Ghost-of-a-Chance

Kids these days will never experience many of the rites of passage my generation valued more than gold. For instance: saving up your allowance for three weeks during the summer so you can buy one of those giant plastic Pixie Stix at the public pool’s canteen and downing the whole thing in one go to use it as a snorkel and spending the rest of the month with a burning feeling in the back of your throat that tastes like cherries, chlorine, and stale pee. 
…those lucky saps.

Kids these days will never experience many of the rites of passage my generation valued more than gold. For instance: saving up your allowance for three weeks during the summer so you can buy one of those giant plastic Pixie Stix at the public pool’s canteen and downing the whole thing in one go to use it as a snorkel and spending the rest of the month with a burning feeling in the back of your throat that tastes like cherries, chlorine, and stale pee. 
…those lucky saps.

Kids these days will never experience many of the rites of passage my generation valued more than gold. For instance: saving up your allowance for three weeks during the summer so you can buy one of those giant plastic Pixie Stix at the public pool’s canteen and downing the whole thing in one go to use it as a snorkel and spending the rest of the month with a burning feeling in the back of your throat that tastes like cherries, chlorine, and stale pee. 
…those lucky saps.

Kids these days will never experience many of the rites of passage my generation valued more than gold. For instance: saving up your allowance for three weeks during the summer so you can buy one of those giant plastic Pixie Stix at the public pool’s canteen and downing the whole thing in one go to use it as a snorkel and spending the rest of the month with a burning feeling in the back of your throat that tastes like cherries, chlorine, and stale pee. 
…those lucky saps.

This day 6 years ago, I landed in New York, my first time in the US. Hard to believe it was that long ago. That trip was when I saw snow for the first time. That was very exciting. Although I soon realised what a pain in the arse it is.

Got to love when your role expands but there’s no appropriate compensation.

There are many unmentioned benefits to marrying your best friend…benefits such as them bringing you a cat to cuddle because said cat got too comfy in their lap and ripped a loud, wet, nasty fart.
Yep, it was Heiferlump. Also yes, Cold did run away cackling afterward. Boys. 

There are many unmentioned benefits to marrying your best friend…benefits such as them bringing you a cat to cuddle because said cat got too comfy in their lap and ripped a loud, wet, nasty fart.
Yep, it was Heiferlump. Also yes, Cold did run away cackling afterward. Boys. 

So.  Learned a lesson while upgrading my OS.  Somehow, my personal IP was blocked from the domain.  Manta and I have been pulling our hair out trying to figure out why the hell I couldn’t connect

Well, y’all, we finally did it. We’re moving to a new house in my hometown! And nobody died in it so I should be the only Ghost there! 
Going on hiatus sucks, for sure, but I’m still so happy I could squeal. Heifer and Woozle are predictably unenthused, but cats don’t get a vote. This area has gotten too damned expensive and dangerous for us, and I’m tired of being homesick. Fortunately, the Woozle-bug already has a great vet in the city to help with his health problems (the scariest of which is showing some improvement, yay!) and Heiferlump? She’s going to have an entire neighborhood to give her attention when she inevitably convinces them she’s stuffed then moves. (Yep. It’s gonna happen. She’s got a history. We expect heart attacks on the regular.)
Now if we can just finish everything early in the year so I can get back to writing! 

Well, y’all, we finally did it. We’re moving to a new house in my hometown! And nobody died in it so I should be the only Ghost there! 
Going on hiatus sucks, for sure, but I’m still so happy I could squeal. Heifer and Woozle are predictably unenthused, but cats don’t get a vote. This area has gotten too damned expensive and dangerous for us, and I’m tired of being homesick. Fortunately, the Woozle-bug already has a great vet in the city to help with his health problems (the scariest of which is showing some improvement, yay!) and Heiferlump? She’s going to have an entire neighborhood to give her attention when she inevitably convinces them she’s stuffed then moves. (Yep. It’s gonna happen. She’s got a history. We expect heart attacks on the regular.)
Now if we can just finish everything early in the year so I can get back to writing! 

Y’all, my husband needs a warning label. I’m sitting here, sucking on a peppermint and minding my business with headphones on—the better to block out his party chat trash-talk—and I hear THIS: “You ain’t had pussy since you came out a pussy.”
I don’t know who was laughing louder, the recipient of the burn, Cold, or me, but I very nearly had a Star-Brite lodged in my throat.   This guy kills me.
 

Just now, I saw something absolutely smoking hot on the internet. I mean, she was a seriously sexy beast—the kind of beauty I see in my dreams and drool over in centerfolds, regardless of whether I’m in public. If I encountered her on the street, I would absolutely embarrass myself, stare like a loon, and profess my undying adoration to her. 
 
A wolf-whistle, three muttered “damns,” and a couple of impressed tongue-clicks later, my husband gave in. Cold sighed, rolled his eyes, and grumbled, “just show me the car.”
He knows me so well. 😆 It was, in fact, a classic muscle car—a ‘67 Oldsmobile Tornado. In my defense the lines on this bad girl are what wet dreams are made of, and I pity Cold for his lack of taste. It’s a sad way to live.

Just now, I saw something absolutely smoking hot on the internet. I mean, she was a seriously sexy beast—the kind of beauty I see in my dreams and drool over in centerfolds, regardless of whether I’m in public. If I encountered her on the street, I would absolutely embarrass myself, stare like a loon, and profess my undying adoration to her. 
 
A wolf-whistle, three muttered “damns,” and a couple of impressed tongue-clicks later, my husband gave in. Cold sighed, rolled his eyes, and grumbled, “just show me the car.”
He knows me so well. 😆 It was, in fact, a classic muscle car—a ‘67 Oldsmobile Tornado. In my defense the lines on this bad girl are what wet dreams are made of, and I pity Cold for his lack of taste. It’s a sad way to live.

Just now, I saw something absolutely smoking hot on the internet. I mean, she was a seriously sexy beast—the kind of beauty I see in my dreams and drool over in centerfolds, regardless of whether I’m in public. If I encountered her on the street, I would absolutely embarrass myself, stare like a loon, and profess my undying adoration to her. 
 
A wolf-whistle, three muttered “damns,” and a couple of impressed tongue-clicks later, my husband gave in. Cold sighed, rolled his eyes, and grumbled, “just show me the car.”
He knows me so well. 😆 It was, in fact, a classic muscle car—a ‘67 Oldsmobile Tornado. In my defense the lines on this bad girl are what wet dreams are made of, and I pity Cold for his lack of taste. It’s a sad way to live.

Life has been crazy lately, between my car being totaled, granny having a brain bleed ER managed to staunch to having a minor stroke directly in in the ER. Alot is happening all at once. 😅

So, as I’m sure many have noticed, I’ve been busy trying to work myself to death for the past five years or so.  So, in that time, I’ve worked ridiculous hours with very little time off, and often multiple shifts in a day.  As a result, I was more than a little unproductive here.
I retired the end of March, and spent the first fourish months doing nothing but sleep.  Have one final test from my doctor on November 22nd, so should be done with all that shit for a bit as well by then.
In the meantime, I am now checking all the email addresses I always did before, as I now have the time.  Am easing back into the archive repair, minor hunting, and other things I did as well.
Sorry for the absence, but, glad to be back

Y’all, my husband needs a warning label. I’m sitting here, sucking on a peppermint and minding my business with headphones on—the better to block out his party chat trash-talk—and I hear THIS: “You ain’t had pussy since you came out a pussy.”
I don’t know who was laughing louder, the recipient of the burn, Cold, or me, but I very nearly had a Star-Brite lodged in my throat.   This guy kills me.
 

Y’all, my husband needs a warning label. I’m sitting here, sucking on a peppermint and minding my business with headphones on—the better to block out his party chat trash-talk—and I hear THIS: “You ain’t had pussy since you came out a pussy.”
I don’t know who was laughing louder, the recipient of the burn, Cold, or me, but I very nearly had a Star-Brite lodged in my throat.   This guy kills me.
 

Y’all, my husband needs a warning label. I’m sitting here, sucking on a peppermint and minding my business with headphones on—the better to block out his party chat trash-talk—and I hear THIS: “You ain’t had pussy since you came out a pussy.”
I don’t know who was laughing louder, the recipient of the burn, Cold, or me, but I very nearly had a Star-Brite lodged in my throat.   This guy kills me.
 

Y’all, my husband needs a warning label. I’m sitting here, sucking on a peppermint and minding my business with headphones on—the better to block out his party chat trash-talk—and I hear THIS: “You ain’t had pussy since you came out a pussy.”
I don’t know who was laughing louder, the recipient of the burn, Cold, or me, but I very nearly had a Star-Brite lodged in my throat.   This guy kills me.
 

Y’all, my husband needs a warning label. I’m sitting here, sucking on a peppermint and minding my business with headphones on—the better to block out his party chat trash-talk—and I hear THIS: “You ain’t had pussy since you came out a pussy.”
I don’t know who was laughing louder, the recipient of the burn, Cold, or me, but I very nearly had a Star-Brite lodged in my throat.   This guy kills me.
 

When I was young, I didn’t appreciate just how much of adult life would be taken up with trying to answer the eternal question of “Is this shirt still damp or just cold?”.  I can’t pretend to not be disappointed.

Whoever has the Ghost Chance voodoo doll right now, if they could give it a break, that would be nice. I don’t want to share details, lest my family find this site, recognize those details, and realize it’s me—right now, the last thing I need is a mass-shunning because I’m bi in a family of homophobes. But…
Woozle. Our cat, Woozle. The little bag-obsessed orange garbage-baby. Our sweet, smelly, mouthy, single-braincell-bearing fur-son. That Woozle. We just found out he’s incredibly sick, the kind of sick that creeps in without warning, may not even show, and will eventually end his life. Right now, he’s still healthy and happy enough that his quality of life isn’t in question, but that could change without much notice. It could be a few years, or a few days, or who knows how long, but my little monster is terminally ill, and I’m a fucking mess right now. We’re doing everything we can, but there’s not much we can do to begin with.
So. Yeah. Give your pets some cuddles for me. I’m probably going to go cry again because this fucking sucks.

Whoever has the Ghost Chance voodoo doll right now, if they could give it a break, that would be nice. I don’t want to share details, lest my family find this site, recognize those details, and realize it’s me—right now, the last thing I need is a mass-shunning because I’m bi in a family of homophobes. But…
Woozle. Our cat, Woozle. The little bag-obsessed orange garbage-baby. Our sweet, smelly, mouthy, single-braincell-bearing fur-son. That Woozle. We just found out he’s incredibly sick, the kind of sick that creeps in without warning, may not even show, and will eventually end his life. Right now, he’s still healthy and happy enough that his quality of life isn’t in question, but that could change without much notice. It could be a few years, or a few days, or who knows how long, but my little monster is terminally ill, and I’m a fucking mess right now. We’re doing everything we can, but there’s not much we can do to begin with.
So. Yeah. Give your pets some cuddles for me. I’m probably going to go cry again because this fucking sucks.