The Empty Chair...

I have sat here... in this same... old... hard... cold...

uncomforting, uncomfortable chair... for twelve hours. Half a day. A lifetime. Lifetime of feelings. Conversations. Words. Said. And unspoken...

And

I

Am...

Mourning. Frustrated. Sad. Hopeful. Desperate. Needy. Full. Empty...

All at once. And...

All

Alone.

In this empty chair...

Reprieve from anger...

Finally at least one bit of news I can mostly agree with...

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080924/ap_on_bi_ge/financial_meltdown

Call me "Sue"

There is so much bullshit going on in the world, and I'm acquiring a pissy attitude about it. I think I am going to start suing people for a living. I'm going to sue all of the guys that pretend they aren't jackasses...

(okay, I'm already rich, but can I finish bitching please?)

I'm going to sue every politician that promises us shit to get our vote; and then perpetually sodomizes the people of America once they are in office.

I'm going to sue my cable company for charging me for services they don't provide and forcing me to talk to people from India; while Tom, Dick, and Harry- American -guys don't have jobs.

I'm going to sue the almighty gasoline providers for charging us a magically higher price for the same ol' shit... every frickin' Labor Day weekend.

I'm suing Uncle Sam for taking my tax money to pay for killing people; who never even tried to steal the Twinkie out of my lunchbox.

And... I'm going to sue whomever made Britney Spears famous and "auditorally" raped me by playing her music on the radio... then rubbed salt in my wounds by making me look at her snatch while she exits a limousine.

I'm suing every adult that said I could be whatever I wanted. Really? I can't even find a job!!!!


I'm suing cavemen for making "modern men" think that if they breathe heavy and pull your hair you will want to co-habitate with them.

I'm suing Maybelline for making me think I was the only one not "born with it."

I'm suing L'Oreal for making people hate me because I'm "beautiful"... even though your slogan begged them not to.

I'm suing QVC for creating an underground of shop-aholics without providing a support group.

Maury Pauvich? I'm suing him for not being able to figure out who the baby daddy is after 14 -too -many seasons.

I'm suing the dog next door for slaughtering my groundhog.

I think I'd like to sue the makers of the film "Jaws" for making me fearful of the ocean...

I'm suing the spiders that invade every room of my house and don't pay rent...

Marlboro? Where's my cowboy hat, and horse!? I'm suing you too!

I'm suing marijuana for NEVER making me feel "groovy..."

And... I'm gonna sue YOU for not telling me I'm a cool, but slightly, crazy bitch!

In the Grand Scheme of Things...

It's a slow afternoon here in "Shitsville." I migrated from the bed to the couch after too-few hours of sleep. Answering emails and searching for jobs. Searching for jobs. S-e-a-r-c-h-i-n-g...

I think I just nodded off for a second.

Anyway, I had a visitor! Well, he wasn't really here to see me, he was just doing his job and dropping off the mail. (I'm attempting to pretend I have some sort of exciting social life here.) It must be National Junk Mail Day, as I received not one bit of personal mail... not even a bill! I received a coupon flyer, certificates for "Mystery Points" from a casino, a "Honda Summer Clearance" mailer, and an invitation to start a "free checking" account at a local bank. (Apparently these people are unaware that I don't have a job, nor a secret stash of riches! ) If I sign up for an account at the bank, they will give me a free "Northern Gravity Gear Carry All;" a "versatile backpack" with a "cooler for drinks and snacks on the bottom and a roomy main compartment on top."

So here's my plan:

1. Go to the bank to open my "free checking account." Ask them to overlook the fact that I have no money to put in it, and to "Please fill my free backpack with Diet Coke, chili cheese Fritos, and bundles of one-hundred dollar bills."

2. Hitchhike to casino with "Mystery Points" certificates in hand. Cash in "Mystery Points." Hit Jackpot. (Or rich-looking man over head.) Put winnings (or muggings) in "roomy main compartment."

3. Hitchhike to local Honda Dealer for the "Honda Summer Clearance Sale." Offer the sales guy a Diet Coke and some chili cheese Fritos; while I try to negotiate 99% off the sticker price. Drive home in my Honda Fit.

4. Turn on the T.V., eat the rest of the chili cheese Fritos, and wait for gas coupons in tomorrow's mail...

A Sign of 69

Is my astrological sign doomed? I'm a Cancer. CANCER. I mean, come on, it sounds like doom! I've noticed that a high majority of guys that contact me on the site are also Cancers. Are we all just a bunch of misunderstood creatures, hiding in various shaped shells... Is it that there just isn't enough room in our shells for someone else? Are people turned off by our claws?? Anyone who has seen the symbol for the sign has certainly noticed the "69." What is that about? Is that a guaranteed perk of this astrological distinction? I think not!