Roxy, Mizz Rose

Today was crazy-ass crazy day at the old Red Bulls-eye Satan fitting room. I had a complaint lodged against me, for no reason that I can see. I had so many people look at me like I'd arbitrarily decided to make their day more difficult. Children took time today to practice being little bitches on a safe adult, adults practiced being assholes on someone they mistakenly think is required to take their bullshit. Okay, so I can't lean close and say, "You are a fucking pain in my ass and I'm thinking a bigot." No, I have to let my eyes say that. A half-smile and a slight roll of the eyeballs says plenty. Or coming to a complete stop, smiling wide and saying,"Suuuuure." to their stupid little requests.

I'm astounded all over again at how many people have claustrophobia. Here's a tip, asshole--if you tell me in a conversational tone of voice that you are suffering from this problem, if you try to, y'know, not *shout* it at me, or stamp your little feet, or give me a look full of challenge, I will show you to a large fitting room without question. If you ae obviously struggling--broken bones, back pain, pregnant, you are automatically getting the big room. But here's what you can't have, no matter how much you glare at me in hatred--you cannot go into the wheelchair accessible room because your ass doesn't need it.


I said NO

WTFuck? Why do people want that damn room? What the hell? The door opens outwards, that's *it*. That's the only difference between the family fitting rooms and the wheelchair accessible ones--that and maybe a foot more of space. *smh*

I'm leaving them in June. I intend to dedicate the rest of my life to painting tiny watercolors of kittens and flowers. Maybe I'll join one of those senior art classes, make little ceramic penis vases, maybe little ring dishes shaped like vaginas. I'm looking forward to it.

Dear Diary,

Should I devote the next few hours of my life to rereading Freak Camp, or doing some work on my BB, or shoveling out the crud that has accumulated in my house? Pleasure, or pain?

I don't have tomorrow because I am once again roped into the Superbowl Extravaganza. Fuck, I hate football unless it's wrapped up in a fanfic featuring Jared and Jensen. How can people not get that I am so uninterested, that anymore disinterest on my part and I would be a dead roxy? My portly little cadaver parked in front of a too-big TV, clutching a plate of nachos in my stiffened paw...my expression wouldn't be any different in my death-by-boredom state than it normally is on superbowl day.

My house...I've given up on this joint. Love me, love the strings of dust that waft gently in the breeze you make by walking. I've almost managed to convince everyone that grime is healthy for you. No need to use all that anti-bac shit if your body is building up immunities by constantly fighting off the germs happily growing on every surface.

I wish I was kidding....

I am working on my BB, though. I've cleaned off the desk, laid on a few fresh note pads, rearranged my minis in a pleasing configuration, parked my tiny Impala catty-corner to my lamp, bought fresh coffee and cleaned out the one-shot coffee maker, one of those old-style Black & Deckers from the 90s, when K-cups were just a gleam in someone's over-caffeinated eye. It's just like me--still works, even if it's a little cranky and kinda hit-and- miss. I need some inspiration, though. I'll need to print out some pics of our boys. Possibly look up some porn for scenes I'll never actually write. That is my MO.

So, here's hoping I'll see ya'll tomorrow night, after the Day of Torture Superbowl. I don't even know who's in it. But I am having fun asking Mr. R, "Who's in the football match? How many goals do they have to dunk before they win the cup?" heheheh.

Nah, y'know what? I choose Freak Camp.

I was gone! Did you notice??

You didn't notice. :(

We did a belated anniversary trip to the Finger Lakes. It was pretty awesome, just gorgeous views everywhere. I even went on a hike! A very, very, short hike - no more than an hour - but again, amazing views and more importantly, I survived.

I'll try and post pictures. You'll recognize me instantly, I'm the one who looks like a garden dwarf.

mother's day was very, very good to me....

I got a ton of great stuff for Christmas--I always do--but I meant to share this with you! I post pics of the stuff I get because you guys are the only ones who'll say, "Oh, damn, girl, that's so fuckin' cool!" :D :D

And you know folks in RL, they just roll their eyes and look at me sorta fond/amused/exasperated/confused and say. "Un-hunh."

( cute stuff under the cut! )

My new haircut makes me look like Tintin.


I like it, though. :D

Got the green bean casserole in the oven, broke down and made an apple pie. I cheated and bought the crust--ain't nobody got time to make a crust. Now, I'm just waiting for Satan to bring my sis over. Until then, I'm going to read some stuff. Maybe try to write some stuff. Try to talk myself out of writing Auntie Mame as J2 for next year's BB. It does make me laugh though--random chortles out of nowhere that you reeeeeally don't want to explain! :D

So here we are at Thanksgiving, and I have so much to be thankful for. I wish every one of you the best day you can possibly have, and even if I haven't talked to you in a while, it doesn't mean that I don't love you. I do! I count on ya'll to keep my spirits up and you do just that. I would insert that beating heart gif here, but last time ya'll just went on and on about throbbing scrotums and such, so I'll do this instead. ;D

On a totally different note, ever since I want to NJ con this year, Mr R has been all completely different about fandom, us in specific. Now that's he's finally seen the faces and the crowds, he seems to understand.

Since he met the roommates, however briefly, and they weren't carrying axes or t-shirts reading "PORN! ASK ME HOW!" and both BG and he could see that they weren't planning on rendering me for my usable bits to sell on the black market, he (and she, possibly) understand that it's all about folks just like me. He's been all bright and inquisitive when I mention fandom things--and so quick to point out stuff he finds. Before, he'd do it like a dutiful husband, now he does it like he's bringing me chocolate. I like it a lot. Also, there's a lot less flinching like a frightened stallion when he reads stuff over my shoulder now, but that might just be age and one's reflexes wearing down....

We had some major changes going on at home and that's part of why I've been quiet lately. That, and I guess this is just the time of year that I wind down a bit and retreat into my den, moaning and whining to myself and vowing to eat worms. I'm feeling better, though. Not so much with the moaning now. Whining still going on. Thank goodness for Show. :)

I was watching Walking Dead earlier and a scene made me scream my brains out and cry, like, totally, completely--screaming, crying, snot and tears and gasping for breath. He came running out of the back room, and even after he found out why I was crying, hugged me and rubbed my head and kissed me all over--assured me that I wasn't an idiot and I had a right to be sad.

How the fuck did I get so lucky?

I love the way Mr. R calls Christian Kane 'the kid'. "You know, that kid--the hitter, the tough one, you know--The KID."

"Christian Kane?"

"Yeah, that guy."

"He's like, 41, y'know."

"No he's not."

"No, really, he's--"

"No he's not."

To all of you who sent Mr. R good wishes and support during a rough time for him, please know that he was deeply, deeply touched. It meant so much to him, to know so many folks wished him well. His dad passed last night, at home, surrounded by people who loved him.