I made it back from my fabulous trip to Arizona. I love that place. I got to see the Grand Canyon, and went horseback riding, and played golf, and went hiking, and took a jeep tour, and ate at fabulous restaurants...I even tried rattlesnake.
I saw a real live tarantula while on a trail at the Grand Canyon...that little shit was inches from me.
I have never seen one in the wild...only in a cage. I prefer the caged version.
I get back to town to find a broken computer. I was on SERIOUS SG withdrawals. But...I can relax again...all is well except this fucking antique mouse I'm having to use. It doesn't even have a scroll wheel.
My mom told me that my dad was embarrassed about my marital situation. You know...embarrassed to tell my extended family. Geez...this isn't the freakin 1950's. You would think I had run off with the preacher or something.
Dad thinks I was the reason my marriage ended...that if I had spent more time at home...blah blah blah...well the reason I DIDN'T spend more time at home was because of the failing marriage, not the other way around. And really, in the grand scheme of life...let's just say it WAS all my fault (which it wasn't)...who really gives a shit? Even if I did everything wrong, shouldn't he accept it and love me anyway? *sigh* I'm so tired of dealing with this shit.
I just realized that sometimes when someone from this site contacts me through the contact button below my picture, it goes straight to my junk mail folder...which I am REALLY bad at checking...so if you have emailed me and I didn't reply, sorry. I just happenned to look in there the other day, and SURPRISE! real emails...not junk.
Going to Atlanta Friday night to hang with a friend, then to Knoxville Saturday for the game. Go Vols!
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I get back to town to find a broken computer. I was on SERIOUS SG withdrawals. But...I can relax again...all is well except this fucking antique mouse I'm having to use. It doesn't even have a scroll wheel.
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My mom told me that my dad was embarrassed about my marital situation. You know...embarrassed to tell my extended family. Geez...this isn't the freakin 1950's. You would think I had run off with the preacher or something.
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I just realized that sometimes when someone from this site contacts me through the contact button below my picture, it goes straight to my junk mail folder...which I am REALLY bad at checking...so if you have emailed me and I didn't reply, sorry. I just happenned to look in there the other day, and SURPRISE! real emails...not junk.
Going to Atlanta Friday night to hang with a friend, then to Knoxville Saturday for the game. Go Vols!
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happy birthday