Another Bunch of Craziness

Here are some pictures of my sister at Christmas time. It's hard to believe that someone so innocent looking could be such a witch. She's really narcissistic and rageful, but you couldn't tell by looking at her, and these pictures don't really do her justice. She's really quite pretty in person, very small and pale and blond. She looks like she couldn't and wouldn't hurt anyone.

This is my Mom with Lily

This is Lily with our cousin, Emma. And then Lily, below, holding up her Coach purse she had to have for Christmas.

There has been much activity in Crazyland, New Hampshire these past few days or so. My sister is off on another rampage which always affects everyone in the family in so many ways. Living with Lily is like living with any addict or alcoholic, although drugs are not what makes her act like this, she's simply mentally unstable all on her own, without any help from narcotics of any kind. Of course the misuse of her medication clearly exacerbates the problem, it's not the sole issue here. That would almost be a relief to have addiction be the issue. At least then there is a clear problem with a clear solution. Drugs are an issue, stop using drugs, get clean, live life. But in her case, as most people who are addicts, she has more than just that issue. She is an addict, prescribed or not she takes opiates, but she also suffers from several personality disorders; that is, of course, probably what caused her to want to self-medicate to begin with. But it's getting so out of hand now, something has to be done. Even my mother is beginning to understand that it's gone too far. That's huge, Helen admitting that Lily is super crazy and needs help is a revelation for our family. We have been pleading with our mother to do something about Lily for years, and she would always blow us off by saying Lily was depressed or was more affected by the way things were growing up, my dad was the most mean to her, or that she just doesn't know how to deal with life. And she would make sacrifices so that Lily could finish school, promising that as soon as she finished that semester she would have to move out, but of course that would never happen. And it would just go on and on. We couldn't do anything ourselves without the support of our mom, she was the owner of the home and the only one who could say "Get out" and mean it. But finally, after twenty-five years of manipulation and anxiety, my Mom has had enough. She's getting too old to deal with this crap. She's done her duty for her children and it's time for her to be able to live her life for herself. Whatever it was that broke the camel's back doesn't matter to me nearly as much as the fact that it has been broken and we may have a possibility of living in peace in the near future.

My Mom is listening to people tell her about having a person who is an adult sectioned. I'm going to have to look into what, exactly, that entails. I have a lot to do today, but tonight I'm going to try to do some research on what that would mean for all of us. Maybe it could help other people who have someone like Lily in their own lives. From what I've heard in passing so far, my understanding is that the police and judges get involved and basically force the person to get help from a mental health hospital. But the person has to be proven to be a danger to themselves or others. Lily is definitely a danger to others, and without a doubt there is a major likelihood that she could hurt herself acting the way she does. Maybe it would be the best thing for her, she would finally get in depth therapy and there would be no point in lying to her doctors because they would already know it was pretty bad if she had to be sectioned to begin with. Because she is so manipulative that her doctors now just buy into her crap and prescribe her whatever she wants. It's crazy how the way someone looks can be so deceiving; blond hair, blue eyes does not an angel make. But men in particular are very susceptible to her wiles. She flirts a little and this man prescribes suboxone, an opiate replacement medication, to a young girl who has really had no history of opiate abuse to the degree that she should need that type of medication. She got him to give it to her because she still gets high from the crap. Someone like me or my brother, who shot dope, we don't even feel it, it just blocks our receptors so we can't get high. Well, methadone is what I prefer to take, and do take, but it does the same thing as suboxone. But my sister never did enough heroin or opiates in general to make her need replacement therapy. She uses he script to get fucked up everyday legally. She sniffs a chip of suboxone every couple hours or so. The sniffing makes it hit her just as hard as sniffing dope, how is that any different from just using illicit drugs? And then the idiot doctor gives her a benzo script too. That's, like, a really bad combo which can be totally lethal. If she were to take a bit too much of a mixture, her heart could stop and she would die. And she has a history of having a bad reaction to benzos, they make her crazy. So my Mom is trying to call her doctor now to tell him she is misusing her meds, and she's given her the option to stay here at home and go to a really in depth therapist who does, like, four hour long sessions. It's that or she needs to get out as soon as she graduates. And she doesn't want to go to the therapy, so hopefully my Mom will stand by her word.

I'm actually hopeful that things may be different this time. My mom made an appointment for her, my brothers, and myself to go to a family therapist and she's promised to do whatever the therapist tells us to do. And I know that the therapist is going to agree with us and make my mom stand up for herself. Having an adult, mental health professional say it like it is could be just what my mother needs to hear. She thinks that we are just biased and being mean sometimes, but having an outside source back us up could be the catalyst we need to make a change. Especially because we have a lot of Lily's outburst lately recorded either by video, audio, or a combo. It's hard to lie when the actions are right there in front of you on a t.v. screen. There will be no denying the level of crazy once we're in an office away from the mayhem. It's easy to want to downplay it when it's not actually happening. It's easy to not want to think about the problem when you're away from it because there is so little time in life to be peaceful when you live with a crazy person, you try to take what you can get. But that ends up biting you in the ass because then when it happens again, which it inevitably will, you haven't set up any supports for yourself and you're just stuck in the same cycle. Having her actions taped makes us unable to downplay it after the fact as not that bad. It IS that bad, and we need to remember it and do something.

Lily got into an argument with my brothers last weekend, and for the rest of the week it has been a disaster. She and her boyfriend were sitting on the couch in the living room, lounging around, chain smoking cigarettes, food and glasses all over the coffee table, being basically loud and obnoxious as usual. And my brothers came out to get some of the breakfast I had made for everyone (eggs, potatoes, danish, etc) and there was none left because they had taken huge portions and didn't wait for everyone to have some. So that wasn't even the issue, it got worse when Rob started talking about how he was going to take out the kayak that we all got for Christmas next weekend. And my brothers were like "No, you're not taking that out before anyone in our family takes it." And they were kind of getting annoyed and one thing led to another and Rob jumps up from the couch and puffs his chest up, sticks out his chin and is towering over my brothers now. He knows that was a confrontational move, he knows my brothers don't appreciate him using his height to attempt to intimidate them. Sam and Scooter are not very tall but they are very strong. Especially Scooter, it's unnatural, he can eat whatever he wants and he never gains weight, he stays fit beyond believability. And he's beat Rob up already on several occasions when Rob has challenged him. So it was just a bad move. Clearly, things were slowly getting more and more physical. Rob stands up, they move forward, and the defining moment came as my sister kicked her foot out at Scooter's head and he catches it with his hand. At the same moment, with his other hand, he flicks a lit cigarette at Rob. Sam notices that the cigarette landed on the new couch cushion and reaches for it, passing by Rob in the process. Rob mistakes this gesture as a move toward him and flails out a fist towards Sam, this creates an instant reaction in Scooter and he jumps on Rob and puts him in a face-reddening headlock. Now my sister is screaming for them to get off Rob and my mom and Larry (oh, yes, Larry was here for the weekend as well. Although he was surprisingly easy to get along with this time. I'm actually glad, for my Mom's sake, that he was here) come running down from her room upstairs and join the melee. So now both my mom and my sister are screaming their heads off and Larry jumps on Scooter, putting him in a headlock. So it's a big pile of men in headlocks, flailing around on the couch, until they must have become tired out and they separated. But not before Lily had called the police, again. It's her favorite thing to do, yet it always seems that she gets herself in more trouble than anyone. At this point the police in Exeter know my sister is insane. But they have to come out to make sure no one is hurt once they get a call like that. So Saturday at Noon we have two cruisers parked outside our house, Lily is screaming bloody murder so loudly that all the neighbors must have thought she was being murdered inside. It was totally humiliating, yet they left without doing anything about her, once again. She can drive through town in the middle of the night with no headlights on, all wacked out on benzos and they let her go, they catch her with weed and let her go, she smashes her car and gets away with it, when is it going to hit the fan? When is she going to be held accountable?

So after the cops leave, Lily goes crazy because my brothers weren't arrested because Rob didn't press charges because my Mom told him he would never step foot in this house again if he did. It was hours and hours before she stopped screaming and smashing things. They dogs ran and hid in the bushes behind the house because she was freaking them out so much. And now Rob isn't allowed back in the house, for now anyway, we'll see how long that lasts this time. He's always never allowed back, and then there he is, smelly feet, loud mouth and all the very next morning. Lily sneaks him in at night and my Mom doesn't want to create more problems so she says nothing. Lily has the ability to drag something out longer than anyone I've ever met. I don't know how she has the stamina to stay angry for so long. I feel so emotionally drained after just a short time of being angry about something. I actually become physically tired when I've been upset for too long. I just don't know how she manages not to collapse after being so angry and dramatic for so many hours and days in a row. But manage it she does. She's the Champion of Grudge Holders, the Queen of Condemnation, the Czar of Revenge, she never lets anything rest. She never passes up an opportunity to make a scene, and it's quite exhausting honestly.

I think my mother really knew that something was wrong, beyond what she had been previously willing to accept, when Lily began to use feces in her revenge plots. Yes, you read that correctly: feces. The first time, she simply picked it up with bare hands and flung it at Scooter's door to his bedroom where it splattered, hung, and slid down the white wooden door. It should be explained that she came by the excrement due to the fact that our mini little rat terrier becomes so terrified by her that she shits herself everytime Lily screams. So Lizzy had just crapped on the hallway floor when Lily happens by and an amazing idea popped into her pea-sized little bean brain and she scooped up the poo and flung away. Then, she must have been so pleased by the horrified reaction of all who were present and she added it to her repertoire of hideous go-to revenge tactics. She decided that it would be better if the person didn't know the shit was there and just smelled it, not knowing from where it came. She stuffed it under doors so people would step on it when they opened the door. She's really gone bonkers. We can't leave our bathroom products in the shower because she'll pee in mouthwash and shampoo or spit in body wash. We're not sure of our food is safe. How can people live like this?

Sorry if this post was all over the place and hard to follow. I'm just so stressed because you never know when she's gonna blow. So we all walk on eggshells. When is she coming home from school? Will she come in screaming or crying? Will she start problems later tonight? Will it be a good night or a bad one? It can take a lot out of a person to be so anxiety ridden all the time.

Anyway, on a positive ending note, I'm really hyped about joining Curves. I think it's really going to help me to lose weight finally. I really need to not be so fat. I can't wear anything properly. Everything I own is too tight or too baggy and I just look ridiculous. But it feels good to get some exercise and hopefully I'll start to see results soon.

My Weekend in Westport with the Misogynistic Tyrant

It's supposed to be APRIL showers that bring May flowers. There's supposed to be snow still melting in March...... I'm back from the weekend in Westport. However, I've been rendered speechless the past couple of days, unable to relate the horrors of my trip until now. It was so bad, I don't even know how to begin to explain just how bad it was. So bad, so, so bad.

This past weekend was just the third time I met Larry Lieberman. Yet, one looking on as a fly on the wall, would have thought him my horribly overbearing, slightly mad, father. Or worse, a step-father who now feels it is his duty to discipline the much too old children of his crazy lover. From the moment we arrived, until the moment we left, this man had only one of two expressions; he was either creepily smirking, or frowning with frustration.

I can't believe how much work my brother, Scooter, has done for them down there, basically for free. It's really crazy, actually. This man started a business the same year he separated from his wife and was fired from his job. Now he's trying to get not one, but three businesses off the ground; and not a single one is closer than a hundred miles to any of the others. Does this make sense to anyone so far? Probably not, but wait, it gets worse. His previous job was, supposedly, as floor manager or something along such lines, at Macy's in New York. Whoop-dee-fricken-doo, you'd think he had been Vice President of the United States the way he puts on airs. I'm really, quite frankly, not surprised he was fired. He's a technological moron of ridiculous proportions. He doesn't even know how to set up his own e-mail. He just recently bought a digital camera one of the weekends my brother was down there acting as his indentured servant, and Larry hands him the newly purchased camera and tells him to go put it together. What, I ask, does he think there is to assemble? Basically he wants everyone to just do everything for him. But how does that work when the task comes down to simply being able to understand something? How can I know or understand something for someone else? I can't just carry the knowledge around in my head until he needs it then simply ESP it to him or something. But that's what he wants, really. That's what he wanted from me when it came to setting up their eBay site. He wants what he wants, and he wants it NOW. I can't believe he worked there for as long as he did. His personal skills are virtually nonexistent. He doesn't listen to a word anyone else says. He doesn't communicate his expectations, he communicates only when his absurdly unreasonable expectations haven't been satisfactorily met. Let me try to prove my point.

We arrived at Larry's rented home at approximately eleven-thirty on Thursday night. We had driven almost four hours from Exeter, after Scooter had been landscaping for his actual real job all day. I had been at home getting everything settled for our absence; buying groceries, cleaning bathrooms, doling out allowances, packing my own things, taking the dog to the vet, et cetera. Basically, it had been a long day and we were ready for it to end. Upon our arrival at the house, we realized that Helen (my Mom) and Larry were out. Fortunately, Antoinette, the woman who acts as a maid but who is really a home care giver with her BA (that is for later in the story) was home and awake, and she let us in to get settled. We had only been there for about ten minutes when Helen and Larry showed up with some groceries. I had spoken to my Mom earlier and she had said they were totally out of food because there had been a storm earlier that week that caused the power to go out; so she had given most of the food from that trip to Antoinette so it wouldn't spoil. So I was glad she had gone to the store that night rather than waiting to the next day like she had originally planned because we were starving. Already, though, Larry was disgruntled because he felt that it wasn't necessary to buy more groceries that night, or at all; so we started off badly because he felt put out I guess. Even though it was my mother who actually paid for the groceries, for us, specifically, to have stuff to eat while we were there. But you could tell he didn't really want us to touch anything. My Mom kept telling us we could eat whatever we wanted because she paid for it, and then he would say things like, "Who ate all my shortbread cookies?". When there were plenty left and they weren't just his at all, he's just so greedy he can't deal with anyone else using up anything. Actually, is it accurate to label him greedy, or should it be cheap? Or both? So, right off the bat he's pissed that my Mom spent money on food for us.

Then, as we're finally getting ready for bed, around midnight, my brother, who had been there before and knew more than I, called out to everyone in general, "Let's not rush out of here in the morning, it's been a long week for me". And how does Larry reply? "You're going to be getting up with me first thing in the morning to get started." Scooter didn't even say anything back. He knew there was no point because it would just be an argument, I guess. Plus, he knew he was driving me to the clinic, so Larry would just have to deal with that. And that is where things really began to turn sour.

I had assumed that there would be WiFi access at Larry's house. It's in Westport, CT, and I figured everyone has Internet nowadays unless you live in the boonies and they don't have access. It just didn't even occur to me that he may not. So I had the address for this place in my computer. All I had to do was get to a place with WiFi; which anyone, who hasn't been living under a rock, would know can be done at any Dunkin' Donuts, McDonalds, or roadside pullover in major cities. But Larry, apparently, is a rock dweller because the man was clueless. He kept asking where the clinic was and I kept telling him that I needed to get on my computer in order to tell him. But he just wouldn't hear that. He kept asking me names of places and asking me if that was familiar. He was listing street names as if I would remember if I heard it. Despite the fact that I had repeatedly told him that I rely entirely on my laptop and I would not recognize the street name because I didn't read it, ever. I wasn't planning on caring until the moment I typed it into the GPS. But the man had clay in his ears. He pulled out a CT phone book and proceeded to bully me into dialing random doctor's offices in Norwalk (where the clinic was located) to ask if they were the clinic. Now, anyone on methadone knows that health care professionals who do not deal with methadone regularly, do not respond well to being asked about it. So he's standing over me, waiting as I ask these random medical receptionists if they know where the Norwalk methadone clinic is. And they're answering me like I'm crazy and really offending them. And this whole thing is making me more and more frustrated by the second. I've told him that I can find it just fine, and that calling all these places is just a waste of time because I can find it on the GPS in, like, five seconds. If he would just let us get going, we'd be back in less than an hour, or we could meet them at the store or wherever. But the man is relentless. Finally, I'm sweating profusely, my face is getting red, I feel sick to my stomach, I want to throw the phone at him; but I walk into the bedroom with him lingering at my heels and I motion to my mother that this has to stop. I'm facing her trying to make a distressed face and the cut-off/stop this motion with my hand swiping across my neck, like "kill me". She does get my point, thank God, and tells him to stop making me call random doctor's offices and let us just get going. He was, as you can imagine, not pleased with me for that. He's the type of guy who does not like to be wrong, especially when the person correcting him happens to be a women (more on that later). I could feel him fuming from the other room, I should have known at that moment that there was no repairing the rift that had been created by me enforcing my will over him, however minutely.

Then, after all that, he decided that HE wanted to drive me to the clinic because then Scooter could get started right away on the chores he had lined up for him. Get this, he planned for my brother to landscape the yard of the home is currently trying to sell with his not quite yet ex-wife. And Scooter has already done other work at his house, he took down his kids' childhood tree house, he cleaned asbestos out of the basement for a day before my Mom found out and put an end to it, and that doesn't even begin to cover the work he did setting up this guy's store. So, anyhow, more on all that later. Right now, I'm trying to write about this guy wanting to take me to the methadone clinic in the middle of this shitty part of Norwalk so my brother can do more work for him. I should mention, also, that it is eight in the morning, and his store doesn't actually open until ten. All his actual employees show up around ten fifteen and take their sweet ass time getting set up; but we, for some unknown reason, have to be there as close to the crack of dawn as possible. He seemed not to accept the fact that we were there for our mom, to see where she lives down there, to check out this business she's dumping money into, and most important, to get to know what this guy she likes is all about. And so far, he's making a really poor impression.

But we finally convince him that it would be best for Scooter to drive me and that we could find it, no problem, once we got to a place with WiFi and those are everywhere. It was like trying to convince someone that worms talk or something. He was dumbfounded by this talk of these newfangled devices called WiFi, Internet, Cell phones, Digital, GPS, it was like he'd rather we took a horse drawn carriage everywhere, for crying out loud. We didn't so much convince him as insist that that was the ONLY way it would work. And as I have said, he was not accustomed to a young women being so assertive and sure of what she wanted. I was being polite, but he was really getting on my nerves. At that point, however, I was still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I kept telling myself that he'd been through a lot recently and he's was under a lot of stress. But the more I saw him in action, the more I thought he was just an ass. A pompous, misogynistic, self-centered, classist, sexist, greedy, delusional ASS!

I really have to end this installment of the Tale of the Dreaded Westport Weekend. My Mom is finally home and despite how angry I am at her, my brother convinced me, after a little while of being stand-offish with her when she returned, to keep it to myself because she would eventually figure out what an ass he(Larry) is on her own. He and my counselor both said that. I can't make her see this man for what he is. She already knows he treats her terribly, and she's acting the same way she has with so many other pathetic men she's had in her life. It's this shit that made me leave so young to begin with. I often feel as if I stepped out of this house just yesterday, that I may as well still be seventeen because so much is the same. I wanted to believe she had matured, like the rest of us have to some extent. We're all trying, some more successfully than others, to grow up. I guess she's trying too, because outwardly she seems to have changed for the better, at least somewhat. But she just still makes these hideous choices. I'm hoping she will see, in time, that she doesn't need this guy trying to control her. I can't wait to write about the way he treats women. I just promised I would start (and finish) to bake all the Easter stuff. She wants anise cookies, all these Easter breads, sugar cookies, sticky buns, I didn't even look at all the recipes yet. I'm going to be cooking for days. But I owe her, especially since this thing this weekend didn't work out. I'll fill in the details once I have more time. And I'd rather bake than do other things. At least I like baking. And I'm really perfecting some of these recipes, so I can make them for my own family some day.

Anyhow, it's snowing here today. It's going to be a good day. Despite the angry tone of this post, I'm feeling fine today. I didn't write about this weekend until it was processed somewhat for me, so the anger is more what I felt over the past few days. But now I'm just documenting it, and then moving on.

Birthdays and An Electric Outage

The weather here in NH has been nutty for the past twenty-four hours or so. It's been raining for a few days, but last night the wind became so strong it blew the screen off the second story window to my Mother's bedroom. A tree was felled in the yard across the road, and we lost electricity around eleven.

Luckily we had a fire going which created enough light to see by. We were able to gather candles and flashlights, enough for each of us to get to our rooms. And luckily the night was more or less at an end by the time the lights went out. Hours had gone by since we cleaned up from dinner. And because we live very near by the Exeter Hospital, our electricity was restored by about two a.m.; but the rest of the town was dark still when I began my drive to the clinic at six-thirty this morning. It was a traffic disaster because none of the traffic lights were working, people were charging intersections all at once, yielding to no one. And even worse, the gas stations were out of commission. And I was on empty. I thought that I could make it a few exits down to the next area with a gas station, but as I approached I realized that they too had no lights, and their pumps were also down. I was a bit worried at this point. It wasn't until I made it the entire forty miles to Manchester that I was able to find an open gas station; I putted in on fumes, just barely. It could have been a bad scene since I was alone and I still don't have my license back. If I had run out of gas on the side of the highway and a State Police Officer had driven up upon me, I would have had problems for sure. But luck was on my side, as usual.

I should have my license back soon though. My Mom has been helping me out so much, I feel absurdly indebted to her right now. I try to do as much around the house as far as cooking, cleaning, and various other chores and errands to make up for a small chunk of what she has given to me. Of course, as children, we can never really fully repay our parents for all that they have given us. In essence, we owe them a life, which is priceless. But just because I'll never catch up doesn't mean I can give up trying. It's important for me to show my gratitude as often and genuinely as possible. I think my Mom appreciates how much I am truly grateful for what she does for me. Because my siblings are often short in the gratitude department, I think it means all that much more for me to show thankfulness since she doesn't get it often enough.

But I still feel guilty and pathetic for having to accept her generosity to begin with. I know that for me to move ahead, I need to clear my blemished past. I need a license to do anything. I can't get a job without a license, and I can't pay my fines without a job. So I'm stuck in this vicious cycle. So I know that without accepting her help, I may never be able to help myself enough to ever repay her. So the fact that she paid off my NH fines is AMAZING! And she has promised to help me take care of the other states as she is able.

Even though in some ways I have reverted, like by moving back in with my Mom, and not having a job, accepting money to live from Mikey and my family, I still feel as if overall I am moving ahead. Not having the closest relationship with my family, harboring resentments, was blocking me from being happy and healthy. Working as hard and as long hours as I was just to scrounge by was causing such high levels of stress that it was making me physically ill. I was not happy being so isolated from my family, hours away with no license. If anything went wrong we were basically on our own. We were at least a half an hour from any of the few friends we had out there. If our car broke down, if we needed to borrow ten dollars for gas, if we needed someone to go to the doctors with us, it was always an ordeal. Now we have a support system in my family. They can be annoying, they can be lazy and emotionally volatile. But they will make sure that someone drives me to the clinic every day, no matter what. There is always someone there to talk to or ask a favor of, and it's a really satisfying feeling.
I'm beginning to feel as if I'm regaining a physical and emotional balance that I have not had for quite some time. My body is readjusting itself to not have to deal with as much stress and anxiety ALL THE TIME. I can finally relax, I don't feel like I'm fighting just to keep my head above water anymore. I don't have to take care of everything all by myself, I know my Mom will make sure we have food and electricity, whether we pay her or not, those things will be there. That's an amazing luxury that I have not had for over ten years. When my Mom doesn't see me struggling right in front of her, day in and day out, it's easy to think that we're doing fine. Especially since I won't tell her we're not unless something horrible has happened. So all this time, my brothers and sister have been benefitting from my Mom's generosity and I've been trying to go it alone. I should have accepted her help when I was younger and maybe I wouldn't be here now, in this humbling situation, at thirty-one years old. But here I am, Nellie the Late Bloomer (has anyone ever read the children's book, 'Leo the Late Bloomer? It's awesome.), but at least I feel as if I might actually be blooming, finally.

Anyway, here I go on and on, yap yapping about myself, as usual. I am, generally, my favorite topic. Aren't all Bloggers a little self-centered? We have to be to think we're interesting enough to publicly present our thoughts. Who are we to think anyone cares?

It's Mikey's Birthday today. He's thirty-two. He's been wanting to go to the casino in CT for his B-day for a while now. But, in typical Mikey and Nellie fashion, we didn't do our planning ahead of time and now we have to go a week after the original date of his actual birthday. It's also my brother Sam's birthday on March first, so we thought, since Sam and Mikey get along so well, that we would invite Sam along. He got wicked excited about it and then we realized that you have to be twenty-one to go to the CT casinos, and he's just turning twenty. So we found a place in upstate NY, called Turning Stone, and you only have to eighteen for that one. But it's, like, five hours away from us. And I didn't think, because I AM an idiot, about getting my methadone. Because we want to get a hotel room and stay for the weekend, so I'll need to set up host dosing somewhere. But since I just transferred clinics I'm not sure how cool they are about setting up guest dosing at another clinic. I imagine they'll be cool enough about it but since they have so many patients I don't think they'll be up for rushing the paperwork through on my account, and due to my own poor planning. So we're setting it up for next week. Hopefully it will be fun. I'm not really big into gambling, but I'll keep myself busy while they do guy stuff. That's kind of why I want to make it a group trip, so Mikey really enjoys himself and can play the games he wants to play.

But for tonight we're just making the dinner of his choice and this raspberry cream layer cake. Then he's getting some money to go toward the casino trip. And I think my brother's getting a laptop, thanks to me. My Mom was all talking about getting him a drum. And I was like, "Mom, Sam doesn't even know how to drum. And I've really never even heard him talk about wanting to learn". And she replied something along the lines of "Well, maybe he'll get into it, if I get him one. It will give him something to do". So I suggested a new laptop might be better because he spends all his time on the computer making videos and stuff. And he's been bitching, like, every day about how old, slow, and crappy his computer is. So, now, I believe that is what he's getting. I love him, but he's a spoiled little brat for sure. But at least I won't have to let him use mine anymore. Thankfully, because I spent, like, fifteen minutes this morning wiping the goop spots off the screen. I don't know how they manage to destroy things as quickly as they do, and with so little contact. It's a skill really.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a good day ahead of them. Everyone likes Friday's, right? It's the end of the week for a lot of people. It's almost March, almost Spring. Happy Friday.

Trash Day

I love, love, love having my laptop out all the time. I've been leaving it out in the living room so I have been able to write more often. Plus I've put the smack down on Mike using it ALL the time. I usually have to pry it out of his hands. But lately, the past few days anyhow, it's been the other way around. Technically, though, it's mine. But I can't really be like that because, technically, all the income we live off of right now is his. So who needs to push pennies, really?

Oh, what am I doing? Monday is trash day and I always, always, always wait until the very last minute to put the trash out. I always start to get it together on Sunday night, but I never finish. So I really should be out there doing it right now. I'll be back.

Eeww, my brothers, and my sister, actually, smoke like chimney's. And they have this nasty little habit of putting their cigarette butts into cans of soda, beer, red bull, whatever they may have handy. A plain old drinking cup will do just fine if there is any amount of liquid in the bottom to put out the butt. It's F'n disgusting. Especially for the person who ends up cleaning it out of the cup after it's been sitting there stewing for who knows how long. But it's even worse when you're out in the cold, lugging the recycling, and one of those cans falls out of the bin, onto your thinly gloved hand and seeps into the wool, leaving a lovely ass and water scent. Yippy!

Well, I better get on with my day. My Mom is coming home from CT or RI, or wherever she is, today. I think my brother is coming home with her too. But maybe not since he apparently met a woman last night as he was coming back from a movie. I have yet to collect all the details, but I will definitely dish when I do. It's SO exciting. He really needs a girlfriend. He has dated the same girl on and off for almost ten years. They finally broke up, hopefully for good, just a couple months ago. She really wants to get back together, but he's had enough. I hope this new girl is cool and things work out. This could be the best thing that could EVER happen to him, as long as she's not a drug addict. I can't wait for him to come home and tell me more!

Anyway, I have a ton of cleaning to do, as usual. So I better run. I have so much I want to write about so I'll be posting again soon. Everyone must be SO excited that I now have a new, Oh so accessible, location for my laptop. And now I can write about nonsense and housework ALL DAY LONG!!! Whoo hooo!

Yeah, Right. I'll try to spare you somewhat. I don't have a lot of self-control though. So beware.