't really seeing them. I was anticipating the next time that Andrew might 'run' into me.
~~
Thoughts? ConCrit?
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Ms. Dreamer
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Play Ball!
So, LDs, I ran across this game at Kristin's blog, and it's like a baseball game...only with comments and stuffs. I'm going to try to link up with ICLW (International Comment Leaving Week) next month if I remember...sigh, but I'm also going to try to go over and check out all the linkys that are over there
Feel free to snag the graphic!
Play ICLW Baseball!
The brilliant Kym came up with the idea for this last night in a dream. She says "this activity is actually blended modification of a first-day icebreaker activity and an activity to make easy flexible groups (if you're a teacher and you want the actual activities, shoot me an email).
Here's what to do if you want to play ICLW Baseball:
1. Copy these instructions and post them on your blog.
2. Answer the Base Questions.
3. Find other participating bloggers who have the same answers you do. Find at least one blogger for each base and link back to them in your baseball post. You may find more than one blogger with common answers for each post base. Your post will be a work in progress. Get YOUR base answers up ASAP, then go back often to edit and add the links of bloggers who share answers with you!
4. Once your base answers are up, go to I'm a Smart One/Kymberli's blog and add your baseball post hyperlink to the list. Kym's blog is home base; check the list to find the other players."
Here are my base answers:
1st Base: Iced Tea
2nd Base: Anywhere with a good steak!
3rd Base: February, shared with Anna and Kym
Home: The Little Mermaid shared with Kym
I hope this adds another element of fun to this week's ICLW blog hopping! Spread the word - the more who play, the easier it is to fill your bases! PLAY BALL!
So...who's going to be my matches (if one of you has all the same, we should be besties)?
Link up at Kym's, yos.
I love baseball.
Heepwah, and be safe out there
Your 3rd basewoman,
Mrs. Dreamer
Monday, June 21, 2010
I Love
Totally random shit. You're getting to know your Mrs Dreamer.
I like it.
2. When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart? Yes one thousand times over. When I see someone leave one randomly, I want to sneak over and leave the cart behind their car as they're getting in so they don't see it.
3. In a social setting, are you more of a talker or a listener? I can be both. It depends on the conversation.
4. What was the last compliment that someone gave you? You shake it well!
5. Do you play the lottery? Not really. I'd really like to win the lottery, though. :)
6. If abandoned alone in the wilderness, who would you want with you? Well, then that defeats the purpose of being abandoned AND alone, right? Mr Realist.
7. Do you like to ride horses? Love love love it. I'm not very good anymore, but I love it.
8. Did you ever go to camp as a kid? Yes, and if you've been here for any length of time, you'd know where my heart lives.
9. What is your favorite party game? Depends on what we're doing. If we're copiously drinking, something easy, like Trivial Pursuit.
I'm just kidding, LDs. I like "Would You Rather...?"
10. If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was married, would you go for it? Um fuck to the no? Why would I want to ruin something that isn't mine?
11. When was the last time that you lied? Um...over the weekend, probably.
12. Could you date someone with different religious beliefs than you? Of course. I married one.
13. If you have a S/O, who pursued who? If not, do you like to pursue or be pursued? Well, with Mr Realist, I was engaged when we met. Were just friends, but he was falling for me, and made me choose. Ithink know I made the right choice!
14. Use six words to describe yourself. Creative. Childlike. Fun. Intelligent. Wife. Individual. (not so intelligent - I almost only gave you five)
15. Name a song that could make you cry? The Greatest Man I Never Knew by Reba.
16. Are you pleased with your education? Not particularly.
17. How do you feel about gun control? We all have the right to keep and bear arms. I've always been around guns, even when I was a child.
18. If your house was on fire, what thing would be the first thing you grabbed? My purse and my laptop.
19. How often do you have a romantic weekend? Very rarely.
20. Do you think more about the past, present or future? Depends on what kind of day I'm having. Good gets either present or future; bad gets the past.
21. What was the last adult magazine that you have read? Playboy more than four years ago. I bought Mr Realist his first subscription. Hey, some of those articles were great!
22. What are you told about your eyes? They're an interesting shade.
23. How tall is just right? Anything between 5'7" and 6'
24. Where is your dream house located? Anywhere but Illinois, but it has to be in the country.
25. Do you have a secret fetish? I might...
10. If a sexy person was pursuing you, but you knew he/she was married, would you go for it? Um fuck to the no? Why would I want to ruin something that isn't mine?
11. When was the last time that you lied? Um...over the weekend, probably.
12. Could you date someone with different religious beliefs than you? Of course. I married one.
13. If you have a S/O, who pursued who? If not, do you like to pursue or be pursued? Well, with Mr Realist, I was engaged when we met. Were just friends, but he was falling for me, and made me choose. I
14. Use six words to describe yourself. Creative. Childlike. Fun. Intelligent. Wife. Individual. (not so intelligent - I almost only gave you five)
15. Name a song that could make you cry? The Greatest Man I Never Knew by Reba.
16. Are you pleased with your education? Not particularly.
17. How do you feel about gun control? We all have the right to keep and bear arms. I've always been around guns, even when I was a child.
18. If your house was on fire, what thing would be the first thing you grabbed? My purse and my laptop.
19. How often do you have a romantic weekend? Very rarely.
20. Do you think more about the past, present or future? Depends on what kind of day I'm having. Good gets either present or future; bad gets the past.
21. What was the last adult magazine that you have read? Playboy more than four years ago. I bought Mr Realist his first subscription. Hey, some of those articles were great!
22. What are you told about your eyes? They're an interesting shade.
23. How tall is just right? Anything between 5'7" and 6'
24. Where is your dream house located? Anywhere but Illinois, but it has to be in the country.
25. Do you have a secret fetish? I might...
26. Have you tried bourbon? If yes, what type? Yes - Jim Beam's the best
27. Have you ever seen a male or female stripper? Both.
28. When was the last time you were at TGI Fridays? 2000...in NYC.
29. When was the last time you were at Church? sometime in April
30. Where was the furthest place you traveled today? Work
31. What was your favorite job? Camp counselor
32. What condiments do you like at your BBQ? O, you're making my mouth water... ketchup, mustard (yellow and spicy), mayo, pickles or pickle relish, Famous Dave's Sweet & Zesty BBQ sauce, and A-1. What I use depends on what we're having.
33. Do you look like your mom or dad? Actually, I look more like Aunt Dreamer than Mumsy Dreamer
34. Who was the last person that you showered with (it's okay to leave out the name)? Mr Realist...ages ago. ;)
Bitch and Moan Monday
Hello, Clarice. I've been expecting you.
Would sir and madam care to sit for some fava beans and a nice Chianti? I regret to inform you that the kitchen's all out of liver.
It's Bitch and Moan Monday!
Like Kisha, I generally try to be a happy person, and I uber-hate confrontations. But sometimes rainbows and fucking glitter have to take a backseat to fire and brimstone and the half-evil side of me coming out (Mr Realist thinks I need a 333 tattoo). It's why I'mromantically involved with Kisha's B&M Monday. I save up some nuggets of brimstone and tongues of flame, and let them all go on Mondays. It's a perfect fucking day to bitch. Mondays suck most of the time.
~~
LD's, if you've been here longer than a New York minute, you'll know that I'm not all docile and fluff and prim and proper. Fuck that noise. Idislike hate it when people think that I should be. I mean, come on.
I'm 32. I have a decent job (that I hate). I have a house and two cars and two dogs and two rats (it's like the muthafuckin ARK here, LDs). I have Mr Realist. And I "should know better than to swear."
Um, are you high? Look, I know that there is a time and place for swearing. I'm not an idiot because I do swear. I'm not going to go to work and tell someone s/he's a fucking moron (unless it's called for and we're friends). I try my damnedest not to swear in front of impressionable young children (even when their parents do it). But this is my muthafuckin blog and they're my muthafuckin thoughts, and if you don't like it, you can stop reading.
Now.
I'm not commanding you to be here (although, the followers are nice). Most people I've interacted with think I'm funny, although I'm really not trying to be. I'd like to have more followers, but if that means I have to censor myself, it's not. fucking. worth it. I am me, LDs, and that's all I can be.
The reason this B&M was sparked was based on a two-line conversation that had happened between me and someone else several weeks ago. I got called out - "do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth?" Fuck right I do, LDs. But aside from the occasional 'damn,' 'hell,' or 'shit,' I don't swear in front of my parents and grandparents. It's just not cool since they don't use it. (Mumsy Dreamer is an exception, and I'll post more about her later on. Some of you would totally dig her; others, not so much).
So, I thought it was done. Over. Finito.
Nope. The conversation was told to a family member, and I got called out again - "says you have a dirty mouth on your facebook." "Like the swears and stuff?" LDs, I raised an eyebrow, and turned to the two guys. My response:
"Yeah, I do. It's my facebook, and it's private to everyone but my friends, and if she doesn't like it, then she can just delete herself." They were a little shocked.
Sorry, but that's the way I feel about it. You don't like me, remove yourself.
What made it even weirder? Aunt Becky totally wrote about something similar before I did! LDs, I love her and Kisha and we should totally make McDreamy and Dexter or House and Booth perform a sexy striptease before carting us off to our respective rooms and then making the awesomesauce (fuck yeah, I went there) of love with us. Totally sated, LDs. Totally sated.
I might just be able to tackle the rest of this bitchy Monday with that image of the Booth making the Sexy Time with me. Ohhhhh yeah...that's right. Special Agent Seeley Booth can use those handcuffs and that tie of his on me.
Anytime.
Seriously, DB. Call. Me.
Before I get all fire and brimstone in a good way *evil grin*, I wanna know what's got you Bitching and Moaning today. Did the childrenz interrupt your Sexy Time last night? Really really want a paintball pistol to shoot dumbasses right in the face who don't use turn signals? Post it in the comments, if you want; other than that, click over to Kisha to see what everyone else is bitching and moaning about.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your smoldering
Mrs Dreamer
PS: "Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, and fuck you. I'm out."
PPS: I'm getting better at this html thing. High five myself!
Would sir and madam care to sit for some fava beans and a nice Chianti? I regret to inform you that the kitchen's all out of liver.
Like Kisha, I generally try to be a happy person, and I uber-hate confrontations. But sometimes rainbows and fucking glitter have to take a backseat to fire and brimstone and the half-evil side of me coming out (Mr Realist thinks I need a 333 tattoo). It's why I'm
LD's, if you've been here longer than a New York minute, you'll know that I'm not all docile and fluff and prim and proper. Fuck that noise. I
I'm 32. I have a decent job (that I hate). I have a house and two cars and two dogs and two rats (it's like the muthafuckin ARK here, LDs). I have Mr Realist. And I "should know better than to swear."
Um, are you high? Look, I know that there is a time and place for swearing. I'm not an idiot because I do swear. I'm not going to go to work and tell someone s/he's a fucking moron (unless it's called for and we're friends). I try my damnedest not to swear in front of impressionable young children (even when their parents do it). But this is my muthafuckin blog and they're my muthafuckin thoughts, and if you don't like it, you can stop reading.
Now.
I'm not commanding you to be here (although, the followers are nice). Most people I've interacted with think I'm funny, although I'm really not trying to be. I'd like to have more followers, but if that means I have to censor myself, it's not. fucking. worth it. I am me, LDs, and that's all I can be.
The reason this B&M was sparked was based on a two-line conversation that had happened between me and someone else several weeks ago. I got called out - "do you kiss your grandmother with that mouth?" Fuck right I do, LDs. But aside from the occasional 'damn,' 'hell,' or 'shit,' I don't swear in front of my parents and grandparents. It's just not cool since they don't use it. (Mumsy Dreamer is an exception, and I'll post more about her later on. Some of you would totally dig her; others, not so much).
So, I thought it was done. Over. Finito.
Nope. The conversation was told to a family member, and I got called out again - "says you have a dirty mouth on your facebook." "Like the swears and stuff?" LDs, I raised an eyebrow, and turned to the two guys. My response:
"Yeah, I do. It's my facebook, and it's private to everyone but my friends, and if she doesn't like it, then she can just delete herself." They were a little shocked.
Sorry, but that's the way I feel about it. You don't like me, remove yourself.
What made it even weirder? Aunt Becky totally wrote about something similar before I did! LDs, I love her and Kisha and we should totally make McDreamy and Dexter or House and Booth perform a sexy striptease before carting us off to our respective rooms and then making the awesomesauce (fuck yeah, I went there) of love with us. Totally sated, LDs. Totally sated.
I might just be able to tackle the rest of this bitchy Monday with that image of the Booth making the Sexy Time with me. Ohhhhh yeah...that's right. Special Agent Seeley Booth can use those handcuffs and that tie of his on me.
Anytime.
Seriously, DB. Call. Me.
Before I get all fire and brimstone in a good way *evil grin*, I wanna know what's got you Bitching and Moaning today. Did the childrenz interrupt your Sexy Time last night? Really really want a paintball pistol to shoot dumbasses right in the face who don't use turn signals? Post it in the comments, if you want; other than that, click over to Kisha to see what everyone else is bitching and moaning about.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your smoldering
Mrs Dreamer
PS: "Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, and fuck you. I'm out."
PPS: I'm getting better at this html thing. High five myself!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Sorry sorry sorry
I'll postie tomorrow, LDs, but this week has been hellish. I was sick Monday (icky sick), and I went and watched the Cardinals beat the Mariners (yay and boo at the same time - Mariners are my AL team), and I had PC stuff to do tonight. It'll probably be from my phone, but I'll postie something.
Give me some words, yos. I'll love you for it.
Hell, I love you now!
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your tired
Mrs Dreamer
Give me some words, yos. I'll love you for it.
Hell, I love you now!
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your tired
Mrs Dreamer
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Well...
Ya know, LDs, I'm having a hell of a time coming up with posties. It's a struggle when I can't even get from D to E in any of my stories. Damn. So I stole this from Avitable, who stole it from someone else (stole = borrowing).
1. It's 2AM and you are not home. You are more than likely:
Sitting at D & D's, hanging out.
2. What's the last thing you spent more than $100 on?
New iPhone!
3. What do your bank checks look like?
They're plain blue-ish? Hell, I don't know.
4. Where did the shirt you are currently wearing come from?
Walt Disney World
5. Name something that will be on your Christmas wish list:
A desk.
6. What color is your toothbrush?
I believe mine is pink (got it from the dentist for free!)
7. Name something you collect and tell us about it.
John Deere things. Cause I'm a hick. And I love it. And the fact that my family bleeds green doesn't hurt. :)
8. Last restaurant you ate at. Who were you with? How was it?
White Castle: Mr Realist, Lynsey, and Chelle
9. Who was the last person you bought a birthday card for?
Um...My cousin, I think.
10. What is your worst bad habit?
Being lazy.
11. Name a magazine you subscribe to?
I don't anymore. Sorry. But if I did, I have no idea what I would choose.
12. Your favorite pizza toppings?
Pepperoni, sausage (wow, those are phallic), green peppers, onions, black olives, extra cheese, banana peppers. I'm an equal opportunity topper (except anchovies. those little stinky hairy fish make me want to barf like a chicken).
13. Whose number were you looking up the last time you used a phone book?
Thursday. To call the chiropractor.
14. Other than family, who is the person that you love most?
Me.
15. What is the last thing you cooked?
I made pudding delight for our dart party yesterday. We call it crack cake.
16. Name something you wouldn't want to buy used?
Condoms. Underwear. Toothbrush.
17. Which shoe do you put on first?
Whichever one I pick up first.
18. What is the last thing you remember losing?
My silver thumb ring.
19. What is the ugliest piece of furniture in your house?
My dresser. I was thinking about this the other day. All of the furniture in our house, with the exception of the bed, is either hand-overs or given to us (and only the bed was new).
20. Last thing you bought and ended up returning?
Probably a shirt that I thought I liked, but really didn't.
21. What perfume/cologne do you wear? If none, why?
If I wear it, it's either Soul by Curve or Lady Stetson.
22. Your favorite board game?
I like board games, so I'm pretty open-minded. But probably "Would You Rather...?"
23. What was the last board game you played?
Um...does Bunco count?
24. Where did your vehicle come from?
The Chevy dealership :)
25. If a movie was made about your life what would the theme song be?
Are you serious? The first song that came to mind was "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" from The Sound of Music. Does that tell you anything?
26. You're sad, who can cheer you up easily?
Mr Realist. Chelle. Mr Chocolate.
27. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?
A really pretty dark salmon color.
28. What house cleaning chore do you hate to do the most?
Cleaning the bathroom.
29. What is your favorite way to eat chicken?
Fried.
30. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is?
a White pie.
Hope you had a great weekend, LDs. See you tomorrow!
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Mrs Dreamer
Thursday, June 10, 2010
"She puts the whore
in 'horrible'."
"She puts the itch in 'bitch'. Big Red doesn't have feelings. Just testicles."
~Whitney and Courtney, Bring It On
I know. It's pretty sad that I can remember lame ass lines like the above.
LDs, if I was batting for the other team (so to speak), I'd be all up in Kisha's shiz like 'white on rice on a paper plate and a glass of milk in a snowstorm.' (LDs, if you can name that movie, take 900 points).
I like to think that she's helping me be a better blogger, and in turn, it's going to make me a better writer. I had a dream last night that I was at a ball, dancing with this handsome younger man, and instead of holding my right hand in his left, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Do you ever wake up feeling slightly bereft based on the dream you had? Ok...totally digressed on the post I was intending to write. I might go back to this one later on.
I started this postie with a 'whore' quote. Kisha is spoon-feeding me with 'one word association' and I'm doing a pretty good job rolling with it. Don't let her hog all the spotlight - give me something, yos! Her suggestion was 'whore.' He he he...
And this one's kind of a long one. Sorry.
~~
Whore. I haven't been called that in a long time; at least, not in seriousness. If you find that me talking about sex and sexual conquest might disturb you, you might want to stop reading.
Now.
Mr Realist calls me 'his whore' (which, technically, I am. I am married to the guy, and he'd better not be gettin' it anywheres else *grin*). But...once upon a time...namely my freshman year in college, little under halfway through my first semester....
See, I was dating this guy; we'll call him Bob.* But before I get there, here's a small bit of background on me.
I was a virgin all the way through high school. I was one of those 'good Catholic girls' that didn't do more than a bit of heavy petting. My first real boyfriend was Catholic as well, and we were both determined to be virgins when we got married (and yes, a year into the relationship, we'd started talking about it. It might have been the beginning of the end: a year later, we called it quits). There were a couple of times it had come down to beingthisfreakingclose to saying, literally, "Fuck it." But we didn't, and we move on.
Freshman year. Bob.* I was ready. He was ready (wtf is with these virgins??). I had it planned (come on, who has sex on a fucking schedule? Me, apparently). We did it about two months into the relationship...and again, that was the beginning of the end. He told me he loved me because I was different - that I didn't care what people thought, that I was beautiful and witty and athletic and artsy. After he took my heart, tossed it into a blender with some fava beans and a nice Chianti and had it for dinner, I found out from his roommate that he got told that there was 'no way I was a virgin - she was way too into it, and how could sex be that good with a virgin?' Um, fuck you? I did what felt good (and by the time you're 18, you've probably seen your fair share of sex scenes in movies) and I ran with it.
I must have taken that "I didn't care what people thought of me" to heart, because I went all Tiger Woods. Became a 'jersey chaser' (going after the sports players...but I never went baseball. Wonder if subconsiously I didn't because Bob* was one?).
Football players.
Soccer players.
Basketball players.
Nerds.
Rednecks.
I was an equal opportunity whore - if you had alcohol you were willing to share (and on a rare occasion, weed) (some may say slut, but I see those words as interchangeable), but I was still selective. I mean, I didn't sleep with just anyone.
I remember being called a whore to my face, very cruelly, by a football player that I'd denied. He could be violently angry when drunk, and on the weekends, he was that most of the time. I was at a party with some girl friends in the all-guys dorm, and there were quite a few people around. The guy called me this, and I stood my drunken ground, and said, "No, I'm just a bitch because I won't fuck you, right?" He was furious, and a couple of the football guys had to bodily remove him from the party. I went down to the girls' bathroom on the first floor, and a couple of my soccer mates followed me to make sure I was ok. One asked me why I said what I did, and I had to laugh. I'd heard a joke not long before:
"What's the difference between a whore and a bitch? A whore has sex with everyone; a bitch has sex with everyone but you." Rob* came down to see if we were ok, and he found three of us sitting on a nasty bathroom floor, laughing hysterically. He wanted me to come to his room with him. I went.
I was trashed, yos. He made me lay down, got me a glass of water, and talked to me. He didn't try anything, and I passed out. Several hours later, I woke to find a sheet over me, and Rob* sleeping on the couch.
It made me realize that I was a fucking moron. I put on my shoes and grabbed my keys and left. What I didn't find out until later was that Rob* liked me. As in 'wanted to be with me.' He and I talked. I couldn't be with anyone until I figured my own shit out. I skipped too many classes, got drunk quite a bit, baked a little less often, but quickly shut down the "Free Sex" factory. I actually don't think I had sex more than a couple handfuls of times the rest of the second semester. Almost flunked out of college, too. He graduated, and I haven't seen him since. Rob*, I hope you've found a good woman that you deserve.
For a brief time, I was a whore. Like Coconut Pete says: "Have a good time, all the time; always eat the worm." (Club Dread) I've changed my ways, LD.
Of course, one of my conquests just had to tell Mr Realist several years ago at our Homecoming, just after we got married:
"You do know you're now the President, right?"
"President of what?"
"President of the 'Who's Messed Around With Mrs Dreamer' club." (we'd talked about all our sexual partners long before we got married, so he knew.)
Here's to President Realist. *raises glass*
And before you ask, yes. I was on the Pill AND I made Every. Single. One. wear a condom.
Heepwah, and be safe out there (of course, I feel bad writing heepwah and talking about being a whore in the same postie).
Your retired whore
Mrs Dreamer
PS: *names have been changed to protect the innocent.
PPS: I love that a story from more than ten years ago can be commented on with something from today's world.
PPPS: Yes. I smoked weed in college (quite a bit, actually). I haven't done it in years, and I have no intentions of doing so. It wasn't worth gaining the 60 pounds in three years. If you think less of me, well, then, that's your problem.
"She puts the itch in 'bitch'. Big Red doesn't have feelings. Just testicles."
~Whitney and Courtney, Bring It On
I know. It's pretty sad that I can remember lame ass lines like the above.
LDs, if I was batting for the other team (so to speak), I'd be all up in Kisha's shiz like 'white on rice on a paper plate and a glass of milk in a snowstorm.' (LDs, if you can name that movie, take 900 points).
I like to think that she's helping me be a better blogger, and in turn, it's going to make me a better writer. I had a dream last night that I was at a ball, dancing with this handsome younger man, and instead of holding my right hand in his left, he intertwined his fingers with mine. Do you ever wake up feeling slightly bereft based on the dream you had? Ok...totally digressed on the post I was intending to write. I might go back to this one later on.
I started this postie with a 'whore' quote. Kisha is spoon-feeding me with 'one word association' and I'm doing a pretty good job rolling with it. Don't let her hog all the spotlight - give me something, yos! Her suggestion was 'whore.' He he he...
And this one's kind of a long one. Sorry.
~~
Whore. I haven't been called that in a long time; at least, not in seriousness. If you find that me talking about sex and sexual conquest might disturb you, you might want to stop reading.
Now.
Mr Realist calls me 'his whore' (which, technically, I am. I am married to the guy, and he'd better not be gettin' it anywheres else *grin*). But...once upon a time...namely my freshman year in college, little under halfway through my first semester....
See, I was dating this guy; we'll call him Bob.* But before I get there, here's a small bit of background on me.
I was a virgin all the way through high school. I was one of those 'good Catholic girls' that didn't do more than a bit of heavy petting. My first real boyfriend was Catholic as well, and we were both determined to be virgins when we got married (and yes, a year into the relationship, we'd started talking about it. It might have been the beginning of the end: a year later, we called it quits). There were a couple of times it had come down to beingthisfreakingclose to saying, literally, "Fuck it." But we didn't, and we move on.
Freshman year. Bob.* I was ready. He was ready (wtf is with these virgins??). I had it planned (come on, who has sex on a fucking schedule? Me, apparently). We did it about two months into the relationship...and again, that was the beginning of the end. He told me he loved me because I was different - that I didn't care what people thought, that I was beautiful and witty and athletic and artsy. After he took my heart, tossed it into a blender with some fava beans and a nice Chianti and had it for dinner, I found out from his roommate that he got told that there was 'no way I was a virgin - she was way too into it, and how could sex be that good with a virgin?' Um, fuck you? I did what felt good (and by the time you're 18, you've probably seen your fair share of sex scenes in movies) and I ran with it.
I must have taken that "I didn't care what people thought of me" to heart, because I went all Tiger Woods. Became a 'jersey chaser' (going after the sports players...but I never went baseball. Wonder if subconsiously I didn't because Bob* was one?).
Football players.
Soccer players.
Basketball players.
Nerds.
Rednecks.
I was an equal opportunity whore - if you had alcohol you were willing to share (and on a rare occasion, weed) (some may say slut, but I see those words as interchangeable), but I was still selective. I mean, I didn't sleep with just anyone.
I remember being called a whore to my face, very cruelly, by a football player that I'd denied. He could be violently angry when drunk, and on the weekends, he was that most of the time. I was at a party with some girl friends in the all-guys dorm, and there were quite a few people around. The guy called me this, and I stood my drunken ground, and said, "No, I'm just a bitch because I won't fuck you, right?" He was furious, and a couple of the football guys had to bodily remove him from the party. I went down to the girls' bathroom on the first floor, and a couple of my soccer mates followed me to make sure I was ok. One asked me why I said what I did, and I had to laugh. I'd heard a joke not long before:
"What's the difference between a whore and a bitch? A whore has sex with everyone; a bitch has sex with everyone but you." Rob* came down to see if we were ok, and he found three of us sitting on a nasty bathroom floor, laughing hysterically. He wanted me to come to his room with him. I went.
I was trashed, yos. He made me lay down, got me a glass of water, and talked to me. He didn't try anything, and I passed out. Several hours later, I woke to find a sheet over me, and Rob* sleeping on the couch.
It made me realize that I was a fucking moron. I put on my shoes and grabbed my keys and left. What I didn't find out until later was that Rob* liked me. As in 'wanted to be with me.' He and I talked. I couldn't be with anyone until I figured my own shit out. I skipped too many classes, got drunk quite a bit, baked a little less often, but quickly shut down the "Free Sex" factory. I actually don't think I had sex more than a couple handfuls of times the rest of the second semester. Almost flunked out of college, too. He graduated, and I haven't seen him since. Rob*, I hope you've found a good woman that you deserve.
For a brief time, I was a whore. Like Coconut Pete says: "Have a good time, all the time; always eat the worm." (Club Dread) I've changed my ways, LD.
Of course, one of my conquests just had to tell Mr Realist several years ago at our Homecoming, just after we got married:
"You do know you're now the President, right?"
"President of what?"
"President of the 'Who's Messed Around With Mrs Dreamer' club." (we'd talked about all our sexual partners long before we got married, so he knew.)
Here's to President Realist. *raises glass*
And before you ask, yes. I was on the Pill AND I made Every. Single. One. wear a condom.
Heepwah, and be safe out there (of course, I feel bad writing heepwah and talking about being a whore in the same postie).
Your retired whore
Mrs Dreamer
PS: *names have been changed to protect the innocent.
PPS: I love that a story from more than ten years ago can be commented on with something from today's world.
PPPS: Yes. I smoked weed in college (quite a bit, actually). I haven't done it in years, and I have no intentions of doing so. It wasn't worth gaining the 60 pounds in three years. If you think less of me, well, then, that's your problem.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Bitch and Moan Monday
Hello, my LDs. How are you today? I'm going to put this as a place holder sos I can finish this Bitch and Moan Monday on Tuesday (yeah, I know...I'm slacking).
Mr Realist had noms ready when I came home from physical therapy (which I can wean myself off of now!), and we were watching Mythbusters on Netflix (he wanted snuggle time, which I'm not going to deprive him of!) and I'm tired and sore and got fucking cramps (yeah, I know...TMI) so I want to shoot something.
But I will leave you with this. Facebook...O how I'm beginning to loathe thee.
See you on the morrow.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your blech
Mrs Dreamer
~~EDITED: This is now Tuesday, but I'm finishing my postie!
I left you with "Facebook...o how I'm beginning to loathe thee. It's not that I don't like being in contact with my friends and family (with the exception that NONE of my immediate family save Mr Realist is on Facebook), I do.
Does it piss anyone else off to no end when they change something and you have to go back in and reset all of your security shiz? Seriously? It's just about like being at work (treading dangerous territory here...) - where they 'update' the system and it breaks everything that most people use on a daily basis!
Fuck, people. Creators of shit like Facebook (and ordering systems...) should have working knowledge of javascript and HTML and all the other crap that goes into building a website or a world-wide social network. Apparently, you forget all of that when you want to make 'improvements.' What happened to the adage, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."? If I'm feeling great, no sniffles, no pain, why the flying monkeyfuck would I go to the doctors?
"It's like wiping before you poop - don't make any sense."
That...and the fact that I sometimes can be easily swayed makes Facebook telling me that "you should be friends with X" kind of hard to ignore. I want to be liked. I like to be liked. Hell, I like to be loved. I'm 'friends' with almost 300 people...and I only talk to about fifty of them at any given time.
So, I posted it - "wonders if anyone would care if I deleted them from my friends list." I got 30 responses in a few hours. They all made the list. Means they read my stuff, and most of them do comment on stuff I say (whether it's Status Shuffle shit or not).
There are some that I won't delete:
~Mr Realist (because, obviously...)
~family (you get a pass, yos)
~specific friends from a trillion years ago
~friends who've asked not to be
~friends from overseas
~friends who I know read stuff (because they're both here and there)
Other than that, you're probably going to get booted, yos...unless you ask. I'm tired of seeing stuff that I really don't care about.
And if you post a bunch of games and stuff, I'll hide your ass (I've done it before, I'll do it again).
Facebook pisses me off most days, but it's like crack. I'm addicted, and I need a Twelve-Step Program, LDs.
I'm still feeling bitchy (I fucking hate being a girl this week). What's making you psychotic and anti-social today? This is free therapy, bitches (and dudes...)!
Link up through Kisha, ifn ya'unt ta.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your 'feeling slightly psychotic and anti-social' and wanting to chop men into bits
Mrs Dreamer
PS - and if anyone knows how to fix the above, because I sure as shit didn't write it like that, please let me know. Nothing's working and I'm getting more pissy by the minute.
Mrs D
Sunday, June 6, 2010
"I've always relied..."
'...upon the kindness of strangers."
~~Blanche DuBois, A Streetcar Named Desire, Tennessee Williams
Kisha was kind enough to give me something to talk about (if you know that song, take five points) in the comments of my last blog post. I pondered on this for a bit. There are quite a few synonyms for "kindness":
~helpful
~nice
~humanity
~compassion
I know...this is beginning to sound like an English lesson, and I don't mean for it to become one. I am a firm believer in 'playground rules.' Those of you who know me might get that; others, not so much.
Ya see, LDs, no matter how old I get, I can still see the world with childlike wonder (never, never confuse 'childlike' with 'childish.' That is all.). I need sunlight and fresh air and gentle rains and dirt and love to survive. (well hells, we've gone from English lesson to hippie lesson) I could play outside for hours - Mr Realist and I still have 'work clothes' and 'play clothes.'
What I mean by playground rules can be summed up in Robert Fulghum's prose, All I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten. Google it. I'll wait.
Got it? His first few lines tell us some great things.
Share everything. I'm the kind of person who will give you the shirt off her back (as long as I've got something else to cover Thelma and Louise) if you need it. There are times I bitch and moan (no, it's not Monday yet) about doing things, but I don't really mean it. And if I do mean it, I'll do it anyway because someone needed my help.
Play Fair. How hard is it, LDs, for people to just play fair? Take turns? Let everyone enjoy the game. Some may not be as good at it, others are far superior. Once you start being petty and only letting the 'good' players play, it becomes unfair. However, when kids are learning to play a sport and they're all getting turns at spots and positions and whatnot, what's the harm in letting them keep score? I started playing soccer at six, and we kept score from Day One. Guess what? I understood that you can't always win. It didn't damage my psyche, and I'm a fully functioning member of society (I can't say normal - you all know that I'm not remotely close to what passes for 'normal'). It just pushed most of us to be better players.
Clean Up Your Own Mess. I'm not your maid. I'm not your mom. You made the mess, you clean it up. It's called learning responsibility.
Say You're Sorry When You Hurt Someone. Nowadays, people are too concerned with getting what they want that they stop caring about someone smaller than they are (I use 'smaller' as a generic term. Could be younger/older/thinner/fatter/different). If you knock someone down unintentionally, give them a helping hand up and apologize. I can't count on all the toes of all of my LDs how many times I've seen rudeness and selfishness and greediness take precedence over all else, including when they've hurt someone else.
I seem to have possibly gotten off course here somewheres.
Kindness. Bill S. Preston, Esquire, one of the Wyld Stallyns duo, succinctly put it when he said:
"Be excellent to each other."
It's not hard. Just remember back when you were four or five and in the sandbox. When it came to other kids, there were no strangers. Just friends you hadn't met yet. And you accepted them unconditionally. That was kindness in its purest form.
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your kind and childlike
Mrs Dreamer
Friday, June 4, 2010
Finally Friday
Hello there, LDs! Are you glad it's Friday? I'm glad it's Friday. :)
Had to throw darts last night, and we got our asses handed to us, nine to nothing. No worries. Jim (bar owner) and I agree that we'd rather lose 9-0 than have to forfeit because we didn't have enough players (gotta love Lynsey because she helped us out of a tight squeeze).
*deep breath*
I'm playing softball tonight, LDs. Wish me luck. I'm going to put the hated stabilizer brace on that I haven't had to wear in five weeks. I did see the doctor yesterday (the orthopaedic surgeon), and he said whilst I shouldn't ever play indoor soccer again (riiiiiiight...like that's going to happen. the playing part. I've acutally never played indoor soccer.), as long as I wear the brace, golf and softball and running should be fine. I'm nervous. I don't know how to NOT 'go hard or go home.'
I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I'm going to practice my recipe for Sunday's PC show, and I'm boxing up a bunch of shit so we can get some room to use the new freestanding boxing bag. Can't wait to do some serious cardio with Mr Realist. He's going to teach me how to box. Who knows? I might find I like it and I'm quite good and I'll get into it professionally and in several years, you'll see me headlining in Vegas, baby! (I'll believe that when me shit turns purple and smells like rainbow sherbet.)
How's your weekend shaping up so far? Got any big plans? Or are you going to laze around and be bums all weekend?
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your nervous and practically starving
Mrs Dreamer
PS - did you see? I've blogged three times in four days of June! I'm aiming for fifteen posts this month!
PPS - give me a topic, LDs. Anything (politics are outlawed). Sexy midgets? Spelling bees? Or something you're thinking of and can't bear to write about it?
PPPS - you think I'm kidding? I dare you.
Had to throw darts last night, and we got our asses handed to us, nine to nothing. No worries. Jim (bar owner) and I agree that we'd rather lose 9-0 than have to forfeit because we didn't have enough players (gotta love Lynsey because she helped us out of a tight squeeze).
*deep breath*
I'm playing softball tonight, LDs. Wish me luck. I'm going to put the hated stabilizer brace on that I haven't had to wear in five weeks. I did see the doctor yesterday (the orthopaedic surgeon), and he said whilst I shouldn't ever play indoor soccer again (riiiiiiight...like that's going to happen. the playing part. I've acutally never played indoor soccer.), as long as I wear the brace, golf and softball and running should be fine. I'm nervous. I don't know how to NOT 'go hard or go home.'
I'm looking forward to tomorrow. I'm going to practice my recipe for Sunday's PC show, and I'm boxing up a bunch of shit so we can get some room to use the new freestanding boxing bag. Can't wait to do some serious cardio with Mr Realist. He's going to teach me how to box. Who knows? I might find I like it and I'm quite good and I'll get into it professionally and in several years, you'll see me headlining in Vegas, baby! (I'll believe that when me shit turns purple and smells like rainbow sherbet.)
How's your weekend shaping up so far? Got any big plans? Or are you going to laze around and be bums all weekend?
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your nervous and practically starving
Mrs Dreamer
PS - did you see? I've blogged three times in four days of June! I'm aiming for fifteen posts this month!
PPS - give me a topic, LDs. Anything (politics are outlawed). Sexy midgets? Spelling bees? Or something you're thinking of and can't bear to write about it?
PPPS - you think I'm kidding? I dare you.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
WTF-ness
Here are some totally WTF-ness questions about your Mrs Dreamer:
Are you a morning or night person? O LDs, I'm very much an afternoon/night person. If you try to talk to me before I've had my shower and about an hour to wake up, I'd just as soon turn dragon, bite your head off, toast the pieces of you and then step over you to the next.
Which do you prefer, sweet or salty foods? Depends on the time of the month. PMSing gets sweet; most other times, salty/savory.
What was your favorite childhood television program? Reading Rainbow, Mr. Rogers, Sesame Street. I sobbed for hours when Mr. Hooper from Sesame Street died.
Are you a collector of anything? Books. Notebooks/journals. Ducks. John Deere items.
If you could be any animal, what would you be? A fox: clever and beautiful.
What do you usually think about right before falling asleep? Whatever book I'm reading. I have to read to fall asleep. (amen Mrs G!)
What’s your favorite color? I used to say blue. I'm so not a colorist (kind of like racist, only with color? Anyone?). My favorite shirt is a rainbow-hued tie-dye one.
Do you believe in extraterrestrials or life on other planets? Very much so. I don't believe that we're the only intelligent life out there. Hell, there are times when I don't think there's intelligent life on this planet.
What’s your favorite color? I used to say blue. I'm so not a colorist (kind of like racist, only with color? Anyone?). My favorite shirt is a rainbow-hued tie-dye one.
Do you believe in extraterrestrials or life on other planets? Very much so. I don't believe that we're the only intelligent life out there. Hell, there are times when I don't think there's intelligent life on this planet.
Do you believe in ghosts? Yes.
Ever been addicted to a video/computer game? WoW. Spent weekends not moving from in front of my computer.
You’re given 1 million dollars, what do you spend it on? Pay off debt and mortgage. Pay off parentals debt. Build our dream home. Go back to school. Travel. Lasik. Personal trainer.
Have any bad habits? Do you really think I'm going to tell you? I leave most thinks where they fall.
List 3 of your worst personality traits: I procrastinate, I have a tendency to start things and then lose interest, and I can be a bit of a nag.
Have any celebrity crushes? David Boreanaz. Rupert Grint.
List 1 thing you wish you could change about yourself: My weight.
Any tattoos or piercings? Just my ears, one in each. No tattoos.
What’s the first thing you notice in the opposite sex? Eyes...definitely.
Are you mostly a clean or messy person? Messy
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? As long as there are at least four seasons, I could pretty much live anywhere. I love hot, cold, and everything in between.
If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go? The UK. Europe. Australia. All 50 states. Canada.
List 5 goals on your life’s to-do list:
1) have a novel published
2) lose a significant amount of weight
3) get out of debt (controllable debt) for good
4) get my Masters degree...in something.
5) experience more than Illinois
Name 1 regret you have: not working as hard at college as I did at high school
Name 1 thing you miss about being a kid: the potential for magic around every corner
Name 1 thing you love about being an adult: married life
What’s your favorite song of the moment? Human by The Killers (Brandon Flowers is my dreamsicle right now)
What’s your favorite thing to do on a Saturday night? Anything fun and out of the house
What’s your favorite thing to do on a Sunday afternoon? Read, watch movies, and just be a bum.
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