For the two or three people who actually read this, this is the character list update for the party this weekend:

Chosen characters include: The Queen of Hearts, The Mad Hatter, The White Rabbit, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, Alice, the Cheshire Cat, the Cook, the March Hare, the Caterpillar, the Jabberwocky, and Dinah.

On the way to bed.

Anyone who still reads this, please check My Space for birthday updates.

I decided to post this here, in case anyone is actually looking!  Please visit my My Space to RSVP for my birthday party. 

The theme is Alice in Wonderland.  We are using a very broad interpretation of Alice, including Victorian style clothing, and steampunk. Please let Xelana and I know what you are planning, so that we don't have a lot of duplication. I am the Queen of Hearts, since for one night, all ways are the Queen's ways.

What happens when you don't hope anymore?  When you can't see a way to improve anything, and you can't even dream? 

I don't actually feel sad most of the time.  I just don't know what to do with myself. 

I thought I had more to say, but I guess not.  This is a symptom of the problem.

They did this weird re-make of Night of the Living Dead in 3D!  I turned it on thinking it was the 1990 re-make, which I enjoy.  I never heard anything about it.  It apparently had nothing to do with Mr. Romero.  They're actually watching the original in the movie.  I don't know how I feel about this, but I sure feel dumb for not knowing about it.

I bought a wireless router.  I installed it the way if said.  It lights up and everything, but it doesn't seem to work.  If anyone out there is willing and able to help with this, I'd appreciate it. 

Love at first sight is a myth, of course, if we are speaking of the kind of abiding love that relationships are built upon.  However, I believe that some people induce a reaction that is very similar.  Beauty may appear to our eyes and cause a more tender emotion than lust.  "Love" of a fashion, the kind of courtly love that troubadours sang about, seems very possible to me, at first sight.

"You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you."

Yeah, I know, so what?  Just something I was thinking about today.

But, I have to wish all Diskworld fans a glorious 25th of May.  I think we can all get behind the fight for "truth, justice, freedom, reasonably priced love, and a hard-boiled egg.  Defend your barricades!

To my dearest friend Xelana---

We lived through another year, somehow.  I love you more, all the time.
.

I would have thought no strings meant no drama.  Not really working out that way!

Despite my trials and tribulations with my mother, I love her very much, as most of you know.  She can be a sweet and wonderful person.  She is turning 60 next Friday. 

This is a huge birthday, and we are unable to have the kind of party I would like to have.  Her plan is to have a party at Boone Park, and wants everyone to come, whenever they can on Saturday.  We will be there from 1 PM to sundown.  She would love for everyone to bring their kids, one of the reasons she is having it at the park. 

If you've met my mom, and most of you have, at my birthday BBQs over the years, please come by and wish her well.  Bring the kiddies, and visit with me as well.  It will be fun.

If you'd like to bring a covered dish, that would be awesome too, but don't feel that you need to.  We will have the meat and cake.

I guess since they reduced the amount of mood stabilizer I am taking, or "that stuff that makes you stupid" as my mom calls it, my brain kind of woke up.  Hence the ton of blog entries I am making.  I will not abandon LJ, as there are still things about it that I love.  I used to only cross post things that were life significant, not these weird meanderings of my psyche.  Some people no longer read LJ, however, and why should they miss out on such brilliant observations?!

Today, I had to get up at the ungodly hour of 7 (for a SATURDAY!) to take Stephen to work.  He had a CD in his hand, and I started fighting right away, telling him he was not going to torture me with any of his death metal crap this morning.  He defends his choice as "good music", and when we got in the car, I saw he was right.  He brought Concrete Blonde.

I mostly listen to Voltaire, because he's what I have on CD, some mixes that Xelana made me, and books on CD that keep my crazy brain occupied, so maybe I am the only one who had forgotten how  f*&king brilliant they were. 

"Underneath the chilly gray November sky
We can make believe that Kennedy is still alive and
We're shooting for the moon and smiling Jackie's driving by and

They say 'good try'
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die.
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die."

Damn. 

In other news, my voice is shot.  I know the only place I sing anymore is in the car, and in the shower, although you guys did get me to sing that one time at Hopee's.  I don't care if no one hears me, I enjoy singing, and the sound of my own voice.  This creeping crud that I have had for four damn months has finally pissed me off.  This is probably the first time I asked something of my voice that it wouldn't do.  This is music perfectly suited to my range, that I used to be able to belt out to the apolstery.  I am uber-pissed.  The doctor has to fix it!

I know my birthday is MONTHS away.  However, I am turning 40 this year, and it is a big deal.  A scary, scary, big deal.  I don't want to have my usual BBQ (or at least not JUST my usual BBQ) , I want to do something special, but something that everyone can come to.  I have started already trying to round up the people that I must have there, and if you are reading this, you are probably one of them. 

IDEAS?!!!  Anyone?  What sounds like fun?

My ex, Robbie Allen, the self-proclaimed "Rock Monster", is alive.  I had a dream recently, as I told most of you, that led me to wonder if the crackhead life had finally killed him.  He's not dead.  I saw him tonight at Walgreens.  He looked pretty good, had weight on, and seemed relatively tweak-free, but he was begging for change, for "gas"  so I don't know.

It's a shame about some people.  He was beautiful and bright, and brilliant, if a little rough, in the sack.  He wrote dizzying prose and poetry.  He used to annoy me by wanting to cuddle.  I guess if you get to know a lot of addicts, you might find that same thing.  I just wish it could be different for him.  I've known him since he was 14, and he's rarely been happy.  Even less often than me, I think.

Y'all know we have issues, but... Poor Momma had a detached retina.  She had surgery.  I think she's OK.  I'm going to see her.  Think a happy thought if you have one to spare!

I promise, if I had no mortgage, I would have walked out of there today!

I gotta get OUT of there.

I am cooking a chicken.  Me!  I stuffed it, I looked up the cooking time in Meta Given's Modern Encyclopedia of Cooking*, circa 1959, and I stuck its butt in the oven.  All I need is an apron.  I wonder if anyone is actually going to be here to eat it. 

I have no idea what possessed me.  Maybe I just wanted to see if I could still do it.



*When the Apocalypse comes, you want this cookbook.  It tells you how to clean and dress BEAR for cooking.  It's freaking amazing!  You want it, I got it.  Ha-ha.