Random Hit And Run

What else would you call a post that is about nothing and everything? So this weekend we have Burp. Both Ducky and I worked today so I took Burp to work with me, on the contingency that he’d let me take him out for breakfast. I know, the inhumanity of it all.

I know my six year old grandson, he’s a bottomless pit, and when he grows up he will be tall and thin (but hopefully not scrawny as his worthless biological donor.) Right now he really resembles’ Ex number 1’s son, that’s a good thing. But he eats like there is no tomorrow. So at work he ate a bowl of dynabites, aka Cocoa Krispies, a fruit roll up, and a bunch of grapes – that was between 6 and 10am. Then we went to breakfast where he ate two and a half sausage links and an entire adult size pancake – that was between 10 and 11. Then we went to the local Catholic church’s holiday bazaar, which really should have been labeled a rummage sale. Grocery shopping, and home for the Ducks game.

It’s 2pm and Burp is hungry for lunch. He’s had another fruit roll up, an Otter Pop, because grandma’s house without Otterpops is a sad grandma comment, and graham crackers. So I made him half a peanut butter sandwich and a can of Batman noodle soup. The kid is a bottomless pit I tell you.

Have you noticed how the chicken soup part of the soup just isn’t as good as it was when we were kids? I give Burp all the noodles a bit of the broth and keep the rest for myself. I only use half a can of water when I make it, and the broth just isn’t the same. Bummer Dude.

I’ve been kind of bummed. No not so much over the soup, because I can live with that, but over the huge gap in my life since late February early March. I’m one of those people who doesn’t collect a lot of friends that I let in close. I’ve always been that way, because have you ever noticed, three really is a crowd? What’s up with that? So anyway, no matter what I say to the person who is now a gaping hole in my life, it comes out wrong. I’m bummed about that. She’s recent started coming back into Friday night chat, but I have to wonder why, because it’s not to renew our former friendship. She has said she’s quit writing (which is a shame) so what gives?

Have you noticed how many people stop by a blog and totally tank the author? Jesus Fucking Christ, what is up with that? Certainly a blog is a place of give and take, but honestly I am shocked by how many people just dump their crap on the author. My blog is about nothing and everything. I ramble and rant at will, sometimes it is random, some times I’m thoroughly lost in the desert, but hey, it’s my blog. I was utterly shocked to see some of the crap on a friend of mine’s blog recently that was a blatant attack on her and totally ungrounded. It was petty, without merit (apparently a lot because I’ve said that twice now) and under the guise of Anonymous. Chicken Shit. If you have something to say sign it with either your name or your handle.

Now Natalie gets this crap all the time and I love how she deals with it. But my blogging friend this happened to yesterday doesn’t get this crap. And what did JA get raked for? A Metaphor, a metaphor about her passion for writing. Sheesh, Anonymous probably couldn’t spell Metaphor, wouldn’t understand the definition of Metaphor unless they went back and read the comments on said post, because Christie ever so nicely gave Anonymous the definition and link just to prove it. Good girl Christie.

By the way, neither Natalie or JA deserve this blatant bottom feeding hit and run. But just like the world, the Internet is full of large foreheaded low lifes, suffering God complexes.

So I am watching Oregon take on USC and hoping, hoping, alright yes, they win. But I have to ask… Why is it okay to spike the ball to stop the clock, I mean it’s a blatant act? But a team will get penalized if the QB throws the ball away. What’s up with that? Spike/throw, who came up with those rules? And why do my Ducks always have to make it suspenseful and nail biting in the last quarter? Arrrh.

Why do I always think up a poetic run, right when my sleeping pills are kicking in, I’ve begun my prayers, and I’ve got an airshift in six hours? I had this great beginning running through my mind last night as if it was problem riddled anxiety. I repeated repeated, repeated, repeated every word, thinking kewl I’ll remember this in the morning. Nada. Sucka. Zilch.

No airshift tomorrow morning, tonight my brain will be empty, a bottomless pit like Burp’s tummy, blank as new fallen snow. So is the addle pated ability of this poet.

Sith
Cele