I've got cooties :)

Today has been one of those peculiar days. I really wanted to get out of the house and do something. Anything. But my laziness kicked in and I never fully made it out of my pajamas. Well not true. I was rather hot from last night's activity that I never really fell asleep with any clothes on. So technically, I woke up and put on pajamas. But that's beside the point.

Oh I'm uber excited that the Mav's won tonight. And once again, I forget that they even played. Which is probably a good thing, considering that every time I watch them play, they lose. Was is just me or did Mark Cuban look totally shit faced when they interviewed him after the game. He couldn't even look at the camera. I wish I had his job. Seriously. But is it even a job? I'm confused. You get to watch as another Dallas team tries to give you a heart attack, because they don't like to protect a lead and get uber drunk. Sounds good to me.

My poor pups were sick today. I felt so bad. They both just went under the knife last week to be fixed. No baby doxies for us. Thank God. I don't think I could handle anymore little terrors. My little drama queen milked my sympathy for everything it was worth. She's spoiled. Rotten.

Oh my oven broke. One of the nobs fell the fuck off. My mother was paranoid. I think she actually thought the house was going to explode. I was busy freaking out because the internet decided to loose it's connection. The house could blow at any moment and I'm wondering if I can check my email. Priorities people. Priorities. The internet dies, I have nothing to do. Sad, I know. But I watch very little TV. I guess if I had something decent to watch I might. But for now, Tivo tapes just about nothing.

It's cold, and I'm tired. And well I'm out.

Cause she's bad ass.

So I had to make this a point here.

*People who wear UGLY jeans, have frizzy hair, and evil anti-christ glares shouldn't pass judgment anyway.*

(Seriously, these are like the people who like the UGLY shirt. I shouldn't be surprised. )

argh.

I'm so cranky right now. And for no good reason. I think this is where anger management would come in real handy.

John hearts Marlena, bitches.

By now I think everyone I know or whoever reads this thing knows I'm a soap opera fan. I've grown up watching them...sad I know. Today this woman buys Soap Opera Digest at work. To be nice, I started up a conversation and asked her what soap she watched. She proceeds to tell me Days of our Lives, which of course is the one I watch religiously, when the writing/acting doesn't suck. She then is like I'm the biggest John and Kate fan. Okay she's a loser. I had no intentions of telling her who my couple was until she asked. I'm so not lying and saying John and Kate, because well, that's just wrong. So I say John and Marlena. And it was like I threw her milk into her basket. She hissed at me!!!! H.I.S.S.E.D.!!!!!! Over a couple on a daytime drama. Is that really necessary? I'm not a crazy ass Jammer. I don't hiss at people, I'm sure as hell not going to hunt out an actress' star on the walk of fame and tamper with her star, and I don't find humor in making fun of someone because they choose to paint two of their fingernails. That's beside the point. People need to grow up, when it comes to Soap Opera's. It's just a show. Let me repeat that. Just. A. Show.

So speaking of work. I like my change of pace. Customers can really bug the shit out of me, but I've learned to block them out. You have the occasional delusional asshole, but most of the time people are genuinely nice and tell you their life story. Today, I had a man try and explain to me why he was buying an enema. No thank you. Or how about the old people that bought condoms. Okay, I think it's cute that you are practicing safe sex. But you're married and over the age of 70. I don't think you need them anymore. But that's just me.

Anyway, Happy belated Mother's Day to all you mother's out there.

Where will you be on May 12, 2059?

I will die on Monday, May 12, 2059 When will you? Calculate Your Death Date

I really like white roses and anything colorful. And send me off with a roast. And if my famous last words just happen to be "I can pass this guy", you might not want to view what's left of my body. Make sure to play a good song!

Zanne's gotta gun.

El Loco Moto People Iced: Thirty Car Bombs Planted: Eleven Favorite Weapon A Cleaver Arms Broken: Twenty One Eyes Gouged: Nineteen Tongues Cut Off: Thirteen Biggest Enemy: Boopsie Get Your HITMAN Name

Bottom's up!

If Zanne were a drink they would be: 4 parts evil 2 parts deadly 3 parts cursed Get Your RECIPE Here!

Insomnia is for lovers.

So it's 5:01 am, and I'm still up. What the fuck is wrong with me? (Wait, don't answer that.) Okay, I'm gonna try this sleep thing again.

Nueve de Mayo.

Today is just a day. I try to remind myself that I'll get through it just like I did yesterday, and hopefully tomorrow. Life throws you curves sometimes, you've just have to learn to adapt. Things change so quickly, you blink, and you're living across the country and living this life that you totally didn't have planned for yourself. It's not all that bad, but it's not what you had pictured. But would life really be all that fun, if you planned out your whole life before hand? I enjoy the occasional screw up. We learn. It's hard, but we eventually come out on top. Without the screw ups, life would simply be boring.

So today of all days, I'm reminded that today is the 9th. The number 9 just won't leave my head. Today marks 8 months. 8 months ago, I lost my friend. 8 months ago, life through me that curve that I've tried so hard to adapt to. I've had 242 days to process this, and some days I think I'm fine. And then others I'll hear a phrase or see Bob Barker and want to cry. But as each days fades and is never to be seen again, I do know that I'm healing. It's a slow process, but I do know I'm moving in the right direction. Let's hope my right is the right direction.

My grandmother just recently was able to clean out his closet. Well I think I found something I'll treasure the rest of my life. My grandfather for as long as I can remember talked about his service to his country. I've heard stories about Vietnam, Korea, Germany, Malaysia, Japan, even the US. I've always imagined what it was like to be there, to feel what these men felt. I wish I could contact some of the men mentioned, just to know and put a face to the people he spoke so highly of, people who were his family during a portion of his life. So while digging through my grandfather's treasure's I found a package that had obviously been tucked away. I opened it, and found a timeline of pics of his time in the service. Pics of his ex-wife Elfie who was German, their adopted daughter Johanna. A daughter I have never met, I had never seen her, until recently. She's beautiful. Your typical tall, blue-eyed, blonde, bombshell. I just wish he hadn't been so stubborn and had the chance to reconcile with her. He would tell me all about her when I was little. He adored her, even after the fallout. Even after she chose to hate him. He loved her anyway. Always strong, a parent's love.
Each pic represents a different piece in the life of my grandfather. Some sad, others joyful. I'm quite fond of the pics of the Japanese orphanage. A place where I know from stories my grandfather loved to visit. He enjoyed mingling with the small children. Others are of the men I've heard so much about. I only wish I could place a name with a face. I'm so drawn to these pictures. No wonder he put them away. It would have been too much.

8 months without you...

Finding comfort in pain.

Old man sits under tree. He has no home. He has his backpack and his bongos. That's all he has left of his life. How do you let your life drift away? What went wrong along the way? Is there something you could have done different? I have no second thoughts as I hand him the last five dollars in my pocket. So he spends it on booze. Wouldn't you? Shortly it takes you away from the reality you're now living. Let him be happy. Because hours from now, the frown on his face will return. Slowly turn around as he offers you a hit off his joint. Smile as you turn and tell him to enjoy what he has left. Smile because you have a warm bed to come home to. Smile because your disfunctional family doesn't seem so bad at the moment. Smile because there's beer in the frige. Smile because you're home. For now.

Smiling. Something I haven't done in quite a long time. It's sad when a homeless man reminds you that you have many good things going on in your life, but you've been too consumed by hiding behind all the hurt. We've become to adapted to the pain and sorrow, we smile anyway. Life's just grand.