Thursday, August 28, 2008

A note from Miss Anne:

Dear Internets:


I gotta tell you, I WANT to write... I want to be cute and funny and entertaining. But I got NOTHING. I have sat here for DAYS, started fifty bazillion different posts, and then thought to myself, "Self, this sucks. Delete this motherfucker."

And you guys KNOW how I love to delete things...

So, I'm at a loss....

I feel so disconnected from the blog world. I go by your blogs, whether I comment or not, and believe me, I TRY to comment on all the ones I read, and I see you are writing, and life is HAPPENING to you, and....

I feel like I have been cryogenically frozen...

Help me out guys. Give me a topic to write about. Ask me a question. Leave a MEAN anonymous comment, so I have something to get PISSED about. (Mitchell, this does not mean you, and I will KNOW if you leave a mean comment, and I will tell Kate.)

Ask me for advice. It's free. Ask me for a recipe. Hell, I'm a fairly good cook. Ask me about a book, or a song, or....

Hell, I don't care what you say, or what you ask, I will respond to it. Otherwise, I'm going to write a post on how many bottles of shampoo are in my shower (8), how many books I own (43 million) or how long my leg hairs are (long enough to BRAID). I'll be forced to write about how many cigarette butts are in the ashtray beside my computer (36, but I'm working on another one, as I write this... PUFF, PUFF, BLOOOOW).

I'll tell you why I dry off with a hair dryer after my shower (because I believe towels just smear dead skin cells around on your skin...); How many times I gag when I brush my teeth (depends on how many times I try to brush my tongue); or why there is a HUGE oily stain on the leg of my favorite jeans (think dark movie theater... think popcorn... think EXTRA butter); or how many steps it takes me to get from my car to my office (73..).

Save me from myself. Save yourselves from everlasting ennui!! Help me escape from the razor toothed, ooze dripping, hot breathed jaws of writers block...

Loves!

Miss Anne

Monday, August 25, 2008

HOLY SHIT, I FOUND IT!!!

The movie was "Bad Ronald." How awesome that I found it!! And it was a 1974 TV Movie of the Week, so I was FREAKING 10 years old when I saw it!!

Ladies and gentlemen, that was nearly 34 years ago...

I need that movie...

What a terrific birthday present it would make for SOMEONE!! (and by someone, I mean ME)

Someone will SURELY get it for me!! (and by someone, I mean YOU)


Now, did anyone see "Let's Scare Jessica to Death...?"

Monday Morning Movie Trivia, among other things...

Ok, I'm going absolutely bat-shit crazy trying to find the name of a movie....

Remember when I asked you to help me find the name of that book about the little runaway girl and her imaginary friend, Squire Hemon Monk? And remember how you sucked ASS at helping me find it?

I'm hoping you'll do better this time... because I have faith in you, that's why!!

There was a movie on television, when I was young... It was about a boy, whose mother, (and I don't remember WHY) closed him off in some hiding space inside her house. Then she died. There were other people who moved into the house, and I remember the boy watching them through tiny little pinprick holes in the walls...

And that's all I can remember. I don't remember the end of the movie, or if anyone else died or was murdered. I was a little KID, donchaknow!

Help me find the title, so I can find the movie... or at least a synopsis of the movie.

I'm thinking of hiding myself inside THIS house... 'cause, you know... watching the Husband try to flirt with Anna-Banana should be good for some giggles....

I'm kidding.

The Husband couldn't flirt if you glued one of his eyes shut in a permanent wink...

Speaking of The Husband...

I haven't reported anything new here, because there hasn't been anything new to report. I'm still here... He still has not said he DOESN'T want a divorce. I'm still too poor to find an apartment. For the time being, we've called a truce of sorts, and everything is calm. If I could make that last until Thing 2 graduates in June, I'll do it. If not.... well, I AM still determined to make my life work, with OR without him.

It would be a lot fucking easier if I won the lottery.

Thing 1 is back at school, WITH HER CAR, no less!! She reports that she hasn't had a bit of trouble, which is astounding, in itself. She's supposed to come home for Labor Day, which fills me with the kind of fear that only the mother of a 21 year old child who is "driving challenged" can feel...

Thing 2 starts back to school on Wednesday. Which is a good thing, as her drumming has reached a freakin' fever pitch inside this house. I took her shopping last week, and bless her pea pickin' little heart, everything she picked out was either on clearance, or on a very good sale.

Mamaw said a very weird thing the other day, but I forgave her instantly, as my middle name is "For God's sake, her husband just died, let it GO already"...

I was getting ready to leave her house, and she mentioned that the Husband didn't come down there early to turn on the coffeepot. I said "I fixed coffee this morning, and he just drank mine." As I hugged her goodbye, (which used to be awkward, but I AM a hugger) she said into my ear: "You better stop that... he's MINE". "I know," I said, "and you can HAVE him. But I'm not going to stop making coffee. I need it to SURVIVE."

That's all that's happening in MY neck-o'-the-woods. How have YOU been?

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Free to Good Home...

One wife. Used for 24 years. Still has all own teeth. Can cook. Won't clean house or do windows. Has trashy mouth. Loves to read and will eat you out of house and home. Will make you laugh. May possibly make you crazy. Needs lots of love. Comes with a fair amount of baggage. Can suck a football through a water hose*. Is smart and has great smile. Has crazy little left eye.



*Just kidding about the football.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Here's an interesting tidbit:

He chose divorce.

.................


What the fuck do I do now?

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Let's all yuk it up, why don't we?

Because my middle name is "Give the people what the fuck they want," I give you these:




This is my "I am GROWLING, not preparing to say the word SHIT" picture. And also my "If I close BOTH eyes, you can't tell which one is LITTLE, can you, ya' FAT BASTARDS!!" picture.












This is my "I'm winking, even though it looks like I'm passing gas" picture. And also my "Fucking hell, even when I close my RIGHT eye, my left eye is LITTLE" picture.











This is my "oopsie! Bad haircut? Smile, anyway!" picture. And also my, "Some people's big boobs go all the way to their NECKS" picture.











This is my "does anyone love their readers more than me, to post this CRAP onLINE?" picture. And also, my "Fat people also have fat WRISTS" picture.










This is my "I STILL have fucking great hair, even if it's UGLY as SIN" picture. And also my, "Is it just me, or does my nose take up over half my face?" picture.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

If you can't say something nice....

Wonder what it means when you get a really, REALLY shitty haircut... and you come home almost in tears... and you text a friend and say, OHMYGAWD IT'S A FUCKING DISASTER!!!

And then that friend says, "It can't be that bad, let me see it..." and so you take a picture and believe me, it IS that bad... and you send the picture... and your friend says...

...

...

nothing?

...

...

Yeah, that's what *I* thought it meant too...

~woe is miss anne~

Monday, August 11, 2008

Just once, I'd like to LOVE Mondays....

So, here it is Monday again, and I'm kind of blah.....

I haven't blogged, haven't visited any blogs, haven't really even THOUGHT about blogging. I suck, I know.

Here's what's happening in MY neck o' the woods:

I have a horrible headache, which started yesterday morning at 10:30 a.m., and which REFUSES to acknowledge the SHITLOAD of tylenol that I've been feeding it. These are the times when it's fun to sleep alot.... visions of Lortab dancing in my head.

It's lonely at mamaw's house. We've been down there daily, either for breakfast or dinner, always trying to be cheerful, without being totally fake. She seems to be doing ok, though I suspect it's an act. However, I feel that if she cares enough to ACT for us, it's a positive sign.

Tomorrow, I shall be getting a brand new floor in my kitchen, which fills me with joy and hope. You would have to know what my CURRENT disgusting floor looks like to truly understand my joy. My hope is that I will continue to give a shit about my house and put forth that small effort to maintain the weekly cleaning that Anna-Banana gives it. At some point, after Vincent-the-saving-dog gives up the ghost, we will also be replacing the carpet in the living room, and I am DETERMINED to add a new sofa and chair. I've already picked it out, and bargained with husband for it. If he buys the carpet (which, by the way is the most expensive carpet you have EVER seen) I will buy the sofa. And it's fucking AWESOME, the sofa. I am in LOVE with it.

I have been a model wife, for the most part. I say for the most part, because I am still me, you understand. However, I have tried to minimize that fact by running errands, cleaning house, cooking, visiting with mamaw, and giving SEX when sex is requested. Believe me when I say that this is a HUGE big deal. I promised that I would work to become a good wife, and I will.

However....

Nothing is being done, on the part of Husband, in reciprocation. I don't mean in a sexual way. He's more than willing to do ANY freaky thing imaginable. And he works hard, and provides for us well. But he is FAILING me, nonetheless. I've tried talking to him about it, but I'm not going to allow myself to sound like a shrew. He just lost his father. I did however, make my feelings known. I reminded him that I AM STILL HERE, lest he forget, and his inability to make a decision regarding our future is wearing thin.

I put it simply: "I am trying to make you happy. I am doing the things that I know you want me to do, long before you have to ask me to do them. If you want to keep me here, it is important that you show me, in some small way, that my happiness means something to you, too. If you don't want to keep me here, let's make it as painless as possible, and part in a way that doesn't leave too many scars..."

The funny thing is, I don't think he likes the changes in me, as much as he thought he would. I think he liked it better when I was AFRAID of my future, when he could COMPLAIN about the time I spent on the computer, and about the house, and about every other way in which I FAILED HIM. He doesn't like to see strength in me.

I am determined that my life from here on out have some MEANING. To that end, I will pursue some kind of volunteer work. The two things I have thought about most are Hospice, and the assisted living home that papaw worked so devotedly for. I'm much more interested in giving my time at the assisted living home, in whatever capacity they will accept. This is important to me because I feel (and trust me, rightly so) that my life up to this point has been selfish and self serving. I NEED to give something back.

I mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: I NEED A NEW HOBBY. Someone suggested scrapbooking, and, though I ADORE you for caring enough to make the suggestion, I'd rather a rattlesnake sink his fangs into the whites of my EYE and fill me with venom than take up scrapbooking. Likewise knitting, crochet, cross-stitch, sewing, quilting or any other needle-related thing. I can't draw or paint. I am not interested in making jewelry. There HAS to be something I can do. Put your thinking caps on and leave me some suggestions. I IMPLORE you. With love, of course.

I am finishing up Breaking Dawn, and find it to be the most putrid, chock-full-o-bull-shit piece of literature I have ever perused. I am almost ashamed to be reading it. Does anyone else share my view of this literary disaster? I know you do, Janet. Anyone else?

Thing 1 will go back to school this weekend. Again, my heart will go with her. Thing 2 has been in band camp since July 29. Every week day, 8:00 a.m. till 2:00 p.m. Trust me when I say that being hot and tired does NOTHING for Thing 2's mood. She's been a complete BITCH since band camp started. It gets better, I keep promising myself. Myself sees no sign of that yet, but is ever hopeful.

And now I'm off to get ready for yet another week of back-breaking work. Ha. I mean, sitting on my big butt and dealing with the scum of the earth... Did I mention I HATE Social Security? How about Bankruptcy? Wills? Estates? I hate them all......

Have a great week, internets... and remember, Miss Anne fucking loves you...

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

A Note to myself...

Dear Self:

Just a few things to remember, the next time someone dies.

1. For a woman of SIZE, wearing 3 inch heels to a wake is NOT a good idea, even if you paid only $12.50 for them on clearance, and even if they look AMAZING with your black pants suit.

2. The next time you have to be last in the bathroom to fix your hair, and it's hot, throw something BIG and SHARP at the child you gave BIRTH to who says, "Dude, did you fix your hair? It's lookin' kind of haggard..."

3. Waterproof mascara was created for a REASON.

4. Remind your children that saying SHIT, PISS, DAMN IT, or SON OF A BITCH are no-no's in church. HELL is ok, though, if you're talking about a place. GOD should only be said if you are praying to Him, and CHRIST ON A CRUTCH is almost certainly taboo in most churches. If they say those words anyway, sit far away from them, so as not to be struck by the lightening that God will surely send down upon them.

5. If the sister-in-law that you adore tells you that you have raccoon eyes, do NOT tell her she has a booger in her nose. She is distraught and trying to help. Oh, and refer to number 3 re: the raccoon eyes.

6. If someone really old takes your hand and says, "And who are you, dear?" It is NOT polite to squeal, "Ohmigawd, you can SEE me?"

7. Voices carry in church. So it's probably not a good idea to stand up and announce, "I have to PEE like a RACEHORSE."

8. It is impolite to say that your husband's cousin is "as fucked up as a soup sandwich"... especially if you are talking to her sister.

9. People will look at you funny if you announce, "Ativan in my car, everyone! Party time!"

10. It is probably not acceptable to take off the offending 3" heels, sling 'em over your shoulder, and announce, "Let's blow this joint, I need some Starbucks!"

Sometimes, you have to laugh in order to stop crying...

Monday, August 4, 2008

Rest in peace, Papaw...

I will surely miss you...

~Melodyann~