Musings
I Found My Muse
I blogged in J.R. Lamar’s comment box. I kind feel like I farted in public.
Well, yesterday, February began, marking the beginning of the 43rd annual official “Black History Month” in America.
It also began the the 43rd annual official month where racist White guys complain about there not being a “White History Month.”
I’m reminded of a story that my brother told me years ago. At a job he was working at, during February a White coworker asked him if this was “Black Appreciation Month”. We thought that was hilarious. We were like, yes, everyone, it’s Black Appreciation Month, so make sure you take the time to call up all your favorite Black person, and let them know how much you appreciate them. 🙂
I should also note that, despite what Morgan and that interviewer said, there IS a “Jewish Heritage Month” (MAY), but that’s not the point. I do take issue slightly with Morgan Freeman’s last response, where he said the way…
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Jesus would tip
I couldn’t help but slap this onto my blog. It is actually started as a comment on the page but then I realized I was standing on a soap box when I finished typing so I said wtf, I’ll blog this puppy.
It’s this kind of idiocy that makes me comfy being more hermit than not. There are so many people walking around just oozing ignorance and stupidity… but don’t point it out because they’ll misquote the bible and knock the hell out of you for insulting them… ( ok, that’s not really factual, that only applies to faux christians, the ones who believe in Jesus but go Jewish when mad… eye for an eye??? Jesus never kicked anyone’s ass, he turned the other cheek. You know the ones, they tell you how they’re better christians than _______ because they _______. …Wow, really? Clueless to the sinfest they’re reveling in generally I silently back away and make for the door, kinda like when you walk up on a snake in the woods. (quietly, slowly, easy… little further…. almost there…. now RUN!) hahaha!!! They can get pretty pissed, radical christians are Neo don’t you know? The One. Clearly ready to fly solo up in heaven too because they, and they alone know the path to divinity, and if you don’t agree – well you’re going to hell (after they kick your ass)
—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
She’s totally going to hell… which sucks because I’m told I’m on my way too, it IS about suffering!
Talkmonster
It’s not that I talk my ass off to torment people. I realized it’s a weird habit, part of my brand of damage. I’m actually thinking out loud in a sense. It might be annoying because I’m hard to follow (I jump on tangents compulsively but eventually come full circle.) I have to laugh at me, for the longest it bothered when I was ignored. Now it’s distressing when anyone acknowledges me. Hahaha Truth be known, it started because I was the only one I knew who grasped a concept I wanted to bounce around… Needed to actually ~hear the words~ for that perspective if nothing else. And we learn through repetition… I wish I knew someone like me. Who could grasp/learn/understand/synthesize almost any info/concept without effort, torn up with my own stupid blindness to my own hypocrisy, know exactly how others tick psychologically and how they could be such happy people if they embraced a simple premise (they won’t tolerate the notion of me speaking so that’s pie in the sky.) I am able to do just about anything ~~ except function in society in any way that isn’t to my detriment. I love me, messed up and idiotic as I always tend to get I always have. That’s so awesome in my book. I wouldn’t trade my nightmares for anything. I’m stressed, yes, but it’s been worth all the agony, humiliation, instant hatred and massive confusion to understand now who I’ve been all along. I’m crawling with defect, I just recently realized the answer to the question haunting me my entire life. And, WOW! It’s unbelievably awesome and in many aspects completely vile at the same time … I love the irony (: If I start some verbal assault around you whoever you are… Two choices A. Lemming response : mental mute button, “uh huh… Uh huh… k…gotta go…” et al Or B. Tune in for a few, try to get the gist of what I trying to say or am blathering about… Interject or add on (be my hero, teach me something new) or ask an off the wall question completely off topic. I’ll know the answer or I’ll produce a new one adhering to the given parameters. If not I will be able to produce specific or related/relevant, legitimate information of some sort off the top of my head. Stupid egg tricks right?
No practical application that I’m aware of and trust me, I’ve been making a desperate attempt to find anything of the sort for decades (alone, way far and gone on my own generally)
Add that I’m not an acquired taste. Either I’m like human crack and people all about my bullshit OR they are like Mikey and I’m not cereal, one taste of me and I’m spat out in disgust, occasionally followed by retaliatory acts of cruelty and violence twice with lethal intent. I am and have for a long time been, benevolent in nature. Chosen to allow others to be vicious and spout ignorance, condescend, and quietly tolerated it to prevent conflict. I’m tired of it. Collectively, you all wore me down. I can’t expose myself to any situation that would by nature suggest innundation with lack of knowledge/education, intolerance and aggression. I am done taking every hit for a team that by a majority, loathes my existence because I’m “weird.” I am disgusted at the thought of being rude, and odd in that with glee I’m ready to go there. I am quite capable of going lots of places, fortunately I have the intelligence to know what is right and what is always wrong and can never be excused or justified. I pose no threat to life or property, I relish the thought of freely naming cruel aggressors insecurities and shortcomings in public in order to humiliate and create emotional trauma. It’s a gift. (: Push, I’ll let it go. Shove, people should never embrace physical violence. I won’t raise my hand against anyone. Hypocrite that I am, you never meet anyone who uses more destructive, targeted verbal abuse in your life. I didn’t realize I was doing it until recently. Now that I can’t deny it and I am aware I try to watch my tongue. I’m saving those insights for those who need to grasp their place. Nobody is any better than anyone else. We are all special in our own ways – all flawed and insecure due to different circumstance. Drop the need to belittle others to feel ok about yourself and that’s an excellent start.
I’m going to do it! Why not? I’m not going to lose friends over it. I have two and they’re enlightened tolerant and accepting. (: Yay project! Watch, I make a decision like this… Nobody will be ugly towards me or attempt violence again. It’s a daily concern, protecting my child is always playing out in the chaotic noise in my head.
One constant clear image. They attacked her at school, Conroe, Tx. a cess pool of ignorance, populated by people who embrace stupity and devalue education. Their school district treated me like an alien for some time when I would appear to check on my child’s progress in education, socialization skills, emotionally appropriate reactions, etc. They were the most inept, unbelievable group of clueless school administrators surpassed in their ineptitude only by the disgrace the call an isd police force (add the little control freak lackey under Judge Mett’s (illogical man) who blessed my child with the words: yes, when you spit fountain water on your attacker’s shoe she had every right to punch you repeatedly in the face as you stood motionless compelled to not put your hands on another student by the school vice principal (manipulating her disability) Now, say what I want,how I want and this all goes away. Refuse and at 13 you’re guilty and its on a permanent record clear to college apps. Really? My daughter was tormented for months by a gang you incessantly ignored my questioning of your intent in regard to… Their concerted hatred culminated in a vicious brutal attack and it’s MY kids fault ?
Tick tock asshole
? Huh?
Exactly. (:
We’re free of the situations, learning to live with the past without denial. At least I am. My baby, I’ll be supportive when it she gets to this point. Whatever her process may be, I’m onboard. Of all the things I never expected, all the surprises in my life, no shock, no revelation, realization, nothing at all was as nearly fatal as realizing who my most vicious sadistic relentless tormentor has been.
Me.
Instinct? Creepy iq, severe genetic deviation to the point of singularity (my personal arrogant favorite) blah whatever. I saw what I could be ok with seeing. People were who I needed them to be. I live in a delusion so persistent it lasted 40 years. Now, I know me.
Believe me, don’t. Like it, hate. Be happy, angry, lash out, light me up.
Ok.
I can handle it. Honest! Here’s the deal tho. I have NEVER denied my mistakes, flaws, shortcomings. Pretty hard to insult me. I know a lot better than anyone else by skeletons and disgraces. Point out a flaw, if it’s new to me I’ll thank you for finding a fresh horse corpse for me to pound. Accuse inaccurately, I’ll clarify. I am not hiding much. Be ready to be just as naked, if you’re not able to admit your defects and damage I have no issue giving an initial assessment of yours for you. (: My insight is pretty damn accurate and never really washes off (; Its not to be vindictive as much as it is educational. Everyone is equal in the big picture. I had quit school in the 10th grade. (did a month or so as a junior then my unwelcome pregnant ass was gone) I didn’t stop learning everything I encountered with intent, by proximity, synthesis, deduction, questioning anyone speaking of anything I had never heard of or needed to grasp. No teachers, tests, just wanted to know.
It’s a byproduct of my defect. I love it. Hard road to here, rather me me than anyone, promise. Wouldn’t wish this on anybody though. Anyway I am tired of blathering, no clue what set this crap in motion. Thinking on a cell keyboard is akin to trying to discuss abstract concepts with a toddler. Slow and tedious. I can only surmise subconsciously I decided needed atone for some transgression and this… Everything about this is badong in my world. I’m done. Psycho Stacy, you’re sick. Hahaha! (I like looking at myself that way, makes me giggle) Seriously I’m tired of my mouth/blah blah zipping it.
Eulogy
Please join subliminal sadistic psycho Stacy (worshipped leader and source of our immortality,) as well as (unbelievably darted early this morning out of mercy, and I promise will rejoin once all her lost shit is account for and the pseudo doc oks it…) Angry Momma Bear (if you pray and such, we’ll take it,) ZaaaHu, and eatit in situ with myself
Egg
In morning the passing of yet another failed attempt at being a functional person.
Again .. This makes a second fully conscious occurance.
As I type who I have been is being etch-a-sketched.
It is no reason for sorrow, just an acknowledgement of an egg that could no longer be.
I will be whatever I am when I return.
That egg was rather young.
Good intentions, fundamental flaw
Thank you.
Everyone, find joy. Or not
Not the boss of you. right.
Move along.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Igiveshitmercy
How do you think? I mean, what’s it like in your heads? I really need to grasp some things and fookit I’m asking.
When people respond to: whatcha thinkin? With: nothing. Is that literal? Is that possible? I was targeted and tortured to the point that ultimately my worst fear consumed me. The last few conscious moments I realized my painful efforts to hang on were a useless effort, that the concept of will and control were inapplicable. Then empty silence at some point. I think that was days later. A vague unease… Fear… Lots of fear. Terrified to be honest. Clueless what was going on what my head was doing the empty feeling the silence the unease foreign … what in the hell …. Can’t make it ok freakout I lived. Eventually I nailed it. I was confused. Incapacitated by the inability to grasp much of anything past *quiet was wrong, *fear like I’ve never known, *weird uncontrollable idiosyncratic noises/actions and *having to re establish locomotion…
Only then had my head not been screaming white noise.
I never shut up and my thoughts are wicked cool and unspeakable nightmares… Silly crap and you name it. Together. Nonstop Whatever is biggest or repetitive or blahblah or roshambos the right tangents at the right moments more or less guides to gist of my endless blahtering I am so loved to be loathed for round here.
How do people not see really obvious embarrassing, stupid, harmful or just bad things they endure or inflict and not get pissed or walk or… ? How are people ok with painfully illogical stuff and not see it or accept it and are fine with unholy crap?
I don’t want to be a normie . I’m not saying all Normies (I really need t-mobile to suffer for shitphone’s vs inequities.. I type a s s. You go ass. Go!) (douche) are in anyway alike in any way b any means… I just have noticed a subculture that dam near basis in fooked up and is blind or ignoring it.
Be brave. Tell me how your head works. Then tell t mobile to bite it Be…yeah!
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Woah Nelly
eggstacee.com …ahhh….
I jumped on the host’s site building tools like a necrophiliac locked in a morgue after hours. NO clue where to start so I called tech and they assumed from my lack of a need for spoon feeding I was – and I quote – a “twirly head” … a code mistress and threw my into drupal and joomla (all css or ccs whatever, It was like trying to see the redheads dozer saw in the scrolling code in the matrix, meant jack to me) They thought they were being helpful …
WRONG
I was knee deep in dip. So I jumped all over everything else quickly learning they wanted more scratch. I already paid what I’m going to pay. Any ads on MY domain will be tucked away together to huddle in a “closet” page and EVERYONE will be warned before getting anywhere near it. I’m not down like that. The domain is my bitch. HAHAHAHAHA
HA
So, anyway, it’s been mutating like the crap in a hot lava lamp lately, for that I apologize but I’ve been trial and erroring it. I THINK I have it now. At least I have a crap ton of cool stuff lined up. Now I have to see how to fit the puzzle pieces together.
Today I had an uber bitchin thought… EGG HUNT contests with prizes yeah yeah yeah. I had QQ rolling with the crap I’m going to lay out.
House of Egg. My own personal playground and OHHHH how everyone is invited. It’s in the works, I promise it may look like hot ass in the beginning (now) but that’s just part of the fun. Like having a puppy, better, having a neighbor with a puppy. You get to watch it grow, play with it, goof off and all but don’t have to lift a finger to help it along (:
Laugh with me as I screw this thing up and MomGyver it into what I know it can be in the back of my head !
I have NO CLUE what I’m doing… I just know what it is going to be when I’m done. I’ll get it done if I have to put my flip flopped foot off in my isp’s arse. (hiiiya)
yeah baby… supernocodewysiwygbangbangpartyhouseclickGO!
http://eggstacee.com I have no idea what it looks like right now, I’m too scared to peek. waitill I slap the plug ins and widgets and superuber dropdown menu on – then who’s the boob. boobs haha I said boobs
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 2 so far )Drumroll Please
HTTP://WWW.EGGSTACEE.COM lives!
Ok, so I spent two days figuring out that Joomla is latin for Stacy knows JACK about css and formatting (and templates and posting and layouts and script and …. blah …blahblah..ect)
So I tucked my invisible tail and lit up wordpress.org on my host and slapped a temporary page with a little tease on it. Mea Culpa (did I spell that right?) Pardon Moi, odelay, whatever but it’s not funny… it’s
d I F f e R E n T
Like me (: It’s going to be my virtual nest… kinda like the spot I laid claim to on the far end of the couch here at my rl house. Only BETTER – Oh YEAH. I’m going to rock it’s socks off… or whatever the nerd equivilent of that is. I’ll have to do a search while I’m looking up how to church up a website.
Wait, not church it up, make it ~bitchin’~ ! Yeah, somebody drag my teenager in here so she can translate “cool” for those under 30…
I’m so gonna MOMGYVER that monkey trucker
YEAH
rockin the domain, fear that. I’m spreading like mono hahahaha ewww social diseases. Nobody lick the screen and we should all be alright.
fair enough
-s
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 1 so far )Moving SOON
I have plans… yeah, big plans. I want a home, a place of my own. Somewhere I can stretch out and feel comfortable.
Be myself (whomever that may be at that moment)
Somewhere I can make sense out of myself – maybe give others insight into me. (I’ll feel so naked . HAHAHAHA like there’s anyone who hasn’t seen me naked at this point?)
COMING SOON….
La maison d’oeuf. eatit (no please don’t. not really)
I’m building a nest, I have to wait for a man named Daniel and then it begins. It all begins tomorrow! I hope I make it a nicer place than my rl house (: I’m SUCH a slob hahahaha
I hope to see everyone (and I DO mean everyone) there in the future. ooh ooh a webwarming party! I want presence hahaha punny huh?
Come see soon, I’ll let you know when it’s time. It’s going to be legen…
wait for it
…dary!
-s
(Much Love NPH)
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 1 so far )Naked MomGyver – yeah!
I have no idea how old you are but, hopefully you know who McGyver is. The dude is the baddest dude when it comes to getting out of a pinch with practically nothing on hand. Give him a paper clip, a tennis shoe and a jar of jelly and he’ll make an explosive device that will hinder but not harm whoever might be chasing you and give you time to book ass to safety.
That being said, I’ve been a single (and a single mom) since I was 17. If I needed something done – I pretty much had to do it myself. There wasn’t anyone around to teach me jack so I learned by necessity how to “McGyver” my way through things. I use my MG skills in the kitchen, for home and auto repair, any projects, you name it. Lately I’ve evolved into: MOMGyver. Yeah. MomGyver, I like it. My kid (Q) thinks it’s cool too, she wants to be a kidGyver. I tell her to give it time.
I came into the house yesterday and it was mildly warm outside. It was almost HOT in my house. I stood on the vent (trailer, yeah I know… get it out of your system now… … … done? Ok carrying on) I stood on the vent and it was weakly cool but blowing warmish. Nooo! I’ve been through this once before. I have an elderly land lord and he always blames the major repairs (the ones I just can’t do because they require a new part I can’t or won’t purchase,) on us. It was our fault the hall bath had a slow leak and needed a new floor. Go figure
I knew what I had to do. (This is the whoowhoo part.) The best way to clean the coils on an ac unit in a trailer like mine is nude. Yeah I said it, naked. Disassemble the exterior and get all the necessities (soft bristle brushes, hot water, cold water, canned air) and stripped down to your skin. I say go nudist on this because it’s messy work. You will also need a towel and a hand towel/cloth. TURN THE AC OFF. Haha Ok, pour the hot water over the coils slowly letting it trickle through to the bottom. The tray should fill up then begin to drain, if not you use the small brush (ghetto translation: old tooth brush,) and clean away the area where the drain is located. That generally gets the water moving. After that you go underneath and use the canned air on the back of the coils to blow whatever might be stuck inside to the surface. This is the messier part. You’ll look like you’ve gone mini mudding but it gets the job done. Use the big brush to move the messier chunky bits upwards to the top and wipe them away, rinse the cloth in the bucket as needed. By now you should be soaked in sweat (from the hot house) and your top half should be flecked in debris from the air blasting. Bathe the coils in the cold water to cool them back off. Use the canned air on any electrical connections that may have been splashed on because you were careless and let water get everywhere. Don’t feel too bad, even Naked MomGyver is guilty of this one or I wouldn’t know to mention it. Reassemble the unit and turn it on, give it about 5 to 10 minutes to cool off completley (It’ll happen while you take a shower sweaty grunge monster,)and tada!
You don’t get to claim actual McGyver status if you roughly follow my instructions, I had to figure them out for myself so it’s my baby. If you wind up having to do something totally weird and deviate completely and still get the job done, you can say with pride, “I officially McGyvered that mutha!”
Keep it up and you can evolve into any kind of Gyver you wish… I use the technique on my child – thus MomGyver. It’s a little complicated, maybe I’ll post an explanation another time.
-S
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 4 so far )BlogKu and General Spew
It’s strange. I never, I mean NEVER shut up. I usually write as much as well. The odd thing is trying to figure out what to put on here. I decided when I started this not to be one of those people who bitch and moan about their “woe is me” issues… that’s pretty much why I’ve been silent for so long. (If you can’t do the math on that one, just hit the little X button on the top right and save yourself now)
That’s the thing about bipolar. My moods come and go, sometimes one will stick around longer than another. I miss mania haha. I’m attempting to get to a point where I’m “surfing the high-end” so to speak. I’m on a med cocktail that should safely get me there. Trick is to hit the crest and stay there without flinging out like a hypersonic projectile into outer space. (I have my shrink’s cell and pager numbers and I’m not afraid to use them, much to his chagrin!) The thought of that happening seems impossible at the moment. Ah the joy of the down-swing, I know it well.
Having said that, I think I’ll move on.
It’s hard to be funny when you haven’t been out and about much to see the humor in normie behavior/action. Around the house I crack my 13 year old up. Don’t be fooled, 13 and more intellectually on the ball than most adults in this godforsaken backwoods in which we reside. I’ve crammed vocabulary prefixes and suffixes, word origins and so much more down her throat since, well birth, that she’s a teacher’s wet dream.
Last night I introduced her to Haiku. She is a poet like myself, and like me (totally my influence, yes) she writes free form verse, a very loose style, somewhere between prose and poem. I loathe rhyme. I find it trite and pedestrian. Hmmm, I need a word here that rhymes with gopher and means punch bowl. I think I’ll change it to digging ditcher and pitcher. Yeah, you did it! -who cares about the original intended imagery. (asshat.) Because that’s so true to what the original thought you wanted to express, right? I say fook that. I only respect one “standardized” form of poetry… haiku.
To hammer into Q the 5-7-5 syllable structure I started by knocking out an old one I composed and delivered to my favorite icon, The Rev. Maynard James Keenan. I know he got it, it was confirmed. As if the source confirming it weren’t enough shortly after he received it he changed his homepage for the first time in YEARS from an image of himself making a peace sign that partically obscured his face to, you guessed it … a HAIKU.
Woohoo, my brush with fame. His haiku was about The Aristocrats but hell, who composes and publishes a random haiku straight from their rump and slaps it on their previously neglected homepage ~unless~ they had recently been inspired? That was ALL ME. SuperpartybangbangrocketpartygogobabyWOW! I was (and am) pumped about it (to this day.) The Rev and I go way back, (in my head) haha.
Ahem, as I was saying, I knocked out my Maynard haiku then proceeded to spew forth random “randy” and sometimes downright dirty haiku out of the blue. They came like naked ninjas. I had my Q cracking up till she did unladylike things. (She was laughing too hard to blame it on the dog.) I even went as far as to make a limerick/haiku bastard lovechild. There once was a man – The man was from Nantucket – He had a big … you get the picture. Q did too, she had bladder control issues, I loved it. I can make that child laugh till her face is a rictus of pain. Utter silence, eyes squeezed shut, arms out – contorted oddly with hands locked and fingers splayed. Total immobility. Like a snapshot of a seizure. Then there’s an exchange of air, not sure if inhalation or if she’s exhaling, either way the sound is the same… the dog is the first to hear it and her head pops up in confusion, then it falls into the human range. It’s a high pitched yet breathy gasp (inhalation I suppose then,) and the “Still shot from the Exorcist” moment ends. She doubles over clutching her abdomen gasping for air cursing me for whatever bodily function failed her. I remind her that no one can MAKE you do anything. If you played the butt trumpet it was your choice to unleash your hold on those sphincter muscles…
She doesn’t go for it. At the mention of butt trumpets she decides to do an encore more often than not, followed by an awkward dash to the ladies. The journey looks like a dazed hungry zombie… slow, graceless, yet with purpose. I ADORE my QQ. Her laughter, (or most times, inability to laugh because she’s caught in a full body spasm of complete hilarity,) brings me such joy.
There’s no feeling in the world like making your kid laugh till they fall over, literally. She actually has ROFL and LMAO (LHAO). We don’t use insulting acronyms, they’re an abuse to the person you speak to and those particular two are trite and untrue when used. (Unless you’re present during a goof session between my Q and myself and you want to quickly describe her status.) I’ve never before or since seen someone roll on the floor laughing, until my Q. She loves to hate me for it. I love her for loving me so much to hate it when I do that and still ~beg~ for more!
I have no idea what I intended to blog about, I just kinda started typing. I know when Q gets wind (hehe wind, butt trumpet) of this she’s going to be furious. I will explain it was for the sake of art and expressing myself.
I’ll do it through interpretive dance. She LOVES that one hahahahahahaha
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 4 so far )Better living through chemistry
I’ve been mute more or less since I moved my blog. For that I have no other explanation than … well I’ve had nothing kicking around in my head to spew forth. Spew. Ha! I like that word. If you knew me (or if you know me and ever bothered to listen to me,) you would know when I write it’s all about incessant noise in my head. I’ve no control over what I write, it just jumps out of my fingers (or pen) and tada! There it is. No editing, no forethought other than the “gremlin” in the back of my throat chanting a few lines to me about the beginning subject in general and MAYBE a tangent. SO having said that…
The gremlin stirred today.
I’m in the midst of a medication change. Yay. I have this strict “no hospitalization” policy and my shrink knows it. Changing my meds is like changing a tire with nothing but a paper clip, a pillow and a hammer. No telling how you’re going to get it done but you know you need to make progress. My shrink is the Ultimate MacGyver. I can MacGyver the CRAP out of objects; he fixes my head (at least enough for me to remain “safe for public consumption AND responsible for the process of producing a viable member of society.”)
Fear that. (Bitchin run on too, ya like that, huh, do ya?)
I crack up when people get wind of what I take in a day. I swear I have no gag reflex. (No, I’m not trying to get dates… I swallow a lot of meds, doing so all at once is just a time saver. It also limits the possibility that one of the uncoated bad boys will attach itself to the roof of my mouth –shudder-. ) Moving on… I’m so chemically compromised I have no idea what I’d be without them – other than a stark raving, mood swinging psychotic succubus that is.
So here I am in my wonderful “get 14 straight hours of sleep/stay up 24 hours/repeat” cycle of lovely blahblahblahidone and dahdahdahidol (mutherfu marcimallow says shut yo mouth) new medications. I, being the superstar that we all know I am (I use the term We in the Royal Singular,) decide I to go to the Soso Center. Smaaaart. It’s like 10 pm. I’m driving down the road with pulse pops (wth do you call them? Everything is fine then your pulse pounds erratically kind of staccato anywhere from once to maybe 5 or 6 times. When it happens to me it’s like a wince noise… kind of funny, not painful or anything. It feels like being startled. Probably has something to do with the assload of amphetamines I’ve been eating for years to counteract the butt-ton of sedative type stabilizers and anti-depressants I practically mainline. Ahh the joys of trying to act like you haha. I don’t mind, like I know any different?) So like I was saying, I’m driving down the road and the pops start to come and go, when they do the contrast of lights and pitch dark (I live in the sticks) begin to make me giggle. It was a weird effect. Like in a cartoon when things get bulged out slightly then back to normal, split second of that then again… again. I’m snotting I’m laughing. It was about then I noticed the cartoon boogie men in the shadows near lit areas. Nothing scary (hallucinations are not an issue with me, I know them for what they are, always have so it’s not been something that has come up as any sort of problem to medicate.) So I’m digging on the whole black and white cartoon monster thing till I hit the highway to the SoSo Center. Goodbye Boogiemen, was fun while it lasted. The light had banished them. I considered turning around but I’m pretty sure it was a one shot wonder. Things like that don’t repeat, that would be too fun!
I hit the greeter at Soso and I try to open my mouth to ask a question and, lucky me, I couldn’t say a word. Cotton Mouth.
Nice
Side effects can eatit. I put my head on my arms over my purse in the basket while holding up the Hang On finger… dug for anything that would inspire slobber in the cavern I call a handbag and HAHA thanks again Hall’s. Their slobber drops (strawberry) work like magic. Of course I thought I was going to have to rub it on my eyeball to get it started but it did wind up working. I made it out of there in record time (for me) and was back on the road. NOTHING fun happened on the way home. Nothing.
I supposed I’ll call my shrink’s office tomorrow and moan and groan but not because of the carnival I’m starring in after dark, ONLY because I can’t hack this messed up over medicated, circadian boffing nightmare sleep cycle wrecking cocktail (;
I have no idea how you might take all of this, it’s a little off from my norm, it’s more personal than I’ve ever really been about me, don’t expect too much like this in the future. I think in a way I’m more curious about all of you so I’m offering something of myself. I see myself as normal. There’s nothing amiss or lacking about my life. I don’t pity me, feel as if life did me wrong, I think I’m lucky to be honest. I feel bad for most people and I don’t mean to condescend by saying that. Nature compensated me for what I lack in emotional stability and looking back I wouldn’t have it any other way. I KNOW certain things, I see things most don’t. I have a point of view that you can only get from looking sideways (so to speak) and yet I still can look through “normal” eyes. I’ve been on both sides of the society/outcast coin.
I think what the gremlin is trying to make me say (hehe) is: I want to know if you think you’re weird or just me, what you think is normal, have you accepted who/what you are (I joyfully embrace it now,) How do you handle life – or can you? Stuff like that, I have my answers, I wonder if other people do. I really would like to hear a “normal” (by that I mean non-mentally disturbed, imbalanced, psychotic) person’s take on ANYTHING. Throw any answer in the comments, be anonymous if you wish, make up your own statement, but please, enlighten me!
-Spacy errr Stace Cadet wait, no
-egg
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 4 so far )Old Posts don’t die…
Old Posts don’t die…. but then here everything is new. Take a peek at what bipolar is like without complaints or explanations shoved down your throat. Experience the whirlwind with none of the moaning and groaning… hehe I keep the crybaby stuff for the privacy of my home (should it roll around, and it does.) I’ve recently migrated and just want a chance to show my stuff. I’ll have new material asap but for now, hop in and have a laugh, sate your curiosity,or just be weird (like me!)
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 2 so far )Old Posts don’t die…
No, old posts don’t die… people don’t realize they exsist in the first place from what I’m gathering! There’s some fun stuff back there. Poor little posts have been shoved out of the limelight by younger, prettier, newer posts. These forerunners deserve some accolades (uhh yeah, credit and stuff) for being trailblazers and breaking new ground in EggBlogging. Why not give them a read, they are in order from oldest to more recent… Allonz-y, off you go now. The Queen of nothing commands you to read. (Like that’s going to work – So Majestic explains why….)
https://eggstacee.wordpress.com/2011/07/21/so-majestic/ My first post and simplest piece of prose, I’m VERY proud of it and yet no one has really had a chance to see it.
https://eggstacee.wordpress.com/2011/07/21/do-dah/ A schizo romp and homage to my old blog’s game widgit Othello. Not relevant to wordpress but funny regarding Marcimallow so worth a peek
https://eggstacee.wordpress.com/2011/07/21/why-its-greased-lightning/ THE INFAMOUS DEATH CAR POST. I’m about to fall over, I just found out several people I know had no idea what I was talking about when I spoke of the “death car.” I’m accusing them of being traitors, (earning a ride in the death car hahaha,) but they just didn’t know of the post at all.
Alors, voici.. je l’ecrit pour vous maitenant mes palourdes. <- a kickback to an old old attempt at a minor blog effort
I spent some fun time on those posts, I hope they get enough exposure to make a few people laugh (or think) too. I’ve never been one for keeping my skeletons in closets why should old posts be any different? (8
-egg
-Stacy
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )20 items or… EATIT
I’ve learned a great deal over the course of my life so far. I’d like to think of myself as possessing a point of view that the population at large would never stop long enough to consider much less contemplate. Born the way I am, I’ve always felt like an “outsider” that I didn’t fit in, no matter how hard I tried. OH how I tried, for years and years I tried. I have to say that attempting to fit in is probably the root of most of the misery I endured in my past (ultimately.)
Ahem. SO, I’ve learned that I am MUCH happier on the fringe of society than in the mix. I love me some Internet. At least now I do. We have Marcimallow to thank for dragging me kicking and screaming into the social media scene for that. (smooches) I bring all this up to illustrate a point. I’m generally a smartbutt. (This post is verbally sanitized for your protection.) I crack me up, a lot of times it rubs off on others. I love getting a laugh. The last few days I’ve been having a dry spell (oh geez my dog just had the vapors, startled me – off topic but eww,) ok. The thing is, my epiphany today, is that I have nothing fun to say when I am home safe under my rock. (MAJOR EWW that wasn’t the dog it was a bug whose flight sounds like flatulence, it landed on me and I b!(@# slapped it away, now it’s ??, great) Moving on. I’m not inspired to write anything humorous until I am out lurking about with “normies” (I use the term loosely.) “Normal” people crack me up.
I caved earlier tonight and went to the So-So Center (it’d earn the title Super if it had Dill Pickle Chips… nice try Blob that eats small businesses.) I normally don’t shop there but the hour and my shopping list left me little choice. So as I cruise to the far end of the world for french vanilla creamer, someone hid the kind I wanted so I nearly had a hissy, I kept my cool and karma revealed my prize – yay. It was at that point I dove into my cavernous purse iso the pacifier for Bobo, the monkey on my back. Horrified I realized my electronic cigarette was back home on the table by my “nest” on the couch (where I presently am plopped.) There went my mood. (No, not a swing, I’m allowed to fluctuate as anyone else would without it being a “polar” issue…)
I grumpily head over to hardware n stuff. Normally I’m all over everything on that side of the store like a molester packing ether but I was a good girl. I needed to fix the toilet handle arm thingy. I knew exactly what I needed and headed straight for it. There was an older couple and a sweet lil old lady asked me if I was doing a little home repair. I told her I just had to fix the potty handle and was proud of myself, that I’d been good and was “swatting the lil devil on my shoulder telling me to buy everything else on my way through hardware.” She looked down at the cinnamon rolls and frozen pizza I had in my cart and had the audacity to look at me sternly and say, “You swatted him away, did you?” I told her, “Eatit,” smiled and walked away. (hahahaha)
Some people are just butt heads (sanitized)
I felt better having told off an old lady (I know I know) and headed to the checkout. There were plenty open but all had small lines. I didn’t have many things but they were arranged flatly and completely obscured the bottom of my cart. Guiltily I went to the Express Lane hoping for the best. As I put my good girl stuff on the counter (eatit old lady) I noticed a woman with her daughter and their cart “runneth over.” The woman stopped at the first express lane and the teen pushing the cart never skipped a beat, heading past towards the “lotta stuff” lines. The scrawny leather-tan woman called out, “I don’t care I said come here!”
LET THE GAMES BEGIN!
Oh it was ON hahahaha I cheered up instantly. NOBODY gets to be Princess whoopdedoo in my world but me. I pull some cheese stunts but this was just plain ignorant and wrong.
Even ~I~ in my wildest ultra-radian category 6 kaleidoscope of mood swinging episodes wouldn’t pull such a heinous faux pas. I may be a misfit but I’m no scumbag.
I IMMEDIATELY commenced to an audible verbal assault. Everything from a rousing round of “Who can count to twenty?!” and “Oh WOW, we’re too late, look at the ignorance and that THING has already reproduced, I hope it’s not genetic.” (I quickly decided to lay off the kid.) I proceeded to The Count from Sesame Street with my checkout lady. Do you know why they call me the count, because I love to count! ONE hahaha, TWO hahaha. and TWENTY hahaha NOW STOP, no really STOP, seriously S T O P… all with an uber fake Dracula accent. I realized there were two younger men behind me in line laughing (the checkout lady had tears she was laughing hard, I just ranted the whole time about the stupidity and audacity of the leather-tan numerically challenged chick at the counter beside me) I asked the dudes behind me, can you believe that? Then proceeded to slam her anew. I “called” the guy in the blue shirt on my “finger phone”… “Hey blue shirt dude, check out that dingbat with the monster cart in the express lane, oop, wait, got another call, …hey can I call you back, I’m telling my new friend about this ignorant lady with like 100 items in the 20 item lane, I think she’s ~speshul~ click… OK, I”m back. Good talking to you but I’ve gotta go, tell your friend I said Hi.” They laughed more.
I thought I’d be fun to get more involved. I looked at their basket, said Right On and shoved my hand out at the closest guy saying, “I want to shake your “I can count to twenty a$$ hand, you rule.” An unexpected snort noise popped out of him when I said it and laughingly shook. As soon as I turned to his friend he was already scooping up my hand and giving it a FIRM shake as he pipped in “NINE!” pointing to his cart. I squeaked -laughing so hard I couldn’t make a real noise. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything he wanted his turn. The checkout lady was fanning herself with a clean up towel and blotting her forehead and kept looking slyly over her shoulder then busting into gales of laughter she kept trying to stifle. My things were bagged and I paid for my stuff, it took probably ten minutes to get my things scanned and bagged because I relentlessly was ripping on that douche in the other line with her 90+ items… I paid and my lady handed me my receipt squeezing my hand grinning as she did.
I had a moment of shame when I realized I hadn’t actually counted my things and sheepishly looked at my total. I peeked at it, licked the back, stuck it to my forehead and loudly pronounced TWENTY. Then threw in “TWENTY – TWENTY ITEMS IN THE EXPRESS LANE AH HA HA” just like The Count again high fiving the lady and the guys behind me. I saw the ignorant woman out of the corner of my eye shooting me a go to (you know where) look and she flipped me the bird. I flashed all ten of my fingers in the air twice to indicate 20 smiled, peeled my receipt off my forehead and strolled off laughing feeling smug as (you know where.) (Orbitz mouth baby)
Karma started to kick my ASS for that one. (can’t sanitize that, it was coming – I’d earned it in spades, I just knew it was going to make me eatit.)
As I approached my car in the parking lot the first thing I noticed was that I had left my headlights on the whole time I was in the store
Oh no! The world is a wheel.
I tell myself it was worth it, I haven’t laughed so much in I don’t know how long, made everyone else in earshot laugh too to some degree or another.
(For the record, Karma had just warned me, the car started right up. Maybe Karma has a sense of humor too?
-Stacy
-egg
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 1 so far )Ok, sure, you betcha, right on
I have no idea when the mental blogtomic aftermath petered out but it has for now. I guess the honeymoon is over. The other day everything I came across turned into a blog post. Now my head is like… hmm… nobody wants to hear about THAT. haha. The gremlin is napping or sleeping or maybe I accidentally swallowed the little booger.
What’s really funny is “advice.” People want to suggest what I should put in, write or do with my blog. I’m thinking… none of you are what I’d call “successful” in the blog department – what is the appeal in listening to your advice supposed to be? (8 (bitshhh.)
Yeah.
I adore hypocrisy. Not when it involves me having to dine on crow at any point… not like that I mean in others. People get SO intent on what they say or do they fail to see it when they are the perpetrators. Point it out and WOAH, hold on now missy. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’d do right to watch what you say. OR You’re changing the subject, what I’m telling you is… blah blah blah. I have learned something awesome in my $A^#& years of bipolarness.
I have learned the merit in letting wrong people be right. It is AWESOME. You should really try to incorporate it into your personality. You know what I’m saying don’t you?
Someone you deal with says or does something that you recognize immediately as either factually incorrect, patently wrong or just plain ignorant in general. You mention in a pc way that maybe what they meant was ____insert correction here___ and they insist that what they’ve expelled is “absolutely rockin’ the poo.”
What you have to do now is ask yourself, “Is anyone going to suffer horribly over this (other than the slickness that spewed the crap in question that is,) or can this be something that Mr(s/iss) Mouth can chalk up to “Look Ma, I did it!” I’ve found that most times it’s the latter. When someone is really pushy about their faulty statements/ideas generally it’s because they need some sort of validation ~that bad~ and hey, why not be big about it and let them be Neo for once. (Everybody should get a turn at being The One.)
Try not to patronize too much when you bend on the ignorance, and don’t throw accolades over it, just say “ok” and let it go. Tada, good karma and Doofy gets a WooHoo. It’s better than an all out assault on Doofy’s stubborn ignorant pride, that is almost universally futile.
I have an ex I had to mentally throw in the towel and let him think he was correct in thinking there were 52 states. Showing him reference documentation did no good. His mind wouldn’t let him reconcile the facts with what he held true in his head. -Maybe he’ll go to the King or Queen of Spades on vacation. I pity the travel agent who has to book that reservation. If it were me I’d book him on the next short bus to the closest middle school geography class. I’d even pack a crust-less pb&j sack lunch. …yeah, I’m that kinda badasssuperbangbangrockinmommaYEAH! awwwright
honk
(that was my horn, digit) So anyway. I hope we’ve all learned a little something about ignorant people and choosing our battles! (Shut up Egg it’s not like you’re Mr. Rodgers) Geez, right ok. So I’m barefoot (eatit) and don’t wear cardigans (eatit) and wrapping this up.
That dude I dated, turned out he wasn’t as much stupid as he was a drug addict. #eatit I was the stupid one. LIKE I WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT??? I thought he had untreated mild mental health issues, I was shrink shopping to help his silly ass. Drugs, how in the hell was I supposed to know THAT? (insert your smug comments here, I can take ’em haha I can let you be right…)
Don’t forget to go guess at the magic word, scroll back a few days, enter all you want! Nothing is done with your info, at all. I could care less what your email is I’m not some net wizard. I have no ulterior motivation whatsoever. I just want to have fun with my readers and genuinely want to see if anyone can figure out what the word is/decipher how my mind works.
peacy outu (love me some higa)
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 3 so far )Show me on the doll where I touched you
I am human, I promise. Just like any other silly fool out there pounding away at their computer I dig input. It’s tough to please a crowd when you’ve no idea who your audience is… Is there an afterschool special I missed? “How to deal with blog silence.” Kristy McNichol would’ve rocked as the blogger. They could’ve used Mrs. Garrett as the wise/helpful blog guru. I’d have watched. They’d have been on a mainframe and it would have been a four part series while things loaded but I’d have stuck it out. Yeah. Maybe. Yeah, I would’ve. Back then anything was better than PBS belting out Sesame Street and networks with the soaps. (thank you dish! muah!!)
So what does it take? Dancing bears? Dancing Bare? I’m not sure I’m willing to go that far for validation. (8 Throw me a bone (get outta the gutter you know what I mean)
-Egg
On sideways note:
I love my laptop, don’t get my wrong, but I’m ready to punt it. It’s got the huge gap between the bottom and the keyboard with the monster touchpad (double button beneath.) Understand that I am poor, this is uber in my world. I do love my laptop ~however~ it’s as bipolar as I am. I swear if I breathe heavily on it the cursor f l i e s off into the middle of what I’ve already written. Always fun because I’m bad about not looking at what I type, I don’t think about what I’m doing when I type. I just think and my fingers straggle along. So here I tear off about something FABULOUS and _wham_ I’ve blown apart everything that came out of my hands. Two, sometimes three times the cursor has jumped, sometimes highlighting and erasing lines of text (I’ve caught it from the corner of my eye,) and what I’ve written is now a digital version of the leavings of a paper shredder.
Either this thing is posessed or I have wicked bad karma… or both. ~(8
Why it’s Greased Lightning!!!!!!!!!!
Today’s been weird to say the least. I never thought myself to be a “blog” kind of person. I had one a while back. I was vapid and shallow, talked about ignorant material things (mainly because at time, I was vapid, shallow, ignorant and materialistic…)
Of course, I’m so past that now. (shh, I am.)
Today I found myself on the receiving end of a less than favorable blast of unwarranted verbal accusations. The pot was calling the tv black. I was not just thrown off but annoyed. The pot (who shall remain anon.) was accusing me (the tv) of doing what the pot had just done to me. … huh… ? I bit my tongue and decided to sit to the side and was hit with a spontaneous out of body experience (8 I flew through space and time into my purse in search of candy. I was floating just above my wallet, about to enter an interior side pocket (I KNOW there were some tic tacs, maybe some of those halls strawberry slobber drops? in there) when I was SAVAGELY slammed back into my body with, “What’s your problem?”
I had no problem, I just looked blank I’m sure. I couldn’t very well tell him I was on a candy hunt on an astral plane. Things were really tense and I doubt he’d have gone for it. I tried to play it off but failed. I wound up explaining that I couldn’t say anything because no matter what I said he would play the martyr and villanize me then apologize for something that never really occurred just to portray me as “the asshole.” That opening my mouth was a lose/lose situation.
I prepared for the retaliation and what came made me freeze in my tracks for fear of the look on my face. What he retaliated with was..
What does martyr mean?
woah, I felt bad. I explained and we worked it out. We were fine it was just situational tension.
BUT
The INSTANT he asked that question an EXPLOSION of blogs shot through my head haha! I had all kinds of chaos writing, rewriting, flying off on tangents. My personal favorite was titled “Can I borrow a Christian?”
That particular bubble was centered around our misuse and abuse of the words martyr and “get off the cross” when confronted with whiny, pity partiers. I was thinking about how of all the offensive things you can do to a christian you NEVER hear them complain about people making light of their savior’s sacrifice. I’m guilty. I’ve asked a lot of people to hop off. I even mentioned it to Miss Isaiah at the gas station by my house. He said, “Giiiiiirl, I can’t tell him sorry for you – you got to get down on your KNEES!” I thought wow, that’s not going to work. I respect the living shedoobie out of what others believe – doesn’t mean I share it… I said I thought She’d be more convincing than I would. In the time it took to snag a pint of banana pudding ice cream and split (yeah, pun blah blah) I’d practically started a revival! …whoops…
You have to understand, I live in the middle of nowhere in the middle of some woods. Love the seclusion, we the wrecked and whacked out all seem to (8 ANYway, if you talk to Jesus… I just want to say I didn’t mean to make light of the whole died for your sins thing, cool?
In the middle of all that about nine gazillion other ideas popped in my head, none panned out too richly or I’d be able to remember the topics. Point is, ever since I started this thing a few days ago it’s been squatting in the back of my head. A little gremlin chanting all kinds of fun things to write to me.
One in particular is the death trap that is my car. Literally my car is lethal. Two lives have been taken just by riding in my car. Literally. I poop you not. One made it from A to B sickened then gave up the ghost before dawn the next morning. The other never made it to B. Poor soul got in my car fine and healthy, came out dead.
I’m currently planning to offer my car to Homeland Security to use in questioning terrorist suspects while in transit to Guantanamo Bay (did I spell that right?) I figure if the death car can’t make them confess ALL their horrific deeds and secrets, nothing will.
It is my patriotic duty, wouldn’t you think? Of course our service men and women would be at risk… The only possibility for survival is up front, certainly in the driver’s seat.
On second thought, no… it’s too risky. We can’t put our troops’ lives in that kind of jeopardy. (UNLESS – yeah – autopilot, robot drivers – awesome!)
Or not. Just a thought.
I really need to keep track of all the tangents and mental spooge that flies through my head, I crack me up. If I could write as fast as I talk that would be awesome.
My prose/poetry/writen-stuff is all subliminal. I’ve no idea what it is till I go back and read it. That’s always fun.
I will try to grab the lightning and go on a real tear soon and let you see what it’s like to live in my bipolarass head – it’s never dull.
Times like this, it’s fun. When I whip out the “prose” it’s something from a dark place. Don’t assume my mood from what I post though. Just because I throw prose on here doesn’t necessarily mean I’m on a downswing. If I’m blathering like this you know I’m either in a good mood or the klonopin has kicked in.
Speaking of klonopin, it’s time, it’s time!
peacy outu
p.s. Why the silent treatment, leaving a comment of some sort is not only healthy, it gives the psychiatrically challenged writer of the blog validation, we feel that it’s a necessary step in the socialization process and would ultimately be nothing but beneficial to both parties involved. um.. Medically speaking of course. yeah, that’s it. yeah.
Signed, Notta Shrink B.S.md
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 1 so far )Do dah
For the record – the othello game was lost in the migration. It was indigenous to blogspot… I’ve found no games on wordpress … carry on.
So I’m still tinkering with my blog here… I found a fake othello game. I intended to be really really productive. Honest! But………. I had to test the game out right? Yeah, consider it tested. A lot. Mucho. Excessively. I whipped its A$$. YEAH – TAKE IT – IT – IN YOUR PIXELLATED FACE REVERSI OTHELLO KNOCK OFF MUTH…. ahem. Pardon me. Needless to say it’s difficulty level is not set to a level that I find challenging. I still enjoy it thoroughly. Feel free to pound on it, Let me know your best score. I left him with 9 on the board. It was my best victory (EAT IT REVERSI) that I recall offhand. I can’t remember how many I had. (JUST HOW MANY WERE LEFT AFTER I MOWED HIS LITTLE DISK DUDES DOWN, BOW, BOW, I AM YOUR MASTER FLIPPY GAME,) I hope you find it pleasant. If you have any other thoughts or ideas of interesting little time passers let me know, I’ll see if I can dig one up. (I AM THE REVERSI COMMANDER, THAT GAME QUAKES IN FEAR WHEN I PASS – I MADE IT MY BIT .. ahem) So, now that I’ve taken a break I do believe I’ll move on to another project and maybe come back here later and post another piece of prose/writing or something of the like. I feel like venting something dark. (LIKE WHAT THAT GAME SAW WHEN I STUFFED IT IN THE FACE >YEAH<)
Take care, be well
Je veux que nouveau palourdes. Mais palourdes que parler cette fois, non pas que les anciennes. C’est vrai! … d’accord, au revoir
-egg
