maybe maybe maybe

nother morning comes awake in Reno’s desert heat.

At least I slept in my bed again last night, after first falling asleep on the couch, a book on my chest, the AC on High.

Waking up alone in my bed is still disconcerting. There’s that brief 20 seconds when I think ‘where the hell am I.’ Then I notice the sun and am alright for another minute.
Then the memories and realizations crash in and stop my heart.

Sat outside in Little Tijuana and had my coffee with the last cigarette in the house. Am out of money for more until tomorrow. I’ll be in great form in another hour when the withdrawal starts in.

Later this week I’m supposed to actually collect some money for a design job I did last winter.
Been waiting six months to collect even a partial payment. Got an email yesterday saying that my check will be going out today. Cross your fingers. It would be nice coming back from Boston to a fridge that runs (hey lady is your fridge running?) and a functioning telephone and Internet connection.
Okay fuck the phone connection but I need the DSL or I’ll be doing design work from the public library computer.

Received an email from Tinfoil Hat Client this morning. He is happy with the store I’ve set up on his site. I’m not.
I think the entire thing is shite and don’t have my name anywhere on it. All of the work on that goddamned thing and I’ll never use it for a reference or resume.
Why? ‘Cause I did it exactly the way I was paid to do it. If the (grossly infinitesimal) check clears then who am I to argue with a client over layout.
Please save me from the blind.

Today I’m going to try and get out of the house. My depression is so severe that I’m incapable of doing anything but writing to keep my mind occupied.

To go through life without feeling is impossible for me. I cannot blame my faults and foibles on another person and know it is my job to work with what little I’ve got. To at least try.
Is it so wrong to find it inexplicable that others will not do the same?

Maybe I’ll be able to listen to my favorite music again today or play the piano.
Maybe I’ll sit inside in the dark and write.
Maybe I’ll go to the gym or for a walk to the river.

Maybe I’ll stop weeping for thirty damned minutes.
Maybe the phone will ring and I’ll smile.
Maybe I’ll obsess about sex again someday.

Maybe this is all a dream and I’ll wake up in another place.

I’ll let you know.

~miss r

–nevada desert photo by arthur durkee–

psycho two

Have I ever been mean to you ?
“No” she said but it was untruthful.
She had no wish to argue or upset him
The slights had seemed few

He was good for her
She was good for him
We’ve all been twisted and spun before
Life is learning to love again

There were quick small cuts
Brief cruelties perpetrated with words
Did he realize their sharp edge
Did he remember the tirades which were not brief

One ended with “If you were a good mother your daughter would still be here.”
One ended by a lake amongst other people, his head resting on her damp breasts.
He realized that time
He had gone too far.

He shuts her down emotionally
And blames one person in his past
She tries to wake him
He chooses to stay in darkness

The light and laughter still outweigh the stupidity
And I think that there is more than one
Psycho Two
In this town.

a dance

There was a man
Who taught me to dance
Taking the time to help
A clumsy woman feel better

We danced on the tile floor
Danced on an ash covered deck
Twirled on the streets of Reno
To smiles of passers by

He held me and we danced in a campground
A light touch on the wrist
Our feet in rhythm to whatever music
We heard.

We danced with our words
And not just our bodies
We danced in the darkness and in the light
We were there to catch each other

I can no longer dance
The music makes me weep
My feet and motions are clumsy again
I can’t feel the rhythm. Or anything at all.

~miss r

—- image by: JCH Digital Designs —

i’m sick

I’m exhausted and nauseous this morning.
It was too hot to sleep last night and I didn’t want to leave all of the windows open. My apartment is on the ground floor and I was suffering a case of the paranoias.

Finally at 3:00am I grabbed a clean sheet from the closet, threw it over the couch in the living room, turned on the tiny AC unit in there and tried to sleep.
Still no luck.
I brought the fan out of the bedroom and pointed it directly at myself as well.

Finally fell asleep sometime around 4:00.
It’s hot already this morning.
I may go to a meeting this afternoon if I can stop sobbing.
Losing TK after losing my daughter is more than I can deal with. One of the reasons my daughter became so whacked-out was because I was seeing TK.
There were other reasons as well of course.

We spoke yesterday and he was civil to me. I did the usual last-pathetic-attempt to convince him he was wrong.
Pleading my case was pointless. I appeared foolish, pathetic and crazy.
As you do in these situations.

Juvenile threats to myself are empty. Hell I will not take a dirt nap, not with a daughter that I love.
I just want to lash out, to change what cannot be changed. To have a spark of optimism that one day I will see this man again.
To be forgiven.
To be cared for as I once was.
TK railed at me “how can you even consider doing anything so fucking stupid. You didn’t even know me 9 months ago.”

I do not see the logic in that idea. It does not take a specified amount of time to fall in love with someone. It could happen in a month, a year, a few weeks.

I love TK’s daughter and will never see her again either and here I am crying even harder.

There is no one in this world who gets me, or that I have found to be on the same par intellectually, or who finds the same things darkly humorous.
We could laugh at anything and anyone especially ourselves. The exact same phrase or idea would pop out of our mouths simultaneously.

We joked that pretty soon we’d have no need for words -smile-.

I wish for oblivion but not a drink.
I wish TK would forgive me.
I wish that I could forgive myself.

ghosts from the past

I’d been drinking wine all afternoon, along with a few margaritas because it just seemed right.
‘Do you want to go hear the jazz downtown tonight?’ he asked.
A bit uncertainly, since I don’t hold my liquor as well as he, I said yes.

We got dressed and I complained about the shoes. A pair of black heels owned by his ex-wife. They didn’t fit too well but I’d no other shoes with me. Being already half bagged I bitched with each step though. I know now that it certainly pissed him off.

His ex was a beautiful woman who is exceptionally talented as well. He isn’t truly over their tumultuous three years together but he no longer loves her.
I’m a jealous woman who is not beautiful and only vaguely talented .
I cannot excise that green part of my heart, so when angered will throw out stupid shit like “You still love her. That’s the problem!”
Except it’s not the problem. The problem is my own insecurity and fear of being abandoned.
He misses her but he no longer loves her.
I cannot ever find the right words or at the very least keep my fucking mouth shut.

So we listen to a decent band and have a few more drinks, then take a cab back to his house.
Alan listens to his phone messages and I black out. Not black-out in a good way, which is to say pass out. I apparently did a full-fledged Jekyll and Hyde spectacular.
I’ve no idea what precipitated my ranting.
I came to with Alan glaring at me
“I’m through Chris. I’m done. I will never go through this kind of thing again!”

He frightened me. I was so scared. Scared of his wrath, scared of what the hell I had said because I did not remember. Not a goddamned word.
Instead of going to bed and dealing with my behavior in the morning I took off like a small child. Angry, full of self-righteousness, and stupidly doing so without telling Alan.

After arriving at my house the entire situation crashed into me.
What in the name of god had I wrought? How could I have done something like this?
I called three times and he would not answer the phone.

When we met there was an attraction intellectual, physical, and emotional. It is intense and our involvement over the last nine months has been one of passion, laughter, understanding and misunderstandings.

When he drinks he can become either affectionate or demeaning. I never know but always hope for the affection.
He has told me before

“I do not love you.”
“I do not care about you.”
“I am not your boyfriend.”
“I am looking for a Barbie.”
I have also heard him whisper

“I love you” and tell me that my art is fine and that things will be alright.
He keeps his distance.

Not wanting to be hurt but not wanting to live.
I understand some of it.

My life has been uncertain and stressful the last six months and my last long term relationship was with a crazy man.
My ex husband.
He did not drink. He was simply cruel and vicious.
Repeating that cycle is not something a sane person wishes to repeat.

Neither Alan nor I ever claimed to be sane.
I just wish that I was not such a fucking stupid cunt sometimes and could have some measure of decorum.
Maybe it’s not in me.
Or Alan.
Or anyone.

~a story by miss r


stop me before i write again

-written July 19 2007-


It appears I am suffering from hypographia today.

Pain and heartbreak are bad for my blood pressure, depression and emotional well being but tend to cause a creative spark, albeit a fucking lame one in my case.

I took off into the night after a terrible row the past evening and came home horrified by what I had done.
Yes we have all made mistakes (too true Lee) and will continue to make them, but it does not make the grief and self hatred any less difficult to live with.


Being a girl I have spent the day enveloped in this tiny bastion called home, with the exception of a walk earlier.

I cannot sit and watch ‘chick flicks’ – I detest them- or eat myself into oblivion with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Pistachio ice cream –because I’m getting too goddamned out of shape. Besides. I’m not hungry.
Except for distraction and solace and a phone call that will probably never come.

I’m going to watch a DVD though. The cable was shut off yesterday so my normal foray into somnolesence brought on by Forensic shows is out.

Here are some potential choices from my collection. Keep in mind the current state of angst wontcha please…

Doctor Zhivago – fabulously depressing and sorrowful. God I love Pasternak

Brazil – Terry Gilliam’s ode to a bleak future and the ruination of a man brought about by a simple typo

Leaving Las Vegas – who can’t empathize with an alcoholic who once had it all and dies a lonely horrid death

Moulin Rouge – a depressing musical! The heroine dies and the protagonist lives a life of desperation and despair

Secondhand Lions – haven’t seen this one. I do know that my daughter cried when she saw it though

The list is meager I know. My taste in films tends to run towards things which don’t make me cry so most of the titles in my library have no bearing on the current state of my torn brain.
Fuck. Life is a hell of tears and pain so why would I spend time reliving it though someone else’s eyes?

Well here we go for DVD roulette. I watched Glorious with Eddie Izzard last night to try and cheer myself up but it didn’t do the trick.

Gee wonder why. Guess who turned me on to Eddie?

                                                Cast your vote!


~Miss R

please call me baby

So Angus noticed I was listening to one of my favorite Tom Waits CDs while writing the last entry here.

In the interest of any real Waits fan, and for the benefit of myself right now, here is my very favorite Waits song.
I never fail to tear up when I hear it.
The combination of words and music is painful and poignent.
I awoke this morning at 4:00 and it was playing in the back of my mind.

Please Call Me Baby

The evening fell just like a star
Left a trail behind
You spit as you slammed out the door
If this is love we’re crazy
As we fight like cats and dogs
But I just know there’s got to be more

So please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It’s too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we’re wounded
Everyone’s a bit insane
I don’t want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

And I admit that I ain’t no angel
I admit that I ain’t no saint
I’m selfish and I’m cruel but you’re blind
If I exorcise my devils
Well my angels may leave too
When they leave they’re so hard to find

So please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It’s too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we’re wounded
Everyone’s a bit insane
I don’t want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

And we’re always at each other’s throats
You know it drives me up the wall
But most of the time I’m just blowing off steam
And I wish to God you’d leave me
Baby I wish to God you’d stay
Life’s so different than it is in your dreams

So please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It’s too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we’re wounded
Everyone’s a bit insane
I don’t want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

as a last thought this afternoon this came bubbling up. as everything that I espouse it means nothing but helps clear my head. even briefly. even between the tears.

When I care about someone
and they’re in pain
I try so hard to cut them some slack
sometimes the karma comes back for good
there is only this moment
how fucking zen can you get.

~miss r

Currently listening:
Closing Time
By: Tom Waits
Release date: 12 October, 1990

What I Did On My Summer Vacation : Installment One: Retards and Busted RVs

–written July 16–
Hilarity fucking ensued during the past two weeks. So did surrealness, blazing hot days, broken down RVs on an uphill stretch of two lane highway, drooling bags of retarded meat, hostile 11 year olds, hostile 60 year olds, fantastic BBQs, beautiful swimming conditions, a drive through Napa Valley and a morning at the Mumm Vinyard.

Finally arrived back home here in Reno on Saturday night.
A full 5 days later than planned. TK’s RV stopped running about 10 miles into our drive back to Reno. The RV is still 5 hours away in Clear Lake, California at a repair shop.

The plan was to get it home, do some minor stuff on it and get it ready for Burning Man.

All in all an unusual but fine experience.
Except for the broken down RV and gorked out-of-control drooling bag of cunning, conniving, pathological lying, stealing, disgusting, masturbating-in-public 18 year old bag of rancid stinking meat; and those are his good points.

I blame his parents primarily of course. He has not had any real boundaries set, has no punishments for his transgressions, and his dad encourages him to think he will be ‘normal’ and then does not watch him.
Everyone else has to watch him to make sure he doesn’t harass, touch, steal or injure an unsuspecting bystander.
This resulted in the little fucker telling both TK’s 11 year old daughter, as well as myself, that we were ‘sexy’. You can’t get more inappropriate than that.

He does nothing but watch television and mindlessly drool over People magazines.
He wants to “get married and have babies” but his mom and dad will not tell him it cannot happen.
The fucker needs to be in a home before some guy kicks his ass for making advances on a wife or child. Or stealing from them. He is famous for stealing and then lying about it.
He knows right from wrong.
He’s strong and tried beating on his dad during a major meltdown last week.
To think I am unhappy over MY kid. Ugh.

Enough about tards. We were at Soda Bay and it was HOT. Our spot received exactly zero shade. Oh joy. On the positive side the pool was a short walk away and oh how great that felt.
TK barbequed every day and the food was delicious.
Our camp consisted of myself, TK, TK’s daughter, his daughter’s 11 year old spoiled Mill Valley brat friend, and Dave and Dave’s Gork. At one point the aforementioned brat’s dad showed up for a night. We also fed one of the staff members. There was much food, libation and laughter at other people’s misfortunes.

We packed up on Monday morning, sans the girls. They had been picked up the previous day and taken back to Mill Valley. After getting the camp broken down, hauling debris to the dumpster, sweating in the blazing sun and cleaning the site we headed off.
Ten miles into the journey back to Reno, on Highway 29, the RV suddenly came to a complete stop.

Going uphill. On a two lane road.

We eventually called AAA and had the thing towed to a garage. Luckily, Dave’s family lived about 10 miles away in Middletown and I was driving the Jeep.
We were invited to crash at the home of a sister and brother in law. The house was a big old place on 7 acres in the country with a swimming pool. The weird part was that at least 20 projects had been started and none of them completed.
For instance, no carpeting and staples still in the floor with padding stuck in them. The best part? The carpet had been pulled up years before and never replaced.
Can you say ‘A contractor owns this place?’ Sure you can. We slept in sleeping bags for the duration and sat by the pool for 4 days praying that the RV would be fixed.
There was still more hilarity though as the Gork was also there with Dave although they were staying in their 5th Wheel.

A highlight was Dave’s brother in law finding the Gork upstairs, in a spare bedroom that contained only an ironing board. Naked.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing up there? Put on some clothes. Are you ironing your fucking dick?”

By Friday night it was clear that the mechanic didn’t have the time to devote to the engine and we were not going to get out of there anytime soon.
We cut our losses, transferred everything back out of the RV on Saturday and drove home in my Jeep.

Despite the weirdness of the trip I had a fine time.
On the way to Clear Lake TK took me to Nevada City for lunch at a hidden delightful place under the canopy of old trees and Wisteria. We stopped at Granzellas to sample olives then drove through Colusa which is an amazing old river town.

On the way back I had my first look at Napa Valley (Mmmm Mumm Vineyards) and a burger at Ikedas in Auburn.

So take out your Black Eyed Peas CD and sing with me…
Let’s Get Retarded Uh huh Let’s Get Retarded in Here!

~Miss R

Thanks to Gonzo for partying with Lizzie Borden and keeping her from having that rave last weekend.


Currently listening :
By Squeeze

Goodbye Blue Monday

‘m trying to find some ways to feel better. The past three days have been colored with darkness, occluded by sadness and imbued with both hurt and guilt. Instead of feeling better about things I’m worse tonight.

These are all feelings that cognizant people work through. At times though the abyss is so black and the future so frightening that even finding that starting point seems pointless. Suffering clinical depression, overcoming a severe illness and trauma of all kinds exacerbate despair.

This essay is an effort to help myself.
Maybe you will find something of value as well.
Or, maybe you’ll simply say ‘ohfortheloveofchristrachael!’ call your shrink and take a xanax.

The kicker is this: it’s my life. You can always turn the page right?

Friends are hard to come by. Friends are people with whom we have real things in common. This indicates that we can also push each other’s buttons and have many of the same reactions to outside stimuli, be it good or bad.

I’m one of those folks who have learned to keep anger inside, hidden and buried. To show emotion, whether happiness or anger, in our family was to be ignored. It was not respectable. Later in marriage it was a cause to be screamed down and abused. There will be no feelings here dammit! Bad Rachael! No Donut!
I still jump at loud noises or a raised voice. Jesus. Slow learner or what.

I’m so afraid of hurting someone’s feelings or being yelled at or taunted that I don’t say anything until my anger reaches levels of epic stupidity.
Until of course it comes roiling out at usually inappropriate times. Or better yet, at a person or thing that does not deserve the level of my ire.

I’ve also been known to make light of the things which scare me. It puts the situation off and diffuses uncomfortable feelings. My own daughter even accuses me of this…. because it’s true. It’s another coping mechanism.

‘Cause what do people do? We’re at heart selfish and self-centered and easily hurt. It doesn’t matter if we’re also a soft touch, caring, giving, loving and want the best for those we love. That old animal instinct is still there.
Even Mother Teresa wanted to kick someone’s ass at times.
Not good for me, my blood pressure or the poor bastard (or bitch) who is around when I finally can’t keep those things inside any longer. Of course by this time my hurts have grown into monsters instead of simplistic problems that could have been worked out.

Rule Number One: Talk things out right away.
Why in the hell do I forget this on a regular basis? It’s so simple and effective but I am so afraid. Your partner or friend cannot read your mind, no matter how much they love you. Ouija board not included.

Rule Number Two: Learn to forgive
I’ve found over the years, when I fucking remember, that the best way to get over any anger is to forgive. Even if the anger is misplaced.
Either forgive the person who has said something to hurt me, or harder yet, forgive myself.
It’s a bitch to forget the hurt and anguish you went through. It takes a lot of convincing on your part, but it can be done. Forgiving releases pain.
Writing a letter to the person who has caused me anguish and pain helps. Writing in detail what they did and its effects. In the end, I normally write “I forgive you for all the pain you caused me. Much Love.” then I BURN THE FUCKING LETTER AND do NOT send the fucker.
TK gave me a great piece of advice one night when I was pissed off at someone. He said “wait 24 hours before you send that!”.No shit, it sounds simple.
I forget the cathartic effect of simply writing about how I feel and then just deleting, or better yet, burning the missive. It works too. Oh god I’ve mentioned my version of drinking and dialing… it’s called insanity and writing –shudder-.

Rule Number Three: Admit my part in an altercation.
We ALWAYS play a part somewhere. I have said something somewhere somewow to incite the current incident or problem. Doesn’t matter if it was knowing or unknowing. Everyone STILL plays a part in the outcomes of their lives. Thinking back to see where I fit in is a big step in allowing me to find a bit of understanding. Damned if I don’t forget this one as well.

Rule Number Four: No one is perfect
Say it ain’t so. Who has not had a disagreement with a friend/lover/spouse or family member? If you have strong feelings for someone then it’s gonna happen. It’s about remembering that we all make mistakes AND we can learn from them. Making amends means changing a behavior that is hurtful and it just cannot happen overnight. To me it indicates that willingness to give it all I have to change my reactions AND actions. Willingness and action together. Fuck more work no not again.

Rule Number Five: Exposing Vulnerability
This is the hardest thing in the world for me. Seriously. I’ve been accused of being unapproachable. Never unfriendly, rude, cold, or lacking in humor. Just unapproachable in matters of friendship. Sadly I feel the need to keep up that facade.
It’s true. How can I share myself with someone else when I don’t really appreciate anything about myself? More work on this one. Although humanity in general DOES tend to piss me off.

Rule Number Five: Be Friends
Share the good the bad and the oh-so-ugly. If someone is really your friend they will understand. If they’re not then it will hurt but you’ll know. Do stuff together. Make fun of retards. Kick back and just read a book in the same vicinity. Do the things that make you both happy. Together.

Rule Number Six: Always order extra sour cream at the Mexican Restaurant
Betcha didn’t think that this belonged her but it does. Why, my last marriage broke up over just such an incident. Never underestimate the power of enough sour cream to bring joy into your life.

Well clearly I’m not a doctor. Hell I’m a two time loser at the Alter (with the exception of that human sacrifice thing but that’s another blog for another night).
I just write this to try and sort out some feelings and thoughts and maybe have something to look back on.

My natural state is laughter at everything including myself. Being this sad is killing me, and that goes literally for a person such as myself.
We all want love and acceptance. Crave it. It’s the human condition and that’s the proverbial Good that goes with the Bad.

Talking it out, admitting vulnerability, being friends and sharing the special experiences and most of all forgiveness.
Wonder if one of the tattoo places here in Reno can ink that paragraph on the inside of my eyelids. That’s gotta hurt.

I can be right or I can be happy.

Happy is healthier and more fun.
Life is so fleeting. I could be dead tomorrow.
You could be dead tomorrow.

I want to spend the little time I have here smiling, joking, making love, being a smart-ass and learning.
Not gloating in private.
Well okay sometimes. Just for a few minutes each month.

~miss r

Currently listening:
Little Shop Of Horrors: Original Cast Album (1982 Off-Broadway Cast)
By: Alan Menken
Release date: 25 August, 1992

a mindless survey to cheer me up

1.Do you still talk to the person you LAST kissed?
yes i do and have taken measures to make sure it stays that way

2. Have you ever seen your best friend cry?

3. What kind of vitamins did you take as a kid?
my mom was a health nazi… every kind

4.What was the last food you ate?
a dreyer’s fruit popsicle

5. Did you get any compliments today?
i don’t deserve any. ever.

6. Have you ever gone to court?

7. Whats the fifth text message in your inbox?
I don’t text. oh yeah. I don’t have a fucking phone anymore

8. Are you friends with your neighbors?
bwaahahahaha. what part of leave me the hell alone don’t you get.

10. What languages do your parents speak?
English and the ever popular Bitch.

11. What towns have you lived in?
Ready…? Philadelphia PA, Washington DC, Long Beach CA, Lakewood CA ,Idyllwild CA, Somerset CA, New York City, Hackensack NJ, Demerest NJ, Bear Lake MI, Crystal Lake MI, Reno NV

12. What’s the last piercing you got?

13. When was the last time you drove more than 15 minutes?
hell i can drive someone to drink in under 10

14. Do you get distracted easily?
what was the question?

15. Who do you like?
I like a man who likes everybody and everything.
Not really. that’s a lyric from an old 70’s song

16. Do you get jealous easily?
not as long as I’m sober –eye roll-. I am pathetic.

18. Have you ever played Spin the Bottle?
once in 9th grade

19. Have you ever toilet papered someone’s house?
and I would do this why?

20. Have you ever had a crush on your brother or sister’s friends?
no not ever.

21. Have you ever gone to a beach?
hey I used to live on the beach.

22. Have you ever had a stalker?
You betcha!!

23. Do you remember your music teacher’s name from elementary school?
Mrs Presley. holy god where did that piece of information come from?

24. How good is your eyesight?
my eyesight is perfect. I’ve only worn glasses for 30 years because they look so hip

25. Have you ever gone to a party?
babe I have been the party

26. Would you ever want to swim with the sharks?
I already worked in the NYC finance industry

27. What would you say if I told you I was in love with your brother?
i’d say that my sister was looking pretty fucking bad these days

28. Have you ever been out of the country?
several times a week

29. Have you seen your best friend naked?

30. What’s the best wedding you’ve been to?
best wedding? oxymoron

31. Would your parents be mad if you got arrested for fighting?
considering I’m 5’2″ with an exceptionally non-athletic build and have never been arrested they would be simply perplexed.

32. Where are your sibling(s) right now?
what’s up with my sister. gah why don’t I just introduce you two?

34. What’s the last dream you can remember?
being happy. you said dream.

35. Who was the last person who called you?
my mom

36. What time did you wake up this morning?
somewhere around 8:00 am

37. What are you doing this weekend?
taking those barbells up to the attic

38. What does the 13th text message on your phone say?
wtf. no. phone. asshat.

39. What is the last item of clothing you bought?
industrial fishnet stockings

40. When was the last time you were really sick?
do not make me go there

41. Who’s the last celebrity you touched?
mmmm probably michael moore

42. What’s in your back pocket?
hey it’s my phone and my wallet! no. it’s lint. dammit.

43. Who is the last person you took a picture with?
TK… but you’ll never see those

44. What is the last thing you drank?
club soda

45. Do you wear colored contacts?
I wear glasses and rarely wear contacts. see above

46. How do you get to school?

47. What were you doing at 4am this morning?
running my shortcomings, mistakes, and self-hatred around in my brain

48. What do you usually do first in the morning?
get my lazy ass out of bed and push the button

49. Do you know anybody in the Army?

50. Who was the last person you went to the movies with?
my daughter of course

Currently listening :
Chicago – A Musical Vaudeville (1975 Original Broadway Cast)
By John Kander
Release date: By 12 November, 1996

I used to be disgusted but now I try to be amused.

Character defects are something everyone has in abundance.
Well except for me of course. -cue laughter from backstage-

Am attempting to incorporate three salient points, as opposed to Salinger points, into today’s musings and meditations

Never confuse boredom with serenity (Easy)
Never confuse drama with human interaction (VERY Difficult)
Never play cards with a cheating cat (Impossible)

Speaking of peculiar behavior (which is a specialty in these here parts) it was time for the monthly chat with Dr. Haveasquishy.
Sadly it’s a bitch to be honest with someone you don’t respect. Hell, I have a problem vocalizing feelings, terrors and thoughts to people I DO respect for fear that my less than brilliant contemplations will offend them and propel them screaming into the night.
We did have a decent session today and I was as honest as I’ve ever been with him.
Progress not perfection.
Am still suicidal and not yet homicidal so I need more couch time. Nothing like being the progeny of a psychiatrist AND growing up in L.A.
Nobody walks in L.A.
They all have therapists though.

Okay here’s what I learned this week:

1. If I am going to re-wire the end of an extension cord the white wire is the common, black is hot and green is ground. I don’t HAVE to use the green either.
2. Never dwell on a hurt or slight whether real or imagined. Mention it immediately and see if you’re being obsessive, overly sensitive or you’re right.
3. Raleys on Mayberry hires every tard in Old Southwest Reno. Surreal.
4. I’d forgotten how talented the singers of Manhattan Transfer were
5. A hub and a switch work differently. A computer on a switch runs faster (albeit imperceptibly) because packets traveling through a hub have to determine if the different computers connected to it actually receive that particular packet of information
6. The first dinosaur bone discovered in America was found in West Virginia and when presented in a scientific paper promptly ignored. The bone was given to a museum and promptly lost.
7. Experience is something you don’t get until just AFTER you fucking need it
8. Master of the House from Les Miserables is evilly tenacious and will not release your brain. UNLESS someone puts on Overkill by Men at Work which will immediately fuck you off with it’s insidious tune and lyrics.
9. Discontinuing a medication which has been in your system for 12 years without weaning down the dosage slowly puts your body into severe physiological and psychological withdrawl.
nausea, uncontrollable weeping, dizziness, stomach cramps, vertigo, inability to concentrate and it just gets better!
Especially Effexor. Especially if you have not had organic chemistry since college and are not a doctor.
10. My Work is maintaining a tan for the benefit of all mankind
11. I need new business cards made up:

Rachael C. Black
Exectutive Ne’er Do Well

12. All the tinfoil in the world will not keep my whack-ass client from contacting me. if only he was a real client. If only I had not lost all of the tinfoil to lizzie in that poker game last weekend.
13. Lizzie Borden cheats at poker. This with no opposable thumbs. Bitch.
14. A teenager forgives pretty quickly and will begin to say I Love You again.
15. Do not walk behind me, for I will only lead into temptation. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just leave me the hell alone.
16. If you have to lose sleep, don’t do it alone
17. No matter what happens, there is always someone ready to tell you that it happened according to his/her pet theory.
Rachael’s Corollary I: No matter what happens, there is always someone ready to misinterpret what it means. A few times it’s been me.
18. Directly spraying kitchen ants with Clorox does NOT kill the bastards
19. Stephen Hawking can’t swim for shit
20. My mother saves every goddamned picture she ever took and today I find that I had a super fine do in 1985 -yark-

Yours in Suicidal Ideation and Non Sequiturs,

~The Still Fabulously Deranged Miss R

Dammit I forgot one. Thanks TK

if you’re hungry eat

if you’re thirsty drink
if you’re happy dance
If you’re tired… watch court tv 

Currently listening:
Living In Oblivion : The 80’s Greatest Hits, Vol. 1
By: Various Artists
Release date: 23 March, 1993

New and Improved! Friends. Skiing. Thrills. Spills.

The Goth Gifted Spawn of Satan and I went skiing today.

Brilliant move… let’s start out the day on a rock infested steep. Took a hella fall on the first run, to the extent that one of my bindings released. I struggled for almost 10 minutes to get the fucking ski back on. Humiliating. Ugh. In my defense it was a seriously steep Black run and my boot and binding were caked with snow.
The entire time my ungrateful miscreant of a child laughed her ass off. Grrrrr.

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the last valentine’s day post swear to god

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
Hard to believe I’ve posted only two rants this year. I’m slipping.

I’ll be home tomorrow night listening to Miles and watching a flick with the kid.

Well, lest you think I’m getting soft and complacent I have a little something to cheer you up.
Even others such as
Druish philosophers can find the absurd with love and sentiment.

To honor this most joyful of occassions I’ve written an ode to this day of love, smiles and chirping little birdies that should only get shredded to hell in the propellers of a plane.

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Confessions of a CraigsList Junkie

Major League Ugly Craigs List Chair

It’s been a long time since the craigslist addiction
has raised its ugly little head. Been close to a year since I perused the site every day.
It pulls you in though. Just when I thought that I was out.
Damned digression.

CL is a microcosm of the world at large and our local Reno version is just too weird and fun to avoid.
I place the current blame at the feet of living a life devoid of full-time 9 to 5 employment.

Here’s the cool stuff that I’ve found on Craigslist
over the last year and a half:


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15 good reasons to be single and NOT a teenager

I’m happy to no longer be among the teen crowd of vile evilness that constitutes Junior High School, or as it’s called in these here parts Middle School.

To wit:
My daughter was in tears when I arrived home this afternoon.
She’s in 8th Grade, an utter geek, and painfully self-conscious, defensive, fragile and emotional. You know, just like we were at that age.
Seems that the kid who sits next to her in Advanced Chemistry, Jeremy, talked with her during class. As an aside if you have a boy named Jeremy in 8th Grade Advanced Chemistry I’m going to find you and discuss Miss Manners prior to calling in the goon squad. Sorry. Got ahead of myself in the narrative.

So my daughter has a crush on this guy, and she’s delighted he’s speaking with her, asking her questions and paying attention to her.
By the next class period (they share many of the same classes) this Jeremy kid has made it apparent that his interest in Cate was an utter ruse. Seems his girlfriend had put him up to it. He and the girlfriend biatch then proceeded to say cruel, nasty and vicious things about Cate to each class and every person in them.

Each time my daughter entered another class the other kids were laughing and making comments about her choice of perfume, etc.

When Cate confronted the douchebag (really saying his name just gives him power correct?) his response was “why did you think I was interested. Who would ever like you?”

Children are evil. Most should be killed for the good of the state. Or their pelts.
Could only console my baby by sharing my own experiences along these lines;  letting her know she’s not alone. It gets better.

Doth it not sayeth in the Good Book of Rachael…
The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth.

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