Hello, followers of Tasha's Take. I no longer use my The Big Picture Blog for my novel. Therefore, I've decided to close Tasha's Take blog and keep The Big Picture Blog as my regular blog.
You may follow me at the The Big Picture Blog in case you still want to read any of my future posts.
Thanks,
Tasha
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Going on a Trip
It's been a while since I've travelled out of town. Today, Hubby and I'll be going to traverse the the beautiful mountains of Colorado. We finally have decent weather today, so we're looking forward to this expedition.
I'll visit your blogs when I come back home. Today, I'm going to enjoy myself.
Woohoo!!! Colorado, here I come!!!
I'll visit your blogs when I come back home. Today, I'm going to enjoy myself.
Woohoo!!! Colorado, here I come!!!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Water Filtration System—The Native Way
Hello, everyone. As promised at the end of my “My Life and Times as a Nudist” post, here’s another story about my life as a Native.
One of my chores while living in the barrio with my oldest sister and her family was to fetch water. It was also one of my niece’s chores. So, every day, the two of us would go to the river to fetch water in the morning after we woke up and then again in the afternoon after school.
We carried large earthen pots over our heads to transport the water. I attribute this practice to be the cause for my stunted 5’ 1” height. Judging by the size of my feet, I should be 5’9” (I’ve always wanted to be this height.). Just think what I might be able to see over the fence that now goes unseen - or be able to reach at that height without having to ask someone to get it for me. Alas, the damage was done. Now, I can only imagine what life would be like at that height. I think I’ll sue my sister for child abuse. Perhaps my niece will join me in my lawsuit. After all, her growth was stunted, too.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. Anyhow, at the river, we’d pick a sandy area about twenty or so yards from the river and then we’d dig us a water well. We’d dig the dirt out until we hit water. We’d keep digging still until there was a sufficient level of water to be scooped out. The deeper the well, the more water there was to be had. Of course, the water would come out brown and dirty-looking at first. So, we’d keep scooping the water out, removing the fine sand and the brown water.
Eventually, the new water that would seep into the well would be crystal-clear. So, even if the water in the river was the color of milk chocolate after a heavy rain, the water from the well would eventually be crystal-clear. That, my friends, was our version of a water filtration system. Many times, there’d be wells made already; so, we didn’t have to dig a new one. We just had to remove the old, standing water from the existing one until newly filtered water filled the well again.
Each armed with a coconut bowl in one hand, my niece and I’d take turns scooping water into our own large earthen pots until they were full. To be a great water scooper, you have to follow the techniques of the natives. You have to scoop the water ever so slowly, trying not to stir up the fine sand at the bottom of the well. Otherwise, you end up with a sandy and cloudy pot-full of water, which is not the result you’re looking for.
Well, folks, that’s all for now. See ya’ll here next time to read more about my life as a Native.
Thank you for your time.
One of my chores while living in the barrio with my oldest sister and her family was to fetch water. It was also one of my niece’s chores. So, every day, the two of us would go to the river to fetch water in the morning after we woke up and then again in the afternoon after school.
We carried large earthen pots over our heads to transport the water. I attribute this practice to be the cause for my stunted 5’ 1” height. Judging by the size of my feet, I should be 5’9” (I’ve always wanted to be this height.). Just think what I might be able to see over the fence that now goes unseen - or be able to reach at that height without having to ask someone to get it for me. Alas, the damage was done. Now, I can only imagine what life would be like at that height. I think I’ll sue my sister for child abuse. Perhaps my niece will join me in my lawsuit. After all, her growth was stunted, too.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. Anyhow, at the river, we’d pick a sandy area about twenty or so yards from the river and then we’d dig us a water well. We’d dig the dirt out until we hit water. We’d keep digging still until there was a sufficient level of water to be scooped out. The deeper the well, the more water there was to be had. Of course, the water would come out brown and dirty-looking at first. So, we’d keep scooping the water out, removing the fine sand and the brown water.
Eventually, the new water that would seep into the well would be crystal-clear. So, even if the water in the river was the color of milk chocolate after a heavy rain, the water from the well would eventually be crystal-clear. That, my friends, was our version of a water filtration system. Many times, there’d be wells made already; so, we didn’t have to dig a new one. We just had to remove the old, standing water from the existing one until newly filtered water filled the well again.
Each armed with a coconut bowl in one hand, my niece and I’d take turns scooping water into our own large earthen pots until they were full. To be a great water scooper, you have to follow the techniques of the natives. You have to scoop the water ever so slowly, trying not to stir up the fine sand at the bottom of the well. Otherwise, you end up with a sandy and cloudy pot-full of water, which is not the result you’re looking for.
Well, folks, that’s all for now. See ya’ll here next time to read more about my life as a Native.
Thank you for your time.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
My Life and Times as a Nudist
Shocked, are you? Sorry to disappoint you about my goody-two-shoes image that some of you may have about me. Can you forgive me? It was all in my past, you see, and it was so long ago. I was the same person then as you’ve come to know now, only younger, naïve, and oh so innocent back then.
Without further ado, here’s my story.
For almost three years, I was a nudist. But before I became a nudist, I was this spoiled city girl—a daddy’s girl—who lived in a house with modern amenities like indoor plumbing and electricity. You have to understand that in the Philippines at that time, some 40-odd years ago, this was living well above the poverty level.
Unfortunately, all that changed when my father died. My mother had married my father when she was only fourteen years old. (They had to lie about her age, saying that she was sixteen, so the Catholic Church would marry them.) Other than owning her own businesses, that my father had financed, my mother never worked for anyone during her entire married life. Unfortunately, due to her being illiterate, every single one of her businesses had shortly gone bankrupt within a year or two. Therefore, when my father died, she had no marketable skills. In short, she had no means of supporting us, her three youngest children. (There were nine of us, and I was the youngest.) My much older, married siblings offered to take us into their homes.
I had just turned seven years old when my father died. Six months after his passing, I went to live with my oldest sister and her family in one of the most remote mountain regions of the Philippines, where my sister and her husband taught school.
When I first arrived there, I was shocked to see people naked, bathing and swimming in the river. I’d never seen naked people before, aside from seeing my own body when I was showering in privacy. I’d never gone swimming before either, so I didn’t know how to swim. I also didn’t have a bathing suit. In the beginning, I just observed everyone. Then I went wading in the river with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Kids there thought I must be crazy or something. All eyes were on me each time they saw me in the water fully clothed. When I eventually learned how to swim, I found out that wearing my t-shirt and shorts made swimming much more difficult. They were dragging me down. My niece, who is two years older than I, went swimming naked, and so did all the other kids our age. I decided to become one with the natives; I had to adapt to their lifestyle.
Even at my young age, I felt embarrassed to be naked, even, amongst the throngs of other naked people. I felt so self-conscious and uncomfortable. However, the feelings didn’t last for very long, because then, the other kids didn’t pay much attention to me anymore. To them, I was just another nude body. I didn’t stand out in the crowd anymore. So, for the almost three years that I lived there, I was a nudist.
You’re probably asking yourselves what the adults did, eh?. Well, from what I recall, the native adult, married women would normally be dressed in their woven wrap-around skirts with no tops on. I don’t think that they wore underwear, either. I know what you men out there are thinking and imagining. But go ahead, it’s a free country. Just don’t be blaming me for any ill/good effects of your thoughts and wild imagination. You’re on your own on that one.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was talking about the women. Anyway, when the women took their baths, they’d go to one of the more secluded areas where there were a lot less people. They’d unwrap their skirts, being careful not to show their pubic hairs to anyone, especially to adult males, by repositioning one leg. (Just in case there were any adult males out there in the bushes, peeping…I wouldn’t know.) Once they put their skirts neatly on the ground, they then put their hands over their pubic area as they walked to the river until they submerged their bodies in the water waist deep.
Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing adult males taking baths where we bathed. Perhaps they took their baths somewhere else. I’ve never seen my sister go swimming or taking a bath in the river, either. I remember her taking baths in the makeshift bathroom outside of their house, using the water that we fetched from the river well. I suppose she was too proper and modest to be one of us nudists.
My life as a nudist had to end though when I went to live with my other sister and her family in a province where nudity of any kind was considered a taboo. Also, as I became a young adult, I became aware of all the changes that my body had undergone. With that, I became overly self-conscious again, to the point that, for a short time into my marriage, I didn’t even allow my husband to see me naked! Poor man. He had to use a lot of his imagination, I suppose.
Well, that’s all folks!
If you’ve enjoyed this one, be sure to check in every now and then for more stories about my life as a native.
Without further ado, here’s my story.
For almost three years, I was a nudist. But before I became a nudist, I was this spoiled city girl—a daddy’s girl—who lived in a house with modern amenities like indoor plumbing and electricity. You have to understand that in the Philippines at that time, some 40-odd years ago, this was living well above the poverty level.
Unfortunately, all that changed when my father died. My mother had married my father when she was only fourteen years old. (They had to lie about her age, saying that she was sixteen, so the Catholic Church would marry them.) Other than owning her own businesses, that my father had financed, my mother never worked for anyone during her entire married life. Unfortunately, due to her being illiterate, every single one of her businesses had shortly gone bankrupt within a year or two. Therefore, when my father died, she had no marketable skills. In short, she had no means of supporting us, her three youngest children. (There were nine of us, and I was the youngest.) My much older, married siblings offered to take us into their homes.
I had just turned seven years old when my father died. Six months after his passing, I went to live with my oldest sister and her family in one of the most remote mountain regions of the Philippines, where my sister and her husband taught school.
When I first arrived there, I was shocked to see people naked, bathing and swimming in the river. I’d never seen naked people before, aside from seeing my own body when I was showering in privacy. I’d never gone swimming before either, so I didn’t know how to swim. I also didn’t have a bathing suit. In the beginning, I just observed everyone. Then I went wading in the river with a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Kids there thought I must be crazy or something. All eyes were on me each time they saw me in the water fully clothed. When I eventually learned how to swim, I found out that wearing my t-shirt and shorts made swimming much more difficult. They were dragging me down. My niece, who is two years older than I, went swimming naked, and so did all the other kids our age. I decided to become one with the natives; I had to adapt to their lifestyle.
Even at my young age, I felt embarrassed to be naked, even, amongst the throngs of other naked people. I felt so self-conscious and uncomfortable. However, the feelings didn’t last for very long, because then, the other kids didn’t pay much attention to me anymore. To them, I was just another nude body. I didn’t stand out in the crowd anymore. So, for the almost three years that I lived there, I was a nudist.
You’re probably asking yourselves what the adults did, eh?. Well, from what I recall, the native adult, married women would normally be dressed in their woven wrap-around skirts with no tops on. I don’t think that they wore underwear, either. I know what you men out there are thinking and imagining. But go ahead, it’s a free country. Just don’t be blaming me for any ill/good effects of your thoughts and wild imagination. You’re on your own on that one.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, I was talking about the women. Anyway, when the women took their baths, they’d go to one of the more secluded areas where there were a lot less people. They’d unwrap their skirts, being careful not to show their pubic hairs to anyone, especially to adult males, by repositioning one leg. (Just in case there were any adult males out there in the bushes, peeping…I wouldn’t know.) Once they put their skirts neatly on the ground, they then put their hands over their pubic area as they walked to the river until they submerged their bodies in the water waist deep.
Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing adult males taking baths where we bathed. Perhaps they took their baths somewhere else. I’ve never seen my sister go swimming or taking a bath in the river, either. I remember her taking baths in the makeshift bathroom outside of their house, using the water that we fetched from the river well. I suppose she was too proper and modest to be one of us nudists.
My life as a nudist had to end though when I went to live with my other sister and her family in a province where nudity of any kind was considered a taboo. Also, as I became a young adult, I became aware of all the changes that my body had undergone. With that, I became overly self-conscious again, to the point that, for a short time into my marriage, I didn’t even allow my husband to see me naked! Poor man. He had to use a lot of his imagination, I suppose.
Well, that’s all folks!
If you’ve enjoyed this one, be sure to check in every now and then for more stories about my life as a native.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Owen Fiddler
Hello, everyone. This is my first time ever to review a book. I hope to be fair, objective, and non-biased.
This past Christmas, I’ve received a dozen or so books as gifts from my family. Eight of the books were written by other bloggers. I tell you, these bloggers are just as talented as those mentioned on the New York Times best-sellers list.
Today, I’m going to review Owen Fiddler, written by my blog friend, Marvin D. Wilson.
Owen Fiddler takes you along on his life’s journey - a journey filled with trials and tribulations that he must confront and conquer along the way. He could never seem to get it right in his life up until the very end. But man, oh, man, the journey he takes you on is just one adventure after the next. I couldn’t put this book down. I read it in bed, in the bathroom, during my lunch break at work, and while waiting in the car for my husband to meet me for lunch.
I strongly recommend this book to anyone. I know that I won’t be going into much detail, but I don’t want to give the story away, either. You’ll just have to read this book to appreciate Marvin’s creative writing and story-telling skill. He did such a wonderful job in writing it. He writes in a common, everyday language. He describes sex and fighting scenes without sugar coating them. (some of the language -and the sex - and fighting scenes might actually be a bit too raw, harsh, and graphic for some readers. I know they are for me. Tee, hee.). But by doing so, Marvin captures the true essence of each of his characters’ dialects, speech patterns, and lifestyle, lending a high degree of credence and authenticity to his characters.
The story is fast moving, heart thumping, and full of adventure - a page-turner. I can promise you’ll not be bored or disappointed. You’ll be saying “Whoa” or “Wow” when you finish reading it. It’s just that good. The story gives you a satisfying ending, which to me is very important whenever I’m reading a book or watching a movie.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading the dialogue between the two young women in the car (near the beginning of the story) and what is almost a monologue by Jewel’s nurse when Jewel had her doctor’s appointment. I could really relate to these scenarios.
There you have it—my very first book review!
Marvin D. Wilson claims this about himself: I am an old Hippie rock and roller, a non-religious, dogma free, Maverick spiritualist Christian. I am an author, with the audacity to write novels. I also am an editor. I’m on the editors staff at All Things That Matter Press and also do freelance. For a rate quote, contact me at marvwilson2020@gmail.com
You may also visit Marvin at The Old Silly’s Free Spirit Blog where you’ll read his daily postings that inspires, informs, educates, humors, rants, and whatever else he comes up with on a whim for that day. All is worth reading. If only I have all the time in the world to read every single one of them...
This past Christmas, I’ve received a dozen or so books as gifts from my family. Eight of the books were written by other bloggers. I tell you, these bloggers are just as talented as those mentioned on the New York Times best-sellers list.
Today, I’m going to review Owen Fiddler, written by my blog friend, Marvin D. Wilson.
Owen Fiddler takes you along on his life’s journey - a journey filled with trials and tribulations that he must confront and conquer along the way. He could never seem to get it right in his life up until the very end. But man, oh, man, the journey he takes you on is just one adventure after the next. I couldn’t put this book down. I read it in bed, in the bathroom, during my lunch break at work, and while waiting in the car for my husband to meet me for lunch.
I strongly recommend this book to anyone. I know that I won’t be going into much detail, but I don’t want to give the story away, either. You’ll just have to read this book to appreciate Marvin’s creative writing and story-telling skill. He did such a wonderful job in writing it. He writes in a common, everyday language. He describes sex and fighting scenes without sugar coating them. (some of the language -and the sex - and fighting scenes might actually be a bit too raw, harsh, and graphic for some readers. I know they are for me. Tee, hee.). But by doing so, Marvin captures the true essence of each of his characters’ dialects, speech patterns, and lifestyle, lending a high degree of credence and authenticity to his characters.
The story is fast moving, heart thumping, and full of adventure - a page-turner. I can promise you’ll not be bored or disappointed. You’ll be saying “Whoa” or “Wow” when you finish reading it. It’s just that good. The story gives you a satisfying ending, which to me is very important whenever I’m reading a book or watching a movie.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading the dialogue between the two young women in the car (near the beginning of the story) and what is almost a monologue by Jewel’s nurse when Jewel had her doctor’s appointment. I could really relate to these scenarios.
There you have it—my very first book review!
Marvin D. Wilson claims this about himself: I am an old Hippie rock and roller, a non-religious, dogma free, Maverick spiritualist Christian. I am an author, with the audacity to write novels. I also am an editor. I’m on the editors staff at All Things That Matter Press and also do freelance. For a rate quote, contact me at marvwilson2020@gmail.com
You may also visit Marvin at The Old Silly’s Free Spirit Blog where you’ll read his daily postings that inspires, informs, educates, humors, rants, and whatever else he comes up with on a whim for that day. All is worth reading. If only I have all the time in the world to read every single one of them...
Sunday, January 17, 2010
DIARY OF A SNOW SHOVELER
Hello everyone. A friend of mine emailed this to me. I agree with her that this is too funny NOT to share. Hope you'd get a kick out of it. I do hope though that this is all fiction. You'll know why at the end.
Whoever wrote this piece, please speak up so that we can give you proper credit.
DIARY OF A SNOW SHOVELER:
December 8 - 6:00 PM It started to snow. The first snow of the
season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by
the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It
looked like a Grandma Moses print. So romantic, we felt like
newlyweds again. I love snow!
December 9 - We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow
covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can
there be a more lovely place in the whole world? Moving here was the
best idea I've ever had! Shoveled for the first time in years and
felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks.
This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks
and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect
life!
December 12 - The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a
disappointment! My neighbor tells me not to worry- we'll definitely
have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob
says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never
want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a
nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.
December 14 - Snow, lovely snow! 8 inches last night. The
temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so.
The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the
driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back
this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would
have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in
shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.
December 15 - 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4
Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels.
Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the
electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska,
after all.
December 16 - Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in
the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for
an hour, which I think was very cruel.
December 17 - Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go
anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the
blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and
try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but
won't admit it to her. God! I hate it when she's right. I can't
believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.
December 20 - Electricity's back on, but had another 14 inches of
the damn stuff last night. More shoveling! Took all day. The damn
snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but
they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying.
Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow
blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I
think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have
it done and bill me. I think he's lying.
December 22 - Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more
inches of the white shit fell today, and it's so cold, it probably
won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to
go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got
undressed, pissed and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel.
Tried to hire Bob-who has a plow on his truck-for the rest of the
winter, but he says he's too busy. I think the asshole is lying.
December 23 - Only 2 inches of snow today. And it warmed up to 0.
The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning.
What is she, nuts?!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago?
She says she did but I think she's lying.
December 24 - 6 inches - Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke
the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the
son of a bitch who drives that snow plow, I'll drag him through the
snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I
know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish
shoveling, and then he comes down the street...at a 100 miles an
hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife
wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our
presents...but I was too busy watching for the damn snowplow.
December 25 - Merry f---ing Christmas! 20 more inches of the damn
slop tonight - snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil.
God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a
donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I
have a bad attitude. I think she's a fricking idiot. If I have to
watch "It's A Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her
into the microwave.
December 26 - Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It
was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.
December 27 - Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze;
plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me
$1,400 to replace all my pipes.
December 28 - Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. The BITCH is
driving me crazy!!!
December 29 - 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or
it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb
does he think I am?
December 30 - Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver, and now
he is suing me for a million dollars, not only for the beating I
gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his
ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine more inches predicted.
December 31 - I set fire to what's left of the house. No more
shoveling.
January 8 - Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they
keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed ???
Whoever wrote this piece, please speak up so that we can give you proper credit.
DIARY OF A SNOW SHOVELER:
December 8 - 6:00 PM It started to snow. The first snow of the
season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by
the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It
looked like a Grandma Moses print. So romantic, we felt like
newlyweds again. I love snow!
December 9 - We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow
covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can
there be a more lovely place in the whole world? Moving here was the
best idea I've ever had! Shoveled for the first time in years and
felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks.
This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks
and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect
life!
December 12 - The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a
disappointment! My neighbor tells me not to worry- we'll definitely
have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob
says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never
want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a
nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.
December 14 - Snow, lovely snow! 8 inches last night. The
temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so.
The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the
driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back
this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would
have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in
shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.
December 15 - 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4
Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels.
Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the
electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska,
after all.
December 16 - Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in
the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for
an hour, which I think was very cruel.
December 17 - Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go
anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the
blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and
try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but
won't admit it to her. God! I hate it when she's right. I can't
believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.
December 20 - Electricity's back on, but had another 14 inches of
the damn stuff last night. More shoveling! Took all day. The damn
snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but
they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying.
Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow
blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I
think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have
it done and bill me. I think he's lying.
December 22 - Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more
inches of the white shit fell today, and it's so cold, it probably
won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to
go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got
undressed, pissed and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel.
Tried to hire Bob-who has a plow on his truck-for the rest of the
winter, but he says he's too busy. I think the asshole is lying.
December 23 - Only 2 inches of snow today. And it warmed up to 0.
The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning.
What is she, nuts?!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago?
She says she did but I think she's lying.
December 24 - 6 inches - Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke
the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the
son of a bitch who drives that snow plow, I'll drag him through the
snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I
know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish
shoveling, and then he comes down the street...at a 100 miles an
hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife
wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our
presents...but I was too busy watching for the damn snowplow.
December 25 - Merry f---ing Christmas! 20 more inches of the damn
slop tonight - snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil.
God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a
donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I
have a bad attitude. I think she's a fricking idiot. If I have to
watch "It's A Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her
into the microwave.
December 26 - Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It
was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.
December 27 - Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze;
plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me
$1,400 to replace all my pipes.
December 28 - Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. The BITCH is
driving me crazy!!!
December 29 - 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or
it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb
does he think I am?
December 30 - Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver, and now
he is suing me for a million dollars, not only for the beating I
gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his
ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine more inches predicted.
December 31 - I set fire to what's left of the house. No more
shoveling.
January 8 - Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they
keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed ???
Monday, May 11, 2009
Pick-Me-Upper-Kind-of-Music
Everybody has gloomy days, right? And, that includes me. After a time of feeling down and lousy, I tell myself, “It’s time to get out of this rut.” However, it’s not that simple. There’s no magic wand that I can just wave in the air and, voila, I’m cured of the gloom and doom disease. First, I have to battle those voices inside my head. The voices are giving me conflicting messages.
One voice, the optimist, says, “I’m tired of feeling miserable, so, do something about it, will ya?”
Another voice, the pessimist, says, “I feel lousy! I still want to feel lousy and miserable! I don’t want to get out of this rut I’m in, so, just leave me alone!”
“For crying out loud, grow up and get over it!” the optimist admonishes the pessimist.
I don’t like those two voices to keep arguing and wasting more of my energy; therefore, I ultimately take control of the situation. What made me feel blue in the first place?
“You idiot, if you hadn’t been listening to those sad songs you wouldn’t have gotten us into this,” the optimist scolds me.
“Okay. My bad. You’re right!” I say.
“Play the upbeat music. It works every time,” the optimist says.
“No! Don’t you dare!” the pessimist says. “I’ll try to behave. I promise to not bother you anymore. Just don’t play the upbeat music, please? Pretty please?”
“Duh! The only way you leave her alone and not bother her is when she’s happy. And guess what helps her with that, huh?”
“Okay, enough of your arguing, you, two!” I finally say. With that said I queue up my pick-me-upper-kind-of music and crank it up.
Here’s my Pick-Me-Upper-Kind-of-Music playlist. I hope it has the same effect on you as it has on me.
One voice, the optimist, says, “I’m tired of feeling miserable, so, do something about it, will ya?”
Another voice, the pessimist, says, “I feel lousy! I still want to feel lousy and miserable! I don’t want to get out of this rut I’m in, so, just leave me alone!”
“For crying out loud, grow up and get over it!” the optimist admonishes the pessimist.
I don’t like those two voices to keep arguing and wasting more of my energy; therefore, I ultimately take control of the situation. What made me feel blue in the first place?
“You idiot, if you hadn’t been listening to those sad songs you wouldn’t have gotten us into this,” the optimist scolds me.
“Okay. My bad. You’re right!” I say.
“Play the upbeat music. It works every time,” the optimist says.
“No! Don’t you dare!” the pessimist says. “I’ll try to behave. I promise to not bother you anymore. Just don’t play the upbeat music, please? Pretty please?”
“Duh! The only way you leave her alone and not bother her is when she’s happy. And guess what helps her with that, huh?”
“Okay, enough of your arguing, you, two!” I finally say. With that said I queue up my pick-me-upper-kind-of music and crank it up.
Here’s my Pick-Me-Upper-Kind-of-Music playlist. I hope it has the same effect on you as it has on me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)