and Les Misérables.
Laughter is something we’re unfamiliar here at YoYo-Dyne. After all, Lithium is no longer available on credit* Funny how laughter and fear go together. Am thinking that’s why they do. What’s funnier than fear? Or death? Nothing! Here’s a tidbit including Laughter, Life and Les Mis…
Damn I miss living in NYC
.
* YoYo-Dyne (and Buckaroo Banzai devotees ) will recognize that line.
If I had a million dollars
I’d be rich
If I had a man who loved me
I’m only somewhat of a bitch
If the sun above us
Burned the retinas from our eyes
The brain would be the only thing
To keep all smart and wise
If I had a green dress
And not just green dress understand
Maybe with some weight loss
I’d truly find a man
His eyes might be unsighted
Scorched out from a star
And that honest mystery date
Could see things as they are
For now things are sheer darkness
Bare Naked Lady though I am
No matter how I try or don’t
Still life I have to cram
Make it all in one day
Since tomorrow may not come
If I had a million dollars
Could be life still be so numb.
But I fucking doubt it.
~Miss R
I mean the type diagnosed by a physician. Not a few weeks of sadness, or grief over a loss or death. Yes, these will all lead to depression but for the majority of people who suffer these or other tragedies it may mean several months or more of counseling, perhaps an anti-depressant for several months in order for a therapist to work with the depressed patient.
No, I’m talking long-term, 20+ years of clinically diagnosed depression including meds and therapy. Followed by an accurate diagnosis of Bi-Polar for at least five years. More meds. Different meds. New cocktails of meds. Sadly current medicine (forced by the insurance companies) no longer truly allow a psychiatrist anything more than prescribing medication. To conquer problems you also must see a therapist. Of which you cannot afford because they rarely accept Medicare and you’re no longer able to pay all of the co-pays if they did.
And if you’ve lost everything; a successful business –that you built up by working 14 hours a day, not being able to hire even one employee for the first two years, finally being featured in magazines, opening more stores, a huge e-commerce business as well, television coverage, and mentions all across the Internet.
Your retirement money, savings, home, vehicle all lost to the recession of the Bush years (and attorneys to divorce and restrain a psychotic ex-husband), and you are dependent on a Social Security Disability stipend of less than $900.00 a month.
How the hell will you EVER feel better?
Add back surgery, which did not work –FAIL tag- and the cost of co-pays to doctors and hospitals that you cannot possibly pay off.
Constant pain, inability to swim, hike, ski or even walk long distances. And another surgery being scheduled.
How the hell can you SEE a future?
Have you ever attempted suicide? More than once? More than twice? How about three times? And failed? –Insert another FAIL tag here-. Pro-Tip: pills are too easy to accidentally throw up, or change your mind. Use a gun for godssake.
Oh, and you’ll be 50 in another month. Wonderful. With no more close friends; they already know about your problems and seriously don’t want to hear anything else. Hell I wouldn’t. Family you don’t dare reveal your psychological pain with, nor an understanding boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband? Your fabulous fifty party –as if turning 50 is a fucking pleasure and isn’t deathly depressing in itself- will be at home.
The entree a can of tuna fish and a single piece of pie from Raley’s market for dessert. Okay maybe dinner out –my genius boyfriend suggested a casino buffet. I’m thinking the tuna far preferable. And safer.
A call from my daughter –the only reason the suicidal ideation backed off, with her 4.0 grades and beginning college-. A card and call from Mom.
Missing Dad since his death, so no call from him. His birthday is/was a week before mine.
So, I spend 16 out of every 20 hours awake weeping uncontrollably. No longer wanting to live, but not wishing to crush my daughter by blowing this neuro-scrambled brain on the walls.
The back pain never ceases, unless I drink too much. At which point I’ll pay for it in the morning, fall down, should never drink, and it’s goddamned fattening as well. So that turned out to be no help either.
Enough self-loathing for today. Am tired of being witty, enjoyable or even caustic.
I just want it all to end. There are no dreams left.
Frank: RIP you piece of crap
The two been driving these roads looking for crystals. The woman was in severe pain from the condition of the roads. Her boyfriend didn’t seem to care about that. He probably didn’t. She’d been this way for over a year. Spinal degeneration that began at a young age, but she wasn’t as young anymore. It was progressing quickly, and who the hell wants to hear about constant pain.
Things hadn’t been going well at home. Lots of arguments. Little talk. The couple had started out with the mutual love of the outdoors, listening to live music and fabulous, fetishistic sex; this had dissipated into two people sharing a house. Sharing isn’t the right word. Occupying a shared space. Neither of them happy, just existing,
He would come home from work, peek his head into the bedroom and say hello. No more kisses or hugs, not for a long time. She would spend the majority of time in bed weeping from the combination of pain from a failed back operation and memories of the life she had once lived. The pain was never ending, as was the depression. No more swimming in the river, hikes, riding bicycles or worse, skiing.
He probably felt just as miserable. Perhaps not. He seemed content to be by himself every night in another room. She never knew because they never talked beyond the superficial.
‘What do you want for dinner?’
‘I don’t care.’
‘We really don’t have much food, but I can make you some eggs and bacon’
‘I don’t want any fucking eggs and bacon’
‘Well you shouldn’t have spent all of your money on fast food lunches, DVDs and all the money you’ve poured into Frank and god knows what else.’
‘Well you shouldn’t spend all of your money on gin and Nicorette!’
As Vonnegut wrote…’and so it goes.’
Frank is his truck. Short for Frankenstein. A piece of $500.00 steel crap but her lover could fix anything. Except himself, her or anything to do with other people. A computer, car, truck, bike rack, electrical panel, a house you name it. But personal relationships were beyond his purview. Probably hers as well.
The sun went down and the cold Nevada mountain nights set in. Hell, Reno is at almost 5000 feet in elevation and they were far higher than that on the back roads outside of Verdi. When leaving the freeway and starting up to the old crystal areas and mines they’d crossed into California.
Not an hour from Donner Summit. Nom nom nom.
People back east and in Los Angeles are always stunned to hear stories of streets not being plowed, too much snow to get out of the driveway and pile-ups on the freeway during Reno’s winter.
Note to citizens outside of Nevada: Reno is an eight hour drive from Las Vegas. Please pass this along to any friends in Hollywood. I once saw an episode of CSI in which Grisham was handling a case and a sign loomed against his headlights saying ‘Sparks.’
Sparks in the town abutting Reno. As I said, eight hours from Vegas and at least 9 counties past Clark. Yep. That was realistic.
Well, back at the break-down the man lit a fire in the dried out meadow next to the dirt road. It wasn’t hot enough to warm their feet, being started with dead vegetation, no wood and gasoline.. In retrospect it would have been a wonderful way to be found. Nothing like a roaring forest fire to bring the helicopters and fire brigade.
Except for the whole lawsuit and life-long payments to the county for starting a goddamned forest fire and the reparations required. Although at that point the woman didn’t really give a shit.
There were no blankets, extra food (which was alright because they’d stopped for a cheap lunch on the way out of Reno), water, alcohol, and worse pain medication. Even aspirin.
There WAS cell phone service out there though. A freak of nature; as weird as the woman’s sister but without the silicone and bitchiness. You know, just peculiar.
Bad part was that the day was Sunday. BBQ’s and cocktails for her friends. Shooting expeditions, football and cocktails for his. No one was home to answer a phone, or better yet, they were already too blasted to come and get us. Not to mention find us. Believe I mentioned the lack of road signs.
The couple was finally found later that evening, by one of his friends. Turns out the battery had fallen over and leaked acid over some of the electrical wires. The guys fixed that. The truck was almost to paved road when the transmission went.
At about midnight they were both home and in bed. He on his side of the big bed, she on her side.
The day began because he had been complaining for weeks that they never did anything that HE wanted to do.
And this is why.
NOTE: No trees, animals, battery acid or people were harmed during the writing of this piece. Which is not to say that any of the above could not happen later tonight. Despite pain medication, death of Frank, worsening of back degeneration due to washed out roads, pain and/or lack of human contact. Video Games may be destroyed during the early hours of the morning…just so a conversation could be accomplished one evening.
But he’d just purchase more so no worries.
~Miss R
I met a gorgeous GORGEOUS young guy from New Zealand (at my age this means he was in his early 30′s. Maybe. Maybe late 20′s but who’s counting) while bartending.
This was at about 3:00 a.m. after the Burning Band (I play flute) gig when I showed up at camp with NO uniform or clothes except my name tag on my bra. Which as we all know basically says “If found wandering in a black-out please return to Spanky’s”
The hottie and I hit it off and when I closed up Spanky’s at 6:00 a.m. he came back to my RV. Well….. he’d been up too late. Uh huh.
I was nestled in the area with OC Charlie, Gina, Birdsong, Catfish, Lucky Bastard and the main Spanky’s thoroughfare.
I come out of the RV at 7:00 a.m. and OC Charlie, Gina and Birdsong are sitting outside our RV’s having a beer. As you do.
Charlie says “Hey Rach how’s it going in there?”
I say “Not so good dude. The guy’s having serious problems gimme a beer.”
After hanging out with my Spanker friends for a while I return to the RV.
Suddenly I hear – on a fucking Bullhorn- Charlie’s voice
“ATTENTION THE DUDE IN THE BACK OF RACHAEL’s RV! ATTENTION! IT’S CALLED A CLIT. THAT IS ALL”
This entire scenario went on for at least 5 hours. The poor bastard (gorgeous did I mention that) finally said good-bye in between bullhorn blasts and the rest of the camp looking over to see who was being ummmmm Blasted At.
Final Note: He came back 2 days later wondering where I was and asking if he could join Spanky’s Village next year.
Mission Accomplished.
~PianoWench
1. It’s 2AM on the weekend, and you are not home. You are more than likely:
dead in a ditch covered with petrol
2. What’s the last thing you spent more than $100 on?
car insurance. grrrrrr
3. What do your bank checks look like?
rubber
4. Where did the shirt you are currently wearing come from?
hot topic in denver
5. Name something that is on your Christmas wish list
peace and love for all mankind. Not really. Fuck that. A car would be good though
6. What color is your toothbrush?
what toothbrush
7. Name something you collect.
Ouija boards. And dust.
8. Last restaurant you ate at?
Legal Seafood in Boston. Nowhere in fucking Reno that’s for sure.
9. Last person you bought a Birthday card for?
my niece
10. What is your worst bad habit?
that is almost a double negative you cretin. So, I’m gonna say grammer.
11. Name a magazine you subscribe to?
Smithsonian
12. Your favorite pizza toppings?
Extra cheese
13. Who’s number were you looking up the last time you used a phone book?
Who the hell uses a phonebook? Google!
14. Who is the person that you love most?
My daughter
15. What is the last thing you cooked?
Baked Ziti with a ricotta cheese, garlic and mushroom sauce.
16. Name something you wouldn’t want to buy used?
a dildo
17. Which shoe do you put on first?
left
18. What is the last thing you remember losing?
my mind. I think it’s under the couch though
19. What is the ugliest piece of furniture in your house?
the tv/stereo cabinet
20. Last thing you bought and ended up returning?
a boyfriend
21. What perfume/cologne do you wear?
Coco Chanel or Opium
22. Your favorite board game?
I hate board games since I used to sell them in my store
23. Last board game you played?
Cranium
24. Where did your vehicle come from?
a fucking retard
25. If a movie was made about your life what would the theme song be?
over my head
26. You’re sad, who can cheer you up easily?
~c or ~t or ~j
27. What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?
who does that kind of crap at my age? Most are on marriage number 2 and 3 these days.
28. What house cleaning chore do you hate to do the most?
Scrubbing the floors. I keep wrecking my stockings in that French maid outfit.
29. What is your favorite way to eat chicken?
heh
30. It is your birthday. You hope the cake is?
filled with men!
By: The Shins
Release date: 23 January, 2007
So I was wrong. It happens on occasion but don’t tell my kid.
Today was exsanguination day and not whirrrr chunnnnnk whirrrrrr in a machine day.
Have been up since 4:30, drove down the mountain with my dad and Cate –who we dropped off at school- and am already back up the mountain.
Am sporting the finest in fashionable cotton balls and tape over various and sundry veins. Mmm mmm good.
Just the word phlebotomy makes me grimace, which is probably all that kept me from becoming a junkie back in the day.
As if it’s not enough that I’m covered head to toe in bruises from bouncing up and down on a trampoline (don’t try this at home kids. Not if you’re over 40) I just fell off my back steps onto rough, dirty and broken-up asphalt.
Now I am also covered in scrapes and blood.
Well, the blood is just kind of seeping at this point. I also ruined one of my very favorite books as it was in my hand at the time. It’s now bound in shredded paper and blood splatter.
Or as Henry Lee would say… brud spratter.
And no I have not been drinking. Just brain drained from a day at this computer.
Fuckit
Other than that today has consisted of a walk and much swearing over Tinfoil Hat Client Guy and his fucking Winchester Mystery Website.
This goddamned thing will NEVER be done. Writing the code isn’t bad; it’s the research and trying to find catalog numbers which don’t match up from one source to another.
The best thing today was getting my DX-7 back… in working condition. Ahhhhhh that IS nice.
TK has been working on it for months, and it had been at his house in various states of disrepair.
The sad part was that with the keyboard TK also dropped off every possible personal item of mine which remained at his place.
Hell I already knew it was over but gah that was like ripping open a newly sewn incision. Perhaps the fall this afternoon and resulting scrapes and cuts are the physical manifestation. Or perhaps I just indulge in too many metaphors.
I did receive a Fabulous Parting Gift though! TK made me a copy of the newest Donald Fagan CD (which rocks and I’ve been listening to it all day), along with a copy of Q’s Jook Joint; a Quincy Jones CD with every possible fine musician playing on it.
“So Rachael Thanks for playing my Game! We’re sorry you’re such a complete Loser but here’s a copy of our Home Game! Good Luck in all your future endeavors.”
I exit. Stage right.
Alright where the hell did I put the Neosporin and Band-aids?
~miss r
Currently listening :
Morph the Cat
By Donald Fagen
Release date: By 14 March, 2006
Thanks Janie!
| The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic |
 Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy – your life appeals to a select few. But if someone’s obsessed with you, look out!Your fans are downright freaky. Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski |
If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?
Currently listening:
Excitable Boy
By: Warren Zevon
Release date: 25 October, 1990
The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic |
Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy – your life appeals to a select few.But if someone’s obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky.Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski |
I’ve been thinking a lot recently.
Too much so, as I’ve been unable to sleep for more than an hour or so all week. All this with no hugs, human touch or Court TV as a distraction.
Also, when Miss R thinks it’s a case of someone working without the proper tools.
Be that as it may I’ve some to a few inescapable conclusions:
Some days I like myself alright, but that’s usually when comparing myself to the homeless dude on 4th street. I can find comfort in my intelligence and then realize that it has gotten me exactly… nowhere. Years of therapy, analysis and cognitive re-training have as yet been unable to convince me otherwise. Is it me? Yeah it is. Damn I hate taking responsibility for my own crap.
Now there’s a fucking cheery thought for this morning.
On the good side Tinfoil Hat Client did show up today. With no fucking warning as usual.
Listened to two hours of his ranting about the site, verbal abuse, lectures on world-wide pandemics, how ‘they’ are spying on his private emails, … well you get the picture.
At the end of this diatribe and 4 pages of notes for my use I DID receive a check.
Jesus. I have GOT to get into another line of work.
My laundry is going round and round in the sauna-like laundry room as we speak and the house is clean.
Had a few responses on the car but who knows if any are viable.
I DO still have my piano though and will put in some practice time this afternoon.
I should go to the gym as well but really don’t care today.
It isn’t as if I go anywhere or strive to meet anyone new.
Seems I have taken off a few pounds since working out this week though. Despite my culinary experiments.
Yeppers that whole routine idea was a great one last week. Okay there are two over-riding reasons for the sturm and drang today:
Both of these together make for a serious slide into the abyss. I need to cheer up right?
I could get hit by a bus tomorrow! Whoa even tonight if I play my cards right.
Of course I’d have to actually leave the house.
~Miss R
I pulled the aforementioned post from Craigslist since there were actually more than 75 responses within 15 hours and as per usual, most of them were ‘dick pics.’ It does no longer exist there so you’ll never know what I wrote.
You’re better off that way anyway.
Fooled ya. Kept the original
————————————
Are you a Musician?
Stay the hell away.
This goes especially for woodwind players, brass players, percussionists, string players and pianists.
Educated strangely attractive darkly humorous and peculiarly deranged SWF 45 seeks someone to laugh with while cruising cemeteries and guessing how the corpses met their demise.
Please send list of your ten favorite books.
I don’t really give a damn but want to know if there’s anything worth keeping when you leave me.
Holy crap. I’m gonna have to pull that CL ad.
I’ve actually received a few replies from men who sound interesting and found the fucking post funny –not just bizarre.
There have been over 20 replies in the last 6 hours.
wow.
Now I may be a bitch but I’m not gonna do something to lead people on.
Unless of course there’s something in it for me.
Okay not really.
Goddamned conscience gets me every time.
Oh well it seemed like a good idea this morning. I had to post an ad for the Jeep anyway and I was feeling particularly sarcastic and playful.
Arrrrrrrrrrrr.
Well, here are a few of the replies so far. I’m gonna pull the thing down tonight at midnight.
Some of the replies are so retarded that it’s not worth the effort to re-type or copy and paste.
Some are from known (if you read CL) Reno psychos.
Here for your edification are a random sampling of the unknown. The unloved. The-Unhinged-for-Good-Reason single Reno guy…
Say good night Gracie.
Good night Gracie.
by the way the **** indicates my thoughts and/or repsonse to the writer.
REPLIES du jour
1. how bout harmonica ?
worst book read karan …….
p.s it’s not the dead you have to worry about,it’s the living …..
**** hmmmmmm last I checked the harmonica was a musical instrument, as opposed to the accordion of course. Does he mean the Q’uaran? Or some porn star named karan?
2. im not a musician just a plain jane im 39 very staBLE
JAMES BOND
**** holy Christ you have GOT to be kidding me. James Bond? So much for public school education James
3. 24/m/Reno. What do you do in the boneyard (for my own morbid curiousity)? Your posting looked intresting.
**** yikes clearly another graduate of UNR. Or not. He’s 24 and my post states I’m 45??
4. Now that’s a different post.
**** This is my favorite so far. To the point. No come-on. Just a comment. This is actually what I was hoping for in the way of replies. Nothing serious just a few bemused words from a reader.
5. Your name would not be Mary Miller by any chance, would it?
**** Oh I have the most evil urge to write back and say… YES! That IS me. how have you been?
6. I don’t believe I have ever seen an add like this before.
**** another good one
Well kids it’s time to watch a movie. Or comb the cat. Or write back to the guys who took my ad at face value and were intriguing. I gotta come clean here.
I’m not ready for intriguing.
Or a relationship with anyone but TK.
Think I’ll pour another glass of club soda.
Went to the gym this afternoon in a fit of masochism so I deserve that club soda dammit. Not to mention a cigarette.
Shit.
Thought I said not to mention it.
~Miss “fuckitall I have a conscience” R
