I'm in a dangerously foul mood and I'm plied with beer. This is fair warning. I'm ready for a rumble.
I don't think "rumble" has been in anyone's vocabulary for fifty years, but what the hell.
And if any of you blog critics still think I'm writing too much about myself, buzz off and go read a boring blog. There are plenty of hausfraus out there blogging about recipes for lemon chiffon pies. Go find one.
The term "buzz off" hasn't been used since Cher was married to Sonny. Which has nothing to do with my age.
I was going to write more Easter crap but I'm not in the mood. I'll save it for later - when I'm feeling mellow and saccharine......
....which might not be for a few months.
So why are you in a foul mood, Jon?
Actually, I'm always in a foul mood but I'm adept at covering it up. When I'm plied with beer my Faux Happy Face dissolves and my evil alter ego comes to the surface. Ready to snap, bite, and rip to shreds.
I forced myself to drive into town this morning. Only because I haven't gone shopping in a month and I was out of everything. Including litter and chow for the damn trio of felines.
Scratch, Scruffy, and Bosco.
Today is Wednesday and - for some secret hillbilly reason that I've never been able to figure out - the banks and all public offices close at noon here on Wednesdays.
So, I had to get my ass in gear and race down the mountainside before noon in order to go to the bank. And I had to pile all my trash in the car to take to the dump. There's no trash pickup here in the boonies and it's an incredible inconvenience.
After all this time I still have NEVER gotten used to the long, winding, perilous, unnerving, harrowing, annoying, incredibly dangerous ride into town.
Did I mention harrowing?
It doesn't get any easier - in fact it gets worse. But I'm used to the curves, and they get smoother and more entertaining after I've ingested a few beers.
And the first person who lectures me on the reasons not to drink and drive is going to get bitch-slapped with my dirty hanky.
I've always lived dangerously and I have no doubt that I'll die that way. Only I'll die a lot sooner here in this freaking cursed wilderness.
I spent 200 bucks on groceries and didn't get half of what I needed. The worst part of shopping is when I arrive home. I live on a steep incline (to put it very mildly). When I park the car it's on an extreme slant. It takes all my strength to shove open the door and crawl out. Then I have to unload all of the groceries and haul them up another very steep slope to the back door.
All the while I'm hauling, I'm slipping and sliding on mud, fighting wasps bees and flies, and getting bombarded with gnats that get wedged in my contact lenses and go in my mouth.
Why do the gnats go in your mouth, Jon?
Because I'm so frickin' out of breath that I'm panting like Rin Tin Tin. My nose is clogged from allergies and sinuses. If I didn't breathe through my mouth, I'd suffocate. And when I breathe through my mouth, the gnats go in.
Why did you ever move to the mountain wilderness if you don't like it, Jon?
I moved here to get away from bastards like you who ask too many questions.
Actually I love it here. I just hate all the inconveniences.
It's suppose to rain all day tomorrow, so I'm glad I ventured to town today.
This has been one helluva gloomy post, Jon. Do you have anything positive to say?
Yea - all my critics are presently reading other blogs about how to make lemon chiffon pies. So I don't have to worry about them bitching about my blog.
I'm sure as hell glad I only have cats instead of children. My poor cousin Nancy ....how shall I say this tactfully?.... is presently in....a Family Crises Mode....
All the spring blossoms have survived the recent frosts. I've posted some recent photos for your visual delight.
I'm gonna take a nap. The effects of the alcohol will eventually wear off and I'll be back to my sweet, cute, sexy, interesting, irresistible self.
I just threw that in to piss off my critics.
Blossoms this morning -
they survived the frost!