Anything Goes

WARNING: THERE WILL BE EXCESSIVE USE OF THE WORD “FUCK” IN THIS POST. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE WORD “FUCK” PLEASE STOP FUCKING READING.

I hate Mondays and I hate mornings. My morning began at 2:00 a.m. when upon going to bed discovered my delightful son had crawled into MY fucking bed, sans me, of course, as I was busy jamming out to Napster and beading, and had wet MY fucking bed. Nate still has a problem with nocturnal wetness and boy did he piss a fucking flood. *Growl*

I had finally worked myself to fucking exhaustion on the fucking car and the fucking beading and all I was looking forward to was going to fucking bed, only to find my son swimming in a sea of fucking urine which most fucking delightfully will have now soaked all the way through to the fucking floor. *Growl*

I know he cannot help this but this did not stop me from being fucking irritated as cranky bitch on her period…. oh yeah, which I started yesterday. *Growl*

After having mopped up the best I could and having sprayed the fucking mattress with Shout, and spreading fucking towels, which were fucking clean, but now are fucking dirty, which means I will have to fucking wash them again! *Growl*

Normally, when I start said fucking red curse of hell and damnation, it takes a while for it to get going so I was unprepared at nine fucking thirty this morning to already have a major crisis on my hands. *Growl* Fuck.

Then, I had to go pay my fucking property taxes, which is a fucking racket if you ask me. Thank you fucking government for punishing me for being able to afford a car and a house and anything else you can fucking tax! 120 fucking dollars just to pay the fucking taxes and the license fee. Fucking racket. *Growl*

I went by the shop and no one was there. I said, “Fuck it. Not going in” But, now, I wish I had gone it because I’m fucking missing a vial of beads. *Growl*

Did I mention it is fucking hot? 82 fucking degrees at 9:45. *Growl*

So, I get home and attempt to fucking bead, which normally calms me down, only to find the beads I had bought were translucent instead of opaque and, while pretty, just don’t go with the other bead I wanted them to go with. So, I used another bead, fucking starting over again, discovering, as mentioned above, that I was missing a vial of fucking beads. I doubt they are at the shop. They are probably in my fucking car, which looks like a fucking dumpster right now.

Nate and I decide we need food, so it’s off to fucking Taco Hell, where we sit in the fucking heat for over 15 minutes only to get the wrong fucking order. With drive time, wait time, and fuck up time, 45 fucking minutes of my life wasted on Taco Hell. Then I didn’t like the fucking food.

I hate being on my period during the summer. I feel fucking dirty ALL. THE. TIME. YUCK! I’m fucking done now. Back to beading. Bzzzzzt!

WARNING: THERE WILL BE EXCESSIVE USE OF THE WORD “FUCK” IN THIS POST. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE WORD “FUCK” PLEASE STOP FUCKING READING.

I hate Mondays and I hate mornings. My morning began at 2:00 a.m. when upon going to bed discovered my delightful son had crawled into MY fucking bed, sans me, of course, as I was busy jamming out to Napster and beading, and had wet MY fucking bed. Nate still has a problem with nocturnal wetness and boy did he piss a fucking flood. *Growl*

I had finally worked myself to fucking exhaustion on the fucking car and the fucking beading and all I was looking forward to was going to fucking bed, only to find my son swimming in a sea of fucking urine which most fucking delightfully will have now soaked all the way through to the fucking floor. *Growl*

I know he cannot help this but this did not stop me from being fucking irritated as cranky bitch on her period…. oh yeah, which I started yesterday. *Growl*

After having mopped up the best I could and having sprayed the fucking mattress with Shout, and spreading fucking towels, which were fucking clean, but now are fucking dirty, which means I will have to fucking wash them again! *Growl*

Normally, when I start said fucking red curse of hell and damnation, it takes a while for it to get going so I was unprepared at nine fucking thirty this morning to already have a major crisis on my hands. *Growl* Fuck.

Then, I had to go pay my fucking property taxes, which is a fucking racket if you ask me. Thank you fucking government for punishing me for being able to afford a car and a house and anything else you can fucking tax! 120 fucking dollars just to pay the fucking taxes and the license fee. Fucking racket. *Growl*

I went by the shop and no one was there. I said, “Fuck it. Not going in” But, now, I wish I had gone it because I’m fucking missing a vial of beads. *Growl*

Did I mention it is fucking hot? 82 fucking degrees at 9:45. *Growl*

So, I get home and attempt to fucking bead, which normally calms me down, only to find the beads I had bought were translucent instead of opaque and, while pretty, just don’t go with the other bead I wanted them to go with. So, I used another bead, fucking starting over again, discovering, as mentioned above, that I was missing a vial of fucking beads. I doubt they are at the shop. They are probably in my fucking car, which looks like a fucking dumpster right now.

Nate and I decide we need food, so it’s off to fucking Taco Hell, where we sit in the fucking heat for over 15 minutes only to get the wrong fucking order. With drive time, wait time, and fuck up time, 45 fucking minutes of my life wasted on Taco Hell. Then I didn’t like the fucking food.

I hate being on my period during the summer. I feel fucking dirty ALL. THE. TIME. YUCK! I’m fucking done now. Back to beading. Bzzzzzt!

Well, lost almost a whole day of beading pleasure due to the fact my car said, “Bitch, if you don’t fix me, I’m just not going to run anymore.” I hate it when that happens.

Off I go to my local Advanced Auto to pick up a fuel filter. I’ve never changed a fuel filter before, but I have now. Start car, runs better, test drive, hmmmmmm. . . still hesitating. . . this is bad. Let’s put fucking expensive ass high test gas in it. No, didn’t help much.

Let’s see, the last time I changed the fuel filter was the same time I changed the spark plugs and wires which was. . . 2004. Given my penchant for electrical shit to just not last around me, which is what I told the lady at Advanced Auto on my 2nd trip, I figured this would be a good opportunity to switch them out and see if this fixed the problem.

When I told the lady at Ad. Auto this, she asked me to hold my left palm over her left palm and when I did she looked up at me with wide eyes. Obviously this lady is a force reader and the force is with me. She said, “People think I’m crazy,” I nodded, “I know.”

“Do you know that some people just don’t have that. . . that. . .”

“Life energy? The force?” I offered.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled, “Yes! The force!” I nodded.

Now, my car is sitting in front of my house with the hood up, cooling off so I can attempt to not kill myself or short circuit the electrical system. I’ll be back (hopefully) to let you know how that goes.

*BZZZZZT!* . . . A short time later in Peachville

Well, I didn’t get the plugs changed because I don’t have the correct tools and I only got one wire changed but hey, my car is running and sounds better than it has for five or six weeks. Knowing my luck I’ll get up in the morning and the car won’t start or sound like it did this morning, then I will have to lay my hands on it again. That seems to help. Something about “the force.”

Anyway, Friday night I spent four hours at the shop alone working on getting my beads organized. I’m not even halfway finished. Yesterday I spent time at Wal*Mart and the shop. Here’s the deal. After T-Bird’s aunt passed away a few years back, T-Bird inherited a bedspread and curtains in . . . a bright red velvety sorta material. T-Bird felt she should gift this to me so I could make something out of it IF I also made her something. Fair enough I say.

So, when I started talking about this purse project for Beadwork magazine, T-Bird piped up that she wanted a cigar box purse too. I have since changed my mind about the cigar box and am going with a “coal” theme for the purse for Beadwork magazine but did start on the T-Bird one. I have a design crafted into the material that I cut from the bottom of one of the curtains and that’s about it. So, that leaves me with a big bedspread and 1 3/4 full length curtains. In red. Oh yeah, the possibilities are endless… uh huh.
That is, until I got this bright red idea to make a cloak out of said material. Hence the trip to Wal*Mart to pick up a pattern and thread and a few needles and then a stop at another local textile store where I picked up the tracing paper and that wheel thingy and a gold frog and saw a drunk with dreadlocks hit said textile building, almost drive his car through the window of convenience store and the ensuing fire truck, ambulance, and four police cars. This is up from the one police car at a fender bender on my way to Wal*Mart and still up from the fire truck, ambulance, and two police cars I saw Friday night when some gentleman drove his truck head first into a telephone pole.

Never a dull moment. Bzzzt.

So, I got to the shop and swept the floor and spread out the material and the pattern and did all the things that one should do and sweated and cursed and sang along with the radio and showed off my beadwork to the Computer Guy and his associate and twiddled my thumbs while he met with a client who had the audacity to step on my material which was on the floor since none of the tables were big enough. Then I had to go home and get the 3/4 curtain and something to eat and finally around 7:30 I pieced together what I had just to see if it looked normal or anywhere close to that and it did and I came home, fed the cats, fed the remaining living kitten (Cali, she is SO CUTE and lucky to be alive), and started beading and watching “Cold Case Files.”

This was short lived as AZ called at about 9:20 and was at my house by 9:30 and we had porch time which was nice except the mosquitoes were bad. I knew he had gone to the Girlfriend’s brother’s birthday celebration an hour and a half away and I also knew that while he likes said brother, he didn’t really want to go and when I questioned as to why he couldn’t just get together with said brother for lunch as said brother works in our town he grumbled and mumbled about the Girlfriend pestering him (insisting… uhhhh… whatever) that he go. So, upon his return to town he ditches Girlfriend, stops for some liquid courage and ends up on my porch, with my arms wrapped around him, and his arms wrapped around mine, holding hands.

That didn’t sound real good, did it?

Don’t answer that.

He didn’t stay long though, like I said, mosquitoes were bad and so was the state of my house, so off he went and I went back to beading. And then it was Sunday, which started this post. Amen.

Well, lost almost a whole day of beading pleasure due to the fact my car said, “Bitch, if you don’t fix me, I’m just not going to run anymore.” I hate it when that happens.

Off I go to my local Advanced Auto to pick up a fuel filter. I’ve never changed a fuel filter before, but I have now. Start car, runs better, test drive, hmmmmmm. . . still hesitating. . . this is bad. Let’s put fucking expensive ass high test gas in it. No, didn’t help much.

Let’s see, the last time I changed the fuel filter was the same time I changed the spark plugs and wires which was. . . 2004. Given my penchant for electrical shit to just not last around me, which is what I told the lady at Advanced Auto on my 2nd trip, I figured this would be a good opportunity to switch them out and see if this fixed the problem.

When I told the lady at Ad. Auto this, she asked me to hold my left palm over her left palm and when I did she looked up at me with wide eyes. Obviously this lady is a force reader and the force is with me. She said, “People think I’m crazy,” I nodded, “I know.”

“Do you know that some people just don’t have that. . . that. . .”

“Life energy? The force?” I offered.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled, “Yes! The force!” I nodded.

Now, my car is sitting in front of my house with the hood up, cooling off so I can attempt to not kill myself or short circuit the electrical system. I’ll be back (hopefully) to let you know how that goes.

*BZZZZZT!* . . . A short time later in Peachville

Well, I didn’t get the plugs changed because I don’t have the correct tools and I only got one wire changed but hey, my car is running and sounds better than it has for five or six weeks. Knowing my luck I’ll get up in the morning and the car won’t start or sound like it did this morning, then I will have to lay my hands on it again. That seems to help. Something about “the force.”

Anyway, Friday night I spent four hours at the shop alone working on getting my beads organized. I’m not even halfway finished. Yesterday I spent time at Wal*Mart and the shop. Here’s the deal. After T-Bird’s aunt passed away a few years back, T-Bird inherited a bedspread and curtains in . . . a bright red velvety sorta material. T-Bird felt she should gift this to me so I could make something out of it IF I also made her something. Fair enough I say.

So, when I started talking about this purse project for Beadwork magazine, T-Bird piped up that she wanted a cigar box purse too. I have since changed my mind about the cigar box and am going with a “coal” theme for the purse for Beadwork magazine but did start on the T-Bird one. I have a design crafted into the material that I cut from the bottom of one of the curtains and that’s about it. So, that leaves me with a big bedspread and 1 3/4 full length curtains. In red. Oh yeah, the possibilities are endless… uh huh.
That is, until I got this bright red idea to make a cloak out of said material. Hence the trip to Wal*Mart to pick up a pattern and thread and a few needles and then a stop at another local textile store where I picked up the tracing paper and that wheel thingy and a gold frog and saw a drunk with dreadlocks hit said textile building, almost drive his car through the window of convenience store and the ensuing fire truck, ambulance, and four police cars. This is up from the one police car at a fender bender on my way to Wal*Mart and still up from the fire truck, ambulance, and two police cars I saw Friday night when some gentleman drove his truck head first into a telephone pole.

Never a dull moment. Bzzzt.

So, I got to the shop and swept the floor and spread out the material and the pattern and did all the things that one should do and sweated and cursed and sang along with the radio and showed off my beadwork to the Computer Guy and his associate and twiddled my thumbs while he met with a client who had the audacity to step on my material which was on the floor since none of the tables were big enough. Then I had to go home and get the 3/4 curtain and something to eat and finally around 7:30 I pieced together what I had just to see if it looked normal or anywhere close to that and it did and I came home, fed the cats, fed the remaining living kitten (Cali, she is SO CUTE and lucky to be alive), and started beading and watching “Cold Case Files.”

This was short lived as AZ called at about 9:20 and was at my house by 9:30 and we had porch time which was nice except the mosquitoes were bad. I knew he had gone to the Girlfriend’s brother’s birthday celebration an hour and a half away and I also knew that while he likes said brother, he didn’t really want to go and when I questioned as to why he couldn’t just get together with said brother for lunch as said brother works in our town he grumbled and mumbled about the Girlfriend pestering him (insisting… uhhhh… whatever) that he go. So, upon his return to town he ditches Girlfriend, stops for some liquid courage and ends up on my porch, with my arms wrapped around him, and his arms wrapped around mine, holding hands.

That didn’t sound real good, did it?

Don’t answer that.

He didn’t stay long though, like I said, mosquitoes were bad and so was the state of my house, so off he went and I went back to beading. And then it was Sunday, which started this post. Amen.

Picture Jasper - I love this piece.

This is a prototype brooch, I’m getting ready to make a few more, just different.

This is a choker I made for the celtic pendant that Troy bought me many moons ago.

A bracelet made from Swarovski pearls.

From the “Works in Progress” Files - They greys. AZ’s computer guy asked for a grey necklace for his girlfriend, so, these are the two things I have worked on so far.

This piece is done in four shades of size 15’s (very, very small beads) and Swarovski’s.

And the most recent victim of “Can Only Make One Syndrome.” The only thing difficult for me to do twice or three times, earrings. I have this horrible habit of only making one. I wish I didn’t have to make them the same. That is all for now.

Picture Jasper - I love this piece.

This is a prototype brooch, I’m getting ready to make a few more, just different.

This is a choker I made for the celtic pendant that Troy bought me many moons ago.

A bracelet made from Swarovski pearls.

From the “Works in Progress” Files - They greys. AZ’s computer guy asked for a grey necklace for his girlfriend, so, these are the two things I have worked on so far.

This piece is done in four shades of size 15’s (very, very small beads) and Swarovski’s.

And the most recent victim of “Can Only Make One Syndrome.” The only thing difficult for me to do twice or three times, earrings. I have this horrible habit of only making one. I wish I didn’t have to make them the same. That is all for now.

Didn’t I?

Jeff decided to have a few drinks before I picked Nate up and it got real ugly, real fast.

I hate drunks. I cannot tolerate alcoholics when they’re drinking. I don’t care anymore who it is. And I especially hate mean, blaming, belligerent drunks.

Now, Jeff wants me to give Nate to him for a year. Right. I told him to fuck off. The man is sitting there drunk. He is slurring his words at 5:30 in the evening. Goddess only knows what else he had on top of that booze.

See, I’m not Mother of the Year by any stretch of the imagination. I know this. My house could stand to be a hell of lot cleaner. Jeff wanted to throw shit on me about Nate and school. I told him that I was the reason that Nate even got to fourth grade. Me. Because he, Jeff, as you all know, WALKED AWAY. I told him that. I said, “You.walked.away.

I told him I was not taking his shit and the conversation was over. Then he got in my face, blah, blah, blah, blah, and I told him, “No, I’m not perfect, but neither are you, but I don’t see me mentioning that.” Then he tried to get me to touch him in some way so he could cry battery and get a DVP against me but I walked away. He tried to say, “Look at how you’re acting in front of your son!” Oh, right, I’m being verbally attacked, he’s bullying me, forcing me backwards, and he’s drunk. Yeah, I’m the bad influence.

For someone who wants to have his son for an entire year. . . funny, he’s only asked to have Nate for one week this summer. Nate asked for an additional two days when his sister was there. Granted, Jeff sees Nate everyday, or so I’m told, since I’ve also been told Jeff naps a lot during the day, but no, he hasn’t asked for exclusive time, meaning, I don’t pick Nate up in the evenings. Additionally, he said I don’t spend any time with Nate. Funny. . . pool trips, movies, dinner every evening, sometimes I bead on the bed while Nate watches TV or plays a video game, sometimes, lo and behold, I read blogs and I write and I bead somewhere else, normally at my desk, and I may even talk on the phone to an adult who isn’t drunk!

He pisses me off.

Oh, and AZ and I are fine. He’s continually amazed by my beading skills and today we worked on an ad for the shop. We may be taking a one day Quickbooks class together in August. But I forgot to remind him about it. Must do that tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. Pics soon of my new beadwork.

Didn’t I?

Jeff decided to have a few drinks before I picked Nate up and it got real ugly, real fast.

I hate drunks. I cannot tolerate alcoholics when they’re drinking. I don’t care anymore who it is. And I especially hate mean, blaming, belligerent drunks.

Now, Jeff wants me to give Nate to him for a year. Right. I told him to fuck off. The man is sitting there drunk. He is slurring his words at 5:30 in the evening. Goddess only knows what else he had on top of that booze.

See, I’m not Mother of the Year by any stretch of the imagination. I know this. My house could stand to be a hell of lot cleaner. Jeff wanted to throw shit on me about Nate and school. I told him that I was the reason that Nate even got to fourth grade. Me. Because he, Jeff, as you all know, WALKED AWAY. I told him that. I said, “You.walked.away.

I told him I was not taking his shit and the conversation was over. Then he got in my face, blah, blah, blah, blah, and I told him, “No, I’m not perfect, but neither are you, but I don’t see me mentioning that.” Then he tried to get me to touch him in some way so he could cry battery and get a DVP against me but I walked away. He tried to say, “Look at how you’re acting in front of your son!” Oh, right, I’m being verbally attacked, he’s bullying me, forcing me backwards, and he’s drunk. Yeah, I’m the bad influence.

For someone who wants to have his son for an entire year. . . funny, he’s only asked to have Nate for one week this summer. Nate asked for an additional two days when his sister was there. Granted, Jeff sees Nate everyday, or so I’m told, since I’ve also been told Jeff naps a lot during the day, but no, he hasn’t asked for exclusive time, meaning, I don’t pick Nate up in the evenings. Additionally, he said I don’t spend any time with Nate. Funny. . . pool trips, movies, dinner every evening, sometimes I bead on the bed while Nate watches TV or plays a video game, sometimes, lo and behold, I read blogs and I write and I bead somewhere else, normally at my desk, and I may even talk on the phone to an adult who isn’t drunk!

He pisses me off.

Oh, and AZ and I are fine. He’s continually amazed by my beading skills and today we worked on an ad for the shop. We may be taking a one day Quickbooks class together in August. But I forgot to remind him about it. Must do that tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. Pics soon of my new beadwork.

I wrote this about a week ago and didn’t get a chance to post it so it can be the fill in for today

I felt as thought my Fourteen Years War (hereinafter “FYW”) Saga was kind of a downer and negative. Especially since I’ve actually had extremely good times with both AZ and Jeff. Thought I would share two such memories with you.

One night, Jeff and I were driving around (that’s called a “Drive Around Date” in WV) and the song “Renegade” by Styx came on the radio. If you’re not familiar with it, it starts with a harmony of singers and a light drum beat.

Oh mama I’m in fear for my life
From the long arm of the law
Lawman has put an end to my running
And I’m so far from my home
Oh mama I can hear you a crying
You’re so scared and all alone
Hangman is coming down from the gallows
And I don’t have very long

Then there is a high pitched, screaming type “YEAH!”

Since I sing along with every song on the radio, this was no exception. What I wasn’t expecting was Jeff to contribute the “YEAH!” I jumped out of my skin then we both started laughing. I still love that song and I think of Jeff every time I hear it.

Then, one night when I went to a local bar and grill, I was chatting up the owner’s wife, a somewhat ditzy coke addict with an additional alcohol problem. AZ came behind the bar and we smiled at each other. She asked, “Do you know each other?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Oh, Inanna this is AZ, AZ this is Inanna. She makes jewelry.” AZ and I shook hands. I said, “It’s nice to meet you, AZ.” He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Inanna.” Both of smiling like Cheshire Cats. We laughed long and hard about that later.

I still laugh about it especially considering on one of my trips last year I ended beside of her on a plane. We had time to catch a drink in Charlotte before our connecting flights (at 3:00 or 4:00 in the evening). I think she had three Bloody Mary’s in 20 minutes. I gave her some beads to share with her daughters. I need to tell AZ about that. Keep meaning to… just keep forgetting.

I wrote this about a week ago and didn’t get a chance to post it so it can be the fill in for today

I felt as thought my Fourteen Years War (hereinafter “FYW”) Saga was kind of a downer and negative. Especially since I’ve actually had extremely good times with both AZ and Jeff. Thought I would share two such memories with you.

One night, Jeff and I were driving around (that’s called a “Drive Around Date” in WV) and the song “Renegade” by Styx came on the radio. If you’re not familiar with it, it starts with a harmony of singers and a light drum beat.

Oh mama I’m in fear for my life
From the long arm of the law
Lawman has put an end to my running
And I’m so far from my home
Oh mama I can hear you a crying
You’re so scared and all alone
Hangman is coming down from the gallows
And I don’t have very long

Then there is a high pitched, screaming type “YEAH!”

Since I sing along with every song on the radio, this was no exception. What I wasn’t expecting was Jeff to contribute the “YEAH!” I jumped out of my skin then we both started laughing. I still love that song and I think of Jeff every time I hear it.

Then, one night when I went to a local bar and grill, I was chatting up the owner’s wife, a somewhat ditzy coke addict with an additional alcohol problem. AZ came behind the bar and we smiled at each other. She asked, “Do you know each other?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Oh, Inanna this is AZ, AZ this is Inanna. She makes jewelry.” AZ and I shook hands. I said, “It’s nice to meet you, AZ.” He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Inanna.” Both of smiling like Cheshire Cats. We laughed long and hard about that later.

I still laugh about it especially considering on one of my trips last year I ended beside of her on a plane. We had time to catch a drink in Charlotte before our connecting flights (at 3:00 or 4:00 in the evening). I think she had three Bloody Mary’s in 20 minutes. I gave her some beads to share with her daughters. I need to tell AZ about that. Keep meaning to… just keep forgetting.