A Random Image

Archive for September, 2002

|| September 22, 2002 || 5:02 pm || Comments (0) ||


|| September 22, 2002 || 2:39 pm || Comments (5) ||

I heart Laura. She is nerdyweirdgirl like me. Except that she has geektastic skills and she’s mondo laid-back. And she doesn’t say ‘fuck’ as much.

But I’ll change that last thing, oh yes I will….

JettSuperior: HEY! If I were you, my nick
would be “lauroid”

JettSuperior: yee!

m0rgaana: heh

JettSuperior: Henceforward you are THE

m0rgaana: and thus spake jettsuperior

JettSuperior: I am changing your buddy name
to reflect that.

JettSuperior: because it rocks much.

JettSuperior: oh no, that will never do.

JettSuperior: because now you don’t show up.

JettSuperior: DRAT. foiled ay-gain!

m0rgaana: awwww

m0rgaana: stupid aim

m0rgaana: it should bend to your will!


JettSuperior: I want another, daddy!

JettSuperior: I want it NOW!

JettSuperior: (who am I?)

m0rgaana: veruca salt?

JettSuperior: VERRRRY spanky, dear!

JettSuperior: you need a prize?

JettSuperior: I mean, you need a prize.

m0rgaana: i want an oompah loompah

JettSuperior: nothing ‘american idol’

m0rgaana: heh

JettSuperior: I have a fuzzy notebook with
matching pen?

m0rgaana: well, on the other hand, that’s
cash money

JettSuperior: it is a hideous pink color.

m0rgaana: yee!

m0rgaana: oooo!

JettSuperior: OR…

JettSuperior: a UNICORN pillow!@

m0rgaana: is it sparkley or furry?

m0rgaana: oh, i’m scared of unicorns

JettSuperior: the body is square and

JettSuperior: it has a head poking out of
one corner.

m0rgaana: oh, well then

JettSuperior: really quite ghastly and

JettSuperior: silver horn.

m0rgaana: it could frighten people at the
office. like my other toys don’t already

JettSuperior: hm.

JettSuperior: I have a package of swat team
men. they look like little green
soldiers, only they’re blue and five
inches tall.

JettSuperior: they fucking ROCK.

JettSuperior: like yo momma.

m0rgaana: oooo! do they get along with

JettSuperior: hmmm….i’ll have to check the
toxicity rating, because I DID buy them
at the dollar store.

JettSuperior: you know how ‘tha man’ tries
to nuke off the little po’ kids.

m0rgaana: heh. the giraffe i found in the
street doesn’t seem to be a problem

m0rgaana: yum. outgassing.

m0rgaana: new car smell=slow death. yay!

JettSuperior: what else do I have???

JettSuperior: hmmm….

JettSuperior: you MUST apply for a TACKY PACKtm this month.

m0rgaana: your respect!

JettSuperior: earn some free boodle.

m0rgaana: i must!

JettSuperior: I have pens shaped like frogs
with light-up eyes and a suction cup on
the base!

JettSuperior: creeeeepy!

JettSuperior: woooo!

m0rgaana: neat!

m0rgaana: er, gotta pee. brb

JettSuperior: I have….a candle shaped like

JettSuperior: A ROCK, I tell yoU!@

m0rgaana: haha!

m0rgaana: i’ve got one shaped like a

m0rgaana: i’m sure it’s for evil doing

JettSuperior: I have several shaped like
little gravestones, but those aren’t
tackypack fodder.

JettSuperior: *gasp*

JettSuperior: when is your birthday?

m0rgaana: may 14

JettSuperior: I could make you a cake with

m0rgaana: yay!

JettSuperior: they are eensy and grey and
say ‘RIP’ on them!

JettSuperior: that would be the FIRE!!

m0rgaana: oooo!

JettSuperior: You would love me long time!

m0rgaana: yep

m0rgaana: haha

m0rgaana: i luv dirty rap

JettSuperior: given your maudlin

m0rgaana: i’m not perky, but i wanna be

JettSuperior: You are SO perky.

JettSuperior: In and understated way.

JettSuperior: That was evident when you

JettSuperior: “LOOK AT THE MONKEY!”

JettSuperior: I loved you then.

JettSuperior: I knew you were the girl for

m0rgaana: heehee

JettSuperior: Eric could have leftovers.

JettSuperior: BWAAAAAhahaha!

m0rgaana: lol

m0rgaana: i think he’s scared we’re talkin

m0rgaana: ;-)

JettSuperior: he SOOOO is!

JettSuperior: and don’t you LOVE it?

m0rgaana: we’ll see if he gives me the 3rd

JettSuperior: It’s just been so long since I
spoke with a NORMAL girl.

m0rgaana: i have no secrets!

JettSuperior: sorry if i’m glomming on.

m0rgaana: no, i understand completely. i
don’t usually get along with women

JettSuperior: I hate them.

JettSuperior: they sux0r.

m0rgaana: yeah

JettSuperior: Most women seem to feel as if
they were placed on the planet to be in
competition with all other females.

JettSuperior: it’s repulsive, man.

m0rgaana: yeah

JettSuperior: and so uptight.

m0rgaana: i think the heat in the south
melts their brains

JettSuperior: and who HAS to wear makeup to
the seven-eleven?

JettSuperior: not just the south.

JettSuperior: they’re that way all over.

JettSuperior: yankee bitches are just as

m0rgaana: er, make-up? i love it. i’m just
too lazy to wear it

JettSuperior: I love it, too.

JettSuperior: I just don’t view it as a

JettSuperior: forshitsakes.


JettSuperior: I’m SO that way with LIP

JettSuperior: and shoes and books and pens.

m0rgaana: mmmmm…..shoes and books
and pens….

JettSuperior: there you have it. all my
weaknesses laid out before thee.

m0rgaana: i must have postit notes

JettSuperior: I only like the little
celluloid ones.

JettSuperior: I tremble before them.

m0rgaana: i need to write on them

JettSuperior: and celluloid gift bags. Never
mind that they are see through.

JettSuperior: MUSt….HAVE….THEM!!!

JettSuperior: Aw, fuck. Paper products in

m0rgaana: heh

JettSuperior: They send me all orgasmic and

JettSuperior: and anything remotely tacky.

m0rgaana: el barto?

JettSuperior: one day maybe I’ll be rich
enough to have a ‘tacky room’

JettSuperior: el barto?

m0rgaana: yes, you need el barto

JettSuperior: that is?

JettSuperior: OOOH!

m0rgaana: bart simpson in a sombrero.
you get them in mexico

JettSuperior: yesterday I found EVERY ONE of
the Metallica action figures!

m0rgaana: a ceramic thing, i think

JettSuperior: I am saving my change as we

m0rgaana: woo!

JettSuperior: freak, i am.

m0rgaana: there is the best thrift store for
toys in knoxville tn

JettSuperior: *gasp*

JettSuperior: *waves her away*

m0rgaana: i got scooby doo and gang in a
coffin on wheels there

JettSuperior: stop…taunting….ack.

m0rgaana: a small inflatable ursula

JettSuperior: REALLY?

JettSuperior: no. REALLY?

m0rgaana: yep.

JettSuperior: the most far-out thing was?

m0rgaana: wondering if i got my tick on
wheels there….

JettSuperior: Oh, hey! Forgot you were a
fellow tick lover!

JettSuperior: *had a thought*

JettSuperior: we should all ride up to Amish
country together one weekend.

JettSuperior: mmmm…apple butter.

m0rgaana: oh, theonesnowman is
supposed to be burning all the tick
episodes to cd for me

m0rgaana: *dangle*

m0rgaana: i luv apple butter!

JettSuperior: trade you a ride to amish
country for a copy o’ the disc….

m0rgaana: can we get online there?

JettSuperior: I’m sure you can. They have
stereos in their buggies.

m0rgaana: no trade needed. i’ll share once
i get my hands on it

JettSuperior: If not, we can make it a
daytrip for you webjunkies out there.

JettSuperior: Do you dig camping?

m0rgaana: can you do that in a day?

JettSuperior: yeah.

JettSuperior: it’s only a couple hours from

m0rgaana: if by camping you mean motel
6, sure!

JettSuperior: leave in the ay emm, come back
to here in the pee emm.

JettSuperior: OKAY!

JettSuperior: I really must bid you
adieu, madame.

m0rgaana: g’nite!

JettSuperior: you DO know that large chunks
of this are going on my site, don’t you??

JettSuperior: LOL

(and thanks for cheering me up. You SO

m0rgaana: no problem. eric already posted
my story

m0rgaana: yay!!!

JettSuperior: I TOLD HIM TO!

m0rgaana: hee hee

JettSuperior: HE IS BENT!

JettSuperior: TOMYWILL!

m0rgaana: can we play tug of war with

JettSuperior: ahh, hell, you can HAVE him….I
have too many.

m0rgaana: yee!

JettSuperior: BUT, i reserve the right to take
his psychoses out to play with now and again.

JettSuperior: LOL

m0rgaana: absolutely. they need exercise
from time to time

JettSuperior: Okay!

JettSuperior: byE now!

m0rgaana: bye!

|| September 20, 2002 || 9:03 pm || Comments (2) ||

If you are shipping bees to Canada, you should know that they are not insurable. NOT.

And don’t you even THINK of sending any used beehives up there!!

Thanks for the well-wishes, guys. They helped, they really did. After a bout with a ‘typographical error’ by my bank (which left my account with all of ninety-seven cents….motherfuck) and a really ugly case of strep for me, things are beginning to look up again. Let’s all hold hands and sing “Here Comes The Sun” really loudly!

Beer and sausages to ya!
pee ess….TACKY PACKtm

|| September 18, 2002 || 9:50 am || Comments (12) ||

I am trying like hell not to host a pity party for myself.

I believe in being proactive rather than prone when the chips are down. I am one of those buffoons that people like to make fun of; you know the kind: They believe that if they try like hell and don’t give up and have an earnest heart coupled with their efforts, then God is gonna take care of the situation(s). I am that person, generally.

The way things are going as of late, however, make me think that even this post will go belly-up before it sees the light of day. I want to throw my hands up, heave a big sob and go outside to lie in a mud puddle (face down, y’all) and let the rain pelt my tired skin.

Scout broke her arm on Thursday evening. We were informed that she would have to suffer with it until Monday when she visited the orthopedic guy. They said they’d prescribe her Motrin (WOO!) for pain, but upon seeing the x-rays, I balked. “You give my baby something so that she doesn’t have to hurt for four fucking days. Motrin, my ass.” She awoke with a stomach virus the next day, making the liquid Lortab they gave her useless.

Friday afternoon, unbeknownst to us, Mathias let Baxter outside. Hell, he didn’t know any better; he just saw us doing it when Bax went to sit next to the door patiently, so Mathias thought he was ‘hepping’. One hour later we got to wondering where the dog was and found him on the porch, shaking and bleeding. Profusely. He had two huge holes in his left hind leg and I could see bone and tendon and before all was said and done my bathroom (and some of me) was covered in blood and dog vomit. Poor thing was shocky and I couldn’t ascertain the extent of damage for all the blood and goo.

Sam, though, he was great. He was better than great. “Mom, why are you crying?” he asked calmly and levelly. Normally I am the epitome of calm in a yucky situation, but I didn’t know how badly hurt the dog was. I could just picture having to line up three little pet-loving faces and tell them that their dog was no more.

I told the vet flat out, “If this is gonna be more than a hundred and fifty bucks, doc, I’m asking you to tell me now so that arrangements can be made to put this dog down and so I can break it to those three kids out there in the waiting room.” Bax came home yesterday, limping and car-shy, but basically okay. The holes are still there and he requires fresh dressings and antibiotics daily. He’s a little down in the mouth, but hopefully we’ll be able to restore his frisky spirit, since he’s so young, and he’ll forget about all this. No baths for awhile, though, so we will have a stinky dog for a bit.

I got word on Sunday –too late to make the funeral– that a friend of mine died during the week. His name was Mark and he was an exceptionally talented person, accomplished as an actor, choreographer and fashion designer. He was only 31 and had a bone disease. He died on the operating table in the midst of a bone marrow transplant. *sigh* Such a good, good person….

Scout’s bone was broken and buckled, but the orthopedist said that her age is an advantage. Apparently if she were 10 years older the injury would be problematic, but as she’s a mere 9 it’s largely self-correcting if set properly. Whew. I wrote, “Remember to take your calcium!” on her cast. Her dad wrote, “Stay away from monkey bars!” I am normally one who advises those who’ve been bucked to get back up there and ride, but I agree with Scouty’s dad on this one. The monkey bars are No Friend Of Hers.

This morning Sam woke up with a sore throat. In most kids, this isn’t a big deal, but Sam has TS and a case of strep it could exacerbate his tics to such an extent that he could be rendered largely unable to function (if you recall the episode toward the end of school last year…that’s what I’m talking about). Upon calling his physician, I received word that there are problems with his insurance. Essentially his provider is refusing to see him, even if I pay cash for the visit. If you know me at all, then you know the sense of outrage that this evoked. To me it’s moral affront that a doctor would refuse care knowing that my son’s –or anyone’s child, for that matter– quality of life could be affected (I’m sure it fucking happens EVERY fucking DAY, and I believe that we should be able to storm their offices and string them up when it does). Then there is the completely seperate issue that bitchyouarefuckingwithMYkid and that, as you may or may not know, is completely unacceptable. I just don’t understand it. We are model patients; we don’t use the doctor unnecessarily (“Uh, my kid has sniffles. I need to see you immediately and I insist that you prescribe antibiotics”), we comply with medical instruction and advice, we are respectful of both them and their offices when there and dealing with them via phone….I just don’t get it. I am earnestly considering taking this one to my attorney; doesn’t my child have a right to be treated in this situation? Do we have legal recourse?

And Scout has pinkeye. She needed to be seen as well.

Not to mention the orthopedic referrals. The primary physician was supposed to be handling this. I’m pretty sure that they will not now. And if the insurance glitch is long-term, what then? I can’t afford it. I just can’t. One big bill (the orthopedic guy, Sam’s neurologist, etc) or short-term hospital stay (two days or less) would just mow us under financially. We could –and would, in all probability– lose everything. Everything. We are of that segment of society that is not poor enough to merit this-and-that assistance, and I’ve not checked the ‘official’ figures, but I’m sure we barely float above the poverty line as well.

We try, and sometimes it doesn’t seem like the effort is acknowlegded, that it even matters.

Today, right now as I type this, I’m falling under the wagon wheels and am sorta not inclined to get up. Days like today bring back the itch, the one that is ever-present and tenuously held at bay. On these days I want to run right out and score the biggest baggie of anything available and wallow in junkiedom once again. I think too much and I feel too acutely.

I think too much and feel too much and I’m tired of being a grown-up and I know in my heart of hearts and head of heads that this is not viewed as okay, but the prevailing sentiment is one of not wanting to be an adult any fucking more.

|| September 14, 2002 || 12:10 pm || Comments (7) ||

Scout vs. The Monkeybars

::a rematch::

Remember all that? *points to cast*

She lost. Again. Only broke one thing this time instead of two. But the one thing requires a specialist, and we see him on Monday.

More later. So tire….zzzzzzz.

|| September 11, 2002 || 10:02 pm || Comments (12) ||

Is it all over yet? Are they done? I would like to watch a little tubage tonight before I noddy-odd off.


I am going to fucking wreck the next person’s head that plays that fucking ‘Hero‘ song in relation (simpy sing-songy voice here) to niiiine-onne-onnnnne. And I am going to jerk the gonads out of anyone else (if you’re female, I’ll jerk them out of your father and make you eat them –uncooked) who refers to the day with catchy, quasi-cutesy tag lines: nine-one-one, nine-eleven. It is September The Eleventh, you fuckmunches. Okay, September Eleventh will do as well. I don’t give a marginally tidy piss in a can if you’re exactly grammatically correct about it. After all, TECHNICALLY, as it is ‘war-related’, it is Eleven September.

It’s not that I hate the song, really (but I sort of do)…but it is so glaringly and fucktardedly being played OUT OF CONTEXT. The song isn’t uplifting and saying “Oorah for heroes!”, it is a cry of despair, saying that there are NONE OUT THERE. The ‘other side(s)’ should be playing it. Why am I the only person who is still marginally sane enough to get this???

I wonder what Chad-motherfucking-Kroeger thinks about this. I bet he wants to just crawl up in a hole somewhere and sprout fungus. Fuck, after all the sumbitchin’ royalty checks he’ll rake in next month he’ll damn well be able to afford to if he so desires.

Put that in your peace pipe, damnit. Smoke it like the media whores you are.

|| September 11, 2002 || 12:07 am || Comments (1) ||

“Whereas at one time all aspects of vocabulary were readily available to me, since September 11th there’s been a lot of interference.”

:: David Egan, father of Lisa, 31, and Samantha, 24, who both worked in Tower 1

“I hear people say, ‘I never got to say goodbye.’ That’s bullshit. You say goodbye at the end of a conversation. But if God were so merciful as to put my sons in front of me right now and say, ‘You can say two or three words,’ it wouldn’t be goodbye. It would be the same words I said to them the last time I spoke to them. And that was, ‘I love you.’ “

:: John Vigiano, Sr., father of John Jr. (NYFD), 36, and Joseph (NYPD), 34

After the sorry cliches are spent / And there is nothing left / I would have you know I draw you in / With every sorrowed breath

And I’ll speak your story / As long as I walk / I will scream it through every stone / My outrage and sickness at what transpired / Has settled you in my bones

Who is guilty and who is not / The blame, how easily dealt / Before a handful of self-righteous ones / The rest have forcibly knelt

Oh, I will speak your story / Wherever I may walk / I will cry it to every stone / My sickness, my heartache at what transpired / Settled you into my bones

Before the winter of discontent / Blows around the fall / Dressing windows for the world / Is killing us one and all

After the sorry cliches are spent / You are still in my very bones

// elizAbeth, “After”