Dear Diary...Bloodboy and Piebald

Dear Diary,

Why is it considered mean to take time out of ones evening in deep concern to find out what is terribly wrong with his head.  Bloodboy has a discoloration of hair, kind of looks like elderly women patched blonde hair in square quilts to his head.

My intensive research (via Google because the internet never lies) says:

A piebald is an animal, such as a horse or ball python, that has a spotting pattern of large unpigmented (sometimes expressed as white) areas and normally pigmented patches (black in the horse pictured). The colour of the animal's skin underneath its coat is both the natural color (under the black patches of hair in this example) and pigmentless (under the white patches in the horse example). This alternating colour pattern is irregular and asymmetrical. Other than colour, it is similar in appearance to the skewbald pattern. Some animals also exhibit colouration of the irises of the eye that match the surrounding skin (blue eyes for pink skin, brown for dark). The underlying genetic cause is related to a condition known as leucism.

That's right Diary, Bloodboy has PIEBALD.

I immediately brought it to his attention whereas he became quite upset.  As if it's MY fault he has a genetic disorder commonly found in horses and ball pythons!

Of course there is no cure other then perhaps Revlon #3 coloring, but at least he was given a name to the freakish patches on his head.

No gratitude whatsoever!  He lifted his theoretical petticoat, stomped his foot, allowed the excess of blood (yes Diary he also has hemochromatosis) to rush to his face which of course makes the blonde patches show even more and walked away.  Mumbling no less.

Tell me Diary... tell me what it takes to get some gratitude for the hard work I do on trying to decipher all that is wrong with Bloodboy?

*SIGH*  I guess I must continue on without a sliver of thanks.

Dear Diary...I'm all wet

Dear Diary,

Long past are the days where anything is made to last.  Nothing is American made anymore and I am sure other countries are purposely FUCKING up products knowing we will get them.  Then again if I had to make things for another country for $.75 a week, I probably wouldn't make a strong effort.

Oh Diary, I remember as a child one would get a nice umbrella and that BITCH UMBRELLA would last the whole school year.  Actually, one would get upset because it lasted so long you couldn't get a nice bright pink one like that little diva BYTCH Veronica I grew up with.

Instead Diary, one must spend 12+ dollars for a FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT that won't last a block let alone a rain storm.  This CESSPOOL of an island is known for the umbrella stack.  Even Letterman dressed a child on his talk show as NY trash can with broken umbrellas sticking out for Halloween.

Diary...I bought an umbrella yesterday 12+ FUCKING DOLLARS and the PIECE OF SHIT didn't last a block.  There I was in torrential rains, wind storms that made my panties cringe, droplets of water from clouds mocking this Island with a downpour that threatened the doom met in Sodom and Gomorrah; holding on to the PIECE OF SHIT umbrella that immediately turned inside out.  The cheap ass arms that is supposed to hold the fabric twisting like a lepers infested limb.

Dearest Diary, is it me?  IS IT ME?  IS IT FUCKING ME?????? Or is there an umbrella conspiracy to make people buy the PIECE OF SHIT at the price of a long lasting item with the manufacturing of a one time disposable product?

Diary...would it be too much to ask to have a small window, a window where I could have the person that created these umbrellas in a room and an empty jar of Vaseline so I could RAM ONE OF THESE PIECE OF SHIT umbrellas up their ASS?????  Without repercussions from the law?  Really???? Is it so much to ask??????

Now I sit at my desk with kinky hair that won't settle down.  Wet jeans that weigh me down.  A soaking bra that won't make the day.  Socks that squish - squish with every step and a day old umbrella that WON'T FUCKING CLOSE.

Dear Diary...if home is where the heart is?...Tis not fair I say

If home is where the heart is, what happens when your heart is lost.

Ever the gypsy I land where my feet take me.  The landscape though different brings the same storms.  Diary why do I suffer to accept humanities atrocities?

People make promises they don't intend to keep.  Yet, the law says I can't beat the shit out of them.  Tis not fair I say.

They cram a bunch of seats in a bus, you could lick the seat in front of you without leaning forward.  People insist on reclining to the point where you could lick their forehead.  Yet, the law says I can't give them a karate chop to the throat.  Tis not fair I say.

You try to help people and they just take and take and take until there is nothing left.  Yet, the church says give more while taking a lot for themselves.  Tis not fair I say. (Had more to day but I'm already on that bus to hell).

I drive on the highway, all the way to the right, slightly above speeding limit and people insist on tailgating, high beaming as if they were royalty and you should move out of the way instead of their using the PASSING lane.  Yet, the law says I can't side swipe them into the nearest set of trees.  Tis not fair I say.

I watch as friends struggle to get a slice a bread, then watch daily as others do nothing all day for a free check.  Yet, the law says I can't take those lazy FUCKERS to the nearest shelter and lock them in there for a few days so they learn appreciation.  Tis not fair I say.

Diary...if home is where the heart is....then what happens when your heart is lost?.....Tis not fair I say!

Dear Diary, Why must they make me do it?

Dear Diary, Why must they make me do it?  Why must my own gender get me to the point where I have to BITCH about them?

Diary it's like there's a list that should be written somewhere on what to do and not do......

1. Never wear so much perfume that another requires an oxygen mask.  Most especially if it's in tight quarters like say.......A BUS!
2. Never wear 6 inch heels unless you are on a platform as a stripper.  It is not sexy to have to hold the handrail with both hands while taking toddler steps down, thus creating a long line of people that will be late to work because of your self inflicted crippled ass. 
3. When flipping your hair (and yes I do this too, but with caution) make sure there is no one behind you, especially a smaller woman with contact lens.  Your (hopefully lice less) hair may just have the tips of the strands brush her eyeballs and remove their contacts, if they are lucky enough to have the protection of contacts.
4. Your $500 Dooney & Bourke purse means nothing to others, therefore your placing it on an empty seat as if it paid for the seating is not something others should 'respect'.  There's a shortage of seats as it is, hold your damn over prices purse on your ignorant ass lap.  Frankly, I believe a woman should never own a purse that costs more then she can carry in her wallet on any given day.
5. If you must wear G-Strings....make sure to discard any that are worn out, if they are at the height of your rib-cage, then get pliers and pull them down, it's just NASTY!
6. If you must go commando, wearing see through clothing is not very smart.  WHORE!
7. If you must carry several bags, then learn to accommodate them within your space.  One on the floor in between your legs and two on your lap.  There's also the overheard bin if you can reach it.  Placing any of the bags between you and the other passenger on the bus is not an option.  Sitting in 2 plus hour traffic with something from someone Else's bag stabbing your ribcage is not pleasant.
8. No one is impressed with your ability to bark into a cell phone to your husband, boyfriend, child, sibling, parent or dial tone.  Just SHUT THE FUCK UP, read a book like everyone else.
9. When driving, this is NOT the time to put on your makeup.  If your UGLY ass can walk out of your place without any on, than it can stay that way.  Swerving on the road while applying mascara is just FUCKING STUPID!
10. When standing in a long line waiting for your turn with the cashier, don't wait until you are there, don't wait until all the items are rung, to THAN start looking for your wallet!  That just really makes me want to BITCH SLAP YOU!

Yes Diary, such a list should be posted somewhere, I just wish I knew where.

Dear Diary....(MY Take)

Dear Diary,

They talk on their cell phones and to fellow passengers as if no one else is around..................


"I'm on my way home there was a bus delay." Screeching into the cell phone. (There is a bus delay EVERY FUCKING DAY)

"Can you pick me up at the Park & Ride? I don't feel like walking." (What a life, Driving Miss Lazy)

"So we went to lunch and he was fun, he paid and said I'll call you, do you think he will call?" (Hmmmm, does his paying give a guarantee? Is she calling the Psychic Line?)

This one is sitting next to me. "What is all this traffic? Is it always like this?" (Who am I Al Roper? What the FUCK????) "Every day! If you are taking this route from now on, send a picture of yourself to loved ones."

"*#$(#*&$*(#&$#(*" Some foreign language at high tone.  (He didn't sound happy.)

"zzzzzzzzzz", (Don't you just love the sleepers?)

"I'm going to be very upset if she doesn't come to my party. After all I did to plan it she better go." (Whose party is it? Nothing like a shot gun invitation!!!!!!!)

But Diary, my favorite was the gigolo......"Baby...I'm too tired and I'm going home, I'll see you tomorrow, I promise."........makes another call "Baby...how about you come over and give me a massage." (I stare at this one, he is pretty gorgeous, I can see how he's working it. MAN WHORE)

I really need to get an MP3 player....fast!

Dear Diary....I'm really just a cuddly kitty cat

Dear Diary,

I write to you this evening in great despair.  I was called a hater.  Asked if I wanted hateraid.  It just breaks my heart to hear such vile things.  Why am I so misunderstood?  I mean I have a great, big, soft, fluffy, warm heart.  I mean my heart is so big it keeps me from being a hater, for example:
When I went to get gas today and the horrible immigrant at the station refused to go to the side of the window where I sit, making me stretch out and manually open the window from the passenger side, I didn't flip him the finger, my great big heart didn't let me.  When he grinned in satisfaction of my discomfort, I smiled.  When again he walked to the passenger side and tapped on the window to give me my change and I had to lean over and manually open the window, I did not say the things I should have....'YOU FU_CKING IMMIGRANT, YOU SCUM BAG! You think I don't remember you and your sadistic way of making American woman suffer at this station.  Go back to your FU_CKING country if you hate our liberation!'  No....I did not, I merely took the change saying in a small voice 'MORON!'

Diary, I am no hater, my heart does not allow me.  When I went to the store to get milk and the lady behind me mumbled something about my taking too long to put my items on the counter, my heart...it did not let me say what I should have 'LISTEN YOU FU_CKING HAG, if you're in THAT much of a hurry go on the other line before I put my foot up your ASS and shove you there.'  No....I did not, I merely turned and smiled, saying in a small voice 'I'm sorry, there is only a small space on the counter, perhaps you will have more luck placing your attitude on it.'

Oh but Diary nothing proves my loving way more than what my co-workers did today and I simply smiled (OK, maybe not simply).  I mean, who does what she did?  Who takes a picture of me in the emergency room while in the middle of agony, pain and torment?  Who takes that picture and tucks it away so that many months later they can post it on face book???  My co-worker, that's who.

I mean, who does what he did?  Who takes that same picture and frames it into a matting that says 'Haters keep hatin'?  Of little me in a wheelchair with bandaged knee??? Who Diary??  They do!  But do I open a can of FU_CKING WHOOP ASS???? No, I did not.  Did I go with my feeling and start BI_TCH SLAPPING them both???  No, I did not.  My great big heart did not let me.

I mean why Diary?  Why would they do that then call me a hater?  I am so misunderstood.

I mean.....I admit.....I tinkle just a bit at the thought that the plan I demised in my mind will be the vendetta of all vendettas!  That I must be patient and let time pass so that the element of surprise will make that vengeance even greater!  That Dumb and Dumber will lose their faith if they have it or gain it if they don't over this vengeance.  I mean....I admit, that may sound like a hater; but Diary, oh Diary, I say it with love.

I lovingly also say it is going to SU_CK to be those two!!!!!  My heart is so big that for a split second I actually felt pity.

Only you understand me Diary......just you....I'm really just a cuddly kitty cat.

Goodbye, Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

You've told me time and again how brave I am; you'll never know the coward I truly am.
I've loved you not just once, twice but thrice our time. Like a milestone I got passed those feelings of mine.
The first time it was really just lying dormant within. In hindsight, how foolish could I have been?
What made that love ever more painful is that your're my best friend. The hurt is not once but twice to mend.
There was a time where bravery touched my soul.  Two friends to meet over dinner; a casual role.
Much care I took to hair and face. I even wore a blouse with beautiful lace.
The heels hurt with each step I took.  This heart of mine with each step...shook.
I ordered wine to soothe my nerves. You took the time to speak your verse.
In love you were as well I see. Your hearts desire was not for me.
Put in a good word for me you asked.  To a mutual friend; that's when I slid on my mask.
A brilliant smile I gave to you. Though my heart crumbled on cue.
No matter my love a friend I am; my word is true. And, to your love I spoke your name anew.
Not an interest she gave to your heart. I was sad for you, for me, for I knew from the start.
How hard it is to love and be loved not. To must accept unrequitted and stained heart.
I took some time away from you. With a  troubled son a move was due.
Hundreds of miles eased my pain. Yet...your calls and letters left me in vain.
Distracted and poverty stricken I returned. Our friendship anew was learned.
The second time was a big surprise. Daddy died and your comfort increased in size.
I tried to fight it, I swear I did. But your goodness and soothing way did me in.
Never a word, touch or thought you gave to me to ignite that spark. It just did, this treacherous heart, pulls me apart.
My emotions which ran wild. Not a friend around for awhile.
Your consistent friendship my heart askewed.  I blame you not; for you never knew.
That old ache I thought was long gone, spoke your name and that lost love was found.
Avoid you again I tried at last, but ignorant friend that you are would not let time pass.
Did you never really know how I longed for your love? All around us knew thereof.
Or the many ways we talked made my feelings true? I guess a part of you ignored the cue.
I lied to myself and you this third and last time. For this horrid love leaves not my heart or mind.
Each time we embrace, kiss or passionately unite, soon after I feel without a doubt your lack of love...ignite.
Yet still I yearn those small moments we share, even though after, each time, leaves me bare.
December 30th my love is the date, where I shall once again walk away.
No special reason for that date, just ease on the memory for our fate.
I shall not tell you even then, of my heart betraying me again.
I'm sorry for not being a friend first, for this wretched love has been cursed.
It constantly falls in love with a burst, and I fear this is the worst.
I shall miss you my best friend, I hope to one day receive your forgiveness; for my descend.