Hi. My mother hated me.

Oi. Vey. Why doesn't someone stop me before I post crap like I did the other day? While I support what I said, I firmly believe most people suck and always will, the way I finished my little rant left me cringing. "Most likely forever." Gawd. Sometimes I want to kick my own ass. I don't like to pull words I've committed to because it's how I felt at the time. What I fail to remember is that I'll feel differently in another 10 minutes, then 10 minutes after that, and so on. So, yea, ahem. Thanks for the feedback is what I'm trying to say.

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Also - something is wrong with blogger, wrong with the "old" version of blogger I'm using (since I'm afraid of change and won't switch to the new one), or my company is effing with my head because I can't seem to post from work. If this posts it was attempt #4. And I can't edit anything I've started nor will any of the buttons work - not the preview, not the italics, not the very important spell checker, nothing. So if there are typos in this thing, which there will be because I have to read and fix every entry 9 fucking times, I apologize. My grammar and spelling sucks but I can usually correct most of it, unless it was done on purpose. Ha.

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Anywho, in my crankyness I totally forgot to tell you what happened on Sunday while I was doing my impersonation of Cinderfuckin'rella spending a thousand hours cleaning and packing and folding and dancing with animated mice in pants. I'd bought some extra yoog storage containers to house all of my stuffed animals because hi, I'm 11 years old and can't get rid of any of them. So, in the middle of my chorey day I found myself rooting around in the (fucking silverfish) garage, again.

My precious plushies have been kept in dusty garbage bags and now required additional protection so they may rot in expensive molded-plastic bins instead of flimsy trash sacks. As I ripped open one stinky bag crammed full of among other things, bears and dogs and 2 very large stuffed with ancient sawdust county fair snakes (why?) I saw it. One of the contributors to my weird childhood and vivid nightmares. The thing I'd hoped was gone forever. The near-living entity I'd imagined had been sucked back into the evil realm from which it came.

The Boy. The EVIL BOY. With THE FACE! The face that was now staring back at me with the crazy eyes and creepy frozen smile and stuffing spilling out here and there oozing like alien blood. The demented doll I wrote about here. The pillowy puppet that I'm sure tried to kill me in my sleep if only I'd let a toe fall over the edge of the bed but HA HA, SATAN'S LITTLE HELPER, I DIDN'T!! I smothered and sweltered under those covers because you weren't going to feed on this bitch's flesh. NO WAY.

After re-reading that long-ago entry I realized I'd messed up a few details, but hey, it's been about 20 years since I laid eyes on this thing. 20 glorious years. But observe, I was NOT WRONG about the maniacal and evil. And it was the only thing in the bag chewed and shat upon by a rat. SATAN'S RAT, no doubt.

(click to engorge and see explanatory notes)



How'd you like to wake up to this?



I DIDN'T THINK SO!