If you give up and surrender then change can come into your life. I have to give up all of my beliefs, all of my concepts, and start over. Re-learn the world. Like a toddler, I will simply stumble around in a gleeful blissful state of not knowing anything. Because everything I have learned, everything I have believed in, everything I thought I knew has been wrong.  I believed I had a chance of  an increase in my hours at work. I believed that I might be making more money and be able to improve my living situation, I believed that things couldn’t get worse, I believed that I had a chance.  Well I’m not getting more hours at work, I’m not going to be making more money. In fact, I’ve even had an hour cut from my schedule. It’s just an hour, but still.  I believed that I could pull myself out of this hole of depression and madness. I believed that I was funny and attractive. I believed that I could carry off faking it a little longer.

It’s all off the table. I’m going to surrender. And I think surrendering to some form of god is the only thing left for me. I don’t know which form of god. But I have to give myself up to something bigger than myself. Let someone or something else take over for a while. Cleanse my mind, my soul, my body. Wipe the slate clean and start over. What am I talking about? I don’t know . I’m on the reference desk and slightly sedated with the help of some valium in order to make it through the day without a constant stream of tears running down my face. Crying is cleansing but it also wrecks your makeup and makes you look like a crazy person on the reference desk.  I bought some Lotto tickets.  I’m taking my dog to the rescue people next week. I’m going to have my paycheck garnished by several creditors. But in the end it’s only money. My daughter has relatives who can care for her if I cannot. We’ll just wait and see what happens.  I like valium.


Library officials on Monday located a Plus Size Librarian who had been missing for more than two hours after she was believed to be oversleeping or overdosing, or both, a top Library official said.

The Librian was located at her basement dwelling, in the bathroom, via cellphone, said Library Administrator Peavey Higenbotham. “The Librarian has been moved to our anti-social subversive employee holding area where she is sarcastically answering questions,” Higenbotham said.

The questioning aims to clarify all circumstances of how she disappeared and why she did not send any (emergency) signals or call her branch library to alert them of her whereabouts.

The Librarian, who often uses various aliases such as “Lefty” or “Cherry”, had not been heard from since Saturday.  When last seen she was carrying approximately 20 pounds of extra weight, several tons of excess baggage and a rather large, scabbous cold sore on her bottom lip and chin. 

She was scheduled to arrive in her branch library at 11:30 a.m. Monday morning. The news came from several bitchy employees who had immediately begun speculating that the Librarian was cavorting with a local Jamaican male, known for his propensity for late night showering. 

The U.S. military also had a report last week that the Librarian’s car  had been seen skirting the runway at McChord Air Force base south of Tacoma. She appeared disoriented and totally clueless that she was headed in the oppposite direction of Seattle where she was destined according to several sources. The U.S. military was not involved in the search.

The branch Manager, Helmut Schmidt, had previously spoken to the Librarian about her irratic behavior and ongoing acts of anarchy within the branch.  While he had considered placing her on suicide watch, he was waiting to see if her antidepressants would kick in at some point over the weekend.  

“The Librarian has now arrived at work, she is missing the majority of her hair and several bald spots are visible but she appears otherwise unharmed, unless you count the cold sore which persists and the strange rash that has appeared on her chest, just above her rather abundant cleavage. Disciplinary action could be forthcoming depending on the Librarian’s willingness to provide free blowjobs for management, once the cold sores and rashes clear up.


So I’m driving to work today in a state of sheer panic over the overdrafts that are headed my way at the bank, again, after shelling out $380 for car repairs this week.  I’m listening to NPR.  A guy from Slate magazine is discussing good stocks for investment  now that Obama is in office. Obama has an I-Pod, so invest in Apple. Obama vacations in Hawaii, so surely people will be flocking to Hawaii to catch a glimpse of him and that hot bod in his swmsuit,  so invest in Hawaiian Airlines.  Target has a designer that is helping with some redecorating at the White House, so Target looks good too because we’re all going to want to have that Obama style aren’t we????  And last, but not least, there’s some company that runs gyms all over the country to which Obama has access for his frequent workouts.  Since folks  will surely want to hop on the treadmill next to the pres,  memberships are going to soar, so invest there too,  ladies and gents.

I just want enough money to cover my overdraft charges for the month. I never ever in my life had overdraft charges with any bank. Until the last few months where I figure I’ve paid close to 800 bucks or more in said charges.  I keep borrowing money from my ex-husband, who is not really my ex-husband yet because we’ve been too lazy to file the paperwork, so technically I’m still his legal liability if I go under…..  he has no money either since he works as a custodian and he’s about to drop dead from the hard work at age 59…..  but still he lends me money from the home equity line of credit he took out on the house. Yes, he got the house…  I got the crappy bunker style apartment…. long story……

Now pardon me – I have to go and invest all that money I don’t have in whatever operation breeds the dog that the Obamas choose for First Dog.  Or just start breeding them myself.  Puppy Mills for Obamaniacs !!!


The title is a lyric from a song I wrote about 13 years ago. It was another soggy, sad Christmas as I recall.

You say it’s snowing? How unusual. It’s been 25 days since I realized I’d just made one of the bigger mistakes of my life by taking the basement apartment of my “friend with benefits”.  Not anyone’s fault really. Just bad judgement all around. I discovered I’d been lying to myself for a long time about my ability to live in an open relationship.  So after three days of “living” there…. hah….. I packed up my kid and the bare necessities and I moved into my ex-husband’s house, which he shares with an unemployed girlfriend with serious drinking issues and her very cool 18 year old daughter.  What a happy little family we all were hunkered down together at the end of the world.  Much craziness ensued. I fell down the basement stairs there and have been ailing ever since. My whole body is wrecked. My face sustained no injuries but I still look like I’ve aged about 10 years in the past 3 weeks. Stress can do that to a person. And drinking, smoking and taking god knows what variety of sedatives.

I managed to find a pretty nice place and actually got moved (for the second time in two weeks) on day one of the great Seattle Snowlacost, thanks to the help of some brave friends who drove the U-Haul for me in the blizzard and ice.  I paid them for their work but probably not enough.

It’s been hard to think about it all, much less whine on the blog about it. Snowbound for a week with a broken ribcage and a broken spirit. Huh. Go figure. And I still find myself missing my friend. The definition of insanity according to Benjamin Franklin:  doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Insanity should be so simple. Insanity for Dummies.

I started this post days ago. It seems rather worthless.  Today, Sunday the 29th of December I am back at work and the sun is shining and the sky is blue.  I’m still injured but will address that tomorrow with further medical care.  As to my mental state, I have a plan.  And the plan includes stepping up, getting up, and stopping the madness.  Stopping all my bad habits. And taking the pain and facing it head on.  It will be hard. It will suck. But in the end I’m told it will be better. 

I’m thinking about our little microcosm here in Seattle and how we were all inconvenienced by the blizzard and food and gas running out due to said blizzard and I’m thinking about my nephew in Afghanistan who, on Christmas eve,  picked up the remains of his platoon leader and put them in a body bag and I’m thinking about the Palestinians who are being slaughtered as I type.  We gotta take the pain and face it head on.  It will be hard. It will suck. But all we have left is hope that in the end it will be better.

 Happy New Year.


I’m not the drug addict type but I am loving me some valium these days.  Times are tough and I’m sick of talking about it but the blog is dead for a while. The blog nobody reads anyways……  Then there’s the Fukital…… if only i could get my hands on that shit.

So from time to time I check the State Sex Offender Information website just to see who’s lurking in my neighborhood. There are quite a few Level 2 and 3 sex offenders living within a 3 mile radius of my house. Not particularly surprising considering that I live in an okay neighborhood but it borders on some not so nice hoods. So here I am at the reference desk clicking through the names, looking at the pictures of the guys (yes, all guys) thinking “creepy”, “not that creepy”, “sorta cute for a sex offender”, etc. and then….. up comes a name I know. And a face to go with it. And a Level 3 offender, he is. Here’s the definition of a Level 3 Offender:

“These offenders pose a potential high risk to the community and are a threat to re-offend if provided the opportunity. Most have prior sex crime convictions as well as other criminal convictions. Their lifestyles and choices place them in this classification. Some have predatory characteristics and may seek out victims. They may have refused or failed to complete approved treatment programs.

Oh yes, it’s the guy I hooked up with shortly after splitting with my husband almost 2 years ago. We had an “arrangement” of sorts. He was pretty hot actually and agreed to come over once a month and have sex with me. He was strange – sad and sweet in a way, but hot nonetheless. 6’5″ and very lean/muscular with some tattoos. Just what I needed yes? No strings, just hot sex on demand. We never actually made it past the first month, however, because I met someone else and you know the rest of that story if you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time. Level 3 continued to drunk dial me and crash my doorstep at ungodly hours for a while after I told him the arrangement was off. He was never scary or threatening… just sort of pathetic. He would tell me how beautiful and smart I was and why couldn’t we keep seeing each other??? Finally, I got it through to him that it just wasn’t going to happen. I moved from the apartment I was living in and never saw him again.

Until I saw his picture on the Sex Offender Information website, that is. The actual crime is not listed, simply referred to as an “out of state felony violation”…. My immediate reaction was pretty much revulsion, shock, horror, nausea. I had this guy in my house. I’ve always considered myself to have pretty good “antennae” when it comes to assessing people. I’ve been pretty lucky in life when it comes to picking up strangers out of the blue. But there he was. Mugshot and all.

After the initial revulsion and some deep breathing, I realized he was never any kind of threat to me. He was a lost soul. My antennae might be okay after all. I don’t know the circumstances of his crime. I never will. It could have been a real rape, or maybe he was falsely accused and convicted. Either way, I ended up feeling worse for him than I did before. Am I crazy?