the letter from the basketball court

dear the new trial diary,

when the mail came yesterday, i just stood there and ripped it open while standing in the yard. you know, i guess watching vinnie politan all day on HLN going on and on and on about the 2003 jury murder conviction of michael peterson and how a judge ruled all these years later that he gets a new trial because a witness committed perjury on the stand and that's why peterson was convicted, i guess a small part of my smaller than average size brain got excited for a minute. but then i thought... "IT HASN'T BEEN EIGHT YEARS YET," and i finished ripping it open and began to read the very short correspondence from the court. i think i only have seven more years to wait for word of my new trial, but until then i welcome any and all communication from the court (taken under its own advisement of course.)   

he tore down the mini-blind

dear place in france diary,

now that there is a flat screen in every room of the house, it seems silly not to have the dvr thing in every room too- but prince harry says on demand is good enough in his room and as long as he can live- well then it seems as if i can live too. i never did get becky's picture taken with santa this year, but fuck it, i wanted to get the new tv and see about the counter top. i didn't get that done yet either, but we are going down there tomorrow or monday or whatever the fuck day i feel like going. i don't have a schedule so i don't have to work it in, except wednesday i have to get my hair done and my toenails painted. i've been trying to get my toenails done for about eight months, but i put it off. now i have more toenails than i've ever had and that's just stupid. the chinese man who gets me will prolly turn me away or charge me double because i do not allow clippers to be used on my toes. the sound makes my teeth shrink.

That water is fuckin HOT.

The boat looks cold.

God help me, i'd hoped the snake was dead, but instead it had only #shed

the whorror story

dear it is scary diary,

when she growls, becky sounds evil. it is then i call her beverly. she only looks like a beverly when she pulls that lip back. i've already been to sleep for about six hours and i am awake now chasing the band, but the thanksgiving dinner we had last night was even better than the one three weeks ago. i shit you not. of course, any meal including sweet potatoes can be better than thanksgiving in my book. my nails are beautiful, but forgetting to paint my thumb with clear coat will dampen the brightest of spirits. i got my haircut yesterday and still cant see out through my fucking bangs. the man across the street got hauled off in a meat wagon, but i missed that. i got home to meet the firetruck leaving. oh i was so excited- in fact- i think i am still excited. let me check my pants. yuck.

ordinary gray rats

dear pencil and paper diary,

now that i have a statue of a wooden horse, i might join a swim club this summer. people are sympathetic. if they weren't, things might not have turned out the way they did. are you happy? i want to know. i walked right into the life i have. i made all the choices and now i must live with it, or do i? grab a shovel and start digging. just between you and me, the hole is already prepared.

sunshine on a rainy warm december day diarY.

the felt raincoat

dear even and odd diary,

odd people belong together, just as even people belong together and it is all predetermined and easily seen in the numbers. it doesn't take a mathematician or scientist to figure it all out either because frankly, i am all but retarded and mastered the formula almost instantly. i'm not trying to be funny, but if you're odd then you should know by now. an even and an odd can be together, but they must be the exception when this union is said to last. it's always been known that two opposites attract, but an even and odd repel. please get out of the water.

a plain train ticket

dear choo choo fuck you too diary,

sleeping really hard and good is what i was just doing until the train blasted that horn through my cracked window and woke my dumb ass up, causing me to have a butterscotch milkshake. i was dreaming about ice cream for the second time in a dream row anyway so i figured- whatever. i have that need taken care of, it is time to address the other ones. four years ago on this date, i had the best fucking mexican food money can buy in arizona. damn if i cant remember the name of the place at the moment, but i am sure it will come. i remember calling home and finding out there was so much snow here and more expected- i was worried we'd never be able to get home. we enjoyed the 90 degree weather as long as we could and that mustang. i'd take a train to arizona in the snow for some mexican food tonight- as long as it was THAT mexican food. oh shit yes.

sit sTILL

dear shame on the sad family dairy,

we live in a world where everyone wants to be the victim. often times there are many victims and then who gets the right to blame who?  there are people at risk, but then are they even victims? there are objects of violence, so those are the obvious victims. but what about those who are a danger to themselves? we are all victims. the core of our society is fundamentally broken, with no chance of repair. yet all these sob stories everyone manufactures to convince others, "i am the biggest victim in the world," when the whole time, being a victim doesn't get you what it used to.

bye blister

dear blister diary,

finding out today that my blister is gone, well, friends and stawkers, that was a hard pillow to swallow. i'd long had her dead in my mind years ago, but to actually know she is dead brought that feeling to a whole new light. i've wondered all day what they did with her tiny body. i wish they'd have returned it to me. that dog was very important to our family and in 2003 when we got the grump we decided she needed a slower life and my biological grandparents were the perfect match. blister couldn't handle being chased around by a huge month old puppy- who was only going to grow every day until he was the size of GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT TO HER- and then possibly eat her or worse- mount her like one of the other giant horse dogs, bear and frosty, had tried to do at the farm once. after we got the grump trained i always wanted to get blister back, but i knew i'd have to kidnap her and i never had the heart to do it. my grandparents lived to love my blister.

todd sterling

dear convince me diary,

for a long time there were many people who thought the earth was as flat as my ass. i used to hate my ass. i did. i really did. i still become super annoyed when i have to pull up my pants all the time because i have nothing in the region to keep them from falling down, but i have come to the wise realization that when doing the bookkeeping on your ass, less is always better than more as you get older and i quit bitching about my deficit. i wear belts now, bad ass belts. i have a whole collection of belts that match my boots. but sometimes it is hard to wear a belt with pajama pants. now that everyone knows the earth isn't flat, it may seem that my ass is just that much flatter- but it isn't. it is the same as it has always been, except for when i bend over.

GET YOUR STORY STRAIGHT

dear post twenty five hundred diary,

be gone. i haven't done the math, but i might later. the cheese and cracker tray in the bathtub is on the menu now, well in my near future. i've been waiting for this moment. the LAST bunk bed is finally down in prince harry's room. it is so much bigger in there i couldn't believe the difference it made. we had their beds hanging from the ceiling all these years and that chapter of our life is over. hopefully the new carpet he picks out will spruce up his attitude because his mouth leaves alot to be desired when it comes to being polite sometimes. everyone tells me how wonderful he is, well, i would sure like to know when. mr. harry 'emotion' cant seem to walk through a door without it slamming behind him. i'd ship him off (for two weeks) like i did the other one when he was little, but it's too fucking late. this one is old enough to remember and he's smart enough to use it against me in 16.5 years instead of having some cunt throw it in there WHEN EVERYONE KNOWS IT AIN'T EVEN TRUE.

welcome back hummer

dear carnations are flowers (reincarnations are not) diary,

i used to have many fish. i still have the one big tank i keep my snake in, but half my life ago i had many tanks and my favorite ones were the saltwater tanks full of coral and colorful fish the freshwater tanks just couldn't give. i had a palm sized prized trigger fish that i named 'hummer' and i had her for quite awhile. she was an ornery creature of the sea and practically ruled my aquarium. she had a horn on her head and little mini horns on her side and when i came home and found her flipped out on the couch i was crushed. i'd left the lid up and she escaped and committed suicide. i flushed my pet fish and never gave her another thought- until my toilet wouldn't flush anymore and i had to call swartz properties and they had to come and take my toilet off and there she was... again. for some reason that fish came up in my conversation twice today, once around noon and then six hours later with someone COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, and then i sit down and watch tv and see this.....

i think that fucking fish has come back to life around noon today and is going to haunt me because i don't even watch that show OR talk about flushing that fish.....

the snotty blanket morning

dear sneezing diary,

i just sneezed and thought i got away with keeping my shirt dry and then i found a big wet spot on my blanket. oh boy. i was so tired when the alarm went of this morning that i could hardly shut the bitch off. i didn't get to sleep until after 3am and i was a professional dancer in my dream so that wore me out even more. i'm so lazy these days even thinking about physically exerting myself just wears me the fuck out. i could get in shape just by watching those dumb exercise videos if i had some. shit i have to wear my pajama pants under my jeans now just to keep them up- and they still fall down. i am not bitching though, it just makes it easier and faster to get back into bed when i return to it. not only that, wearing my pajamas under my jeans keeps my ass half of my body warmer and makes me look like i have an ass half. i cant do that as much in the summer, although i have with my pajama shorts, but it makes my legs look that much skinnier with a padded ass. ima catching on. i'm thinking about getting up now. i could if i wanted to. i just got the hiccups so i prolly will.

Happy Birthday BOB!

4 years ago today
SHOUT OUT ADAM!
WOMAN BEATER!

alone in the house

dear here's a thought diary,

sometimes it feels good to be left the fuck alone. i don't understand these kids today that cry about being alone. they don't understand how precious some quiet time really is. oh but they will and i wont be there to remind them of how it was. you cant tell anybody anything anymore. i was hard headed like that once myself, but i learned real quick. it wont do much good when you already know the answers to the questions you know they're going to ask, ima make them find their own answers like i had to because i'm not doing for someone who wont do for themselves. you can lead a whore to the bathtub, but you cant make her wash.

IVE SAID IT THREE FUCKING. TIMES. TURN IT THE FUCK DOWN.
6:27pm 12/11/11
who is the parent diary

keep on rockin' me baby

I WANNA BREAK THAT FUCKING GUITAR ON HIS FACE!
6:19pm 12/11/11
has been called diary

over the hill and far away

dear gee whiz diary,

let's see, it was a month (the yay day) and three years ago, 2008, i went to work and made a fabulous tip. that prolly doesn't mean shit to anyone out there in wonderland and it really doesn't mean shit to me either, but it's as good as i can come up with and that's all i need. i feel like french fries tonight. i really just need a reason to get out of my bed. i took the counter off my blog. i took the comments off my blog. i took all the links off my blog. i am packing my shit up. ima miss giving my little shouts out, but not a whore lot. i feel bad and sad and glad, because you get what you pay for and all my shit is free. sunday bloody sunday. i might visit my safe deposit box tomorrow- if i wake up in time.  

crashed into a garbage can a weak later

dear fucking i cant remember but something did happen diary,

on september 6, 2005 we had some kind of solar activity, like a storm if you will, that fucked up a bunch of communications and shit and made northern lights appear in the hemisphere and everything and it freaked a bunch of people out, like scientists and shit. people in denver saw lights in the sky and if you don't believe me look it up and learn more about it because i already know as much as i need to know prolly because what i'm going to tell you explains everything. that happened on a tuesday. 9/6/5 and it is my contention that the solar storm caused much more damage than just up in the sky and with our communications, i believe it altered patterns of love and fidelity and possibly sexuality.

please put a hat on

dear the day of the dawn diary,

if you think about it, my day doesn't begin until the sun goes down, or starts to anyway. i mean i tried to get up earlier but it just didn't work out. it feels so good having a clear conscious these days. you wouldn't believe the weight a set of lies can have on a person because you know there just cant be the the one lie, it has to be a whole field of them. i'll betcha that is why i sleep so good and so long, i don't have to get up and tend to my garden of shit that i planted.

the paid mortage

dear frog face of tomorrow diary,

i have nothing to do today and i slept all day yesterday, so doing that again does not seem like a viable option. although i am sure i could, without a doubt i could, i just don't really want to. someone needs to act like they live here. i live here. sometimes i don't want to, but i do. i love my house. there really is something about this house that is good. it has a sense of safe harbor to it, security and wellness. even when i detach from myself- my home holds me together. in the days that have passed me by and the long nights during which i may cry, at least i can call this my home until i fucking die.

juicy wonderland

dear world of hurt diary,

i forgot to take my medicine last night and to make things worse- i drank orange juice and i know better, but it is so good to drink orange juice sometimes i just crave it. except after i drink orange juice, i burp it for twelve hours and wish i never touched it. OH BUT LET ME TELL YOU ANOTHER THING, it doesn't happen when i drink FRESH orange juice in california. oh hail to the no. i can drink a gallon of that twenty dollar shit and be just FINE. i wish i was drinking it this very second like i was four years ago right now. shit. if i lived in LA, all my money i would spend on fresh orange juice and hamburgers at the apple pan and chinese food at china town and medicinal marijuana and randy's donuts. i would live on one of the sidewalks that get mopped with pinesol everyday. i hate the smell of regular pinesol, but i'm sure i could get used to it after a few gallons of orange juice and some chinese food.

you mean old coot

dear birthday tomorrow diary,

every year i just love tomorrow because bob barker was born. i always wonder how different my life would have been if i never knew who bob barker was, but i do and i cant change it now i suppose. i don't even know why i liked him so much as a kid, but growing up, bob barker, johnny carson and bozo were all i could ever think about. as fate would have it, i met bob, but i missed out on johnny and bozo. that does not stop me from feeling a connection to johnny because i freely admit that i do, and as an adult i tried to fill that emptiness with letterman and that worked for a few years when i was younger- but didn't last. anyway, happy birthday bob barker.