No matter what I say about any author, there is no better author in the known universe than Rod Serling.
Yes, that's right... that dude from the Twilight Zone wrote more than a few episodes.
No matter how much I praise Lovecraft, Thomas K Martin, Sean Stewart, Terry Pratchett, or myself... there's just no beating Serling's unique style or original stories.
Go out and read something by him... you can't go wrong (unless you don't like good stories).

The walls of this place suck.
Nothing we've ever put in the walls has stayed... well, a few pictures here and there, but other than that nothing. Well, ok, a few ceramic masks and a gargoyle, but that's it... promise.

I came home from work today to find one of the shelves in the utility room fell. So many things dropped behind the washer and dryer. Including all my boozes. Amazingly, only two bottles broke... citron vodka and creme de cassis. I didn't realize until it was too late that the broken bottles hadn't tipped over, so as I was reaching down and pulling Jell-O and mac and cheese boxes out from back there, things shifted and a splash of liquid sounded... that bottle was almost full. I got the vodka bottle before it emptied itself at least, but it was mostly empty already.
It took a while to clean up, and I discovered that one of my ferrets got back there often... I found liquor soaked toys, newspaper, a sock and even a toothbrush. How Scaramouche got her little paws on a toothbrush, I'll never know... but she loved those.

I get the feeling the next month will be full of little things like this... to get me to clean the place up before I go. Fate's silly like that.

So I was rummaging through the fridge looking for something for dinner. Sure I'd just done some grocery shopping, but nothing I bought sounded good just then.
It was sometime between 8 and 8:30, and I had finally worked off all the food my father made me eat for lunch when I dropped off several more boxes full of my junk over there.

Nothing looked good enough to eat. Nothing at all. Probably because I was, more or less, still a bit full from lunch.
Then I saw it... something wrapped up in aluminum foil. The treasure I sought, though I knew not what was held within. I put my hand around the foil, ever so gently, and lifted it carefully so not to disturb it's precious, precious contents.

Without opening the package, I knew I'd made a mistake. It squished through the foil like the ancient, yet moist, innards of a Metushan rat-boy.
With the frown of disappointment fixated across my face, I peeled back the aluminum, though it was nothing like opening a birthday present, or Christmas gift, believe you me.
I wondered what it was, and concluded that, perhaps, the roommate was planning on giving, or recieving, a kidney. And this was it!
To make matters worse, she obviously misplaced the transplant... several years ago! It was covered in a thick, white fuzz that would have made a beautiful carpet, had it not been a living organism. And, maybe it was just the children outside playing in the warm spring evening, but I would swear it cried out for help.
And help it I did! Right into the trashcan, from which I removed the bag and took it to the garage. Well, "took" isn't quite what I did... I ran, holding it as far in front of my body as humanly possible, my head turned from it because I didn't want to see it's fiersome attack.

Needless to say, this event really ruined my appetite. But I knew I should eat... so i grabbed a bowl Post� Hulk limited edition cereal.
Thank the gods that crap is limited edition!
Imagine the worst thing you've ever put in your mouth and add marshmallows. Then remove the marshmallows. It's worse than that, but I can't imagine how...

More on the joys of Pepsi

So I told Kelly, a person I work with, that if I drank a Pepsi before 5PM on Friday, she'd get $20.
She didn't want anything to do with that. At first because she thought it was a bet, and she didn't want to lose $20 if I could actually do it... by the second day she was begging me to drink the Pepsi so she could get her $20.
I made it through Wednesday... and Thursday without a problem. Friday was tough. I had nothing I could make for lunch, so I had to go out.
Now, I didn't know if rootbeer was part of the deal. Most root beer doesn't have caffiene (as far as I know, only Barq's does... and they're idiots for ruining root beer for the world)... but the deal wasn't really based on caffiene.
Sure I'm addicted to that crap, but that's not what the real addiction is for me. I *love* carbonation! Seriously. I'll drink soft drinks if I have a headache because it helps (usually because the caffiene addiction). But I need that carbonation 24 hours a day...
So, I decided I should drink root beer for lunch. And I went to ask Kelly if it was part of the deal.
"CRAP!" Said I. Kelly wasn't in.
So I panicked and ran around asking everyone if root beer would be ok... no one would answer me! "It's up to Kelly," they'd say.
"Well, screw her," I thought to myself, "she's not hear to prove anything, I can have my damned Pepsi!"
But then I thought of how many people would enjoy telling Kelly I owe her $20. And then I knew that even if I could sneak one without getting caught, I'd come clean and pay up.
Hell, she was my incentive to do it!

Why was she my incentive?
See, she's been telling me to "slow it down" for a long time. For some reason, I get the feeling it's really an actual health concern from her, while from others it feels like they're trying to control me (that's the addiction talking, I'm sure).
But why should she worry about my health? We're not especially good friends. I've never even caught a glimpse of her away from work, never gone to lunch with her... or anything like that.
If I were to die from caffiene poisoning she'd forget all about me in a week, I'm sure. While if it were the other way around I'd probably think about our few talks daily and die an old and depressed man.
Anyways...
I mentioned to Peter (in front of Kelly, no doubt) that it would be easier to give up the liquid ambrosia if there was a woman in my life for inspiration..........
Well, she claimed she wasn't offended by this, but I think she was.
Of course, I meant a... well, I can't explain what I meant without sticking my foot deeper in my mouth, and out my ass. So you can all just know in your minds what I meant.

Now, some of you might think that her reaction means she has an interest in me. Nah, you're wrong. She's got a boyfriend, she's happy with him. 'Nuff said.

So I offended her, perhaps even insulted her. Completely unintentional, of course. But I needed to make up for this "little" mishap.
I had to give up the vile liquid. I knew I couldn't do it alone... nope, I'm as weak as a stuffed chihuahua.
$20 to pry myself off that drug, affordable if I did fail, but enough to make me want to succeed.

A few days of headaches and pain was worth it. Friday at 5PM, I had beaten the beast, and it was time to rejoice with a fabulous drink of the stuff.
And what goes better with Pepsi than mexican food? Nothing, that's what! And I drank that Pepsi, and savored every moment of it's bubbly goodness.

And Weezoh was right, last night was a D&D game. And what goes better with a D&D game than Pepsi? Nothing, that's what!
I had one... and only one more Pepsi. err... I think... I might have had a third. I don't remember drinking it, but somehow there was an extra can sitting by me.
Ok... so 3 between 6PM and 2AM. That's not much for me.
Today, so far, I've had one can of Pepsi, and one glass of Mountain Dew. Tomorrow, I won't drink any. That's my plan, at least. Monday I won't have any until I get home from work... so dictates my plan.

It's time to ensure this thing stays under control... I'm craving a Pepsi, but I won't do it! Nothing but water for the rest of the night.

35 hours...
If I drink a Pepsi before Friday at 5PM I'm out $20. Of course, I'll get nothing for making it that long, the $20 is just an incentive for getting me to stop drinking that poison.
It's been 35 hours, and my head is pounding. The only liquids I've had are water and milk, and neither can replace that sweet, sweet ambrosia in the blue can.

Hopefully after the target date, I'll be able to continue to avoid that poison. But the reailty is that at 5:01PM Friday I'll go through an entire case of the stuff and I'll once again begin my speeding, spiraling decline into colaholicism.

I can't wait till I move out of here. I'm going to come back one month later just to see how badly it's gone to hell.

I was sick for about 2 weeks, I really wasn't in the mood to clean anything... then I got better and cleaned. But I decided to see how long the dishes would sit there.
Here it is the end of the third week, and I couldn't take it anymore. I put what remained of the clean dishes in the dishwasher (that I'd put there long ago) away, and filled it up to turn it on again.
Now, while I put the dishes away, I found, in a few drawers, dirty silverware that (as Debbie put it) "must have fallen in."
She wasn't disturbed by this at all... but when I find a fork with mold hanging tight sitting with potentially clean items, I need to dump out the drawer and make sure everything is clean.
I also learned that when she needed a pot or a pan, she would just run water over it and it was good to go......
And how is it I'm the one that's been sick??

I think, when I come by a month after I leave, the place will be up to the ceiling fan in roaches.
I just can't believe that someone so deathly afraid of roaches can live like this.
I can't believe I've lived like this for so long... well, ok, I didn't live like this, I always cleaned everything. But now... I'll just put up with it and let her deal with it when I'm gone.

The episode isn't over yet, but I already know that the best line from this weeks Angel is:

"I got your demon jihad right here."

I'm MUST work that into everyday life...

Did you ever get that feeling like someone's just shoved a white hot knife through your heart?
There's no way I can explain without offending a good friend of mine, so I'm not saying anything more. I never should have told my friends about this blog, because I really don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

At least I'm not sick (mostly) anymore.

Does anyone else think it's odd that in the 13 years I've lived with this woman I've never (not even once) caught her trimming her toenails?

All I'm gonna say is that I cannot believe one person can go through so many super soft facial tissues in such a short period of time.

So I didn't go in to work on Thursday. I probably shouldn't have gone in today, but I was really needed. Over 600 orders were received, normally we get around 100... it was very busy.
Anyways, on Thursday I went to the grocery store to get some drugs. I could have just gone to the drugstore down the street, but I wanted to get waffles, and some kind of frozen dinner.
The store was packed! I couldn't believe how many people go grocery shopping on a Thursday morning, and then there were the people stocking the shelves too. It took forever for me to get out of there!
So I'm coming back home, and I'm sitting at the light to turn onto Dundee Rd, two cars in front of me. The light turned green, and the first car didn't move. The second car honked and honked, and when the light turned yellow, finally went around. There wasn't enough time for me to go around.
So I waited, eyes fixed on the left turn signal flashing.
And I waited, two cars parked across the street, people getting out, "what are they pointing at?"
And I waited, didn't see any exhaust from the car in front of me. Couldn't see anyone inside. People crossing the street against the light, shame on them.
And the light turned green. The car didn't move, I just drove around. As I pulled along side the car, I looked to my left. Inside the car was a woman, maybe in her 30s or 40s... she was plastered against the seat unnaturally. Her eyes shut tight, her mouth hanging open horribly.
This terrified me. I didn't stop, the group of people was closing in and I was in no condition to be driving, let alone helping anyone with anything. If those people weren't there, yes, I would have stopped.
I don't know if she was dead, asleep, unconcious, seizuring... or whatever else was possible. I assume the worst, because I can't imagine someone alive holding that terrifying expression on their face.
The shock if what I saw had an interesting effect. For the following 45 minutes, it was as if I wasn't sick at all. The shock cleared my sinuses, stopped my nose from running, removed the congestion from my chest... it was better than Nyquil. But I really, really hope I never find a cure like that again.

April Song of the Month


Lucky Ball and Chain
They Might Be Giants
Like it? Buy it so I don't go to jail

I'm sooooooo very out of it and depressed.
I blame it entirely on the cold. Just one thing on my mind, and any regular readers know what it is. Non-regular readers will have to research it for themselves.

With the mental and physical pain in my head... I just want to lie down in a solitary confinement cell and cry myself to death.