I feel like Oscar today...

No, not this one, you turd...

THIS one...

I think if anyone else asks anything else of me today, this may be one of the rare instances in my life where I would simply say "no."  Alert the media.

I am just give the fuck out.

Yeah... It's like that.

And an inspirational ditty after the jump for your listening
(but not your chilren's) pleasure!

Don't make me get the flying monkeys!!!

Good grief what a week or two it's been.  I have totally neglected my blog - neglected commenting on y'all even more so.  (Sorry!)  Lately I don't know which what is up, down, or under - and I keep checking the sky to some if some caterwauling heiffer and her mangey ass dog are fixin' to floop down on my head and steal my shoes...

Between the damned constant migraines, insomnia, Kik's PMS, this damned weather, my claustrophobia from being stuck in this motel, chronic insomnia, crackhead tweakers living nextdoor, nightmare nitpicky clients, gimme gimmes with their hands out - all on top of my usual neurotic madness - it's a wonder I have not climbed up on top of the building and started flinging poo at the passing train...  Splat! Splat! Mother fucker!  People really don't know how lucky they truly are.  Of late, I could chunk a turd hard enough to send your left nut flyin'. Trust.

But all in all, it's progress.  The influx of work - not matter how frustrating it may be - is coin in the purse and one step closer to moving this summer.  Just have to keep it all in perspective and remember it is for the greater good and soon I will be out of this gawd forsaken infected twat of a state and can bid adieu to the whole graphics world once and for all.  It's all steppin' on babies and doin' the fukkit dance to get to the life I will soon be living.  Nothing in this world is free (unless I am designing your blog, apparently) and this is just me earning my keep for the world that is about to open up.

And no I am not medicated.  Ha ha ha!  I am really just trying to keep the positive energy flowing and moving forward - and since my Give a Damn has, in fact, busted, hopefully it won't be too hard a row to hoe.  It's much easier with a goal and something to look forward to.  When one can say only "X" more months or "X" more jobs, et cetera.

I've got jobs lined up and somewhat organized now, so perhaps I will be able to maintain my presence here a little better.  I miss hearing what all is up with all of y'all.  I have dozens of unfinished drafts to post, so perhaps I will go back and revisit some of those and try to breathe a little life into this sad little blog again.

I hope all is well in your worlds.  Stop in and leave a comment or two.  

Would love to hear from ya!

A Month of Me: Day 11 (In which my mojo has died a horrible death, and I survived my agoraphobia - well, not really - and another fucking migraine.)

I was down for the count, but my SWS for this week was: Please someone, make it fucking stop.

Fuck.  What a week.  It rained non-stop here which drives me bat shit on a street rat INsane.  Living with agoraphobia, I don't usually go many places anyway.  I go to the post office and the dollar store which are within my safety zone - but if I have to cross the street to go to the market I freak the fuck out.  However, when it's raining and I can't go anywhere, I get stir crazy.  No logic.  Don't ask.  It's like telling a kid they can not do something they don't want to do anyway and suddenly they want to do it.  

Friday, it was finally nice enough to go out - and I spent ten and a half hours literally making myself sick trying to leave the house.  Panic attack.  I actually got up and got dressed.  Panic attack.  Got my bag ready.  Panic attack.  Had it all sitting here ready to go.  Panic attack.  This started at 7:30 a.m. - I still hadn't made it when Ki got home at almost 9 p.m. I just couldn't do it.  And I was a physical wreck by the time it was all said and done.

Then today, I get slammed with one of my headaches.  I am prone to Occular Migraines and they just come out of nowhere.  It begins with little white spots in your vision - like snow - and turns into TV static on the wrong channel - WITH the noise.  Eventually you can't see anything or tolerate sound, light, scent - anything.  Then there's the vomiting and the aching and all sorts of other fun stuff.  I caught this one today, fortunately, before it had a chance to get that bad but it still took me out for most of the day...  I just laid on the couch for a good chunk of the day.  And, of course, it was gorgeous outside and I missed it...  Gofigger.

And then, just for gits and shiggles, all that fabulous creative mojo from last has died has died horribly in the night with its flesh errupting in boils and is laying on the side of the road like John Bobbit's hacked off pecker... 

It's not you. I promise. Can we still be friends?

I am not avoiding or dissing or whatever any of you.  However, if you have word verification on your comments, I will no longer be commenting.  Over the past few days I have left several comments only to have them eaten and shat like an exuberant asshole with too much Taco Bell into the great abyss of word verification blogger land.  I give up.  I am boycotting, damn it!  

Those things just irk the clotted poo right out of me.  They (Blogger's version, at least) are ineffective and unnecessary, especially if you have anonymous comments turned off.  It's redundant overkill.  And I am not doing it any more.   I left a rather lengthy and well thought out comment yesterday (even shockingly devoid of my notorious FUCKs) and it vanished.

So fuck it.  Grrrr...  So annoyed.

End of rant.

I have come to a decision.

[Update:  To the ever so eloquent anonymous commenters:  First of all, SUCK IT.  Secondly, if you do not speak Rabbitese and are obviously not a follower of my blog and haven't the foggiest as to the context of all things redheaded and dancing, do not try to pass judgement with your pettiness.  Those that know, smell the humour in this post like dog shit on a shoe.  Call up Vanna White's antiquated cooch and get a clue, m'dear.  And thirdly, if you are gonna be festered pecker in comments, at least have the nuts to leave a name.  The whole anonymous thing is such a fat pussy way to go.  Cheers.

And on with the show:]

Valentine's Day and it's gifts and pretentious bullshit can suck the unwiped poo from my hairy hole of bung.

It's stressin' me out, and I don't need anymore undue stress.  And it really shouldn't be about that anyway.  I am allowing it to blow up into something it's not.  It's yet another day to sell more candy and pack more weight onto our already fat asses.  It's sad, really, that it takes some bastardization of a holiday for people to be remotely nice to one another - it's worse than Commercialmas.  

So fuck you flying fat baby.  I will snatch away your quiver and bow and shove it up your pee hole.  That damned love bug better watch the fuck out, too, because I have a can of Raid and killer fuckin' aim.  And, trust, you really don't want to see my crazy ass wielding a flip-flop and screeching Iko-Iko! either.  Scary shit there.

*sigh*

I feel better now.

If "chivalry is dead," it's your own damned fault.

Dear Exacerbated Asshole,

I was raised to be a door holder, chair puller outer, car door opener, flat tire changer...  I am a yes ma'am please and thank you-er...  But in recent years, such actions are met with nothing but disdain and hostility and contempt and just down right fucking hatefulness.

So you know what?  Open your own fucking doors.  I hope the chair slides out from under you and you fall on your fat puckered ass in the middle of the crowded restaurant.  Change your own tire - and break a fucking nail - in the rain on the side of the interstate - during rush hour.  It's all yours.  And get the fuck out of my way while you're at it.  I was here first.

I'm done.

People bitch about getting no respect - get it - and then bitch about that, too.  Well, fuck you Suzy Homaker.  You can do it your gawd damned self.

Sorry 'bout your angry twat and your skewed perception of what is intended to be polite - and GASP! - chivalrous.

Hope you win.

- Rabbit

A Month of Me: Day 6 (In which most Bloggers would offer some bullshit apology...)

Yeah.  But I am not most Bloggers.  And I never said it was 30 consecutive days in the first place.  

I have just felt real disconnected lately - from blogging - from the Twat-o-verse - from life in general.  Everything - and everyone - annoys me.  I just haven't been able to stand all the twattage lately.  It just seems like an endless stream of virtual diarrhea..  All everyone does is either try to one-up each other or, inversely, bitch, moan, whine, and complain about everything under the sun.  Yuck.  Wipe your ass and shut the fuck up.  And don't even get me started on Facebook.  It's even worse.

Which is why I have not really blogged anything much in the past few days.  I haven't anything of worth to say.  So rather than becoming one of these people that I am so growing to despise, I have just shut myself the fuck up.  I know if I don't want to hear it from everyone else, everyone else more than likely does not want to hear it from me either.  I've gone through are pared down a huge chunk of people I was 'following' in an effort to eliminate that which irks the boobie.  Get rid of the garbage, so to speak.  

Today, I stabbed Warm & Fuzzy in the face. And laughed.

“I wanted to write about the moment when your addictions no longer hide the truth from you. When your whole life breaks down. That's the moment when you have to somehow choose what your life is going to be about.”

"I want out of the labels. I don't want my whole life crammed into a single word. A story. I want to find something else unknowable... Some place to be that's not on the map. A real adventure...

A sphinx. A mystery. A blank. Unknown. Undefined."


“More and more, it feels like I'm doing a really bad impersonation of myself.”

“If I can't be beautiful, I want to be invisible.”

~ Chuck Palahniuk

Six Words Saturday

Describe your life (or something) in a phrase using just six words. For more information, try clicking here. Feel free to explain or not explain. Add an image, a video, a song, nothing.

Mine for this week are:

I've given up on your approval.

I can't seem to win, so I plan to stop trying.  I can't seem to please anyone.  This one likes that.  That one dislikes this.  It all a big circular mind fuck of cat and mouse and cheese and chokin' on bones and a dirty ass litterbox.  So piss on it.  I'll do my own thing and if someone cares to engage - fucking fabulous - come join the party.  Otherwise, just stand out there in the rain ringin' the damned doorbell 'til your Lee Press-Ons pop off and hit you in the left eye.  Aint answerin' the do' no mo'!

To quote a queen (or two):

Vida Boheme: Your approval is not needed.

Noxeema Jackson: Approval neither desired nor required.

Go away!

The little shit is still here...

And it's beginning to make me a very unfunny bunny.

There's eyeliner on my knee and blood on my elbow. I am funky. (And no, my name is not Prince...)

It seems like the proverbial, universal funk has taken over the planet lately.  Is there another damned retrograde going on?  It's workin' my tits if it is and it needs to get its ass spinning back the right way before I climb up onto the roof of this crack hotel and start flingin' dingleberries at all the junkies and hookers.

I don't know what pterodactyl has crawled up my twat lately, but I am just not havin' it.  "It" being ANYTHING.  At. All.  I have 117 and half blogs bumbling about in my head but don't feel like writing any of them.  The one on Christmas day alone is a doozy.  I read all of y'all's posts, but haven't the gumption to comment (sorry).  I barely want to cook - much less eat.  I don't want to talk to anyone.  Have had my web messenger hooey thing set to invisible and I just sit there snarling at it as people come and go - hoping to hell they don't decide to message me even though they can't see me.  T.V. annoys me (not that that's a big stretch).  Hell breathing lately annoys me - mine or that of anyone else.  I am one funky, cranky bitch.

Yeah? Well you stink like a sneaker, Pal!

Been kind of a shitty week...  Haven't felt like blogging and smearing the poo into the virtual rug, so I just haven't posted much of anything.

Am looking forward to the Blue Moon and the new year.  Good things to come.  Onward, upward, and forward.  I think this past decade has been enough mess to last a lifetime.  Nuthin' but net from here on out.

Post tomorrow on the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. 

Cheers.

You've been Swushed!!!

 

 Swushed: Swept & Flushed

I do design work to (try to) make a living, but I have a whole lotta "Gimme Gimmes."  (Well, had, but that's coming.)  You know the type that sit there with their hand out goin' "Gimme! Gimme!" all day but don't want to give you a reach around or one wet squirt for it?  Yeah... Those...

Well today, the Universe musta punched my Fukkit Button because I just went through and Un-Gimme'd the bulk of it.  Done.  Whoosh.  Delete.  Sorry for ya.  Hope you win.  Go (don't) pay someone else.  You couldn't afford me anyway.  I went from maintaining 40-ish sites, to Eight in a matter of minutes!  Click!  Click!  Click!  FLUSH!!!  Whooo Haw!  I just feel like shouting:  "Free at last!  Free at last!  This cranky faggot is free at last!!!"  (Actually, I just did, with a couple of "Yee-Haws" for good measure while doing the horsey gallop and smackin' my own ass around the room...)

The free feed trough is closed.  Belly up to someone else's bar. 

This new found liberation I am going through here lately is quite enjoyable.  I seem to have gone from Doormat to Bouncer - and I'm lovin' it like some Justin Timberlake at Mickey D's!!!


Who's next????

Flying into the light of the dark, black night.

"It's only after you've lost everything, that you're free to do anything."

- Chuck Palaniuk, Fight Club

I just feel broken.

This whole disastrous moving process has really put an incredible spin on the ways of my world.  In so, so many ways, I have never felt more alone.  Inversely, I have never been more aware of who I am, what I can do, and the harsh truths that are my life.  It's a good thing.  I think alone is far better that a festering cess pool of bullshit.  This ordeal has broken my heart, my faith - even my misguided belief system - and believe you me, it needed breaking.

It's made me sit back and realize so many things in the course of the last two weeks.  All the advice and seemingly well-intended suggestions, offers of help and support, so on and so forth, I know now are nothing but empty promise, self-gratifying goodities so YOU feel better about yourself, and so much as whispers on the wind...  In essence, it's all a crock of shit.

"You should do this, Rabbit."  "I'll help, Rabbit."  "If you ever need anything, Rabbit..."

Yeah, well...  When it came down to it, who is actually here?  No God Damned Body.  Yet again, I am on my own.  It's all on me.  I don't know why this struck me so alarmingly this time around.  Maybe because for once I had allowed myself to believe people.  To believe IN people.  I don't know why, really.  As a kid, I was shipped around to whomever hated me less at the time, dropped off at random hotel rooms, left to fend for myself when I made a mistake.  It's the way of things.  It always has been, and - blaringly obviously - it always will be.

And I hate to feel this way, but I am done.  If it is to be only me, the damn it to hell, it's going to be all ABOUT me.  I'm over it.  I. Am. Done.  Remember this folks, when you want your carpet laid, or your car worked on, or your obnoxious snot-oozing child babysat...  When you want a free haircut or website or makeover for your whore of a sister's 19th wedding...

Hell.  Fucking.  No.

I am saying it now.  Take note.  Tweet it.  Post it.  Broadcast it.  Scream it from the fucking rooftops.  Roll it up and stick it in your squishy places.  I really don't care.  You'll all taken all you're gonna get.  It's over.

And from the ashes of all this bullshit, I will rise.

So thank you, and good-night.

I'll fly above.

It's beneath me.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night...

Take these broken wings & learn to fly...

All your life, you were only waiting

for this moment to arise.

Blackbird, fly.

Into the light of the dark, black night."

- John Lennon, Paul McCartney

As Janis Says...

"I tell you that one day, man, better be your life, man. Because, you know, you can say, oh man, you can cry about the other 364, man, but you're gonna lose that one day, man... And that's all you've got..."

"...If you got it today you don't want it tomorrow, man, cause you don't need it, cause as a matter of fact, as we discovered in the train, tomorrow never happens, man..."

"It's all the same fucking day, man."

Howling...

I am truly feeling the pull of the Universe on my life lately.  There is an urgent and impending sense of change.  And I want it more than anything.  I am ready for it, yet I am stuck.  I don't know where to turn; what to do.  The last few years have been terribly troublesome.  I have undergone so, so many transitions.  I went from living the high life, though at the time, I was blinded to it.  I was making beaucoup coin, and a good job with so much promise.  Problem was, I was a raging alcoholic.  I lost my job.  I lost my townhouse.  And I made the mistake of moving back to the one black hole of despair that I fought most of my teenage years to get away from.  The drinking escalated even further (and who would have even thought that possible?).  I became a drug addict AGAIN - meth this time.  I had a breakdown.  I literally just fell apart.  I laid on my futon and let the garbage literally pile up.  There for a bit, I really think I lost my mind.  And something in me just broke...

Long story short, it led me back here.  I am not drinking now.  I am clean.  No drugs.  And I am trapped.  There are days when I miss it so badly, just because it made the world go away.  I am clinging desperately to hope.  Hope that things will get better.  Hope that things will change.  I am in such a state that I really just weep some days because I don't know how to fix it.  My physical being is such that I have difficulty standing for more than the briefest of spans of time.  I have nerve damage in my feet now.  It's a pain unlike anything I have ever endured.  And it is constant.  This limits where I might work.  My back is unsurprisingly not getting better all by itself.  There are days when I want nothing more than just to be still...  To not move...  But, yet, even that hurts.  It affects my entire body.  I have arthritis in dang near every part of me.  Simply things like sitting, typing, bathing are often times excruciating.  I could go on.  Migraines.  Ulcers.  And we won't even start with my teeth...  Or my lack there of...  Pain.  Pain.  Pain.  And then I am told - "Just go to the doctor."  Well, having no insurance or income makes those options limited as well.  The clinic only offers appointments on certain days.  I have to take the bus into town to get there. And wouldn't you know, it always falls on the days when it seems a victory to make it to the toilet and back to bed - much less hours away via public transportation...  I can't seem to win.

But despite it all, I really do try to stay positive.  I try to remember that it could be worse.  I am alive.  I am functional (for the most part).  I believe that what you put out, comes back.  Truly.  But I am surrounded by a barrage of negativity from every angle...  It's like a constant attack.  My roommate does not like me very much.  She likes herself even less.  And, I guess, were I her and living her life, I wouldn't either...  But I catch the brunt of it.  It seems she is constantly trying to break me down; keep me beaten.  I get constant snarky remarks thinly disguised as humour, though they never are.  It's blatantly apparent passive agression.  Which, because I recognize for what it is, I am usually able to deal with.  Usually.  But after a while, it does wear you down.  It does break your spirit.  It's so disheartening because when times were good, they were great.  We were once fearless and reckless and ready to take on the world.  I keep hoping it will come back to that.  That one day it will be THAT again.  The queer and the crazy girl.  But now I find it easier to just hope the world will end.  I got an actual compliment - not a back-sided cutesy insult, an actual compliment -  yesterday and it startled me so that I literally dropped my spatula into the eggs I was scrambling.  I mumbled something incoherent because I was just so stunned...

And then, in its own cloud of the negative, there is my family which has become a constant cess pool of drama.  Everyone is ALWAYS fighting with someone else.  And guess who hears all of it from all sides - and gets caught in the crossfire?  Yours truly.  Earlier this year, one sister and my mother weren't speaking.  People were dead to one another.  Absences were felt at the holidays.  Now, it's the other sister.  Petty, bullshit drama.  This family is so attention deficient.  Sooner or later if everyone keeps getting angry with everyone else for not paying enough or the proper attention to them, there will be no one to be angry with anymore!!!  Gonna run out of people to be upset with.  It's exhausting.

So how does one stay positive in the middle of all this?  How, exactly, do you just say "Fuck It!" and stay sane in the midst of all the chaos and funk and drama and physical restrictions???

Is it even possible?  I am beginning to have my doubts.  It seems so much easier to just be as ugly and dramatic and chaotic and negative as all those around me.

But that is not me.  I, in and within myself, am actually a really happy little creature.  I sing all day long.  I dance (well more kind of wiggle stumble) whenever the mood strikes.  I love living colour.  I never used to be this destroyed...

I want that back.  I just don't know how...

Lessons (being) Learned

One of these days, I am going to learn.  I am going to quit doing shit for people.   

Period.

Every God damned time I do - every single time I open a can of worms - it comes back to bite me in the ass...

Those worms have some sharp fuckin' teeth - lemme tell ya! 

And then I, the Dumbass Deluxe, get upset by it. It's my own damn fault.  I need to learn to keep my mouth shut; SHUT THE FUCK UP, and go sit in a corner somewhere...   I either volunteer my services - or concede to a request - knowing full fuckin' well what is about to happen.

They either don't like the (FREE) hair cut.  They don't like the (FREE) garment.  They don't like the (FREE) website.

Get the picture???   

"I don't want to pay for it or anything...  And I don't mind you doing it for free and everything...  But I am going to nit-pick the fucking hell out of it in the mean-fucking-time...  Thanks."

And then, nine times out of ten, I have wasted my own FUCKING time and energy because though go along and FUCK it up by jacking with it when they have not a damned clue one what they are doing...

Done.  Done.  Done.   The can opener is in the trash.

I don't have time for this shit.

And I've no one to blame but myself.

Go fucking figure.

If only there WERE a button...

Hi, I'm an Asshole (apparently)...

I have learned today - well, over the course of the last couple of weeks, actually - that I could never be a Teacher or Instructor in any way, shape, or form.

I have the patience of a rock and am wound tighter than a hummingbird's asshole.  I don't think short-fused and high-strung even begin to cover it.

I am great at doing it myself and handing it over to someone once it is done - as long as someone does not jack with, alter, or fuck up my hard work after said passing of the baton.

That is when my cute, little, rabbity ears shrink back into my head to be replaced with the horns of a snot-slinging fire-breathing demon.

What I am also NOT good at is explaining it - especially in Lehman's Terms.

I get frustrated.  I get hysterical.  Then my chest hurts. The tension in my shoulder tightens and pulls them up to my ears.  I grind my teeth.  I break another tooth.  It's not cute.

How's that for a visual?  A toothless, wheezing hunchbacked bunny with devil horns...

It's about par.

[Image Source:  Disapproving Rabbits]