(Aka the email I sent to MB.)
You cured my fucking blog! I am convinced, in your almighty MB ways that by giving me a fabulous award, you have saved Blackheart Lola.
That's probably pretty incoherent, so let me explain. Last award, I was so excited. Thought through my answers, wrote a bit, answered a phone, came back and changed a line or two. I was creating a truly award-worthy post, y'see. Finally, it's done, I hit POST and the entire screen goes black.
For weeks, I've been periodically checking up on my magnificient blog of blackness to see if it's miraculously undouched itself. My computer-minded friends, the mighty internet, even the help boards couldn't save it, and I gave up.
I consoled myself in the fact that I could still keep up with the lives of my "regulars" but it wasn't until you gave me award #2 before I decided to click on my own link, one more time. For serendipity...
And wouldn't you know it, Mary Beth magic. Without further ado, I will blog for you madame.
(Aka kitchin up)
Last night as I was putting Lola to sleep, I had a thought and an urge to write about said thought. "Wish my blog was working." said my grey matter. Now, lo and behold, my blog IS working! and I forgot my thought. "Wish my grey matter was working!" says my blog.
I'm not real crazy about being buried. (Note to self, blog about body disposal.) There are so many awesome things you can do with your body after you are no longer using it, it seems a waste to pump it full of chemicals, put it in a satin-lined box and let it eventually rot and seep chemicals into satin and earth. That's too sanitized, wasteful and icky for me.
But after waking up this morning, wedged between Monkey and Lo, I may have softened my attitude a bit. I would be spending a happy eternity between the two of them, if it didn't mean they had to be dead as well. I think I'm still going to stick with my original plan: snuggle between them as much as I can while we're alive and then burn baby burn, after I'm dead. Oldie but goodie.
Things have been getting interesting on the man front but as one of them wants to read this blog, I'm not sure if I can comment quite yet. All I'm gonna say is that I went on one truly wonderful escapism Valentine's Day date which included books (three levels worth, hot damn!), wine and chow. Also, I took Nesto out with me and who should oh-wow-what-a-coincedence-show-up but Tee, so we hung out, the three of us for an hour or so. I don't remeber the last time I've been that uncomfortable, if ever.
A woman I know was pregnant and now is not. I guess deep down I hoped that she would choose the same route I did but I acknowledge the fact this route ain't for everyone. Shit, sometimes it ain't for me. Still doesn't help appease the hollow-soul grief I feel for her and the hard decision she had to face. I'm sorry lovie.
On that sorrowful note, I leave you. I am off to work. And in "work," I mean gather the information needed for my dead body post. Morbid? Maybe. Macabre? Just a touch. Interesting? Oh yes.