Just one word… Plastics.

In wandering around last night, I came across this. Who needs Real Doll today? Who will need Belladerma tomorrow? We humans are so much more…errr…

…I want to say resourceful, but it’s pathetic, actually.

I am waiting for Son-Friend to show up; he has Damien Thorne today, and Damien is sick, so he has to wait for G-F to come home and watch Damien before he can come over, ‘cos I told him that if he gets me sick, I’ll clock him.

Squoosh is still in communication with the Toilet Tank Gods. This has been better than a babysitter. I should not fix the leaky thing, save money on putting him in storage, and just put food and water in the bathroom for ten days when I am gone—Squoosh’d just sit and listen to the toilet issue edicts, or whatever it is that silly bunny butts think leaky toilets are doing.

I received my stuff from ShopNBC, but I am sending most all of it back. How disappointing. The pendant is too light in weight to justify the price (it looks more solid in the picture, but it is actually openwork, and not even really notable or interesting openwork; *I* could design a better one, and I think I shall), and the craftsmanship isn’t that good; it’s assembly-line pressed. So it goes back. Ummm…both of them.

Well, I couldn’t decide on which colour I wanted.

Oh…I was going to send one back…probably. Now it is both.

The cute bracelet is on its way back home as well; it is tiny, and I was really expecting something bolder. Medallions are cool, but not the way they do it. I frankly wouldn’t pay more than thirty for it; ShopNBC is batshit. Plus, I don’t wear a lot of silver, at least not enough to justify keeping something I am not crazy about. And I was going to get this bracelet, but my experience with the others has taught me to hold off; odds are it is dinky, also.

On the other hand, I did get two awesome rings for Meg for her birthday, which is why I started poking around on there in the first place—I was charged with finding something decent for her, and I did not see anything I fell in love with at my regular jewellers when I went by there, so I took to online shopping. Now Meg’s rings I *was* impressed with. Figures. Even Mummers likes them, and she is less of a jewellery-type, and more of a tomboy type (I may *have* been switched at birth, rilly). My father had to give her three different wedding sets before she found one wedding ring (no engagement ring; she has two stuck somewhere that I have not seen in ever—even when she was married—even though I suggested to her that she melt them down into something she *would* wear years ago) that she would wear because it didn’t stick up or get in the way. She has a few pieces I want to at least wear sometimes, including one amazing dinner ring that my father gave her as an ‘I’m sorry about having all that sex with other women’ present, but she won’t even let me borrow them. Though, ok, she *did* let me borrow the dinner ring once.

So I am happy that I worked everything out for Meg, but I am ripped about wasting my time not listening in our tele-lecture shopping for crap for me. Grr. Thankfully, I only lose out $5.99-ish for shipping on my stuff, and I am supposed to eventually get reimbursed other people’s part of what I laid out for Meg’s stuff.

And I am ticked enough that I am going to design my own farking pendant, and have my jeweller make it…eventually. I have a bunch of metal (I will buy something at a good price, even if I am not crazy about the setting, as long as the price is less than the worth). I think it is a good investment. {giggle} plastics. But I am almost over ShopNBC, QVC, and HSN. Meg’s stuff was good, but I am so *done* with having to return things to them. It is a little different if I watch the live show, because then the thing can be seen it in a more…realistic setting, and I did keep the sapphire ring and necklace I ordered from HSN last year, but this round of returning things has soured me on the online shopping thing. Plus, I don’t have the attention span to return things, which is what they are banking on, I am sure—just like with rebates.

Butsoanyway…

Since I started this post, Son-Friend (whom I think I am going to rename Harry Benson, since I am having a spell of getting to things that I have wanted to do, plus Son-Friend is cumbersome to type) has shown up, scared the living fuck out of Squoosh, who was communing with the Toilet Tank Gods, and had to run back out for some something at the hardware store. What in the hell is the fascination men have with hardware stores, is what I want to know. But I am going to have to remember to cut the water to that tank off before I leave, just in case Harry screws something up; I do not want to return to Lake Ancodia.

Meg brought lunch over (fish tacos) and then ran off to go do MegThings, and Romeo begged for a piece of fish so much that I finally caved and gave him some. Ever since, he has been running around the house…I think that means he is happy. Sigh. I hope that I didn’t make him sick; his kidney function has been down, and I am feeding him only Science Diet’s Senior Hairball formula and k-d as a preventative. He is not down enough to do anything about yet, according to Dr Vet, but he merits ‘watching’. And so we watch.

I am looking forward to leaving, but…I have a problem. Not only do I worry about Mehitabel, her babies, Squoosh, Mom, dying in an air disaster, and everything else, but I am not the same as Meg; I have started getting a kind of stage fright before I play anymore; it is sort-of stage fright, but it is almost more a people-fright…almost like it is an overload to interact with people the way I need to anymore. One girl I knew a long time ago (who slept with a lot of people, and witnessing first-hand her travails is one of the contributing factors to my never having done the same) termed the insecurity, nervousness, and adrenaline rush she felt whilst prepping for a ‘date’ (her definition and my definition of that word did differ, by the way) as ‘pre-fuck jitters’. And it is appropriate to this instance; I have started getting the pre-fuck jitters.

I do not know why.

This has happened the past few times, though I have hated to admit it to myself. I have deluded myself into thinking that I am becoming too attached to money to risk it, that I am not good enough, that…you name it. But it is really the pre-fuck jitters. So I do not know why I have let myself be talked into going. I really do not.

And Harry just finished the bathroom and left; the Toilet Gods have been silenced. Poor Squooshable—just when he’d found Religion.

I am committed to getting to the bottom of this jitter thing and getting over it. I do not want to be as accomplished as Meg does, but I do want to plod along slowly-but-surely and remotely competently, as I have been doing. What is strange is that this has happened without my having my head handed to me, as it were; overall, I am ahead more than I have put in, probably because I am too conservative.

I guess that I should go do something other than write this. I am *so* burnt out that I almost do not want to do anything today. In-between everything else I have been giving a lick and a promise to today, I *have* managed to put up some more links, and in an order which is roughly approximating a hierarchy of frequency, interests, or…oh, let’s not lie; I may approximate hierarchies later, or categorise, or whatever. For now it is a freaking mess. I was going to organise it in an as-visited order, but that varies with my mood, plus the list would be HUGE. So I don’t know…I may revamp it a lot later. And I made the mistake of reading some of the feral cat links, and so now I am teary-eyed. I want everyone to read the story of the Little Tabby, but on the other hand, I do not want to make anyone as sad as I was when I read it for the first time. I can only imagine how it must be to be so hurt, frightened, and unable to even eat or drink, yet that is a nightmare that is all around. Yet another instance of my wishing there was a Hell so that some Evildoer could go rot in it. Reading Wildrun makes my heart feel better. :-)

Revenge Of The Toilet Gods Intermission

Sigh… Holy christ. I am giving up and posting now, because I am taking a break from cleaning up the ginormous mess made when the toilet tank cracked and flooded the bathroom and part of the hall. I had left the computer and went to find a hand-out from last week to go be all productive before my Sunday night triv game and Flavour of Love (Goldie was given the boot, and it’s all down to New York and Hoopz, but I am doing that digressing thing), and I had just started to read when I heard Squoosh screaming. I ran back to find him, ‘cos he Mmmrps, Brrrps, and sometimes meows, but he NEVER screams. He was screaming because he was trapped in the bathtub! When he saw me, he jumped onto the toilet seat and I rescued him from the water. I grabbed all the towels I could and threw them down on the ground, shut the water off, and drained the tank. I don’t think that Harry did it—this is an older model toilet, and I think that it was destined to happen soon anyway. There is a slightly-larger-than-hairline crack down the side that was starting to POUR water.

Squooshable says that it is the Toilet Gods getting even with me for silencing them.

Once I cleared the water out, Squooshable got brave and came to watch; he says that if I apologised to the Toilet Gods, they would make the flooding stop.

Thanks, Squooshable. I’ll think about doing just that.

Romeo and Weebie sensed upheaval when I started screaming and cursing, and ran for high ground; they are at present in the sills of the high windows in my living room. I am currently running the first of probably about three loads of towels, and hoping that my hall carpet will dry without incident. Harry said that he will come over tomorrow and fix it if he decides that it won’t, and he said that I needed a new toilet anyway…so I guess I am getting one tomorrow. Considering that the other bathrooms in the house all have the old-style toilets (Harry explained to me what the difference is, but I don’t care enough to remember; I am just going to let him handle this), I might as well get them all done, else they’ll all break soon enough. To steal a phrase from Ms Grammarian, fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Crapmuffin.

Just shoot me.

Now I have to finish fixing what I have to fix before triv and stuff.

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