Another Saturday Night...

I really don't know anything about Paula Deen. I don't have television, and have only seen her on the front of magazines. But I do think there is a chance that she is an android. A Chef-Bot. Whatever. All I do know is that I have never seen someone who, in every photograph, looks more like a wax figurine and less like a real person. Her eyes are entirely too blue, her skin impossibly smooth for her age, her hair never changes, and her teeth are not just the whitest of white but also incandescent. She looks completely false. She scares me.

Enough with the rain. Really. Kthx. I know today it didn't rain. But anymore, rain-free days are simply teasers. They get you all excited for dry, and then bam! You wake up, downpour. Boo.

Each new tidbit of info I hear causes me to become even more dumbfounded. I'm still devastated. But I'm getting more and more concerned, and straight up confused, about what the hell you are thinking. From the outside, all I see are red flags. You have absolutely no control over your own life anymore; you're being devoured alive, smothered from all sides. You agreed to help out a friend, and then bailed because Mommy didn't approve (funny, she's one to speak of ethics...). And you couldn't keep your end of the bargain and do it in your own time, because you weren't going to have any of your own time, she was always going to be there. Before the move (another WTF? moment), people you had spent a lot of fun times with, people who liked you and who you liked, suddenly never saw you; you disappeared. Then you broke a lease to follow her elsewhere, which had its own financial consequences. And is completely uncharacteristic for you. I can't imagine it was your idea, though I could be wrong- you'll pay high prices for pussy. You used to say I was being pissy when I'd get upset that you wanted to spend three nights in a row having 'boys night out' when I just wanted to come out for at least one of them on a night that I didn't have to work late and get up early. How many boys nights out have you had recently? Ones that might have happened when Der Kommissar was out of town don't count. And I'm guessing not too many. Do you have to ask for a hall pass to go the bathroom, too? You are no longer you. You aren't your own person. You have zero control over yourself. You are being sucked dry slowly, your oxygen is being squeezed off. But you can't see it. You won't be aware until you're gasping for breath and becoming faint. You're supposed to share your life with someone else, not give it up entirely. You're supposed to be who you are with a little extra, not only what they want to allow you to be. Insanity.

Maybe it's just me thinking like this though- maybe I'm the only one who will look at such a drastic turn, this complete 180, and see trouble. Sure, I have a jaded opinion. Afterall, I'm the jilted. Maybe everyone else sees perfection and bliss.

But I've seen this before. Granted, the version I saw previously was to the extreme... This is like a Michelob Ultra, and what I saw in the past was a handle of Golden Grain. But the elements are similar. My dad did it... fell hard for a woman. She wanted all his time, loved him intensely from the start, couldn't bear to be away from him. He basically lived with her permanently, though he owned a house. He'd go back every few days to feed his cats. That's it. He didn't have time for anything but her, and he didn't see a problem with it. He fell behind on all his bills. When he did step back, and try to regain control, she'd break up with him, go completely crazy and break into his house in the middle of the night. Then she got physically abusive after a while, would attack him knowing he couldn't raise a hand in defense because he'd be the one in jail no matter what. I visited twice or three times a year. But it was unacceptable for him to spend time with me while I was in Ohio. Unless she was there constantly. I couldn't even live at my own house when visiting because he had to stay with her at hers. So I stayed with my grandmother. She used him up, broke him down, and he thought that by staying with her he could make her better. So he married her. Things got worse, he sold his house to move to hers, she took up so much of his time he never even managed to get most of his belongings out of his old house, and he lost a lot of meaningful things because the new owner was tired of storing it for him. Things like photo albums from my childhood. My piano. Most of his furniture. The handmade Christmas ornaments in the attic. Most everything that was a part of his previous life before her. Then she talked him into giving her access to his personal bank account (not the one that was now theirs jointly, but his he had had for years). There wasn't a lot there- he's a potato chip man. But she used it all up without him even noticing. He stayed; every week or so he'd come home from work and all his stuff would be thrown into the front yard. He stayed; he tried to get her to go to marriage counseling, and she would only agree if it was faith-based and he went, but she wouldn't. He stayed; she abused him. Suffocated him. Bled him dry. Told him she loved him, and then five minutes later told him she hated him. Every day. He stayed; she called constantly- where are you? Who are you talking to? Why are you giving your daughter that and not my kids that? He stayed... and finally he broke. And ran like hell. Basically went into hiding, and now, he lives with his mother. He has very few objects of meaning left. She destroyed him because she needed him to live only for her.

Yeah it's not near the same, but it all starts somewhere.

Damn you dryer! That infernal squeal is going to eat my brain! I will try teflon lube for the time being...

Dear Water Heater- may landlord gave you new elements. Yet somehow you give me even less warm time in the shower. I would kill for 10 minutes of hot water. Ok, not kill. I'd make out with you for 10 minutes of hot water.

I need to go feed my neighbor's cats now.

LONG..... sorry.