To my latest “liker” of my “About” page, thanks. If you don’t already know, you’ve made a comment on one of my “poems” a slong time ago. Of course, if you have been following my OLD blog and this new one, you shouldn’t be surprised to learn that you may/might one of the TBTP and pals. Heck! I suppose that most of my “followers” are uncannily part of my reality/dimension/matrix.
Now, now! Don’t let me get your feathers ruffled you old fart. Don’t be fool. You dark poems are quite insightful and inspirational. For example, your recent one happens to reflect a comment I made on XP’s recent YouTube video about his Papi getting in the way of his camera. Of course, I wouldn’t have known about this foul-mouthed little snot without a dream blogger’s suggestion. Anyway, thanks for visiting an extension of Evil Kitty’s dark side.
Speaking of dark side, (hold on, I’ve sneezed while chewing off an piece of “Original” dough biscuit bread – you know, that Pillsbury doughboy on that blue tube of dough). I have a bad eating/night habit. I was hoping to save this carb for breakfast tomorrow morning but couldn’t resist. Oh and back to my dark side – tonight, Mutha fucker wouldn’t stop her long-winded “speech” through the guttural sounds of her asthma. I was trying to silence her pie-hole.
I sat there while picking my facial skin and rolled up my mental eyeballs until she stopped yapping and fell asleep. She serves as a fine “teacher” – one who is detail-oriented and VERY hyper-critical on a daily basis. She noticed that I didn’t care. What an idiot. I never cared for chores or anything do to with your/her “ideals”. Why don’t I care? Because I’m bored. My reality/dimension/matrix is infinite. I know I could change MY history with a thought.
And yesterday I had a bad thought – or more like a lucid dream – or wishful thinking of natural health and healing. I was thinking about how nice it would be if Mutha fucker would detoxify herself by NOT taking her prescription medication and allow God-nature/her swollen-ass body to “reconfigure” itself to normalcy. Well, my thought came true. She forgot to take her morning prescription medications until two in the afternoon! Bahaha! Of course, her blood pressure level was 200-something over 100. She felt like she was dizzy and walked off the feeling for awhile until she realized HER error.
The damn old fart started ragging on me on how Dad doesn’t help her, how he’d rather give all the fruits (that he worked so hard to water and harvest) to his ungrateful eldest sister, how I didn’t inform her that Das Squirrel was coming after his marathon yesterday, how her son didn’t ask her about how he inconvenienced her or how she was doing/feeling after all the troubles of cooking/cleaning, how he directed our attention to his stupid running shoes, how I didn’t clean-up the parakeets, do the dishes, etc.
So y’all think that blogging within the WordPress TOS would “patch” a truth with glittering neutral topics like cute, smilies, whatever. Nope. Not mine. I’m not really caring and don’t have the “incentive” to supervise old farts or solve family disputes. For example, Dad may/might have early dementia. Fuck. Oh well, at 2352 in the evening, I wanted to get my late-night dough snack and I noticed Dad sleeping with his stupid head hanging forward. I’m beginning to think I’m cursed with “life” and that “life” has to be “this way”. I’ll end up supervising him to get into bed just as I’ve been doing to Mutha fucker, who would doze off in her wooden rocking chair.
Folks, forgive me for my CONTINUED rantings. But if y’all think you could run away in your marathon runs and travel far and wide to meet your repitlian friends who may/might have pointy narrow chins and other physiological characters that Matt meister, for example doesn’t “see” or know what species, err, “family” he belongs and not come home to this precursor of butt-wipings, y’all delusional!
It like I’m talking to myself and well, that’s NOT fine and dandy. It sucks. When I see old farts trying to act all tough and young especially at work, I feel like kicking their wrinkly asses. Man! Perhaps, Obama and pals would like force everyone who reaches 70 years old to sign-up to any nursing home/care facilities of their choice. Prepare for your old age, chumps! Hopefully, your nurses and orderlies will be nice to you and won’t steal your personal belongings. Bahaha! See y’all in heaven/hell!
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