<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410</id><updated>2011-04-30T17:22:35.879-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Morgue's Mess</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>17</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-1009655470373919506</id><published>2007-11-18T09:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-18T10:00:12.985-05:00</updated><title type='text'>well...i think i got it now</title><content type='html'>bad decisions&lt;br /&gt;based on biology&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;even friends&lt;br /&gt;hop on the bandwagon&lt;br /&gt;the very same&lt;br /&gt;i pull and ponder the placement thereof&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-1009655470373919506?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/1009655470373919506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=1009655470373919506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/1009655470373919506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/1009655470373919506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/11/welli-think-i-got-it-now.html' title='well...i think i got it now'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-8169959769279243953</id><published>2007-11-11T12:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T12:56:49.224-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Fckng Idiot!!!</title><content type='html'>I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swear - chicks with their propensity to equate sex with love.  egads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eh.  shite happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-8169959769279243953?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/8169959769279243953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=8169959769279243953' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/8169959769279243953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/8169959769279243953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/11/what-fckng-idiot.html' title='What a Fckng Idiot!!!'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-3108871622281326135</id><published>2007-09-30T10:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T10:15:24.075-05:00</updated><title type='text'>HLG ate all the fish and went home.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IqJFMRN6Ax0/Rv-9DnT_EeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gfORK8KmqC0/s1600-h/gio.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116015571506237922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IqJFMRN6Ax0/Rv-9DnT_EeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gfORK8KmqC0/s200/gio.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Can we still hang out?  I still want you.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was nice to have him or be had by him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Men, even cute little boys, are becoming predictable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*sigh*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-3108871622281326135?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/3108871622281326135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=3108871622281326135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/3108871622281326135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/3108871622281326135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/09/hlg-ate-all-fish-and-went-home.html' title='HLG ate all the fish and went home.'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IqJFMRN6Ax0/Rv-9DnT_EeI/AAAAAAAAAAM/gfORK8KmqC0/s72-c/gio.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-7835959556315859015</id><published>2007-09-02T18:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-02T18:06:35.601-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Guttural Not Graceful</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Though, I'm well spoken, I am not smart.  My cognitive abilities are limited.  Mix that with an EQ that averages in the low socio-economic norms and you get Me.  I appear to be something I am not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;However, there are times when the obviousness of the above doesn't really matter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;I touched and was touched by a beautiful sweet man today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;An annual activity at my rate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Life goes on and maybe, just maybe, given time and effort, I may get smarter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;none of this is likely to make sense to the reader.  my apologies, but it's not meant to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-7835959556315859015?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/7835959556315859015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=7835959556315859015' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/7835959556315859015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/7835959556315859015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/09/guttural-not-graceful.html' title='Guttural Not Graceful'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-4910217568626968806</id><published>2007-02-15T20:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T21:04:03.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>So, there you have it...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My best friend has proposed an evening together.  Not for fun, but for maintenance. It would seem that events in my life this past year have left me confused and angry.  'Course, one wouldn't know that walking down the street, but I guess being my best friend and all, she has some insight.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Wonder what it is she'll say?  My mind knows.  I keep brushing against the edge of it not wanting to confront it full on until then.  Funny, I'm rarely on this end of it.  It's usually me taking initiative, saying the things no one wants to hear, placing that ugly ol' mirror in front of a face.  I'm looking forward to it in a "gotta have that surgery or die" kind of way.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;smoking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;losing weight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;lost interest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i could go on and on, but, eh, who the hell cares?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-4910217568626968806?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/4910217568626968806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=4910217568626968806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/4910217568626968806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/4910217568626968806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/02/so-there-you-have-it.html' title='So, there you have it...'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-8372316742345385189</id><published>2007-02-13T22:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T22:29:50.067-05:00</updated><title type='text'>White Trash Woes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Advice to women whose upbringing left their man-judging skills wanting:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;When you've finally realized you're in a bad relationship with the guy who owns more guns than sweaters;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;When you've given up after the umpteenth conversation where you've begged him to stop cultivating, selling and smoking weed;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;When you've decided no matter how bereft your childhood was of appropriate father/daughter relationship development, you're not going to stand for another evening full of put-downs and your "man"s encouragement to your children to call you names;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;You're already screwed. You're fucked. You're done for.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Years later, you'll find that shit still haunting you. When your children find you an obstacle to their wants and a ghost to walk through on their way to fulfill their selfish needs. It will dawn on you that that shit lingers. 'Course, it doesn't help you that the ex managed (through your naive allowance of continued visitation) to continue to foster his hatred through your children, but that isn't the culprit of your conundrum. YOU are. You're fucked...from the get go. The moment you decide on a man that just reinforces the inattentiveness, the antipathy, the lack of love you figured you deserved due to your upbringing is when you've screwed yourself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Mind you - it was likely over before you started. Damaged before you had a decent run so I wouldn't fret so much over the low self esteem backlash you'll give yourself once you realize this. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I suppose you could go to therapy; "find" yourself; settle for someone who, at the least, doesn't verbally/physically abuse you or, even - ignore upbringing, bad choices, and consequences your children have dealt with...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;at least, that's my experience. convoluted, twisted, illogical. but, hey - it's what i know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;have to go now - my 16 year old son is standing there threatening me because i took away his prized possessions because he crossed a huge fucking line weeks ago...and did something that well, only the white trash of us, experience, aye?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;lol...working himself up now. sad, really. you'd think i was smarter than this. should have known, though, the day i married my ex-husband, my father didn't bother to come. even he - the one who couldn't help me to learn how to be loved properly as a child - wouldn't show up to see me make that bad decision. He's dead now. Died November 11, 2006. I wanted to have him give me away on my second (and last) try...didn't work out that way and I guess that's a good thing 'cause it's looking like I'm actually incapable of making good decisions when it comes to picking the right man or raising good ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;wish me luck I don't have to go through what I did weeks ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-8372316742345385189?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/8372316742345385189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=8372316742345385189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/8372316742345385189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/8372316742345385189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/02/white-trash-woes.html' title='White Trash Woes'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-7621698426781924777</id><published>2007-02-07T22:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T22:31:17.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A new day A new dollar</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Almost two years ago...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wow.  Let's see - an outline, I suppose would be in order.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;1. Still have my great job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;2. Had a beautiful disaster of a boyfriend for almost a year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;3. My oldest son turned 16 and into a different creature altogether. Yeah, don't know him AT ALL.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;4. My father died.  He was 62.  It's still fresh..pains me to acknowledge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;5. Still smoking.  argh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;6. Actually dating now - time and energy consuming.  No wonder.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;this is it for now, i guess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-7621698426781924777?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/7621698426781924777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=7621698426781924777' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/7621698426781924777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/7621698426781924777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2007/02/new-day-new-dollar.html' title='A new day A new dollar'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112523844873370632</id><published>2005-08-28T09:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T09:14:08.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sunshine gives me a headache</title><content type='html'>been awhile &amp; i'm not likely to post again for awhile either...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;too busy, too tired, too boring...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;two cats, two boys, two jobs...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i hate smoking&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112523844873370632?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112523844873370632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112523844873370632' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112523844873370632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112523844873370632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/08/sunshine-gives-me-headache.html' title='sunshine gives me a headache'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112339297207173520</id><published>2005-08-07T00:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-07T00:36:12.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Wheels &amp; Used Car Salesmen</title><content type='html'>Some married guy is chasing my friend who isn't running fast enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was thinking as I took a piss in her bathroom this evening that a woman is said to be 'morally loose,' if she screwed around with someone else's husband.  With that, came the thought that I had once been considered the same. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told myself, "Well, I was in love...passionately, completely, desperately, in love." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kind of love that didn't make any sense.   Where so many of this man's traits would set me to vibrate.  One, however, I would not allow myself to see and finally couldn't bear any longer for what havoc it wreaked on my life.  His lack of character.  His inability to do the things he said he would do.  The situation was smarmy, really.  On his end (for obvious reasons) and mine.  Mine for continuing to have him in my life simply to feel that 'utter-ness.'  A whole "Into you and just you"thing.  A "seeing other beautiful people and still only wanting one"thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a huge schmuck for several years. &lt;br /&gt;Again, I try to explain it to myself:  The intensity of it hooked me. &lt;br /&gt;1.I was deprived prior to the affair;&lt;br /&gt;2.The taboo factor, which always plays a part, and;&lt;br /&gt;3.(The one that kept me there too frickin long)...Not wanting to let go of someone who pleases you.  Not only physically, but mentally.  A nice duo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what ! I've now learned of a possible trinity.  Physically, mentally, AND emotionally.  Who woulda thought ?  Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, yeah...I bought a car today.  A newer one.  Purported to have excellent gas mileage.  That's my speed.  And my dear old friend insisted the salesmen take us out to dinner.  They did, with aplomb.  I ate shrimp cocktail and drank two Amber Bock.  Had a few laughs and gave some.  I love giving one liners and walking away hearing people guffaw behind me.  That's always a pleasure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112339297207173520?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112339297207173520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112339297207173520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112339297207173520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112339297207173520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/08/new-wheels-used-car-salesmen.html' title='New Wheels &amp; Used Car Salesmen'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112302773645545058</id><published>2005-08-02T19:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-08-02T19:08:56.460-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tacos, library books, &amp; app bugs</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I finished the &lt;u&gt;Da Vince Code&lt;/u&gt;.  I loved the clue chasing and puzzles presented.  The controversy surrounding the subject matter wasn't called for.  None of the ideas presented were new.  Nothing I haven't read before, however, it was coalesced into one place.  God is beautiful.  You'd think making it ugly would get old for people.  Shame Father was so adamant.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;i'm rambling.  my attention is elsewhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;television.  some dry iced eyeballs delivered via mail.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;tacos for dinner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;library books on order for dungeons &amp; dragons.  a 10 year old, go figure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;app bug on my friggin laptop..arghh and a support crew with too many tickets and not enough FTE's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112302773645545058?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112302773645545058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112302773645545058' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112302773645545058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112302773645545058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/08/tacos-library-books-app-bugs.html' title='tacos, library books, &amp; app bugs'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112285104410222210</id><published>2005-07-31T17:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T18:04:04.110-05:00</updated><title type='text'>4 over par</title><content type='html'>Took Jacob golfing today.  We were supposed to go two weeks ago, but it was raining.  We stopped by and picked up my nephew, Corey, to join us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was 93 degrees out.  I had the best 'score.'  The boys weren't keeping track, but I was.  The course is par 3.  I managed 3 bogies and my worst was the longest hole with 4 over par.  ouch.  speaking of ouch, the last time I did this and today, I managed to rip my thumbnail.  I don't think I am swinging right.  I'm left-handed, so it's harder for Jacob to show me how to swing correctly.  But, I am getting better at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped off at Taco Bell to get some drinks and food and the little girl taking my order talked into her chin and had a chip on her shoulder.  So much so, that when I was trying to get my order in, albiet a little backwards as far as their system goes, she mumbled, "you don't have to have an attitude about it, lady."  Wha ?  The little girl told me she'd have to charge me extra for a drink I didn't want.  I had ordered our drinks, then the 'combo,' which includes a drink.  A drink I already had.  She huffed when she had to go get a card to swipe the error clean.  Whatever !  I told her, "No, you are the one with the attitude, not me.  Where's your manager?"  She &lt;em&gt;finally&lt;/em&gt; looks up and states with an obnoxious tone, "She's back there."  My reply:"Go get her."  When the manager arrived and asked me what she could do, I told her I wanted her to take my order.  She did with several weak attempts at mentioning,.."well, this is what she was trying to do."  Again, What-the-F**k_ever.  I am never rude to service people.  Most of my family is in the industry and half of my adult life was spent in it.  That little shit just didn't want to be working and certainly didn't understand what I believe to be a crappy computer system.  You'd think they'd design the thing to allow for more human error considering most of their staff consists of teenagers.  Geesh !!!!  Anyhoo, at the end of the transaction, the manager gave me the total and informed me that the cashier would have to take the money since it was her drawer.  I told her that was fine.  When the cashier (whose name is Candy, of all things) gave me my change she said, "Thank you and have a nice day."  Her mouth was still in her chin, but her bad attitude had lessened.  I replied in like manner.  Really.  The girl really needs to have a nice day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I know this is pretty much a pointless rant, but this is MY blog.   gotta go, cat thinks she going to stroll out of the yard...Not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112285104410222210?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112285104410222210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112285104410222210' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112285104410222210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112285104410222210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/4-over-par.html' title='4 over par'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112273287021725665</id><published>2005-07-30T09:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T09:16:45.316-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Off</title><content type='html'>Saturday morning and I convinced myself to get out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My youngest just strolled in the door from spending the night at his friend's house. As usual, his friend is here with him. They are bouncing around my house with these things on their heads. They got them at a bike rally/parade last night. Head wraps ? You can twist and turn them into caps, headrags, ninja masks, etc. They are having fun with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eldest is back from football camp. I hugged him when I picked him up. He let me but gasped because he was so sore. The team managed to shave all of the freshmen's heads, but his, as I had adamantly stated, "no," when asked if they could. Jacob's demeanor doesn't lend itself to that kind of initiation rite anyway. He's self-contained and likely to rage if anyone were to touch him without his permission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The girls (my cats) are outside sunning themselves on the front lawn, which is now bereft of the brush. True to his word, my friend came with two firemen buddies and several healthy children and went to work on cleaning up the mess the emergency crew had left behind. We all managed to have it pretty much done by the time I had to go pick up my son at football camp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am always consciously acknowledging what good friends I have. I often wonder if other people do the same. Maybe it's the odd upbringing I had, but I am always somewhat amazed at the lengths my friends go to help me. Grateful, I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the first weekend in awhile where I haven't had a specific agenda. It's nice to just relax. Especially since the rush to get school clothing, equipment and supplies is just around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, not profoud yet, but you give it some time, it's bound to happen. Let's hope I notice when it does.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112273287021725665?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112273287021725665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112273287021725665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112273287021725665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112273287021725665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/time-off.html' title='Time Off'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112242021126483844</id><published>2005-07-26T18:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-26T18:23:31.270-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We're only here for the line, mam</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So I pull onto my street, go around the curve, and see a deputy and a utility truck sitting in the street in front of my house yesterday.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;It seems a terrific storm passed through damaging the main limb of my gigantic tree making it fall on the electrical line running through its side limbs.  "sparking and smoking," said the deputy.  "aahh," said I.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I was further informed that a crew would be by later to trim up the tree and advised not to allow anyone to climb the tree with a live wire caught inside.  Uh-uh, okaaay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;So, five huge trucks pull up, set up, and two men in buckets manage to rip the shit out of my big beautiful tree.  To make matters worse, when they were finished, they advised me that since they were on an emergency call, they didn't have to chip up the enormous amount of brush laying around my yard.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Did I mention the smaller tree in my backyard snapped in its' midlength with the top half landing on my roof ? No...well, yeah, it did.  Luckily, it appears to have just landed, not crashed.  There is a bit of a bend in my gutter, but that's it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;My friend's husband came by, got the tree off my house, and made plans to finish the tree and clean up all the brush.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;I know I'm going to sound like every other single working mother, but...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;This sucks.  This should be in my budget, but isn't.  I have a married friend who has difficulty understanding the difference between a one income and two income family.  She knows I don't have much to spare, but she's not sure in which or what way.  Love her heart.  Course, this is just an aside, has no bearing on the post...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;We're still under a thunderstorm watch.  If you're the sort and you're reading this, please pray that this is all the damage my house will see.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112242021126483844?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112242021126483844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112242021126483844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112242021126483844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112242021126483844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/were-only-here-for-line-mam.html' title='We&apos;re only here for the line, mam'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112218736183861478</id><published>2005-07-24T01:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T01:42:41.843-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The third time IS a charm</title><content type='html'>the wedding went with only a few glitches&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my dress was beautiful.  my hair worth the $40.00 i spent to get it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;an extremely short man sat down beside me and tried to pick me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a kind yet odd man offered to and did drive to the gas station to pick me up some antacids.  i had eaten 10-12 thick watermelon slices.  yummy, but ouch.  afterward, he asked me to dance only to paw me.  even the bride's mother (who isn't the sort) was laughing at my attempts to disengage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the disc jockey hit on me, which wouldn't have been so bad.  he's older, handsome, and thick-bodied.  But, half-way through the night i learned that the lady helping him was his girlfriend.  see ?  told ya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the groomsman with whom i walked down the aisle asked me why i was still single.  i told him that only married or gay men strike up conversation with me.  in a teasing tone, he asked what was wrong with me.  i laughed and told him that was the very question i ask myself.  he said they were probably afraid.  that's three opinions, almost enough to consider the validity of the hypothesis.  if it is, in fact, the case...i guess i may have to start being more proactive about finding someone to share my life.  are there classes i can enroll in ?  you know, twenty years ago, that would have been funnier.  nowadays, if that question were posed, there'd be a line at my door for people willing to show me how to, shall we say for lack of a better phrase, "pick up a man."  sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay.  my piggies hurt.  my head feels like stuffed cotton...it's 2:42 a.m.  U.S. eastern standard time and I have a full day ahead of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nighty. night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112218736183861478?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112218736183861478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112218736183861478' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112218736183861478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112218736183861478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/third-time-is-charm.html' title='The third time IS a charm'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112191413032298107</id><published>2005-07-20T21:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-20T21:49:08.336-05:00</updated><title type='text'>in one and out the other</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Made it to work on time today. Accomplished much. Jacob called several times. Twice, I believe, just because, and once to announce that he had done his chores. Good kid. Hope he has fun in Kentucky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Jared came back by to pick up his shoes. My son, the red headed, brilliant hick. Have to get him that snake book he was talking about. He and his entourage are trying to catch a snake for a pet. Please Lord, let it not be poisonous.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Tanned again today. Made me ill again. yuck. What vanity have I. 2 more days then the wedding and I'm done. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Zucchini out the yang yang. Who has 4 1/2 foot tall zucchini plants ? Geez Louise. Harvested several, called Amy and went to her house. Owen is sweet. Maybe a month old ? Good healthy baby. My prayers to his health.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Only thought about him minimally today. Think it's just loneliness, not longing. Managed to make positive comments about him during my conversation. It really wasn't that hard to do. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Posted on one of the boards (not verbatim and can't recall the author): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;Judge a man by his depravities, not his virtues. Virtues can be faked. Depravities expose his true nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;True, no ? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;And still...that love is there. Loss. Okay...this is just to keep me going. Perhaps, one of these days, I'll say something profound.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;"&gt;bedtime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112191413032298107?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112191413032298107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112191413032298107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112191413032298107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112191413032298107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/in-one-and-out-other.html' title='in one and out the other'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112182741658380419</id><published>2005-07-19T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-19T21:44:39.363-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2 and 0</title><content type='html'>When does saliva become spit ?&lt;br /&gt;Is it when the thought occurs ?&lt;br /&gt;after eating something that thickens it to where you have to expectorate?&lt;br /&gt;________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay, so I took the boys to the ballpark to go hang out with their friends. I stopped at the library to pick up the Da Vinci Code. It came out during my catechism classes and Father asked us not to read it. Against my grain, but I acquiesed. I was learning something and didn't want to deviate from my plan. Now as a full-fledged catholic (ask me how long it's been since I've been to Mass ?), I can now go with my gut and see what all the fuss was about. So far, it doesn't seem any different than other books I've read. We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I took the book and sat down under the roofed picnic area, after I checked in with the boys. That's when I noticed a couple of things that may help me figure out why no one is interested. One- My choice of space. Instead of joining the rest of the world on the bleachers, I settle down apart from them with a book. Two - ( and this isn't the first time I've noticed this) I sit close to trash cans. Whenever I've been out and about in the open, at an open air restaurant, a baseball park, a nature preserve...somehow or another, I end up sitting next to trash cans. Not so close that I can smell the shit, but close enough. Why in the hell do I do that ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;__________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was late to work today. My alarm may or may not have gone off this morning. I do not recall. What I do recall is waking up, glancing at the clock, which read 6:45 and thinking, "Is it Sunday already ?" Yeah, it took me a minute to realize it was Tuesday (my favorite day, by the by).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To make matters worse, when I get to the small town where the highway I get on intersects, there sits a train on the track stuck with traffic in this one stoplight town backed up past that light and wrapping around to the other end of town. I didn't freak when I woke up late and I wasn't freaking then, I took it in stride and decided to take another route. I used to visit the city I work in intermittently in the past to visit with friends. More often than not, I would get lost without specific detailed directions and this other route was the one I took home. I knew that if I hopped on this road I would eventually find my way home. Imagine my chagrin (naw, you don't have to, it's right here), when I got close enough to the city, but couldn't figure out how to get to it. I could see it, but couldn't reach it. Once I figured out I had to get on an intersecting highway, I thought I was good, I was right there, maybe five blocks from the building I work and yes, I went on 3, 3! different exits before I managed to get downtown. It's not over yet. No, torture was my playmate this morning. 'Course by then, one coffee and one soda pop down, I was wishing I was a fella with a travel urinal. Anyway, I'm downtown thinking, "Okay, I can go around this way and get to the parking garage." LOL. Uh huh. So I headed down a one way street with oncoming traffic in the middle of a decent size metropolis. yeah, that's me, the dumbass. I suppose this could be added to my collection of reasons why men don't approach me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;___________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried like a baby for a moment when I got to work.  Did I mention I forgot to put my regular shoes on and went into work with my flip-flops on ? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cut out of work 10 minutes early. My day ended soon enough for me. Let's hope I get up tomorrow morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112182741658380419?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112182741658380419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112182741658380419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112182741658380419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112182741658380419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/2-and-0.html' title='2 and 0'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14611410.post-112174101884711632</id><published>2005-07-19T00:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-07-18T21:44:18.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The first night</title><content type='html'>I'm not sure how to start this, but I've followed the rat, as any sensible person would, and decided to go with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been on the net since 1999. Committed, at first, to my beloved P &amp; A chatroom. Then, to the board. And, I know it's schlep (at least to me, it is), but (and, here it comes....) but, &lt;em&gt;after 9/11&lt;/em&gt;, it seemed like the umph of the board blew out like a silent fart in geometry class. I hung on for awhile, but got lost into my then pressing reality. I came back a couple of years ago to find most of the core group still intact, yet...the umph still missing. What was left was comaradarie and common interest. Mind you, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. I am still there and probably always will be...it is like a second home, but the punching individuality and ravings seem to have found a new place to sizzle (or fall flat) in &lt;strong&gt;blogs.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;____________________________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the personal shit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my everday life it seems that only married men speak to me. Yeah, I'm single, divorced, whatthefuckever and I'm kosher with it for the most part, but I'm still just a regular human being who wouldn't mind some decent companionship (lol-tell me this is coming off as a webdating shtick-post...come on...really... :-) Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alright, so I'm lonely. And, since I am to the point that I would actually talk about it to my friends, I've ended up with a lot of questions and undesirable answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One question posed, "Why do only married men speak to me?"&lt;br /&gt;Question answered by friend of 19 years and current co-worker, "...because whether you believe it or not, you are stunning to look at and besides that, guys can tell that you know who you are and know what you like and they think it's not worth the effort." So then, I'm screwed ? Love her heart. I had asked my question with a sort of preamble: "as my friend of 19 years, I want an honest answer and I want you to think about it for awhile before you respond." So the 'stunning' part, though kind, wasn't swallowed whole. However, she was on target as far as my personality goes. So back to being screwed. I have responsibilities and not a lot of time to devote to a quest for companionship. Not doing the dating online shit. rip off and still too much of my time. Bars ? Cackle. Snort. Guffaw. Get real. Men at work ? Sure if I was into the habit of dating married men. Lucky for me that was only a one shot deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I get it. I'm bitching and whining and if I hit the damn semi-colon key one more f**cking time when I want a comma...argh !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have yet to receive the thoughtful answer. I suppose I should ask. I'm thinking my ego likes the off the cuff one anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to top it all off, I'm to be a bridesmaid again this Saturday. Yes, let's compound my loneliness. At least the dress is pretty and the friend who's getting married isn't sticking me into an ugly dress way too big for me to try to make me look bad. That's a rant there. If you're interested, ask me to get back to it and I'll oblige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have to go settle into bed now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14611410-112174101884711632?l=morguesmess.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/feeds/112174101884711632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14611410&amp;postID=112174101884711632' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112174101884711632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14611410/posts/default/112174101884711632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://morguesmess.blogspot.com/2005/07/first-night.html' title='The first night'/><author><name>Morgue</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13198548477720699914</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
