Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

After many months eating the slice of Life, I think we will leave it to posterity the same way we did when last we fed the MonSter - with a short, pithy but very true story;

Bon apetit.

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Oh Nicky, you're so fine...
Once upon a time, in the centre of his universe, lived a little boy called Nicky. He lived with his mum and dad on a farm and he was the firstborn of their brood, their eldest. A few years after Nicky was born a baby brother was added, then a sister and the family was complete.

Nicky lived in a small, rural community where not a lot happened that was very exciting. He learned to make his own fun, discover his own pleasures and as he grew he became more adventurous, he took chances. His mum became used to patching up battered body parts and, when she couldn't cope with the damage the hospital did the job instead.

His parents weren't cuddly people and his need to be cuddled and touched became a driving force, right through into his adult life. He wanted to please people, but as the eldest he was always the one who should have known better, should have been watching the younger ones and loving approval was a very hard commodity to find. Some of the times when he felt he was unfairly held accountable became a cunningly hidden bone of contention; a festering pocket of injustice that churned and writhed not far below the surface and occasionally made it's presence felt with rather little provocation.

As he grew up, he became a bit of a daredevil, conformed by being non-conformist, got himself a mohawk and dyed his hair blue, smoked drugs, rode his motorbike too fast with too much alcohol in him; he pushed the envelope and his boundaries until rational thought and mounting physical injury took over and cried "enough". But these were his golden years, the ones he would continue to attempt to emulate throughout his adult life by endlessly pursuing relationships with attractive women who were significantly younger than himself. Being blessed with good looks and a seemingly placid nature made forming these relationships easy. But keeping the relationships was a different story all together. His first marriage (in his mid 20's), to his impregnated teenage girlfriend ended in tears and misery when she was unfaithful to him and he left her, even though he admitted to wishing he could screw around as well. A few years later he became entangled with a woman he was incapable of loving, but who managed to provide him with two more offspring before he reached the point where the disrespect, abuse and overwhelming responsibility of raising chidren in a loveless household became too much and the inevitable split occurred.

Once more, he was alone and he was lonely. He went looking for "friendships" with women, specifically targetting the group that would fulfil his long-awaited and much-desired access to uncomplicated, meaningless sex with as many women as he could find who made his dick twitch, no strings attached. As long as they would cuddle him, touch him and rub his back that was close enough.

And along the way he found a new love, and a new kind of love. But the woman he found this love with wasn't his ideal, she wasn't anywhere near it. Instead of being young and slim and pretty, she was old (older than he was by 6 weeks), rather ugly, fat and too damn clever for his good; she was usually one step ahead of him. He spent months with her, every weekend and often nights during the week, a close, companionable and comfortable relationship where he was accepted and nurtured and considered a part of the family. But he still felt the need to hide behind his placid exterior, try to be what he thought he should be, was still trying to please. He was safe, he was loved and he was wanted, but he couldn't keep it alive and he could not dignify her input or efforts with the title it truly deserved; she was not allowed to be his "girlfriend". Eventually, he couldn't reliably get it up and keep it up any more. He was guilt-ridden by the understanding and support he received for his incapacity to perform as a man, telling her he loved her while infrequently making love to her, yet still chatting online to other women in his search to reconstruct his glory days and satisfy his need to find a young, attractive woman to add to his life. Despite the platitudes he murmured so often he convinced himself he meant it, he really wanted some nice stripes to drape across his arm, an outer beauty that would bring back the manhood he had lost. Instead of looking inside to see how he could grow as a person and let his oft-professed love develop and mature into something actually meaningful, he took the easy way out.

He found a new woman. Young, slim, more attractive than the other one (and with the bonus of not being the bearer of an incurable disease), he grasped her with both arms, instantly declared her his true Soul Mate (after a single afternoon in her presence, if what he said was to be believed) and rode off into the sunset leaving a trail of memories and a broken heart in his wake. And as he rode away with his new decoration, he was once more blissfully unaware that he had missed the point of another Lesson, reverted to type and was back plodding the same old road for one more turn of the Great Wheel. His emotional immaturity had won the day.

The mirror does not show us who we really are, it merely shows us our own perspective of ourselves. The real mirror is in the eyes of those who see us, and see inside us to where our insecurities and flaws lie. We shouldn't be attracted to people for their perfections, we should love them for their imperfections. Anything else is pointless, isn't it? But if they aren't going to learn their Lessons and grow spiritually as they encounter Life then they may as well have not been here at all this time around. We can lie to ourselves but we cannot escape our inner truths, or our Karma.

Poor Nicky. Gotta love him. Dontcha? All he wants is for eveyone to love him.

The seemingly drab and uninspiring plumage of the owl hides the true wisdom of the beast. Wisdom doesn't need a flash wrapping and pretty stripes; it carries a far greater and less easily replicated worth.

It's value is priceless.

Nothing like a bit of pocket wisdom to brighten up your day, is there? I think that in my hubris I'll call the new blog - "The Weekly Wedge of Wisdom".Now you can have the thin end of it any time you want. Gratis.

~~ "Got enough guilt to start my own Religion" - Tori Amos ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

Wacky site for bird lovers. Order your Subservient Chicken today ;-p

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

Do you see what I see
Vague shadows on the wall?
Do you hear what I hear
Laughing echoes down the hall?
Do you feel what I feel
So insignifant, so small?
I'm the shadows, I'm the echoes
Forgotten memories, that is all.

~~ "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" Here's an update for you;
Nowadays, 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize its not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage. ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

As it's the weekend before Easter, the local Ulysses Club are doing their Charity Easter Egg run today. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the concept/s, the Ulysses club are a bunch of hard core, older motorcycle fanatics - the sort that have Harleys and the like, all in pristine condition and loved to within an inch of their lives. The Easter Egg run is all about collecting loads of easter eggs to be delivered to the kids in hospital at this time of year. It's all done simply cos they can. Well anyway, all these fabulous bikes have just streamed past here on their way to wherever it is they were going and it sounded just magnificent. I have no idea how many there were (couldn't see 'em properly from here) but the chrome glinting in the sun as they came down the hill combined with the most awesome deep gut-rumble (not to mention the sound of the police escort's siren) went on for over 5 minutes and was just amazing!

Damn, it almost makes me wish I liked bikes!

There was something very important that I thought of last night to write in here today, but now I have forgotten it. Shit I hate that :-( It will come back to me, I am sure. Don't plan on getting off that easily.

~~ Don't take life too seriously, you won't get out alive. ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

My horrorscope says I am going to be rich, and now I know its true!!

I am, I am!! I'm so excited, I damn near peed on the carpet!

I received this lovely email, just this morning, sent to me from a lady in Nigeria begging for help to remove all the money her late husband left her from Nigeria to stop the Government stealing it. Poor woman, first she loses her husband and now she might lose his money as well, what a dreadful predicament to be in!

Here is the email, verbatim.

Dear SIR/MA
I am Dr. (Mrs.) Mariam Abacha, Wife of the late Nigerian Head of State-General Sani Abacha. I am proposing this business to you because we could be of great assistance to each other, likewise developing a cordial business relationship. I currently have within my reach the sum of US$25,000,000:00 (Twenty-five million United State dollars only) cash which l intend to use for investment purpose specifically in your country.

This money came as a result of a pay back contract deal between my late husband and a Russian firm on our Country's multi-billion dollar Ajaokuta steel plant project. The Russian partners returned my husband's share of (US$25 million) after his death and lodged it with my husband's financial firm in Nigeria of which l am a director. Right now, this rescent democratic Government has revoked our licenses that permitted us own a financial Company and Oil Company.

In view of this, I acted very fast to withdraw the said sum from the company's vault well preserved packaged in trunk box and deposited in Security company.I have since declared our financial company bankrupt. No record ever existed concerning the money neither is the money traceable by the government because there is no document showing that we received such money from the Russians. Due to the current scheme of things in the country concerning government attitude towards my family, it has become quite impossible for us to make use of huge monies within, thus l seek your assistance to move this Money out of the country. On your consent, l shall expect you to contact me or my Attorney urgently for us to discuss and agree upon the mode of transaction. For your assistance, we have agreed to compensate you with 30% of the total sum of (US$25 Million), 70% is for us. While the major part of the share 70% shall be use for investment overseas in the areas you may direct us after we have secured the freedom.

Note that this transaction is 100% risk free as we have mapped out strategies for a successful transaction with the Security company. However, all correspondence must be channeled to My Attorney Barrister.Micheal Jegede through his telephone number or Email address below. I must also use this opportunity to implore you to exercise the utmost indulgence to keep this transaction a confidential issue.

Barrister.Micheal Jegede(Lawyer)
E-mail:mjegede525@yahoo.co.uk
Thanks, Best Regards.
Dr.Mrs Mariam Abacha.

Oooooh, I gotta go reply to her and see how I can help her (and get my money, of course!).

Be right back... while you are waiting, you can read more about how to help HERE

~~ 100,000 sperm and you were the fastest? ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

The Word of the Day for Mar 27 is:
torrid \TOR-id\ adjective

1: parched with heat especially of the sun : hot
*2 : ardent, passionate


Example sentence:
As she cleaned out the attic, Monica was shocked to find a box filled with torrid love letters that her grandfather had written to her grandmother.

Did you know?
"Torrid" derives from the Latin verb "torrere," which means "to burn" or "to parch" and is an ancestor of our word "toast." Despite the dry implications of this root, it is also an ancestor of "torrent," which can refer to a violent stream of liquid (as in "a torrent of rain"). "Torrid" first appeared in English in the 16th century, and was originally used to describe something burned or scorched by exposure to the sun. The term "torrid zone" later came about to refer to tropical regions of the Earth. By the end of that century the word had taken on the extended meaning that we know today - suggesting fiery passion.

~~ Consciousness: That annoying time between naps. ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

I've gone right off kids. I bloody have. Nasty wee critters, fighting over who woke the puppy up, who the puppy likes best, who the puppy should sleep with. Suffice to say, yes we have a puppy in the house (actually, it's an older and significantly larger and heavier version of the puppy last seen here).

Anyway, she has come to stay for a week or two and so far has been very well behaved with only 5 transgressions in 7 hours. Not bad really. Mind you, if she stops chasing the cats, yapping at the cats and peeing on the carpet she will be fine. Poor wee thing, she is 3 months old and hasn't got a name yet. Heather used to call her Vanilla when she was tiny, but she isn't vanilla coloured any more, now she has butterscotch stripes. Deb said to give her a name cos she needs one so I decided to call her "Maddy", cos she is mad like her mother. Mind you, her mother is worse, wayyyyy worse. Anyway, this darling wee puppy is FOR SALE for a little under $1000. If you are interested, email Debbie for more info.

So, anyway, I went up to the farm and picked her up today and when I came home Deb gave me a couple of packets of homegrown bacon, so now its late evening and I had the munchies so I cooked some bacon, tomatoes and eggs to eat. And that is where the eggs in tonight's title come in.

Rivetting, huh.

FIGJAM, Babe

~~ "Cook me some fucking eggs, bitch" - Jake Heke; Once Were Warriors~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

It's chemo day (also known around here as rat poison day). Yup, folks, today's the day I get to take my medicine like a man, swallow the bait, name my poison.

Methotrexate, that's it's name. Look it up, here. Nasty shit.

I hate the little yellow fuckers. It's almost a shame they are doing their job or I could dispense with them, but the little yellow fuckers are working really well at the moment. Since Mr Sez wandered off the stage 5 weeks ago, I have reverted to my pre-Sez days and routines. In other words, I'm no longer pretending I can live my life like normal people, not without a decent night's sleep for months on end. Between hard beds and snoring bods, burning legs and overwhelming pain and stress and misery, over-stimulation and frequently feeling I HAD to be doing things whether I was able to or not, I forgot to do the one thing I NEEDED to do - shut the world out, get some sleep, stay away from major activity and take care of Numero Uno before worrying about other people who were quite able to take care of themselves. The regaining of my own space, the reclamation of my bits and pieces, a new bed and no driving all over the countryside to be overwhelmed by loud television and whining, bickering kids and not a seat in the house to sit on where I could hear myself think (unless I sat outside on the nice concrete step) has allowed me to regain my equilibrium, lose a major load of stress and get finally some real sleep. And now the axe has so permanently fallen, I don't have to worry about living without Mr Sez around - that has already become my reality and I no longer have to hide what I really think. Every nasty, black cloud has a silver lining when you turn it inside out. Add the benefits of a return to taking my weekly dose of poison after a two month break and life has indeed improved in many respects. I even have my legs back. What a bugger I still miss him. And have to feel sick all the time.

Shit happens. Everyone finds that out at some point; sometimes the hurt gets a lot worse before the light dawns. Some people need a good kick in the arse to make them see the Light.

And now, I have the space, time and a bit of energy I needed to do some long overdue major spiritual growing. It's a shame not everyone heard the Lesson this time, but some have better ears than others and are more ready to listen.

Karma.

The rat's are leaving the sinking ship, so I'm off to listen to my American Indian Meditation, then I might do a little Past Life Regression work. It's fun and a girl really needs a hobby, ya know?

~~ Keep your night light burning, I'll be with you once again - Magnum ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

Have you ever noticed, that the more something hurts or the bigger the disaster that occurs, the greater the Lesson is to be learnt therein?

Funny, that.

And isn't it funny how the pain gets bigger, the disasters get more, well, disastrous and the Lessons get bigger and bigger? It's almost like a kid, always pushing the boundaries to see just where the dromedary's spine snaps.

I'm reading (actually, I'm reading it for the second time in 3 days) a book by a Kiwi named Richard Webster, a prolific author of 79 odd books. Anyway, the book is entitled Soul Mates (probably cos that's what the book is about, hmmm?) and is really good. Lightweight enough not to have to plough through it, deep enough to make me stop and think... "..so that's why I feel that" and it has exercises to do, all sorts of stuff.

It also demands a belief in reincarnation.

Reincarnation is the belief that the Soul is eternal and is reborn over and over again into a physical existence. Therefore, Soul Mates are people that you encounter over and over again, through many incarnations, always helping each other with their Lessons.



Almost four years ago, I did a small web-based assessment at school on the concept of Reincarnation and I have put it up to read HERE. That was when I first saw the picture above - "Reincarnation" an oil on canvas by Vladimir Ryklin. I really dig that picture. So, anyway, I've been interested in all this stuff for so long that I can't remember when it started. I think Mum just always assumed that the possibility existed, so there was never any big deal made about it.

So, anyway, this guy Webster has written all these books about all sort of New-Age type stuff, way heaps of them and his Soul Mates book really sort of consolidated and focused all the random thoughts I had collected but not got around to cataloguing yet. In other words, it all makes fucking sense. And it validated what I already knew. I had always thought that we have more than one soul mate in our lives - that groups of people were together through a succession of lifetimes, dancing in and out of mortality whilst playing a wide variety of roles - sometimes a villain, sometimes a hero, sometimes a woman, sometimes a man. Sometimes together for a lifetime, sometimes only a short while but ultimately to meet and share some form of relationship in an incarnation when there is a Lesson to be addressed at that time, an outcome to be achieved. I've been bumping into my soul buddies my whole life, a couple have been lurking for the past 30 years.

I know someone who really needs to read this book.

I hold that when a person dies
His soul returns again to earth;
Arrayed in some new flesh disguise
Another mother gives him birth
With sturdier limbs and brighter brain
The old soul takes the road again...

("A Creed". John Masefield - 1878 - 1967)

~~ "Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation.
The other eight are unimportant."- George Burns ~~

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Now, where was I? Oh yeah...

Amanda asked me to find her an song today, a Joe Cocker one, nice wee number too. So while hunting through the files today, I pulled out a whole lot more Joe Cocker and some Van Morrison, too (shhhh, and a wee bit of Elvis). Never accuse me of bad taste in music; I only have bad taste in men.

Amen.

Anyway, I was saying... listening to all these songs, I realised you could damn near construct your whole life, from the cradle to the grave, out of the lyrics and sentiments of these artists' songs. And I wasn't even stoned when I thought of it.

Bugger me, I am now. Wish I had some chocolate. You got any chocolate?

Think I used this before, long time back. Just sort of seems relevant today.

"Its late", she cried, as the clock ticked away
the dawning of another dark day
where her sunshine was something she'd hidden away
until somebody came to claim it.

Meanwhile, here is a recipe for chocolate slice:

Uncooked chocolate slice

4oz melted butter, 1 egg, 1/2 tsp vanilla essence, 1pkt crushed biscuits, 4 oz sugar, 1 dessertspoon cocoa, (optional few chopped walnuts) mix it all together, press into tin, ice with choc icing, set in fridge.

CHOCOLATE SLICE, 3 pkts vanilla wine biscuits, 3 tbsp cocoa, 1 cup sugar, 350g butter, 3 eggs....
break biscuts into tiny pieces ~ melt butter & add into butter only, eggs, cocoa & sugar then beat till sugar is dissolved ~ pour into biscuits & mix well ~ press into 2 sponge roll tins ~ when hard ice with chocolate icing.

Damn, but I hope it tastes as good coming back up as it does going down. I do like that uncooked bit, though - theoreticallllly even I can't fuck it up, can I? :-)

~~ You. Me. Whipped cream. Handcuffs. Any questions? - Austin Powers ~~

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