Heroine-Girl’s auction! Go there, NOW! Bid on something; it’s fun!
If you’ve come here looking for my angst-filled stream-0f-consciousness cry of despair of the other night, you won’t find it. I took it down. I looked at it the next morning and it embarassed me with its starkness and pain. I’ve kept up the explanation, though.
Would any of you consider something like this to be a true apology (paraphrased): “I’m sorry you were hurt by my post and I’m sorry you were offended and I’m sorry I said those things and I’ll try not to mention any names or websites next time I go off on someone’s experiences or opinions that clash with mine, and I’m sorry your friends jumped to your defense and I’m sorry, sorry, sorry for everything except my own act of printing what I printed because I’m standing by it and your opinion sucks and you’re still wrong and what you said was awful and I still think you’re a Nazi but I’m sorry I had to say it?”
Me neither.
Here’s mine: “As for you in general, I’m just sorry.”
NOW I can let it go.
As they said back in the olden days: “Carpe duh.” (Seize the idiot.)
Okay, now I’m really letting it go.
======
My sweet MIL is taking us out to Rusty’s tonight. If any of you ever come to visit me, we’ll go to Rusty’s. I don’t know how to describe it to you, except to say that it is a kind of high-class elegant SNL-sketch-redneck sit-down restaurant and loud rowdy saloon. I think you’d all enjoy it. Live music on weekends.
Hub will order the barbecued ribs. MIL will order chicken. I’m not sure what I’ll order yet, because I am the unpredictable crazy one who sometimes orders (gasp) seafood, or some other exotic southern Indiana menu item.
I can hear the cooks now. “It’s on the damn menu, so we’ve got to have it somewhere. Keep digging in the bottom of the freezer!”
Seriously, it’s an awesome funky place to eat.
It’s Friday night. I wonder what my kids are doing.
It took me a LONG time to be able to go to sleep, after they grew up and moved out. For months and months, I was still listening for a car door and a key in the lock. I never could sleep when they were out. Maybe that’s part of why I have trouble sleeping now. They haven’t come home, and my mind can’t shut down till it’s heard those car-door and key noises. Therefore, my mind never shuts down.
It’s a theory. Just a theory. Of course, it could be bunnies. They’re not just cute like everybody supposes. They got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses. And what’s with all the carrots? What do they need such good eyesight for anyway? Bunnies. It must be bunnies.
Like the title of this post says, “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer in your pants.”
The world would be a better place.