Now thatís just one funny headline . The idea of flying blue ice that contains human waste is both disgusting and funny to me. I think itís a bit more funny than disgusting, though. It just seems so... so absurd.
Anyhoo. This weekend KILLED my legs, feel the burn! Oh, do I! Itís a good thing, though, get those muscles stretching and working. Unfortunately, I did not become sore from squatting over a slave, but Iím actually very happy with the results of what our efforts produced. A varnished bed, a painted room, curtains hung with care. My new place is coming along fabulously, despite my bitching. Just between you and me, I find housework exceptionally boring and tedious. But I can see why people do it now, with such wonderful results that last indefinitely. Did I mention I sat down and spilled green paint ALL OVER my ASS? Hmm? Thatís right, it soaked right through my clothes. I wondered why my ass was still wet after I stripped down. And then, it was just green. I admit that itís amusing, spilling paint all over my ass, sitting on plastic just to have it pull taut and flip the tray over, dumping paint on my bum. At the time, it was a tragedy. In retrospect, itís pretty funny.
M.s. is a very patient slave. Ray-Ray was a big help as well, letting us starve her and put her to work until she completely broke down. Break Ďem in early, just like boot camp. Hee hee. But letís back up a bit.
Friday night, Dad took me and Ollie to dinner, yummy fun! Saturday, I shopped and painted and missed a party and bitched about it, but then felt better and finished painting and got a call from an old actor friend in LA. Whew! RJ, that cute little thing who could bust a move like no other. Just you wait, people. That boyís gonna go places. Maybe heíll quite show-biz altogether when his New Business takes off! I wish him luck! Buy atomic fuzz.
Sunday was Fatherís Day! I wore my spiked choker to church, and Rev Kev had a difficult time hugging me without getting stabbed. Hee hee. Jane and I accompanied my father to church and then we went back to our new digs for some tea, to relax and await the whirlwind of family. I became famous at the Mission Hills Cafť. I still donít know what it was, but three different people, including the owner, came to the table, asked which one of us was Barbara, and welcomed me and my party. Odd, yet somehow natural feeling.
Dad had a good time, a good day, surrounded by people who love him. I felt so lucky, so lucky that I know my father, that I love my father, that I consider my father my friend. Shit, my father is my ROOMMATE! How many people can say that? Iím lucky that on Fatherís Day my only thoughts are overwhelming appreciation for being blessed with the Dad I have. Itís a good feeling. Itís better than good. The power of appreciation is a magical thing. I should wield mine a little more often, I bet I could see and experience amazing things in life if I did.
Alright, sounds like a plan. But for now, it's time to wield the work-wand. Let's get to it then!