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Holy shit, you guys. I haven't gone this long without the internet for years. Funny thing, I thought I'd miss it more. Diaryland of course I missed a ton, but surprisingly I CAN live without a daily report on Lindsay Lohan's current weight. I know, I was shocked too. We're all moved in to the new house, and dialup is our only option for the moment. We could get satellite internet, but they want $700 up front for the equipment (it requires a special satellite, of course) and $70 per month after that. That's not going to happen. The government is paying me well to play with my kids and mow my lawn, but not that well. My unemployment came through, thank goodness. My parents made a point to tell me how nice it was of my old boss to agree to pay it. I don't think they have any idea how it works. If the state tells him to pay it, he pays it. He did object to it, but they ruled in my favor. If anything, it's nice of me not to have brought up the numerous requests for blow jobs and a Friday uniform of g-strings and tube tops. Then I would have had an even better case, but wasn't I NICE to leave those parts out. Ugh. Everything I do is wrong. I've been exploring our little town, looking for things like dollar stores and preschools. Know what I found? A winery. With wine tastings any time you want them. So Sallie, when can I expect you? Nick's sister is down here every other weekend and I promised her a Juicy Couture purse just like mine if she racks up some babysitting hours... I'm going to cut this short and just say that I'm alive and I'm loving life right now. I have photographic evidence of the very first lawn I ever mowed in all my twenty-six years:
I was going to check my email now but Nick just came down and acted like a bitch so now I have to go apologize for letting the sight of me piss him off again. What a fucking woman. Oh, and the Nextel shot? Pretty much you just chirp someone and say, "DROP WHAT YOU'RE DOING WOMAN AND DO A GODDAMN SHOT. NO EXCUSES." Then you pretty much have to do the shot or the chirper will find the chirpee and bodily force liquor down their throat. Are my friends the only ones who do this? Yes, probably we are. Oh, and I am now in "North Central Illinois", Tommy, whatever that means. I do know that all my TV stations now come from the Quad Cities, which I am now an hour from. And which the annoying Fox weather man insists on calling "The QCA." It's the Quad Freaking Cities, it doesn't get a cutesy acronym in my opinion. But there it is. Oh, and here's the house, well, the back of it at least:
And a gratuitous shot of the boys, loving farm life:
And a shot of what we did after they went to sleep the first night here:
Ah, the country. You can shoot the fuck out of a plywood man, and no one cares. And who got the shot closest to the heart, from across the freaking lawn, with a .357 handgun? Yes, that was me. I rock so hard. Kids are: We don't have anything on, but the Britney version of "My Prerogative" is in my head. Last person who pissed me off: That would be Nick, for being such a mean wine drunk. I'm sure I'll tell that one soon. Heard in my house: "Hi, Fatty!" I suppose I should call the cat by her real name to discourage the boys from saying this too often. Miss Anything? pics - 2007-06-05
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