Saturday, December 01, 2007


Ok. I'm putting out an all call here, kids.

Every year I do the same damn hors d'oeuvres spread and I'm getting tired of it. Does anyone have a favorite new or interesting snack-nibble recipe they'd like to offer? I'm looking for savories, NOT COOKIES OR SWEETS...dips, spreads, canapes, cold tray items, things like that.

Please, kids...this is for my future son-in-law here. Tapas, hot dips, tiny sandwiches, any cuisine any tradition, any holiday. Complicated? fine! Ingredients? Not a problem!

Snack nibble recipes please!!!

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Ok, enough of that.

You are all wonderful people. The imput really gave me something to think about. A lot of somethings, truth be told.

Now here is a picture of a bald cat eating furniture.

...Because nothing says 'Happy Holidays 'like a picture of a naked cat eating some furniture.

No wait. Ok.
Nothing says 'Happy Holidays' like a pensive clown taking a dump.

It's a fact: Nothing says 'Happy Holidays' like Cthulhu awakening from his death-sleep in seaweed garlanded R'lyeh. Really.

... Except maybe a bedside lamp shaped like a weiner dog. of these things. You plug it in.

Or a Mi-Go brain cylinder.
Happy Holidays! It's a Mi-Go brain cylinder!

Obviously nothing says 'Happy Holidays like the first four gospels translated into Juggalo, of course...

........Oh, yes. It's REAL.

Who can deny that anything says 'Happy Holidays' quite as sincerely as checking your outlets to make sure that electricity isn't leaking out?

Nobody, that's who.

Admit it. Nothing says 'Happy Holidays" like a dead jesuit in a fez.

...particularly one being attacked by offstage ninjas throwing flaming shiriken.

Nothing says 'Happy Holidays' like a picture of a cute baby who is nice.

...just as long as you don't piss it off

...because then it morphs into NINJA MAN BABY!


...which you have to admit is better than if it morphed into, like, a pterodactyl

...except that it would be cool if it flew around and got in fights with other pterodactyls, and they were like 'HWAH! SMASH! HROAAAAAAAR!' and they crashed into a natural gas plant and it exploded and flames were shooting up everywhere and robots had to come put it out.

So, yeah. Nothing says 'Happy Holidays' like any of that stuff.

Happy Holidays.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Not a fun one.

I'm venting here. I have support and everythings ok...I just need to get this shit off my chest.

I am off today to participate in what is being euphemistically termed a 'caregiving assessment'. This means that all the people involved in The Playboy of the Western Worlds medical crapola are going to sit him down and tell him to quit fucking around: he needs full-time assisted care.

This is a good thing and needs to happen. There's no doubt about that. It needed to happen a year ago. It won't be a difficult thing or even a particularly negative thing, since what this means in the real world is that he moves down the hall from where he lives now and gets servants, essentially.

Once he gets over himself he'll undoubtedly start doing better since he will at the very least be getting his medications regularly and won't have to spend half the day putting on his socks and shaving because he can't breather and his legs hurt.

Meanwhile this little muk is going through some changes.

I've never watched someone die before. I want it to be over, dammit. I want to stop worrying, I want to stop dreading the inevitable. I want him to get it over with already. Unfair, cold and true. He isn't going to get better, there isn't going to be a miracle so just die already.

I want him to get better. He won't.

He wants to be better. He can't.

This doesn't stop him from pretending he is better or lying about his condition. This makes him do foolish things and make foolish decisions that make him get worse. He tries to maintain his life at a level he hasn't been capable of in years and fucks himself up and then we have to come to the rescue and pretend we think he is such a brave old cuss when all I want to do is shake him and yell at him for intruding on my life and making me scared. He has a staff-a good staff, a trained staff- on call 24-7 to change his pissy sheets and empty his urinals and shear him when he needs a haircut, and yet I get called in for a 60 mile round trip to do these things. He's deaf as a post and yet he is is proud to tell everyone he's 'too vain' to get a hearing aid. This means he misunderstands his medical instructions. He shrugs it off.

This isn't cute any more. It hasn't been cute in a long, long time. This isn't spunky or feisty. This is flat out fucking stupid. He doesn't want to be a burden.
He has been one for several years.
I wouldn't be this mad if dementia were an issue. It isn't.
It isn't.
This is plain spoiled brat.
Spoiled, German, man brat.

He was only back in his apartment for a week when he ended up back in interim care this last time. Between the last time I posted about him and now, what happened was, he was in interim care he picked up a cold, which he lied to the staff about. So of course; once you're home, go walking around outside in the wind and the rain all week long and go out to dinner and party and have a bunch of close encounters with germy people. Sure, that'll work. Come Friday he passed out twice in his apartment walking from one room to the next (and that's only what he's admitting to.) Of course he didn't use the call pendant; of course he didn't use the call button on the wall above his bed to alert the staff, of course he didn't put on his oxygen. What did he do? He got on the horn and started calling his buddies and asking them if he should go to the hospital or not. Well, lets're in your seventies, you have six inoperable arterial occlusions and narrowing nerve channels. You have chronic low blood pressure, COPD, and every now and then for the last seven years all your vital signs just quit for a couple of seconds and YOU MOMENTARILY DIE...and you say you've just passed out? Well, I dunno....going to the emergency room....huh.

He had pneumonia.

He ended up in the hospital for 2 weeks. He's still in interim care and there's no end in sight on that front.

I couldn't do a damn thing for him because I had bronchitis. I could'nt get near the guy. On the one hand I'm scared and I want to protect him, and on the other hand I woke up one night and thought "maybe it would be a mercy" and "at least there might be some money left to pay off his bills if...".

I am angry at a god I don't really believe in. I need someone to blame I guess. This kind of a death is like a horrifically sophisticated form of torture...take a little, take a little more, take a little more, strip away the dignity by layers, gradually reduce the world to the size of a single building, and then to a single room. Leave the intellect they can appreciate the magnitude and inevitability of whats happening. It seems so planned. Something about it just seems well-thought out.

Screw it.

Monday, November 26, 2007

it's 6:25 pm

it's dark outside
and the first snow of the year just began falling

my grandson is here. i took him to the back door and showed him the snow and taught him you can hear it fall.

i'm rich, people. bill gates has nothing i want.