Just a I am; thy love unknown, Has broken every barrier down.

Nice work, Mr. Clergy man in Minnesota! Two thumbs up and a big toe!

http://articles.news.aol.com/news/_a/disowning-conservative-politics-is/20060729195809990004?ncid=NWS00010000000001

Dead I am the rat, feast upon the cat. Tender is the fur, dying as you purr.

Heh! More poetic filth! This time by way of the man who looks like a real Beelzebubba, Rob Zombie.

The shit has offically hit the fan. Today, my world became a Waffle House, consisting of working 7 days a week making much overtime for the next month because of hot jobs with insane deadlines like a steaming order of scattered, smothered, covered served to obnoxious drunks at table 5 at 2 in the morning. Honestly, I am a tiny bit concerned that I might miss my vacation because of all this. I really do hate that possibility, but I really do not have much time to fret about a problem that might only be. I'm just going to give that woe to a higher authority and focus on what needs to be done for the time being. I will know more in 2-3 weeks as the vacation time approaches and the labor efforts are slowing whittled down.

Just in case that happens, I may need to get Renae's new address at a later date to send Fred's birthday stuff and Renae's Jesus statue, but I would prefer that she do that on her own blog, because anyone can read this one. Privacy, ya know. Even if I cannot make it, I do wish for Jesus to have a great welcoming party anyway and for Fred to enjoy his wonderful booty, AS IN BIRTHDAY GIFTS. Quit rolling gutterballs with that head of yours!

As the music dies, something in your eyes, calls to mind the silver screen and all its sad good-byes.

This weekend kicked ass!

Wanna know why?

Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, your attention, please. Prepare to be amazed by the 30 gallons of compost I created in my very own back yard since I moved here!

PEE-U! There is some rank stank going on, but one day I WILL have a decent yard with good dirt.

You got a hubcap diamond star halo. You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl.

There is just something about listening to T-Rex that makes me really yearn to wear a huge pave rhinstone tiara, hang at out at Stuckey's barefoot and chew lots of green apple super bubble with my incisors while drinking an A&W cream soda. I desire to inspire such truly wonderful poetic filth.

Who's gonna love you when your looks are gone? God will, like he waters the flowers on your window sill.

I do believe that I just may have solved the case of the mystery ailment! YAY! It's really a long story with gory and boring details, so here goes.

There had been a rotten egg odor in my house for a few weeks now, but I did not take much notice of it. I had tried to not to put much food in the wastebasket and tried to stay on top on garbage detail hoping the odor would leave, but it never did. Then I thought about all the many people in the neighborhood, and perhaps a family pet had ran off somewhere to die, like underneath my house. I know that sounds strange, but my home's foundation is the pier and beam construction opposed to a slab, so a small animal could very easily slipped into the crawl space under my house. The thing that did not make sense about that was the lattice that secures the perimeter of the crawl space had not been disturbed in any way, but I have learned to never question the ability of animals. The dead animal theory made perfect sense because of the rotten odor especially with this incredible heat we are having. I thought surely that odor will soon end. Even a decomposing animal will stop smelling after a couple of weeks. But the stink lingered.

Meanwhile, I was feeling like total crap. I was nauseated, tired, and had no appetite whatsoever. I was thinking that I have been pregnant, because I had never felt like this before. Well, the Snicker's incident had alot to do with that idea too. I purchased an EPT. Negative. A week later I walked into the doctor's office and described how I was feeling to a nurse practitioner. She wanted to do a blood test, just to make sure. She told me that earlier that week she had seen a patient who had done FOUR EPTS, which all came out negative, but her blood test stated otherwise, so there was possibly a bad lot of early pregnancy tests out there sitting on the shelves at the stores. When the blood test come back negative, I was perplexed. The NP told me that if I was not feeling better soon, to come back and see her again.

That's right, perplexed, until this morning. Last night, I paused in front on the bathroom door while walking down the hallway. The stench was still in my house with no sign of easing up. I poked my head into the hallway bathroom, which I never use, and turned the light on. It hasn't been used since my husband returned to work on the boat around the 1st of July. I know this because the seat was still up. I thought to myself about how tacky that looked and decided to put the toilet seat down. When I looked into the toilet I noticed that the bowl had NO water in it at all and thought that can't be good. So I flushed the toilet which in doing so refilled the bowl. I guess the water in the toilet bowl had evaporated, because, like I stated earlier, the outside tempurature here has been hotter than west hell. It could not have possibly drained out, because there is a P-trap located in the bottom of all toilets which insures that the water stays at a certain amount of water remains in the bowl after flushing.

This morning the rotten smell had subsided considerably, so I decided to check with the internet about side effects of inhaling sewer gas. Sewer gas contains a compound scientifically called hydrogen sulfide which has a rotten egg smell at low concentrations, but has no smell at higher levels. Weird huh? I also found out that there is a plethora of symptoms which some or all may effect a person differently depending on the intensity and time exposed. This gas is also extremely flammable. Thhank goodness I do not smoke in the house. Inhaling a low concentration of hydrogen sulfide for an extended period time can result in a lack of appetite, fatigue, dizziness, headaches, nausea, irratibility and general lassitude. This sounds all too familiar to me and uncannily like a few of the early symptoms of pregnancy. This afternoon, I am starting to feel much better and I have been able to eat again, even though I was still mildly grossed out by my salad. The odor is finally gone!

Guess what. I'm not pregnant. I was just ill from inhaling toxic fumes that were coming from inside of my very own home. That's all. Nothing major to worry about. As, far as the blood test coming back normal, that's cool, but one thing is for sure, my life is anything but typical.

And the Wichita Lineman is still on the line.

This entry I will reflect upon one of my earliest childhood memories. I was maybe 2 or 3 years old and my parents and I went to Holly Ridge, to my great-grandparent's farm for a family reunion. Everybody I know laughs at me because I am either going to one or just came from one. We have several family reunions a year and they last at least couple of days.

We were there on a Friday night, and all the women (my great-grandmother, my grandmother, great aunts, aunts and my mother) were hanging out in the living room of my great-grandparents olden and modest home situated on 55 acres of cotton fields. While I was sitting on my mother's lap, I witnessed all the women taking turns stroking a wooden stick though a hole in a lid that was atop a very large crock jar. Everyone including the one who was stroking away, seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and carrying on and such. I had decided that I was missing out on an obvious great time involving this foriegn thing in middle of my great-grandparent living room, because everyone was involed. This activity looked like a big game to me, like tag or something.

I started to buck around in my mother's lap, pointing at the strange thing that was the center of all the attention and someone asked me did I want to help?

This same somebody instructed me to grab the wooden pole and move it up and down. After a few pitiful baby strokes, I had enough and really did not understand what the big deal was. She told me "Oh no, little girl you ain't done yet, so I commenced on in the same repetative motion for what seemed like forever. That lasted for maybe an entire minute before I was allowed to resume my position on my mother's lap. Everyone there seemed to get a real kick out of the fact that was I not interested in helping them any longer.

The morals of this story is that, (a) even when there was a special occasion going on, the chores were not ignored at the great-grandparent's house and (b) a butter churn is certainly nothing to get jealous about.

You have the right to remain silent.

Okay, here I am still fretting over the possibility of a certain "delicate condition" for three days. Why won't that NP call me back? I suppose a pending life-altering event does not justify notification.

In other news, Saturday afternoon I actually felt good and felt hungry for the first time in several days. I ate and felt okay afterwards. Sunday was less than than feeling good and got worse after I managed to find myself driving behind a truck pulling a livestock trailer on my way back from Mom-in law's. I guess the smell for a cattle car would make anybody feel a little less than spectacular. I volunteered the information of my having a blood test to her before she noticed very obvious bruise in plain view from the vampire.

If this blood test does come to be accurate and positive, I have already thought to change the name of the band to honor the occasion. Everybody give it up for "BIG HEARTS FOR CRACKERS"! PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER AND HAVE A HOLY GHOST PARTY!

Face to face, and back to back, you see and feel my sex attack.

I just come from the doctor's office where I visited with the NP. :) She seems to believe that I may be preggers what I told her regardless of the failed ept. :/ She ordered me to go see the vampire to collect a sample. :( I will know something on Monday. The NP also seems to believe that I have an internal hemmoroid.

It's lunch time and I am not hungry. I have not ate anything today. In fact, I spent an entire 20 minutes at Target trying to find an frozen entree that didn't gross me out by just thinking about it while my ass-foam script was getting filled. I picked out a Boca meatless lasagna and went on my merry way. It's in the freezer now and it's not really talking to me. (lip curl)

I saw the werewolf drinking a pina colada at Trader Vic's. His hair was perfect.

I do apologize for not blogging as my usual self or not been leaving comments on blogs that I visit, but I have been reading them. I just have a couple of things going on. Firstly, I have been busier than an one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest at the office. Secondly, something is going on health wise and it is keep hoping things will pass and everything will be ok, but the passing includes blood, if you get my drift and it has not went away. My appetite is nil. At some point everyday, I feel nauseated. I have lost probably eight pounds in the last two weeks.

One day last week, I thought I was going to vomit while watching two of my co-workers eat Snickers bars. So, I bought a pregancy test. The results were not hardly. I really do not want to persue a visit with the doctor until after my incredible journey to hang out with Fred and meet Renae, just because I want to have a good time and not be a total drag.

Another reason why I have hesitated with making an appointment with the physician is the fact that my GP gives me the creeps. I guess I stand to be a small room with him for 10 minutes, like any other doctor, but that's about all. I have a feeling that he will want to run a battery of tests which may not be pleasant. Now, I am not trying to say negative things about my GP, because he is apparently a good doctor with a fast paced clinic and well respected by his peers. My original GP closed his practice a few years ago in favor to a job as a staff physican at a local hospital to spend more time with his young son. My records were sent to creepy doctor, and I have been going there ever since. I do like creepy doctor's NP, which is who I mainly deal with. I guess the only reason I was weirded out by my GP is because he often wears a t-shirt, sweat pants and lab coat to the office, looks like he just rolled out of bed and never gets any sun at all.

I'm not the one who's so far away, when I feel the snake bite enter my veins.

I started a new book the other night. This time I selected The Hornet's Nest by Jimmy Carter. This book is the first attempt at fiction by the former president. It's about the Southern theater of the Revolutionary War. The funny thing is that I do not recall a Southern theater of that war. Is this the reason that this book is fiction? Apparrently not.

So far, I have found that the characters are methodical in their actions. The author does not much emphasis in their thoughts or feelings. I am presently reading Chapter Five and since the colonists residing in North Carolina are getting pretty disturbed with the Stamp Act, perhaps a few boils will begin to fester soon.

I am impressed by Carter's period integrity in this read. His placing of of fictional characters in actual historical situations required extensive thought during the plot devolopment. I find that the details of of early American machinery, the construction of hand-made goods and agriculture are fascinating. A little known fact about is the Revolutionary Way is that the British used smallpox as an early form of biological warfare. Pretty dern sneaky, ehh?

The author's success as a micromanager shows in the easily readable 54 chapters with each coming to a clean finish. Jimmy Carter also has a knack for challenging one's current vocabulary by throwing in a more than occasional word from his elaborate lexicon. However, no matter how interesting the details, I still find myself hankering for a saga with conflict. I hope it starts in Chapter Six.

She can burn Altanta all night long.

With much pleasure I can annouce that the little boy in the freezer is BACK! He is nakie with an exception to an apron and chef's hat. I think somebody may have been admiring the Sweet Potato Queen's website and got inspired.

http://maxvps007.maximumasp.com/v007u09vul/spq/miva/merchant.mv?Screen=PROD&Store_Code=QC&Product_Code=BBQ&Category_Code=KIT