I have been told…”If you can’t say anything nice then don’t say anything at all”. To which I reply, ” peh leeze…shut up”! I’m guessing it is probably in my best interest to not say (or write) a word right now…but who cares…right? And you know what really pisses me off is…. a million trillion people out there have worse problems than me! UGH! I hate it when that happens. Neither get well cards nor meals are needed, I’m just in a very bad mood, and want to sit a spell and wallow.
The whole “blog thing” is a remedy for speaking candidly and spontaneously with out boundaries while dispersing my unhindered conception of my uncomplicated life. It is, and most likely always will be, a fairly colorless story that desires animation and drama, which is why I constantly crave the company of crabby cynics! I have a tendency to trivialize matters that provide prospective and meaning to others. I complicate simplicity, eradicate complexity, in search of an entertaining reason to laugh out loud.
My frustration is not, in any way, directed at a particular person… unless you happen to be the last person I spoke to (insert smile here). So why don’t we say, for the sake of this self deprecating blog … I wouldn’t edit, revise or recast a single episode. Perplexity remains and is badly needed in order to appreciate order, but thank God, the reputable advantage of affliction is a pj day, an abundance of chardonnay (no one would dare call me out), and to immerse into afflicting movies is paramount. I am licensed in all three! ( muffles and/or alleviates peevish whining with little to no side effects).
Laughter is medicine yet happy people can provoke an annoying irritation…so I fuse the two together like a scrumptious bowl of frito’s and onion dip. (love and sorrow). I’m feeling a bit melancholy today…I’m aware, and I grasp that I have too much good fortune for my own good. A pity party is a jumpy house for self indulgence and as amusing as that is…it is proportionately exhausting. Have a go and get out…others deserve to jump.
There are days, sometimes weeks, I forget to smile, but without warning my shenanigans return…I do the hokie- pokie and I turn myself about…and that, my friend, is what life is all about!
btw…Our frumpy 12 year old dog, Chauncey, who stays in a state of perpetuate mopiness and can no longer hear, still gravitates to a simple ear rub and his tail wags yet again… Gary upholds that he is one lucky dog!
Please send prayers for Gannie and Lou.