Today, while I was driving down interstate, I saw a flipped over suburban with a torso of a man, decapitated, hanging out the side window of the front passenger’s side. And there was a group of people, brazenly conversing casually, standing around the body. I started dry-heaving and almost vomited in my mouth. I was so disgusted at these people.

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Watching my husband sleep

Although it may sound Twilight-ish or weird, I like to watch my husband sleep when I am awake. I like to admire his classically handsome features, his youthful skin. He is a “pretty” man. Much better looking in person than in unflattering pictures (he is usually irritated when having to take pictures and will not smile or he’ll make some weird face).

I still can’t sleep. But I’m trying to. I’m wide-eyed awake. Benadryl doesn’t work; valerian doesn’t work.


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost




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Japanese Food, Ebay, Affairs.

So it’s 3 am, and I am awake, which isn’t completely abnormal, since my body is conditioned to wake up from HUNGER in between 1am and 3am. Yesterday, Bunni brought up that we should eat at this Japanese place I have been begging him to take me to in Clinton (he hates Chinese food, and has never been to a Japanese hibachi). He was pleasantly surprised with the chef cooking and flinging food unto the plates, making fire onion volcanoes, shooting sake into people’s mouths, etc. And, most importantly, he enjoyed the food, which was a lot (salad, soup, shrimp appetizer, a huge portion of fried rice, vegetables, steak/chicken, like Shogun in Shreveport). It was a good date night (we didn’t see each other for 72 hours this week, for I was working and he had to go to school and work. Blech). He is conked out on the couch, snoring heavily, and I am in our bedroom, “fiddling” on the internet as he puts it (but I am distracting the cats, who like to wake him up, and perch on his body like buzzards). I’m pretty sure that if we died in our house that our cats would eat our bodies, and maybe our souls, if they could.

I’ve been Ebay-ing stuff such as language textbooks, work stuff (pressure socks to prevent varicose veins, got $68 dollars worth for $11), etc. since I woke up at 2 am.

But I feel like writing now; some things have been on my mind lately.

Like affairs, and I have been wanting to write about it.

I know of so many, many people unabashedly messing with married people via texts, facebook, etc. I know of three professionals (who are cognizant of my marriage) that I could easily have an affair with .right. now. And it disappoints me. I’m not having an affair, and I never plan on having one. I’m light friends¬† (not too close but close enough to give my opinion) with people who are “talking” with married people, and I have tried to blatantly warn them/discreetly guilt them (nothing works) into getting out of the relationship, or casual sex, with the married individual they are talking to. But, I am not going to meddle after giving them a minute of my unsolicited advice that I guess I felt morally obligated to give.

I know I shouldn’t be surprised. But it still is somewhat disturbing. It is the world. It’s American society. Greed. We feel entitled to get what we want (even after doing sub-par or little to no work for it), right now. Even if it is at the expense of someone else.

But I am no saint, either. I am completely guilty of being selfish, entitled, and materialistic (aka American). I own a lot of name brand and designer dresses, a designer gown, 2 authentic Louis Vuitton purses, 4 authentic Dooney & Bourke bags, 1 authentic Fendi bag, 1 authentic Gucci bag, and an authentic Michael Kors bag (in addition to a crap load of cool vintage purses and purses given to me by a friend I’ve had since 6th grade). Purses are an obsession.¬† Surprisingly, shoes are not (I’m no Imelda Marcos). I’ll wear ugly Wallabees with a dress in a heartbeat.

And Je-sus, cosmetics. I have to physically remove myself/not walk in cosmetics sections in stores, or I will buy makeup. It’s an addiction. And I still want more. More. More. I’ve got a monogram Louis Vuitton speedy, but as soon as I get it, I want a azur damier one or one of Murakami’s (Takashi Murakami and Tokidoki are some favorite Japanese or Japanese-inspired designers) limited edition cherry blossom ones from 2003. I’m stopping myself; I have to. No more purses for at least one year. At least!

Sure, my husband and I may tithe, give to charity, etc. But that’s not an excuse for me to spend occasionally available funds on materials.

It seems I am focusing on my outer shell instead of my inner self. But I am trying to switch. That’ll be another post.


Just don’t fall
recklessly, headlessly in love with me
Cause its gonna be
All heartbreak
blissfully painful and insanity





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Trying to Wake Up

Ohhhhh, how I abhor the morning of the day I have to go back to work after I have been off a few days; my sleeping schedule is never right these days. I usually eat, catch up on my favorite shows I’ve missed out on (RuPaul’s Drag Race 3) and go back to sleep. I feel especially lazy these days. And my three cats are following me every second/laying all over me, like I’m one of those stereotypical “cat ladies” <shudder>.

I’ve made myself not get on this thing and rant and complain about typical B.S. we all encounter in life. Nothing too B.S.-y going on lately! I rode a 4-wheeler for the first time in my life on the farm, ate crawfish, and had fun in the country with bunni’s fam this weekend.

I’m trying to think of some fun/character-building hobbies to do. I’ll probably learn a language. I’m still debating what to learn. I hate when I start to try to learn something but never finish it.

Hence, lyrics from the Used:

Exorcise the demon
That is living up inside you
After all you think you’ve been through
Just what have you been through

Try to get beside yourself
This tearing at your insides
If you end up on the wrong side
Always standing so strong

Sharpen up your teeth
Your dreams are more than worth defending
In a fight that’s never ending
Go on, go ahead and prove me wrong

The further you go, the less you’ll know
You’re born to quit, you’ve blown it (you’ve blown it)
You need to let go, of letting go
You’re full of s&&&, you’re born to quit


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Finally figured this out…Sort of

It’s taken me forever to figure out how to put my background up/understand this site/figure out how to put up a header of preference.

It’s a lazy Spring day in Mississippi. I’m enjoying a <full> day off before I go back to work for 3 more nights straight. I worked 13.5 hours last time I was at work, blech. I do enjoy work (I have fun coworkers), but I don’t want to be at the hospital any longer than I need to be.¬† I’ve worked out today, discovered the Clinton library <which is worth what I pay in taxes>, and cleaned. I’ll be cooking fresh magnolia shrimp scampi tonight. I’m a very good cook when it comes to southern foods and soups (or anything with cheese). Actually, I’m above average for my age group (post-college, who usually can only cook eggs and maybe bacon).

My kitten is chirping and licking my sock.

No significant/interesting post today :). I need to cook.


Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison

Take me, ta-ta-take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction





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