SuperGurl

What a fun weekend! Where?

Being a single parent can be lonely business a lot of the time. Once you try coupling up with a loser or two, you may become inclined to live the hermit’s life. Trust me, even perfectly commonplace brushes with society can lend themselves naturally towards a life of seclusion, not to mention those of a more personal nature. And those? If the situation is bad enough, you can easily start to set yourself apart at quite a distance, as well as, dig trenches.

Eremiticism–it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Who doesn’t dream of having more time to focus on their dreams? Besides being a nice destination for those wanting to flee the world upside down, thoughtfulness as a core virtue would make a nice anchor weight for the throngs of unwashed masses, our adulation nation. Consumed with self yet somehow absent any true reflection or meaning. Just gazing longingly into the circus mirrors. A moron monsoon of sorts. Actually, sharing any common core virtues would be a marked improvement. What is it our entire society values these days? Anyone?

Let me know, ok? It may become important to me should I decide to check back in.

You see, forced societal seclusion is another story. Welcome to my world. I really can’t help it. I think I have a leak or something. My innermost drives are coming out, and I’m walling off the world. People just don’t want to quantify the damage they inflict on innocents in the environment. What a crying shame! I am merely a vulnerable human being beneath my steel blue suit. Contain your freakness, folks. For real, it is getting out of hand.

Which brings me to my current predicament, my loner van. My car was mortally wounded a week or so ago and ever since, I’ve been on borrowed wheels.

The first week of the affliction, I spent in a mechanic’s loaner van. It was the atrocity you see pictured above, a club van, with room enough for a dozen adults. The kids drove me crazy in that thing, and I felt incredibly dangerous. Not to mention, a major unforseen life hazzard. I found myself singing made-up tunes incessantly like, “You won’t know who I am, in my big red van.” Something of a loneliness forcefield, this thing was a social plague all by itself. Ironic, since it had room enough for everyone.

Sigh.

Lately it’s been nice because I’ve been in swank dealer demos. They were trying to ease me into the debt pool, jacuzzi style, I guess. And it was working, I flew down there Saturday afternoon beaming with excitement over my soon to be new car. But early Saturday evening, the whole desperate situation actually devolved. In the first round of negotiations, I had a car salesman tell me maybe I should just go on down the road. Stunned me, I could not believe it. How freaking gank do you have to be to shut down a car salesman? Seriously? Do you really think I’m built to take all this? On the end of my rope, the last of my hope, I asked for the keys to my beloved, albeit sick, baby and drove her all the way home. She was happy to see me.

Maybe sometimes it just takes a desperate situation to put an out-of-whack perspective in check. I didn’t mind being alone until I was given the isolationmobile. Then, I voluntarily and eagerly put myself through a car salesman’s probing, 48 hours worth, and in the end, did not get a car but still feel dirty all over from the process. I can NOT believe the low class tactical bullshit that these people get away with in the sales end of the automobile industry. Where is the regulation on those assholes? How can they be allowed to sell people into 30k dollar holes without being required to tell the truth even once? Unbelievable.

But because I love you, I will save you the final tear-jerking guilt trip the owner’s son laid on me as I exited the probing station. Believe me, you would most assuredly lose your dinner and find people as repulsive as I do now.

Alone but not lonely, and for the time being, more content with what I have than my desires for what I don’t.

Linda is back. And she is sorely dissappointed in you roaming jack-offs. Considering the sick, demented, twisted, unsavory search word combinations that brought you here, you surely could at least take your hands off your genitals long enough to type a simple comment in the comment box. I know you’re literate, however lacking in the spelling department.

Where has common decency gone? And why do I even have to ask?

And isn’t it ironic that half of them, er, you, come here looking for free panty? Listen up, wandering cyber trolls, I am the anti-porn in real life. I will make your privates shrivel up and fall off at one glance. It’s my Medusa complex, my most sacred super power. Think of it as an impotency forcefield. I can’t help myself.

And the fact is, I enjoy shutting you down. I do. It is the makings of AAA day in my world. So if you really want to charm me, if you really want see some hard core anti-porn, just sniff up this skirt. I dare you. I think I could traumatize you into a somewhat permanent state. Hey, I’ve done it before. And that’s without having nary a photoshop skill, not a one.

And this post has so little to do with it’s original intent that I’m having trouble circling the wagons here at the end. Suffice it to say I am in no mood to talk tenderly to you now that I see what brought you here. I’m in kill mode, so keep your hands where I can see ‘em and your freaky psychotic sexual phraseology to yourself. Unless of course it’s really psychotic sexual phraseology and then I want it in the comments, and not my referral log. You have been warned.

This brief, howsoever, elementary education is brought to you by the letter AAA, and the numba one. Staging a comeback, yo. Prosperity, and how…

But first, from the wrong side of the tracks, a little tough love explanation of a dirty beast known as margin. A margin is a loan on your investment equity. Take this simple illustration as an example…

If you had an account that was worth 100 thousand dollars in value, you could probably receive 50 thousand in a quick, no-questions-asked, margin loan on your investment at any time. So let’s say, just for jolly’s sake, that the market dessimates that 100k value, and after day one, it is down to 80k?

Well, in the case given, you would theoretically get a margin call (a bill) for 10 thousand dollars, and the money would be due in three days, no leniency for jack. Meaning, if there were no other money, you would have to sell 10 thousand more dollars of your now 80k total, reducing your allowed margin loan to 35k (half of 70k). So? Yes, you have to go sell 5k more. Uh huh. And if the market continues down?

Yeah? What do you think happens?

Well, it’s similar to what is happening now. Death spiral. Used to be, it was just margin trading. Today, it’s the speculators and the hedge funds. Same shit, different day, as far as I’m concerned. You see, there is no market to sell the trash, so most are having to sell very high quality companies just to keep afloat (obviously, a state of denial, considering). But, chicken little, it does not mean the end is near.

Hear this, friendlies. The enemy is a broke but dumb mo foe. Please, do not sound the horn of dumbassery from my camp. Prosperity now. Get up. Go to work. Continue on your individual quest. Quit the whiney shit. We are Americans. We are the roots of capitalism. We will not only overcome, we will surpass your loftiest expectations and wipe the floor with your dumbfounded drool. Freedom is the fuel, not other people’s money. It doesn’t take debt to be a dynamo, it takes courage.

Please, do not forget and don’t foolishly take for granted the sacrifice it took to earn your way. Ever.

Prosperity Now!

It can start like a sharp, hot pain in the back of my neck. Sometimes, presents itself as an intense, though brief, all-over nauseating shake. Many times, I won’t even feel the sweat welling up in my palms, only noticing when I leave a handprint on a piece of paper.

One thing is certain, I will always have a physical reaction to the mental hurdles I face, whether I conquer them or not.

Change is a beast that way. Makes me think even less (if possible) about democrats that misrepresent change as a good thing. Change is never a good thing, because change denotes the unknown.

And like a battered child, no matter how bad it actually is, I can get used to it. I can rise above it. I can excel despite it. Just please don’t tell me to change it.

Change is a monster, one I wish you would slay. I obviously can’t. I’m too busy crying to myself in the corner, and sucking my thumb, and yelling out irrationally, and begging for yesterday. However painful, remember yesterday? We survived it.

Doesn’t survival count for anything anymore?

Apparently, no. And I wish I was talking about the election. What I wouldn’t pay to be this invested in the election. No, this hits much closer to home. So much in flux, I’m having trouble finding anything stable enough in my environment to keep in focus, to steady my pace.

And with school starting, and summer ending, I figure every eye that brushes this page is enduring some shade of the same. Which is why I’m passing you this prose-made tissue, to show you I feel your pain and to soak up a little of that transition fluid.

Good luck with yours!

I’m going on two weeks of solid Mondays, folks. LIFE SUCKS.

The stand-by guy? You wanted an update, I bet. Well, he came home ten days ago and I haven’t heard a word. Not an email, not a blip. That’s right, scuff of a lifetime, folks. I had a man that flew all the way around the world to stand me up. I am devastated. While the kindest part of me is hoping he is badly maimed or incarcerated, I’m wise to these signs. Early guesses: married, or better yet, an alcoholic. At least, I hope it’s him and not me.

Work is happening in nightmare quantities. Not all of it good, but pretty much. I keep busy, but my mind is not right. I am having hardcore steady conflict with my workwife. She is begging for a divorce. Lately, she likes to tell me that I just don’t seem happy. I am utterly disgusted with the irrational puppet world that might expect that anyone should be happy. It is a flawed fucking planet, people. Is anyone happy? Deep down and all the time?

I spend plenty of time happy. I am one funny individual and I crack myself up. Doesn’t mean I expect happy, not as my idle spot. I idle at reserved but trigger freaking happy. Do not even think of the surprise attack or I will murderize you. The thought of the whole recurring conversation makes me want to kick her teeth in. On second thought, maybe she’s right.

I simply have a lot of short lived stress in my life. It’s summertime, which means 24-7 kid care. My annual meeting, better known as Constipation Fest 15, is in one week. The Blown Eyed blogfest is in just over two weeks. And three days after that, we are going on a Disney cruise, just the boys and I. And all of that is awesome wonderful mcdreamy stuff, but a lot to work around, plan for and pay for, as well. So pardon fucking me if I don’t seem happy all the time.

Add to all of this, my air conditioning is dying in my car. Yes, my car is black. And yes, it is very hot in Texas, especially in a suit. Get two boys wrestling in the back seat and temperatures can easily break through the 120 degree level.

It’s funny the way things always seem to go together, though. I was reading this article over at Fox news today, and became so perplexed wondering who the heck would be protesting the democratic convention? Do any of you know? I thought all the usual lefty nutcake protestors would most assuredly be inside giving keynote addresses and setting the agenda items into motion. Just who would be protesting a gathering of embicillic protestors?

I was so thoroughly engrossed, flipping through the pages of my mental protestor database that I almost missed the whole point of the story. Some evil genius has created a weapon that makes you crap yourself! Not just created a shit yourself weapon, but it comes with a cute nickname as well, the brown note. Classic, I love this country.

But then it occurred to me, it seems someone has taken aim at my poor life with this newfangled technology. See, I’m not an unhappy person, my life is merely taking a dump. It’s all very natural, green even.

And now, you, my dear sweet reader, have stewed in my stench. Feel free to light a match in the comments.