carrion birds

first, let me say, yes. yes, i listened to sad songs after posting yesterday. and i cried. i cried almost as heavily as the drive back from the airport where i was sure cars passing by on the freeway could hear my sobs, or at least tell that i was bawling. (i am not, repeat not, a very tidy or quiet crier.) got it out of my system, washed my face, and hey, presto, ready to go.

chantay, i too believe in the healing and cleansing powers of crying. you shoulda been reading around this time last year. shit. '06 was a bad year for the sardonic household, and i was fucking crying all the damn time.

i guess it could be said i am a frequent crier. and i collect frequent crier miles, which i can cash in to upgrade from economy cry to first-class cry, or on complementary beverages.

i want to know why the owner's manual for a shaver that is designed specifically for removing hair from some of the, ahem, more tender areas of my anatomy will expressly forbid me to use it on my face? am i the only one that doesn't get that?

i pull out a bag of chips (guacamole flavored--boasting "real avocadoes" on the outside of the package, but judging by the "best if used by" date of 3010, i'm guessing there's less real avocadoes in my chips than cheese on the moon), and without warning, no. 2 appears by my shoulder.

"whatcha doin?"

"uhh, dunno, i wan' chiss."

"of course you do."

i can always count on no. 2 to help me with whatever meal i eat anywhere near his presence. he alights on my shoulder, tucks his wings under, and stretches out his long, thin neck to get a better look at what is on the plate.

i usually grumble about this, saying, "it's my ruddy lunch, and just once i would like to eat it unhindered!"

today i just poured him out a pile of chips and shoved the dip over to where he too could reach it. this, predictably, didn't stop him from standing so close to me that i actually elbowed him in the head when pulling chips out of the bag. (it's ok, later, on the toilet, i am trying to get him to go poop, and ask him if he went poopy, and he replies with an excited shout, "nooo, ppppeepee!" and spit right in my eye at close range.)

after getting a message from the school telling me that everyone but the developmental preschoolers had school on friday (make up snow-day), which matched the letter they sent out, i got an automated call later on friday from the school informing me that my kids weren't in school that day and that i would need to call during business hours to settle that up with the office. what? what?!? you mean to tell me that i could've sent my kids to school and gotten some cleaning and what-have-you done around the house? boy o boy.

i think it is possible that my mom is beginning to show early signs (what a bizaare word, signs. whose great idea was it to toss a g in the middle of that? english is crazy.) of senility. i was talking about my back tattoo (oh shit, i still have to post about that too. man, i'm all over the damn place), and quite unexpectedly she says she wants me to draw her something representing the "eternal mother" so she can get it tattooed. this combined with the amount of times she says/does something that she then promptly forgets... all i'm saying is sometimes she worries me. she can still beat fuck out of me in a game of misery. so who knows?

certainly not me.

darth sardonic