Nail files, devotion and a husbands love.

My fingernails are very soft, so they do not break, they tear. Well I tore one last night, leaving me to be irritated by the rough prickly break. Before bed I asked him to please get me an emery board so I could deal with it. He agreed since he was going shopping in any event.
Now please notice what I said in that last paragraph. I said specifically

An Emery Board

My darling loves me. I know this. But sometimes it slips my mind the extent to which he loves me. Because he clearly heard me say

An Emery Board (as in 1)

So what did he bring me?

This!

And these are, of course, emery boards plus foam-core shapers, an orange stick and a glass nail-file.

And being as graceful as I am, what did I say? I said,

"Holy shit! That's a lot of nail-files! Why'd you bring me so many, baby?"

His reply: "I wanted to be sure that you have the exact type you need. Besides...

you had to have this one because it matches your comb." Did I mention that this was in 37*C heat during a heatwave, and he was fighting a damaged ankle?

I saw him first!

I married him!

Back off, bitch, he's mine!

Have a pleasant evening.

I was going to and then I stopped. *Language warning*

I came to the computer, sat down and was all ready to write a blog entry that I thought would be witty and relevant.
And I stopped.
I doubted.
I doubted that anybody would care what I have to say, and then I doubted if what I had to say was in any way relevant or interesting after all, and then I doubted that anybody would like me or want to associate with me after I published it. And I wrote that last one as a run-on sentence, because that is how my brain works when I have anxiety like this.
I do this a lot, in fact. If I published everything I began here, and subsequently decided against, there would be four or five new blog posts a month. But I don't because I was taught to doubt myself and my worth at a very young age. People who were otherwise very nice, loving humans taught me that I am only after attention and I will be worth nothing.
Did they mean it that way? I have no idea, but that is what they taught me. And so that is what I pack around with me. I have tried repeatedly to "get over it". I can do that for short periods (which I love). Within a few days, though, I am struggling again and doubting my every breath.
I am even having a huge amount of trouble resisting the urge to cancel this one. It's the ones where I bare anything deeper about myself: Those are the real toughies. The ones where I say that my real dad being an alcoholic during my early childhood had an effect on everything I thought thereafter. The ones where I say that when he died I went in to a depression I am still in forty-seven  years later. The ones where I say that the step fathers sexual abuse put paid to an already struggling life.
And you know what?
I'm done.
Now, don't get me wrong here. This is not a suicide note. Not in any way, shape or form. I'm just saying I am done with the whole thing of trying to live up to societal or social expectations. I am done with giving a shit weather or not I will offend someone or make them hate me. I cannot live like this anymore. The Anxiety Of It Is Fucking Killing Me! That is not a joke!
So at this moment I am determined to go ahead and blog about whatever I like. Even if it's three sentences long, or not much more than a link to something else, or just a photo or art piece. If you don't like it, don't read my blog. That's pretty easy really. I do know one thing though. I will never find out either way, because no one EVER comments on them.
Have a nice week.

50 Shades of Yuck

Having heard from several people that the screen version of "50 Shades of Grey" was dull, I thought " it can't be THAT bad ".
WRONG!!
It was horrible. For me it started when they screwed up masking tape with duct tape and electrical tape. This was done by a character who works in a hardware store. Seriously?!?
Some time after that there is a passable joke about having sex with someone passed out drunk is tantamount to necrophilia; unfortunately it's the one and only good part of the whole thing.
Don't bother with this film. It's a waste of time.

The Odd Couple, 2015 (remake of a remake, etc)

Matthew Perry / Oscar Madison   Thomas Lennon  /Felix Unger

Oscar is recently divorced and was taken for nearly everythings. He is a huge slob and all he wants is a sex set up. Felix is in the process of an ugly divorce due to his obsessive compulsive cleaning and organising and almost puritan lifestyle.

Nope, it's not doing a thing for me.

Incarnation one of this show was one of those black comedy that were so popular in the 60's and 70's (film or stageplay I'm not sure which came first). It scooped a few awards on the large screen and the stage and then went to TV. There it proved that you have to be outstanding to make the transition from the big screen to the little sucessfully. Also that you have to remain that way to stay.

Actually The Odd Couple has had more incarnations than Shirley MacLaine! And the more often they do it the weaker and less enjoyable it gets. So it is not surprising that this the 9th(?) is about as much fun as watching paint dry. At no point did I even get the urge to smile grin or smirk. I am not coming back. I think so poorly of this show, I'm not even going to  bother posting a picture of it.

As always this is only my opinion. Other people are completely entitled to be wrong.

Fatigue Sucks!

I was right in the middle of writing an upcoming blog when all my energy went POOF! Fatigue sucks! I want my life back.
NOW!