Bizarre! and, once again, George Bush is a Retard

I really suck when it comes to maintaining a regular blog. I've been dividing my efforts writing too much description in the photos I upload to flickr. Well, not really. But sometimes when I'm typing away I think, "I could use this on that damn blog that nobody reads."

That reminds me of my mother again. She referred to my blog once as my "blob" and I just ignored it thinking she was trying to be funny. I haven't always been able to tell when she was trying to be funny and when she was just funny by default.

Once my sister was instructed to go downstairs and get a loaf of bread out of the freezer that she'd bought at the church bazaar. A few minutes later I heard laughing. She called me downstairs to ask if I knew which loaf of bread she wanted; the one that was obviously a loaf of bread or the one with the little label marked "bizarre bread."

Okay so the really big news, besides the gigantic spider I nearly got eaten by and managed to kill on the patio, is that this Sunday is my 48th birthday. It's safe to make that announcement here because nobody reads this anyway. It's kind of amazing to me that it's 2006 and all of us are still alive. I mean, we haven't blown up the planet yet. I used to think that December 31st, 1999 would be the last chance we would have to bend over and kiss our asses goodbye. Well, considering the news lately, maybe the last chance is still coming. I mean George Bush has done more than any one person in a thousand years to usher in the Millenium than anyone I can think of. What a retard. I'm so ashamed of him. Everyone I know who expresses an opinion just about chokes on their own vomit when his name comes up. He'll have us all learning Farsi before Spanish, you mark my words.

So where was I? Ah, yes. Getting old. It's a bitch looking 45ish but feeling 75ish. And this brings up the other subject. Leslie in Hawaii (as opposed to the Leslie not in Hawaii) has encouraged me to write a totally anonymous blog where I feel free to just let it all out without having to worry about anything other than letting all my feelings out. It would be therapy. The only problem is I couldn't tell anyone about it because then I'd be too inhibited. The proper way to do it would be to write it, have people find out about it some backasswards way and then everybody can pretend they don't know about it and I can deny it with plausability in case someone is so gauche as to mention it. Ha! That reminds me of Will's family (of "Will and Grace") and how they "handle things."

Enough for now. I've got to go read another blog so my life doesn't seem so bad. It's written by a woman who gives birth about every 6 months, according to my calculations.