 |
|
|
April 2008 - planetautumn.com ARCHIVE |
|
|
April
28, 2008...6:30pm Thank you. People snicker and mumble "yeah, global warming. pfft". Well, folks, it is global warming. School Time: Picture a map of the United States of America. Got that in your pea brain? Good. There is something called a jet stream and it has nothing to do with airplanes. It's like a dividing line between hot and cold. Still got that map pictured in your head? Mkay. Colder air is above the jet stream (pronounced jet stream) and warmer air is below. Currently, and since about February, the jet stream is far below Minnesota and other unfortunate states in the north, so we are COLD. It's snowed on April 26. To put that into perspective, on April 26, 2007, it was 85º and sunny. *sheds a tear* Global warming is to blame. Above Greenland there is a warm air mass. Shit is melting there. This warm air mass is causing the cool Canadian air to swoop down to go around Greenland's warm air and this, my students, is causing the jet stream to remain below Minnesota making us cold. Canada sucks. The nerds hope that the warm air mass over Greenland will begin to dissipate around May 7, but they aren't hopeful. We could be cold through May. Some pessimistic scientists are predicting a cold summer. Cold, as in wearing jackets to the 4th of July fireworks because it'll be in the 50s at 10pm in July. Oh, it will get warm eventually because low jet stream or not, that doesn't change the fact that the earth's northern hemisphere is tilted more towards the sun now than it is in February, but holy hell. I'm supposed to get all of my flowers for my gardens on May 9th. By the way, Greenland sucks, too. You all suck, as a matter of fact. You're all to blame for my impending depression, angst, and the innocent victims laying in my wake. GAH! I'm fucking COLD! I hate nature. April
27, 2008...10:00pm We also had a record player in the basement. It was a giant record player. It was encased in a wooden apparatus that also housed a television set and speakers. It was about 6 feet in length. It was called The Console, as in "don't touch The Console." I'd go to the basement and I would touch The Console and I would listen to record albums belonging to my older siblings. I listened to The Sound of Music, The Monkeys, and George Carlin's Class Clown. Yes, I was in elementary school and I knew all of the words you cannot say on television. Cunt. Thank you. Cocksucker. Thank
you, again. Bloody
hell. Do they not remember the fun shit
they were exposed to in their formative years? For instance, all the
George Carlin records laying about at their disposal? Motherfuckers. Discuss
that at Caribou. Enjoy. It's retro!
April
26, 2008...11:00pm We all know this.
April
23, 2008...10:00pm He'll be 27-years-old. We're all very excited. Happy 27th Birthday, Justin. I don't have my 321st period, yet. I also haven't shaved in 3 days, so you'll have to wait before having sex with me. In the meantime:
Springtime on Planet Autumn....
April
21, 2008...12:30am Praise be to Jesus.
I cleaned the garage today, so when The Perverted Duo called last minute and came over around 4:30pm for burgers and brauts? Well...rock on. It's warm now. SWEET! I'm not in any of the following pictures....
Happy Sunny Day, y'all.
April
18, 2008...8:00pm They also like to eat in my bed. With their feet attached to their bodies.
Knock it off with the feet, kids, or I'm gonna nibble on them! (check out the speed on that girl's snack-hand) In other news, I can download entire albums pretty damn quick...unless it's Tori Amos's American Doll Posse which has 23 fucking songs. It took me 10 fucking minutes to download that fucking thing. Fuck. But it was worth the time because it has these words in it:
It's a sentimental song to me because when I could find my boobs, I was a MILF, too. Now I'm just a COB (crabby old broad). Not quite as poetic. April
15, 2008...11:55pm
Since I was a child, I have had in my possession a set of twelve books containing children's short stories. The books range from nursery rhymes, to stories for adolescent kids who were adolescents 75 years ago because HELLO - no sex or violence or teenage YouTube drama in any of these books. In other words - boring for children over the age of 0. Albeit charming, these books are not completely harmless, and Soccer Moms should be advised to handle them with care. These books contain not only an abundance of Gerontophobia (fear of old people), Panthophobia (fear of disease), and Apotemnophobia (fear of amputees), they also greet the youngsters with thinly veiled misogamy and racism. As you can imagine, these books are awfully fun for grown-ups. In all seriousness, these books are perfectly harmless to little children if the parent-figure reading the stories injects modern explanations, interpretations, and farts at the end of every 3rd sentence. It's all very rewarding, albeit tiring. These books were originally published in 1920 and the books I own were published in 1937 by The Book House for Children, Chicago, "Copyright in Great Britain and Ireland and in all countries subscribing to the Bern Convention. Registered at Stationers Hall. All rights reserved." Which clearly means you can steal everything in these books and pretend it's your own, even this part:
*Spick is an archaic spelling of "spic" which is a slur to describe those of Hispanic decent. The uncles teased her about her blue eyes because they shouldn't have been blue, I think, like their own eyes. And then they played question and answer with a tiny hat on a finger... I write about this because these books were my Mother's books when she was a child. I have carried these books with me wherever I have gone for 22 years. If these books aren't in storage, they are used as decorations...aka, stacked upon end-tables, or in bookcases because they are pleasant to look at.
Now...I read them to my daughter at bedtime.
We are on the 3rd book of the twelve. When beginning a new book (these are short stories, mkay?), we start with the first story and read until the last. It usually takes about 1 1/2 weeks to finish one book. On the inside cover of each of these books, there is a sticker containing my Mother's full name. "This book belongs to Gretchen....etc." These books will become my daughter's someday, and someday she will read these books to her own children. Then she will be arrested and thrown in jail because HEY LADY why are you reading these bad books to your kids?! Why? Because they are great books.
April
14, 2008...8:30pm And when she turns 16, Valium would be nice. Enjoy.
April
12, 2008...6:00pm
Happy Birthday, Mom. Bella wants to know what you'd like for your birthday. I've told her that you have wings, so you're all set. She was fairly happy with that. I haven't talked much about the death of my mother because it's struck me harder than I have let on to even those people closest to me. I have been curious and fascinated at my silence, though, which has led to some entertainment within myself. Put simply, I haven't had the words to express myself, so I've grown myself a shell that I'm trying to break out of because I've been internalizing everything, something that would have caused Mom to worry. She and I were very close, and I miss her very much. I still don't want to disappoint or worry her. I think that part of my problem is that Mom is the one I would talk to about all of this...but she's gone. Even though it's been 3 months since she died, sometimes I still catch myself reaching for the phone to call and tell her something...from the frivolous, to the earth-shattering. "Hey Mom - the boss smiled at me today. Isn't that cool?!" or "I got my haircut." or "I'm so mad....yadda yadda." Things like that. It's been a difficult adjustment for me. She always took my side. She always supported me emotionally. She validated me. Made me feel like I wasn't crazy. Reassured me that I was ok and that I was important to other people, and that I was appreciated and loved no matter how retarded was my behavior. The only unconditional love I have ever experienced. It's a warm feeling. Now, in my mother's absence, I feel as if I don't have anybody like that anymore. I've been adjusting to that, I suppose, adjusting by not reaching out, not letting anybody in...adjusting by closing the gates. I talk to Mom all of the time, though. My daughter, Bella, asks me who I'm talking to. I say, "Grandma." "Can I talk to her, too?" Bella will ask. "Yes, but Grandma can't talk back to you. She loves you, and she can hear you, but she can't talk back except for in your dreams." I believe that. Anyhow....tomorrow is Mom's birthday so the family is meeting at her gravesite. She always wanted to be cremated, but a few years back when she saw her very close cousin, Fran, embalmed and laid out in the mortuary, Mom changed her mind and wanted to be buried whole. She gave me a rosary that was placed in her mother's hands during her wake, and my Mom asked me to put it in her own hands for her wake. Then, I was to take the rosary and give it to my daughter to place in my hands when I die. My Mom didn't say this, she instructed this by saying simply, "And then it will be yours..." For some reason, this wasn't creepy. It was comforting. Well, Mom wasn't looking very good when she died. She was cremated because she would have been mortified if we dressed her up and displayed her in that condition. Although her hair still looked great, she must have been 70 pounds. She didn't look like Mom. She didn't look like Gretchen. When I went to the hospital at 1:30am on January 9th, after receiving a phone call from my Dad telling me, "She passed, honey," I thought I would scream and never stop screaming if her dentures finished their journey and fell completely out of her mouth and plopped onto her shoulder. That was not my Mother laying in that bed. My Mom was in heaven. I kissed her forehead that was still warm, and told her I loved her. I hugged my Dad and my siblings and I didn't cry. I didn't cry until the following night, and boy did I cry. I haven't cried since, spare a few sad tears when I remember how I can't see her anymore, feeling the finality of it all. On January 14, 2008, we buried Mom's ashes in an urn that matches her living room curtains. She would have been pleased. I love you, Mommy. I'm bringing flowers to your resting place tomorrow, and then we're going out for pie. April
9, 2008...10:30pm
April
8, 2008...6:00pm The words most easily understood by the other shoppers at Wal-Mart are poop, pee, wee wee, pee pee, butt, fart, and underwear (pronounced gungervear). God I love him.
April
7, 2008...7:00pm We bought two more and one of them survived. He wakes me up in the middle of the night. My slumber is drug-induced, the fish is 8 feet from my head (I measured), yet he still manages to wake me during the best sex dreams. It sounds as if he's banging his face against the glass. Tink. Tink. Tink. I wrote a poem about it.
April
6, 2008...1:00pm Also, going into the basement didn't allow me to take care of the business of the house and the family. When I'm not at my job, I'm mommy and Puerto Rican housekeeper. I cannot spend my evenings in the basement working on the internet because ferns would grow in the refrigerator and the little ones would develop mole-like facial features. So, my husband bought me a laptop with part of our income tax return. My office is a barstool at the kitchen sink. This allows me to do work on the internet, play with the children near the sunlight, and buy shit. This laptop has been more of a credit card reader than anything else. It's like having a shopping mall in my kitchen. Damn.
April
5, 2008...2:30pm Good riddance. Turn back now, faint of heart, for it could get ugly for you. There might be a nipple somewhere. Over the years, I've had many blogs and many websites by many, many names. Sometimes I have been very much loved by the masses, and other times I have been a punching bag for elephantine retards with bad aim. Most recently, though, I've been neglecting both my gentle readers, and the behemoths that enjoy cooking and eating my flesh. I haven't been on the internet of late, and the reasons for this are many, but let's start with the following: 1.
My mom got sick. Therefore, my hardships have driven me back to Planet Autumn, one of my better websites. Planet Autumn Management is hoping that this will be a successful, and enjoyable, venture for Jenny (aka me). Jenny is hoping it will bring her money. ANYHOW - here's what's happened to me most recently:
|
email
me:
photos: youtube: myspace: others:
|
© 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008 planetautumn.com |
|
