tinhuviel: (Ornate Triskele)
Day 1: Your favourite song - "Despite Dense Weed" by Shriekback
Day 2: A Song that Makes You Cry - Pippin's song from "The Lord of the Rings"
Day 3: A song that makes you dance. - "Daylight" by Matt & Kim
Day 4: Your favorite male singer. - Jeff Lynne, hands down.
Day 5: Your favorite female singer. - Johnette Napolitano
Day 6: Your favorite band. - Shriekback
Day 7: One band/singer you're ashamed to admit you like. - The Backstreet Boys
Day 8: One band/singer whose popularity you will never understand. - Nickelcrap
Day 9: A song that reminds you of an ex. - Celtic Dream by Ronan Hardiman

Day 10: A song that reminds you of your father.

When I first played this song for the Father Unit, he was enthralled with Israel's voice, said it had a bell-like quality that so few voices possess. I bought the CD for him and he'd sit in his chair at the kitchen table and listen to the album over and over again, especially this song. As a result, I've since equated Iz's "Somewhere over the Rainbow" with the Father Unit and I get a little sad when I hear it, because I miss.
more to come )
tinhuviel: (Caveman)
The above subject line has less to do with the content of this post and more to do with my general hatred of all-confining subject lines. Sometimes, I like to let my mind wonder whilst writing these and Flying Weasels allow me to that much more easily than "I got my hairrr did today."

Off and on I've been watching Avatar on the computer today. I must say I've enjoyed it much more in this format than on the TV. I could never get the sound balanced out which made the movie unbearably loud or so low, I couldn't make out the dialogue. With my handy-dandy ear plugs, though, this wasn't an issue and I followed along much more easily and without a headache. Always good things in Tin's Land. Uncle Michael wants his movie back my Monday, so I'm probably gonna watch it a couple more times before grudgingly handing it back over to him.

One movie I've been wanting to see again is Pee Wee's Big Adventure. There are just so many comedic gems in that movie and to sit back almost 30 years later and be able to watch the birth a beautiful working relationship heartens me in a way. The world would never have been the same if Tim Burton and Danny Elfman hadn't struck up a working friendship. It's such things as that, that make me believe in a higher power.

My nails have grown out and are exceedingly strong. I'm gonna see if I have any decent nail polish and polish them sometime tomorrow. They're the longest right now than they've been when I worked at the Pit. I'm typing with my nails instead of my fingers. Yes, that long. I may just say "fuck it" and cut them down to nubbins like I've been doing. I can't see myself being concerned with nail polish right now. Just...not interested.

I'm keen on working on The Moon Myths, but I've vowed not to touch that project until I'm finished completely with The Vampire Relics. I just wonder what the Father Unit would have thought about it all. He wrote a great deal. The Mother Unit writes too. I recall reading part of a manuscript that put me in mind later on of I Am Legend, but there was a real freaky twist to it. I wonder if she still has it and would be willing to maybe collaborate. The Father Unit tended to write more comedic material and pieces that one might find in The Saturday Evening Post. Not my thing, but I respected his ability to do so. I think I fall more in the Mother Unit's category of The Strange and Unusual. She trained me early, letting me watch Dark Shadows from my crib.

I'd like to also touch on my memories of the Beezers, actual phenemona that happened to me when I was a baby and a toddler. I'd be very interested to make contact with Whitley Streiber and see what he thought about the Beezers. Personally, I think I was being dicked around with by the Greys. I'm going to be as objective as possible, but you know how time and the ebb and flow of memories can affect one's objectivity.

There are just so many projects on which I could work once the proofing and rewrites on The Relics are completed. I honestly got a little antsy toward the end of The Augury of Gideon. What would I do with my time? What would I write? Almost immediately, the answer came "write and write whatever you damned well please!" It was refreshing to hear that ~ liberating. So that's what I'm gonna do. I've lived with my Vampires for almost a quarter of a century. It's time to move onward and upward, and see where it takes me. Here's hoping Fey is on board for that particular journey.

My pain levels are high today, so my mind is bouncing around like an under-inflated beach ball soaked in BP tar balls. Lovely metaphor...shame we have to 'get it.' Aunt Tudi and I have quibbled a couple of times, mainly because I'm arse when I'm hurting and she's always the strong, hard rock of a pioneer woman who won't let anything get her down. I just want to slap up-side the head on days like today. I'm going to watch Wipe-Out, laugh at the slapstick, then go to bed early. Because I can.


Jun. 14th, 2010 12:30 pm
tinhuviel: (Tin May 2010)
This month my Father Unit would have turned 65. But he died the day after his birthday on the 29th of March. My Father was a big goofball, constantly being the clown at the expense of no one ever taking him seriously. I certainly didn't and all he ever wanted from me was my respect. That couple of years of his life, we came to a certain understanding of one another and we got along fabulously. Music and movies were the topics that drew us together.

There was a song that I introduced to him that he loved so much, I bought him the album it was on. It was "Somewhere over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole. He said that the man had the clearest voice of anyone he'd ever heard. He would listen to the album and that particular song repeatedly as he sat at the kitchen table.

My father died at that kitchen table, the day after his birthday, which he spent alone. I often wonder if he was listening to Iz at the time. As a result, I can't listen to Iz without thinking of my father and all the years we wasted. He was a good man. He was a troubled man. As I get older, I can feel his presence in my personality and I no longer balk at the urge to be the clown or write with grandiosity. I have my mother to keep me level and my father to dare to go over the rainbow. I don't listen to that song anymore, because the loss of my Father Unit is more raw now than it was when he died.

But I have the song and the album for when I can listen and smile at how amazed my father was when he first heard it.
tinhuviel: (PSA)
Sometimes I feel I have the world's shittiest luck. First I couldn't get my recorder to record, then it was my microphone. Got all that sorted. But, each time I go to record my lines (and screams) for HG World, some sort of crap happens. And, just now, when I thought I was gonna get away with it, the happy sounds of children in a pool came bleeding into my car. I'm trying to do this in my car because of the flat acoustics and the lack of any fan or A/C sounds that are rampant in the house.

So... I asked Janice to call me when her grandkids are out of the pool. I also told her that, if it were after dark and she heard bloodcurdling screams, it was just me being killed by my husband and turning into a Zombie. She looked at me like they all used to look at the Father Unit, who often got into strange and unusual activities. Just that one look made me feel totally victorious.

And so I wait.


Oct. 29th, 2008 09:57 pm
tinhuviel: (Pentagram)
I don't work anywhere on Friday and I'd thought about having High Ritual for Samhain, but I'm too gutted to do so. Intellectually, I know it will probably make me feel better, but my heart just isn't in it. What I do want to do is take some food out for the spirits and ancestors, namely the Father Unit. I swear I miss him more now than I did when he first passed. It's been over two years now and just thinking about him brings tears to my eyes. I'd often wondered about actors who say that they can think of something that can instantly conjure tears but, now, I understand how it is they can do that.

My plan is to offer up some apple, cut cross-wise, cheese, and bread. I haven't the money for any wine, but I'm certain the Mighties will understand my situation.

Amy was asking if Wiccans celebrated Hallowe'en. Without getting too deep into the subject, I told her about how it's the Celtic new year and one of the most important holidays in the religion. She seemed satisfied with that answer and didn't press any further. She may bring her Scottie Willard into work tomorrow, dressed in his "I'm with Stupid" muscle shirt. That should be fun.
tinhuviel: (Daffy Duck)
Here's batch number one, with closed captioning, behind the cut. Warning!! This is a very image-heavy post and is absolutely unfriendly to dial-up users. May the Mighties have mercy on all our souls.

ai yai yai )

I'll do more tomorrow, if'n I get my way. For now, though, I must take my exhausted behonkie to bed.
tinhuviel: (Reflection)
I can't listen to "Somewhere over the Rainbow" by Israel Ka'ano'i Kamakawiwo'ole anymore because it's been marked by memories of the Father Unit. Hearing it just makes me incredibly woeful. Daddy passed in 2006 and the wound seems more raw now than it did when he left us. Aunt Tudi seems to feel the same way, but she talks about it...to me. I try to be strong and not cry when she does this, but her dialogue is like a hot knife in my heart. I miss him. I regret some of the things that happened between us. I wish we'd had a better relationship and that I had more memories of him, and better memories of him. When the Mother Unit and he separated, some very scary things happened, things that still burrow into my deepest core to cause a subtle dread in the child turned adult. But it doesn't stop me from missing him. I just want another day with him. I'd make the most of every minute and make sure he knew that I truly loved him. I'm not sure he really knew that when he died and it breaks my heart to think of it. My relationship with my Father Unit is definitely a major link in my own Jacob Marley's Chain.

I miss the energy and sanctity of a Circle of Witches, working together and singing together. There was a passage in Dies the Fire I read today that brought back the Magickal moments experienced in Hecate Triskele. I miss the Temple and, especially, the sodded Circle found at the base of the dangerous stone steps that led to it. The times I had with Lord Ariel Morgan, when we worked together as High Priestess and High Priest, were particularly astounding because I felt the presence of the Living Goddess within me. He and I spoke such sacred words during those times, our eloquence going beyond our capacity as humans outside the Circle.

Being Solitary isn't always easy. And knowing that I can never go back to the mountain, to the sacred Caledonii Circle, makes me very sad indeed. It's like never being able to go home. I may write Ariel and ask him if the Circle still exists and if his parents would mind my visiting sometime. It's a drastic move, but one that needs doing because the ache to return there just grows as the years pass by.

Storm Moon is coming soon. The moon of March has always held a special place in my Witch's heart. I guess you could say that Storm Magick is one of my specialties. It may be time for a High Ritual at the coming Esbat. Prayers need to be said. Cleansing needs to be performed. A reconnection needs to be made.

And, afterward, perhaps I'll look for active Covens in the area, just to visit and soak up the energies only a group of Witches can create. Or maybe not. Being Solitary isn't easy, but it isn't easy to not be Solitary either.
tinhuviel: (Gothtin)

  • His high-pitched howl when my three-year old hand clutched on to his partial erection through his shorts and the subsequent laughter when I asked, "what's this, Daddy?"

  • Daddy coming in the middle of the night to see me, his arms overloaded with brand new board games.

  • Daddy and me leaving the Mother Unit's new residence, Daddy crying and driving erratically while "Seasons in the Sun" blared on the radio.

  • In a big plastic pool with Daddy, the two of us having farting contests and laughing at the bubbles in the water. I am most definitely my father's daughter when it comes to flatulence.

  • His practicing with his folk-country band, many songs he wrote himself, like "Carolina Mountains."

  • Daddy coming for visits, guitar in hand, and the two of us singing together.

  • Daddy teaching me how to play "Third Man Theme" on his guitar.

  • The original version of "Buggy Buggy," when it was still a rap song.

  • How he was left by his mother-in-law at the hospital, dazed and confused from the meds the doctor had given him. Aunt Tudi and I went and got him, and brought him home.

  • Him and the Stepmother Unit taking me to a friend's house where I saw my first VHS movies: Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Cat Ballou.

  • Having to call him to tell him that Granny (his mother) had died. He was in Japan and, as usual, by himself. He grieved in solitude.

  • Our arguments about the British Isles. He didn't like living there (he lived in Haverford West, Wales) and tried to convince me how bad it was. I wouldn't hear it. When I finally got to go, I returned to tell him that I still thought the UK was fantastic.

  • I remember Daddy, Aunt Tudi, Granny, and the Mother Unit making up songs and singing them together, or singing the "Hawaiian War Chant" and getting me, a toddler, to hula like mad.

  • Daddy and me fighting over his buying me stuff I didn't ask for, didn't need, and didn't want.

  • Daddy taking me to the USS Yorktown, to the beach (for my first time), and to my first seafood restaurant (The Trawler). I was 14.

  • Him chasing BB through the house with his hat, and the bird just fussing up a storm at him.

  • Him calling Aunt Tudi "Ott" and her calling him "Ott." That's how they always addressed and signed their letters.

  • The night Daddy and I saw a "walking tree" outside our house. It put it's gnarled hand on the window and we both screamed with fright. I contend that this was an alien encounter now. I discussed the incident with him years later and he remembered it clearly.

  • Him coming in to rescue me from the Beezers that swarmed my crib at night.

  • Him yelling at me for throwing a popcorn box out the car window on the way home from seeing Dumbo at the drive-in. I was 4 and I never littered again.

  • Daddy yelling in general. To this day, I can't stand really loud anything because it triggers panic in me. I can trace that back to Daddy yelling in anger so much when I was a kid.

  • Listening to his radio show in the early 70s.

  • Watching Law & Order with him and trying to determine who did it. It's his fault I'm such a Law & Order junkie now.

  • Re-enacting scenes from a number of Mel Brooks films. Daddy was the one who got me started on Mel Brooks. We could quote entire scenes from his movies. Daddy shared a birthday with Mel Brooks and I always felt there was a special reason for that.

  • Him sitting with me trying to explain why he and the Mother Unit had broken up, and not doing a very good job of it. His subjective account wasn't the healthiest thing in the world for me.

  • Him making me his famous "Ham what am, and cheese to please" sandwiches, complete with a pickle on top.

  • Daddy showing me how to draw and giving me all manner of art supplies over the years.

I'm sure there's so much more lodged in my head, but I can't go on with this for now. I need to focus on something else for a while. I need to stop hurting. Comments are disabled, as they aren't necessary.

Thanks to everyone for your support. You all mean more to me than you can possibly imagine.
tinhuviel: (Frustration)
After not hearing anything all day long, I called Mary to find out what the coroner said. She was very nonchalant about the whole thing, informing me that Daddy's death was long overdue and that it was natural causes. I asked her if there was anything I could do and she said no. I asked her if there was anything I should do, explaining that I'd never had a parent die and I was his only child. Her response was, and I quote: "No, everything is pretty simple. The house and car are in my name. That's how we arranged it because of his health, so no there's nothing you need to do."

It was like she thought I was looking for some sort of inheritance. I wasn't. I know Daddy left everything to Mary. I always played second fiddle where Daddy was concerned. But her remarks just cut me to the bone.

I'd wonder why she's being so callous to me, but that's Mary's way. She never wanted much to do with me. It was only this past year that we showed any indication of getting even remotely close, after 25 years of her being married to Daddy. Now? I guess she just wants to move on and forget she ever knew me.

That's fine. Yet another reason to keep my distance from people. Cos people suck.
tinhuviel: (Pensive)
Thank you to everyone who sent me their condolences. It means more than you can imagine.

I found the last picture I had made with Daddy.

Dad & Me )

It's difficult for me to fathom that he's gone. All that keeps running through my mind is the song he wrote back in the 70s, "Carolina Mountains." It was so pretty and he sang it beautifully.

There will be no service, per Daddy's will. He is to be immediately cremated and his ashes saved until Mary dies, at which time their ashes will be mingled. There will be no ritual of any kind during which I can properly say goodbye, so I'll have my own ritual here at home.

According to their next door neighbour, who called me earlier this evening, I am supposed to just lie low until Mary calls me. This dude talked down to me like he thought I was some sort of idiot and it kind of pissed me off. If I haven't heard from Mary about the arrangements by tomorrow afternoon, so at least I'll know when my father is being cremated, I'm going to call her despite what the neighbour said. He instructed me not to call her, but to wait for her to call me. I'm sorry, but I can only give 24 hours. I'm not going to risk having to talk to the neighbour again. It's not his place to be the messenger and I think I deserve a bit more than his patronising me as though I were a brainless intruder.

The Father Unit and I had a tumultuous relationship. It seemed sometimes that I was forever frozen in time to him as the 6 year old he lost when he and the Mother Unit divorced. He always wanted to go back in time and redo some of the things he did, or do some of the things he didn't and wanted to or should have. There was a bit of resentment on my part where he was concerned. It's there with the Mother Unit too. Despite Aunt Tudi always being there for me, I couldn't help but feel just a tad abandoned by both parents. They were too young to start a family and too immature to maintain one. It doesn't mean I don't love them, though. I'll always love them. Daddy was always on my case to forgive him for his past transgressions, and I had, but he couldn't let it go. I think it's because he could never completely forgive himself. All I hope is that he's found the peace on the other side that he wouldn't allow himself over here. We wasted far too many years on the past instead of trying to enjoy our present, much less think about our future.

I wish things had been different.
tinhuviel: (Wales)
My dad is dead.

He turned 61 yesterday and today my stepmother came home to find him sitting in his chair, dead.

We don't know what took him yet. The coroner will have to determine that. But it could have been a number of things. He was in extremely poor health and was being visited by Hospice at least once a week, most of the time more than once.

I don't know what will happen next. I don't think there will be any services as Daddy wanted to be cremated and keep things as low-key as possible. I'm sure that Aunt Tudi and I will be going down to Moncks Corner in the next few days to help Mary with whatever, but I don't know about anything right now. I don't even know if my presence is needed, required, or wanted.

I was his only child. And I don't even know what responsibilities that carries, if it does.

Aunt Tudi is all to pieces. She doesn't handle loss very well. Daddy was her younger brother and they were unimaginably close. So I'm being strong for her, like I did when Granny died. I can grieve in my own time, in private, so as not to distress anyone else.

I talked to him yesterday, wished him a happy birthday. Aunt Tudi and I had already sent his present to him early: super binoculars so he could eyeball the local birds. He got to use them for two weeks. He told me on the phone yesterday that he'd had a good birthday so far but, now that I'd called, it was a fantastic birthday. He told me that he loved me very much. I told him I loved him too.

And that was that.
tinhuviel: (Union Jack Heart)
Aunt Tudi and I zipped down to Moncks Corner to get some luggage from the Father Unit. The gigantic case we use for all our stuff was damaged by Northwest Airlines during the NYC trip, so it's no longer viable for travel, especially international travel. The Father Unit offered up his luggage, so off we went for a road trip from hell. 3.5 hours to get there, 4 hours to visit, 3.5 hours to get back home, and in time enough for LOST!

And now we have luggage fit for queens for to place all our duds and toiletries. The goodies I'm taking over to the UK will be more protected in these cases too, I'm thinking. If I can bring myself to pick up the phone tomorrow, I need to call the airline and see about lugging some Cheerwine over the pond. I have two little English people who've got a jones that's around 6 years old now. That's just wrong.

And jelly. Apple jelly for my incredibly kind hostess. Yeah. I need to talk to Continental. Or maybe The Continental. "Champagne?" Heh.

It looks like 16 May is the day I'll meet Barry Andrews face-to-face. My memorial service will then be on 19 May. Please come and ogle what's left of my dead body and sign the register. The funeral will be 20 May. "Eldorado" by the Electric Light Orchestra will be played. Since Aunt Tudi's birthday is 24 May, please make sure all of you coddle and spoil her really good in my absence. She'll need all the lovin' she can get if I'm dead. Woe is I.
tinhuviel: (Sexy Joker)
The Father Unit has some connections with a law firm in Charleston that is looking for individuals whom they could train to be paralegals. Based on the firm's criteria, he believes I'd be a perfect candidate and asked if I would be interested in moving down to Moncks Corner and working for lawyers. What's so cool about this is there's a house two tenths of a mile away from the Father Unit that's for sale. It has a fenced in yard and is probably twice as large as the house I have now. There's that and the fact that I've seriously considered going into the legal field, specifically as a paralegal. There's also the coolness of Tri-County tech being just a few miles down the road in Moncks Corner. Tri-County has a vet tech program. I could work and be learning the paralegal field at the same time I'm going to school learning to be a vet tech, whilst living in a larger, nicer home with all my animals and probably a few more. And, when it gets cooler and storm season is upon us, I could drive about 30 miles and be at Mother Ocean to enjoy the tempests raging the coast.

I'm very seriously considering this new road that has presented itself.

The Stepmother Unit enjoys a very....special....relationship with BB Burdie, the yellow-headed green parlour chicken. He will fly over and land on her hand at which time she will present her thumb to him. BB then proceeds to sweet-talk her thumb and make kissy noises while he makes love to her knuckle. He rubs, humps, and wraps his wings around her hand, all the time making cat-calls and telling the Stepmother Unit that he loves her. She's talking back to him, encouraging his manly work and calling him a sexy bird. After a while of this, BB will hork up his dinner and ejaculate on her knuckles, then fly off a satisfied bird.

To my knowledge, BB does this with no one else but the Stepmother Unit.....until today. Since she's gone and he's an uber-horny parakeet, BB decided that I could substitute in the fulfillment of his prurient needs. The bird humped both hands, but preferred my right, perhaps because of my tattoo. Who knows? My thumbs have never enjoyed so many compliments and declarations of undying love. I responded with words of encouragement and some "bowm-chicka-bowm-bowm" music. The horny little parlour chicken humped and rubbed all over me, then tossed his cookies and came like a porn star. I took a picture of the two of us in afterglow.

Me and my new lover )

I guess this means that I have engaged in bestiality and will now bust hell wide open. Whatever. The bird is happy and I'm incredibly amused. This shall forever be known as The Easter Tin Sexed It up with a Yellow-Headed Green Parlour Chicken.



Apr. 15th, 2006 04:47 pm
tinhuviel: (Mongo)
First, I want to declare that canned crab meat tastes like San Diego's ass water mixed with the unwashed juices emitting from an aged French whore. I will not attempt that again, nay nay nay.

Now that I have that out of the way, I can continue with my happy little post.

Aunt Tudi and I hit the road a little before 9 this morning and got to the Father Unit's shortly after 12. All we've done since is pretty much chitchat with each other while Aunt Tudi and the Father Unit play some sort of Roy Rogers pinball game from their childhood. The Stepmother Unit is with her mother in Irmo yucking it up for Easter, but the Father Unit couldn't accompany her because he had surgery on Monday and isn't recovered enough to travel. So here we are. This is the first Spring holiday I've spent with him since 1974. Whoa.

We're having tilapia for dinner. Why have I just recently started hearing about tilapia, like in the past couple of years? Was it called something else before that or is it a newly discovered edible fish? Or am I just ignorant?

Speaking of ignorance, I've decided that Shmoop is an idiot savant. She is so incredibly stupid in so many areas, but shines through in others. Actually, I think she believes she is a dog. She wants to eat dog food, she fights the dogs for their treats (especially Pupcorns), and she fetches. Her catly skills are sadly lacking and I do fear for her wellbeing when she's outside because, really, the cat doesn't have sense god gave a toenail. The last time we left the ladies at home to come down to the Father Unit's, we returned to find that Shmoop had shut herself and Motley up in the bathroom. Via the cunning methods of deduction, I surmised that they'd been trapped in there for around 12 hours. So, this time, I've blocked the door so she can't do that again, but they can still have access to the litter pan.

I'm seriously considering going to watch Pirates of the Caribbean on the Father Unit's gigantic TV. I'm not really all that fond of the movie, but I'd love to see Johnny Depp in pirate drag on a large screen. Surely that will give me nice dreams tonight. God knows I could use them.

Right now, I'm wrapped up in one of the Father Unit's long-sleeved shirts. Both the FU and Aunt Tudi are hotter than fire crackers and have turned the AC down to 60-something. Even though it's in the mid-90s outside, I'm sitting in here suffering from a chronic and probably fatal case of chicken pimplage.

I wrenched a quiz from [livejournal.com profile] serifem's hands and am posting it here. The other quizzes I had saved for my Friday Quiz Party are still on my laptop waiting to be posted. I feel like a dink forgetting to post them yesterday, but I have had difficulty figuring out what day it is all week. I may post them when I get home on Monday.

angeles )
tinhuviel: (Pentagram)
We decided to stay an extra day and leave early tomorrow morning. This Daylight Savings Time bullshit kicked my arse all over the place and so I've vegetated most of the day. So has Aunt Tudi.

Oh, I found a recording of the Father Unit's "Buggy Buggy Boogie" and will be sharing it with willing victims upon my return home. It's quite simply one of the most brilliant songs I've ever heard.

[livejournal.com profile] piperdawn has my curiosity all freaked out about Laurie Cabot. We Witches need our own Jerry Springer show, so we can find out the dirt on our kind.

Before I return to the living room to watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind, I present this. I dunno what it means, but it's purdy.

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tinhuviel: (EYE-GORE)
Before making it to the Father and Stepmother Unit's abode, we stopped at....WAL-MART....to pick up a particular kind of candy for the Father Unit. They didn't have the candy, but I saw that this store from hell is now carrying Holy Blood, Holy Grail alongside The Da Vinci Code. This is, without a doubt, a serious omen of the imminent Alpaca Lips.

So yeah, I broke my New Years Resolution of never darkening the door of another Wal-Mart, but this doesn't mean I'm planning on going back any time soon...preferably never

The Stepmother Unit ordered pizza from Pizza Hut and we all noshed until we could nosh no more. While The Father Unit and Aunt Tudi discussed their myriad health issues, The Stepmother Unit and I watched "Close to Home" and I loaded some music from their collection onto iGor. I now have 4551 songs on iGor, including "Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road." That's damned special.

Not sure what we'll be doing tomorrow, but I'm hoping it involves relaxation as that's one of my favourite hobbies these days. Sad, but true.


Mar. 18th, 2006 08:32 pm
tinhuviel: (Sith Tin)
Paul Goodloe has the jawbone of an ass. The man seriously needs to have it shaved down with a Craftsman sander. It bothers me that I even have opinions about The Weather Channel's meteorologists. This is a sign that I'm aging without a shred of grace. That and my obsession with Law & Order. When I told Todd the other night that I watched Law & Order on a regular basis, he howled with horror and declared me officially old.

My big cushy Sony "Quality Assurance"-style headphones fit iGor. This makes me very happy 'cos the ear buds hurt my mutant ears. I'm listening to my Vampire Mix and preparing to work on the second draft of The Chalice.

I want a hamburger with nothing on it but mayonnaise. I used to eat these luscious sammiches on a regular basis when I was a wee tot. It'd be nice to have one right about now.

One of the animals is suffering from Explosive Flatulence. I swear to the god that, if I get another whiff of this hellish gas, I am going to be stricken blind and then perish soon thereafter. It's making me want to roll around on the floor and screech like Ethel Merman on a helium/LSD combo. Everything is not coming up roses.

The Father Unit has gotten into the habit of calling Aunt Tudi's cell phone if he finds me online. If he continues this poor behaviour, I will be forced to hook up my cell phone charger and insert the charging end into his chocolate whiz-way until he lay dead from the electricity coursing through his body. It will be a slow and uncomfortable demise, greatly resembling my cell phone bill. Amen. He offers to pay his portion of the bill but, really, I'd be rude to let him do that. I'd rather just kill him.

I have been bitten by a flea. Mosquitoes to follow shortly.
tinhuviel: (EYE-GORE)
Moncks Corner that is. We made it down here around 1:30, hung out with the Father Unit for a while, then headed off to Staples so he could pick up a paper shredder. After that, we zipped to Applebees for a quick bite. I didn't get a drink, 'cos I was the one driving. Mary was still at work, so we picked her up some coconut shrimp.

We're now back at the house and I'm already eyeballing the bed like a sweet sweet lover. Tired I am, and sleepy too. And weary. That's the ticket...weary.

We drive back home tomorrow. Travelling is so much easier with iGor. No CDs to bother with. And the anticipation of what's next in Shuffle Mode is sometimes so intense, I'm tempted to pee my pants. ::loves on iGor::
tinhuviel: (Mr. Tiscic)
Everyone is having a lie down except for me, because I was a lazy arse who didn't get up until 3 PM. It's relatively peaceful and quiet, except for BB Burdie, who has issues with shutting the fuck up.

My foul humour has mellowed a wee bit, so I risked coming back to LJ. So far, so good.

The Father Unit is hellbent on talking about The Past, which is really uncool, 'cos he gets all maudlin and apologetic and all I want to do is visit in peace. I told him this time that he really needs to live in the present and stop bringing all that bullshit up, 'cos he does it every time I'm around him for any length of time and it gets tedious. He said he didn't realise he did that and got even more apologetic. I swear, I'm gonna end up killing him in his sleep....if I can stay awake long enough to do the deed, that is.

Seriously though, he really needs to just let it all go. I haven't the patience for reliving and rehashing hoo-hah that does nothing but make people miserable. If you want to have a decent relationship with me, then try to do what BB can't and shut the fuck up!

I'm really missing the beasties today. My Shmoop is surely feeling abandoned by now. This is the longest she's been away from me since 5 weeks of age. Poor bebbeh. I squeeze her from afar.

It looks like we'll be heading home on Saturday, so we'll have enough time to get the house in order before the beasties return on Monday. I'll be giving them their last flea treatment upon their return home. I think flea season is pretty much over with in our area.

It's supposed to be cloudy and rainy tomorrow: a perfect day to visit the beach! I don't like hot sunny days on the beach. I want my beach days to be cloudy, cool, windy, and rainy, preferably with a rocky cliff in my line of site and maybe some dramatic music from a 1950s British drama. Yeah. I'm hoping that the beach will be abandoned by the sun worshippers and left barren for folks like me, of which I doubt there are very many around right now. It will be glorious, of that I have no doubt. Oh, and I will be taking pictures.

Right now, I can't get my mind off Snakes on a Plane. That's the coolest movie title EVAR. Samuel L. just continues to rise in levels of coolness.

Maybe I need to go be a little social now. I hear stirrings in the other room. It may be time to let BB out of his roost. Since he's decided that I'm Good People, BB has decided to sit on my finger and head and make all manner of noises. I've been accepted into his flock of one. Perhaps I can teach him some rude phrases before heading home. Bwaaahahahah!

(LOST in less than 2 hours...)

Long Day

Oct. 11th, 2005 11:24 am
tinhuviel: (Life Stinks)
I have the sneaking suspicion that today is going to be very long and arduous. Although I haven't a reason to feel this way, I do anyway.

The Father Unit wants to be taken to the grocery store today. He's a heinous backseat driver, so I'm not looking forward to being on the road with him at all. Aunt Tudi doesn't seem to be feeling the best in the world and neither does the Father Unit. I'm going to have two unhealthy, ill-tempered siblings in my car while I drive roads to which I'm unaccustomed.

Maybe I should just walk out to the street and lie down in the middle of the road, hoping someone will squoosh me like an opossum.

After Mary gets home, we're supposed to gather 'round the dining room table and play a game called Worst Case Scenario. Even though I adored them as a child, I'm really not fond of board games now. They make me nervous and uneasy, having to sit at a table for so long, most usually performing repetitive tasks. It's nerve-wracking.

Damn, I just read what I've written and I sound like a brat who just can't be pleased. Well, maybe that's exactly how I feel today. Maybe I should live up to my Inner Brat and crawl off to the bedroom to sulk. Sheesh.

24 Hours

Oct. 9th, 2005 08:48 pm
tinhuviel: (Kowalski)
And already my patience is being stretched to a taut, thin thread.

Please oh please, whatever Mighty may read this on the Astral Plane, please to give me the stamina to withstand 6 more days of Aunt Tudi and the Father Unit together.

Amen, So Mote It Be, Make It So Number One.
tinhuviel: (Eh wot?)
I can't log onto the Intarwebs on my lappy from the Father Unit's house. He no longer has Area Plus and all the access numbers available are long distance. Crapola! This means that I'm going to be woefully behind on my Friends Page because I can't hole myself up in the computer room the entire time I'm here. That would be rather rude, and I try not to be rather rude, only mildly rude as is in my Sith nature.

That said, HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN ADVANCE to anyone who has a birthday this next week. I don't have my LJ Client on which to lean to tell me when to wish someone a happy birthday, so please pardon my blanket well-wishes.

Also, if there are any posts you wish to which you wish to draw my attention, please put a link to the post in comments, and I'll most definitely check it out, k? K!

For my birthday, the Father Unit has bestowed upon me not only The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie, but also the old BBC series on DVD. Verily am I a happy camper and shall be overloading [livejournal.com profile] zbeb with numerous screen caps upon my victorious return to the domicile.

Pictures will also be forthcoming. Granny has grown up to be a beautiful and lush cat lady. Aunt Tudi and I will also be going to Sullivan's Island during the week to commune with Mother Ocean. Of the two oceans I've been blessed with beholding and touching (the Atlantic and the Pacific), I have to say that I'm quite partial to my dark grey Mama Atlantic. Maybe it's because I'm a hopeless East Coaster, but the Atlantic Ocean on a cloudy Autumn day makes me want to weep and sing Celtic dirges, but in a totally positive way.

Then again, seeing the beautiful water on LOST makes me want to run off to Hawaii and learn to play the ukelele. What a pipe dream that is.
tinhuviel: (Alrighty then)
I won't be going to see Llew this evening because he'll be babysitting Destiny. It appears that Billy and Melanie both have to work tonight, so that precludes any romantic encounters we may have planned. It's just as well, though, 'cos the weather is atrocious and I don't really fancy having to go back out in all this rain. Don't get me wrong, I adore rain, but there comes a point where it's no longer winsome and peaceful; rather, it's just messy and soggy. After around a month of no rain whatsoever, getting this much in a single day is preposterous.

I've put the season one DVD of Battlestar Galactica in my bag and will drop it off at Llew's tomorrow morning. I promised him he could borrow it and catch up on the goings-on of Starbuck and gang whilst I'm out of town. Llew seemed very excited at getting his paws on BSG. Here's hoping he enjoys it. What am I saying? I know he'll enjoy it. He also has a crush on Starbuck. We have this in common, he and I.

Earlier I had a groovy chat with Todd. He played me some System of a Down over the phone and we chattered about David Lynch's Dune (one of our favourite subjects as there's just so much material to work with there). He's planning on coming home next month for Thanksgiving. It's gonna be bloody good to see my bestest pal.

I'm craving orange juice like a Floridian on Crack. Now, I'm not claiming to know what a Floridian on Crack would crave other than Crack, nor am I making a derogatory remark about Floridians in general. I merely mention the Floridian on Crack because most orange juice comes from Florida. It's just a thing, man! I'm not PC, so shoot me. Anyway, that Simply Orange orange juice with heavy pulp throws me into multiple juicegasms. It's the best damned orange juice I've ever splashed down my throat. But now I'm out of juice. So I cry.

Aunt Tudi is on the phone with the Father Unit. I've asked that she inform him that, come Wednesday at 9 PM, he should just consider me nonexistent. LOST will be on at that time and, if the Father Unit even attempts to talk to me between 9 and 10 that night, I shall swiftly cut his throat. I'm serious, man. Ain't nobody gonna come between me and Freak Island!

I'm taking my laptop with me to Moncks Corner. It's not so much a luxury this time as it is a necessity. I'll have to do my weekly Monster.com search for my unemployment records. Needless to say, this means that I'll probably remain current on LJ. Surely, I cannot go a full week without access to my beloved Live Journal! Perish the thought!

The Leaving

Aug. 7th, 2005 12:43 pm
tinhuviel: (Humanity)
We'll be leaving Moncks Corner between 4 and 5 today. I'm satisfied that the Father Unit is doing okay.

Had nightmares last night. The head, she hurts.
tinhuviel: (Mr. Tiscic)
It's 8:30. At 9, we're heading for Moncks Corner to go see the Father Unit. If all goes okay, I'll be back by tomorrow evening.
tinhuviel: (Luthien Tinhuviel)

Lew's dad's funeral is tomorrow. Lew had to arrange everything as it seems he was designated as the executor of his dad's estate. It's been really difficult on him so far. He has a ways to go.

Before I could even begin to make amends with Daddy, he lashed out at Aunt Tudi and declared that he didn't ever want to hear from her again. Mind you, he's done this before. He's deeply depressed...even more so after his bypass surgery....and he needs to be on anti-depressants in a major way.

But I can't help but think that he will never change and, no matter how much I reach out, I will simply end up getting burned again. So, I'm still debating on whether I should even bother and if it would make any difference in the long run.


Jan. 25th, 2003 02:00 pm
tinhuviel: (Triskele)
Lew's dad has died. He had bypass surgery about 5 years ago and did quite well for a while but his health has declined this past year. He passed away peacefully in his sleep, so that's a comfort. Lew is flying up to Jersey tomorrow to be with his mom.
I feel so badly for Lew and his family right now. His dad was planning on coming to see him in the near future. At least he had a good conversation with him just last week.
After work I'm supposed to go pick up Lew so he can leave his car at the house and take him to the airport tomorrow morning.
When I get home tomorrow, I may call Daddy and try to patch things up between us. His bypass hasn't been a big success and I want things right in the the event...

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