I Ain't Afraid of No Daleks

I was doing some preliminary research for a short play I was thinking of writing...umm--some day. Anyway, in researching the Salem Witch Trials, I came across a passage that talked about one young man, who was arrested for having sexual intercourse with various farm animals--including a turkey. Okay, trying to picture that--without laughing hysterically. I mean, I've seen turkeys, up close and personal--we had wild one's in our back field, when we lived in Lake Luzerne, and, of course, I've seen them at the livestock auctions...

How the blazes....? Must of been a real, ummmmm..."small" guy, ey?

Well, the Dutch have their cows (in the city of Leeuwarden is a statue of a cow, with the words caved on it, "Us Mem"--"Our Mother." Not sure I wanna' expand on that one...

And of course, the Scots have their sheep...

But a TURKEY????

Gives a new meaning to the idea of stuffing a turkey...dunno' if I will ever think of Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner in the same way again, now...

DO I REALLY NEED TO DO A HUMOROUS CAPTION FOR THIS ONE? (Use yer imaginations, people--ewwww. Then again, maybe not.)

Okay, a cleaner caption: "The meeting of equals."

Well, Got 167 dollars (a bit over 75 pounds) and change in my Friday pay cheque--and now have a sum total of 7 cents left. But...the phone/internet bill is paid for May, I've got enough...only just, food for the week, the cats won't starve and will have clean litter as well. I even "treated" myself to a soft-serve ice cream cone from the Coopers Cave Ale Company's ice cream stand next to the city's walking/bike trail. I also, after buying my week's groceries and other vital necessities, had 5 dollars left over--said, "to hell with this," and bought a four-pack of Seagram's wild berry cooler. Mind, berry flavour anything isn't usually my first choice, but it was literally all I could afford. I looked at the hard lemonade and sweet teas--wow. 8 dollars for a six-pack of hard lemonade or tea? How does anyone afford that--and I couldn't believe the prices of the beer--even the regular stuff, like Budwiser and Gennese Cream Ale (which is what I drank when I was 19).

I had a really lousy day at work--I mean, I was so fed up with the snarky mean people, I actually almost took pleasure in telling these people (albeit politely) that refused to pony up for their bills--or return the item, "Oh, I'm sorry to tell you, your credit rating will be affected, for 30 dollars (or whatever), because you leave me no choice but to send you to a collections agency." Gah! Miserable bastards. I mean, some of them did have legit beefs--others, just...miserable cows and sour old jerks. I hate my job!!!

So, for the first time in 6 years, I sat out on my balcony and had a bottle of cheap cooler, felt the warm glow slowly slide down the back of my neck and relax my body. Mellowing out--that's what I need.

You may wonder how a half a bottle of cooler containing only 3.2 percent alcohol would mellow me--but, having never had it, I reckon my body's not used to it.

Used to be, a gorgeous spring evening would mellow me naturally. Guess I'm just getting too damn old, now. The days of freedom, of hanging out with ol' mum nature, are truly dead and gone. For the first time, I really do need help to have a good time. Ah well...what're 'ya gonna' do?

Get flippin' drunk!

Oh, and why am I drinking for the first time in over 25 years? Because I am very much not going to be able to pay my rent this month. Please pardon my language. But I'm totally screwed. I have no clue what's going to happen to me. I'm scared as hell, right now. I need to be drunk, even if only for one night. I've never been drunk before. I hope it totally makes me forget, just for one night...just one night...I want to let go of this pain inside me, the fear, the uncertainty. I can't die--but, I realize, I can finally surrender, and started bloody well drinking. Other people do it, why have I got to lose, anymore? I'm about to lose, I fear, everything else? What is there left, now, ey?

Okay, then...

Got an e-mail this morning, from someone I don't even know, giving me a link to the infamous David Tennant/ladies knickers episode. Well...let you be the judge ey?

Is Tennant a ladies man---or is he a lady man?

Sorry, couldn't help myself. I'm trying desperately to regain my equilibrium through humor--and, well, any port in a storm--ey, sailor?

Off to the big ol' totally out of place CNA building, for yet another fun day of people screaming at me to stop calling them--which I would be happy to do, if they'd pay their bills, and let me make lots of sales and maybe show to the company that I'm not rubbish...I hate my job, but...it still beats cleaning loos for a living.

Found this advert by accident, really cracked me up:

I was asked to go to a pops concert a short while back, at the local 2 year community college--my alma-mater. Opted out--the cab fare would have been 12 dollars, on top of the admission price. This is the same theater/stage I spent so many hours on, and seated in front of, for 3 years, on and off, of really daft theater classes, and I can safely say, the acoustics are not really that great--but then, to be perfectly honest, neither was our school's choir. Incidentally, I was sitting about three seats in front of where this video was shot--and yes, the view of the stage left a lot to be desired.

I did go, last year, though. Here's a video of one of the songs they did: (for my Scottish blog friends)

Once again, gorgeous spring day--not a cloud in the sky, trees getting all nice and green, birds singing, tra-la and ecetera.

I got a piece of junk mail yesterday--along with my phone/internet bill (which just went up a dollar--figures), two very threatening letters from one of my student lenders (I'm being sued and they are likely to take my wages--cardboard box in an alley, here I come (not really joking, here)...I also got, in this junk mail, on the back of this postcard advert for some local store, missing person's photos. Yes, over here, now they're putting out adverts in the guise of public service announcements.

And, I was thinking about the Dr Who episode, Shakespeare code. Martha worries about stepping on a butterfly and changing the world, and the Doctor shrugs it off. Yeah, well, life's stepped on me quite a bit, and I'm still here, ey? In the first episode, and other episodes, the Doctor goes on about not messing with other people's timelines. But, in Shakespeare Code, right in the opening, the alien witches kill a young man--whom, we can assume, had survived the plaques and may have married and had kids--didn't the witches mess with someone's history? What if the witches hadn't have dropped in? Did the decendants of the kid with the lute just vanish?

Okay, now I'm being facetious. Of course, it's all fictional and nothing of the sort has ever happened. But sometimes, one wonders--people just vanish, utterly vanish, all the time...what if...someone really is messing with people's timelines?

Oh, I'm just being silly, I know. It's all to easy for some of us to disappear. Look at me. I could just walk off into the mountains one day, and never return, and no one would even notice...not for a long while, anyhow. No one would know where to look for me, I'd be just...gone. Forever. No trace, nothing much left behind...just vanished. Like I never was. Abra-Kadabra. Poof!

I don't drink alcohol. Haven't had a beer since 2001. Just never cared for the taste--oh, I would have a sip or two of wine on New Year's eve, with mum, when she was alive. Mum liked wine, a little. Didn't have it often, just New Year's, mostly.

I don't much like the taste of alcohol, but now they've got stuff like alcoholic cold sweet tea and lemonade, sweet bottled drinks laced with alcohol, wine coolers, things of that nature.

I'm thinking, if it's not too costly, of buying something alcoholic, next time I shop. It's not like I have a car anymore, so no worries about drinking and driving. I need something in my life...something to help me get through the long nights...the long, long, long, nights--the long days of calling people who spend more time yelling at me, than talking. I suck at my job. I hate my job. I used to like phone work. What's happening to me?

I need a drink, methinks.

Cheers, mates!

I was mulling over going to church on Sunday morning, to that big ol' Presbyterian cathedral down the way. Haven't been since January. Not that I really want to...I will, maybe, tho'...need to have a chat with God. I just hope that I can find some nice, deserted anonymous bench in the back, and slip in and out of the side door, completely unnoticed. The sheer size of that place, the poshness of the people...well, it just intimates the hell out of me.

It's hard enough, trying to fake singing some hymn you've not heard before, trying not to show how little money you have to put in the plate, how un-posh your own clothes and demeanor are...and then you get some well-meaning chap trying to get you to join in, and you really don't want to, because you know you'll never fit in, not in a million years, not ever. you're just a dumb ol' chav in a posh cathedral full of rich people who, though well-meaning, just really don't have a clue about your own reality. It's not a pleasant situation. "I'm a _____ (college professor, doctor, lawyer, accountant), what do you do?"
"I'm a low-wage chav, I've shoveled manure, washed dishes, slung rubbish bags, cleaned loos, washed hundreds of pounds of dirty towels, ran amusement rides, cleaned kennels, do telemarketing...etc...but, I have a college education." Oh yeah, that'll impress 'em.

I'm invisible--but, you know, I wish that were literal. Some days, like today, I wish I could just melt into the pavement, like that silly absorbaloff in Love and Monsters. I sat there, today, and again--four hours, no one talked to me--no one. Not even a wave. I'm rubbish.

Writing is stupid. What's it get me? What's it ever gotten me? I don't even know why I even bother anymore. I really don't. Okay, I love it. So what? I mean, really, who cares? I'm not anyone. I mean, it's lovely having my few friends read me, and I continue with it, because, quite frankly, I've not much else to do, anymore. I hate--loathe and detest--housework. And, it's not like there's much of that, anyhow...just the three small rooms and the bath. Takes less than 2 hours to clean the place, top to bottom--and then only that long, because my little vacuum overheats and shuts itself off after 15 minutes use--takes 2 days just to hoover the rugs in the front room and bedroom, no joke.

Oh, I am being cheerful tonight, aren't I? I really will get over this, I suppose. But I am so very weary of life using me as its punching bag. I'm tired of the continual silence--this from someone who used to treasure the quiet times. I don't know, anymore. I'm facing hunger again, that I do know. Oh, I could give up the internet--but then, the continual silence--just a background white noise type of silence, like radio static, always present--to the point of becoming normal--would turn into a silence, blaring from life's Tannoy.

No. I'll eat light. Did it before, can do it again. No flowers, okay, I can live with that...I'll just look at other people's flowers. Still gonna' need that fan, tho--it's going to be unbearable hot in her, come June. Guess I'll just have to wait and see if anything's left over at the end of the month--the medical expenses have really put a huge dent in the old banking account. I wish we had NHS here, it would really ease a lot of unnecessary suffering--and not just of the medical kind.

Anyway, I'm sorry this isn't much of a blog. Guess people will be tired of this, by now. You've all--well, many of you, I know, have your own problems, most as bad, or worse than mine. I just am feeling low, and need to get this out. I dearly would love to be my old happier self, again. But...not going to happen, I guess. Sorry.