48 things about me...

I found this over at Remote Treechanger , so I thought I would give it a go... and share some of me with y'all...
Your day is complete now... right?

(Why it's only 48 and not 25 or 50 - or even one for every year of your life, I don't know.
I imagine someone was writing this up at work, and the boss came in before she could actually get to 50!

48 things about me...

1. What time did you get up this morning? 5am - well, 4:57 actually.

2. How do you like your steak? Rare, baby. Really rare!

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? I don't have a clue.. maybe Calender Girls? It was a long time ago, at any rate. I have no life.

4. What is your favorite tv show? The Farmer Wants a Wife. Or maybe Good New Week ... or maybe even Thank God You're Here. I have trouble sitting still, so I seldom watch anything from start to finish.

5. If you could live anywhere, where would it be? Murphys, California - or almost anywhere in Calaveras County. No Murphys... definitely Murphys

6. What did you have for breakfast? Nothing yet...

7. What is your favorite food? Steak and lobster

8. What foods do you dislike? Guts. Almost anything that comes from inside an animal at any rate... Except venison liver. THAT, I love!

9. Favorite place to eat? I don't know. Maybe Perkos? They have the best biscuits and gravy... other than my moms of course

10. Favorite dressing? Ranch or just lemon

11. What kind of vehicle do you drive? Daiwoo Nubira

12. What are your favorite clothes? my favorite pair of jeans and a Chicago Cubs t-shirt

13. Where would you visit if you had the chance? Yosemite or Lake Tahoe - again and again.

14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? Always 1/2 full

15. Where would you want to retire? Murphys California... to be near my son, daughter-in-luv and my grandsons

16. Favorite time of day? Early Morning, around 5-ish

17. Where were you born? San Francisco, California, USA

18. What is your favorite sport to watch? Baseball... or the Superbowl

19. Who do you think will not tag you back? Don't know

20. Person you expect to tag you back first? Don't know

21. Who are you most curious about their responses back to this? Every one of you!

22. Bird watcher? I love watching the parrots and Magpies in my yard - does that count?

23. Are you a morning person or a night person? Morning. Early morning. Definitely

24. Do you have any pets? At my house... 6 cats. At the Old guys, another 2 cats and 2 Jack Russells

25. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? It's Hump Day, so only 3 more days 'til the weekend!!

26. What did you want to be when you were little? Bigger

27. What is your best childhood memory? My Mom and Dad, and the whole extended family. LOTS of good memories there...

28. Are you a cat or dog person? Cat

29. Are you married? No, but I have a "long-term, lives in his own house" partner... affectionatly known as the Old Guy.

30. Do you always wear your seatbelt? yes

31. Have you been in a car accident? Yes, but only one major one.

32. Any pet peeves? Habitual tardiness. To me, that says that you think that you're more important than anyone else.

33. Favorite pizza toppings? Spinach and Feta - every time!

34. Favorite flower? Daphne, Peony Rose and Black Eyed Susans.
Oh, and Lupines and Indian Paintbrushes...

35. Favorite ice cream? Rocky Road or Cookie Dough

36. Favorite fast food restaurant? Taco Bell

37. How many times did you fail your driver's license test? Never

38. From whom did you get your last email? Debbie

39. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? I don't roll that way, baby...

40. Do anything spontaneous lately? Ermmm... no? Oh, maybe it was when I whacked my hair off. Literally.
When you walk into the hairdressers, and the girl calls out "Deb, I think this one's for you", I think it might be a bad sign, eh?

41. Like your job? Most of the time. The kids I love... the paperwork and regulations... not so much.

42. Do you like broccoli? Oh yes. Especially cooked with chicken stock and pepper flakes and mashed a bit.

43. What was your favorite vacation? To California last year...

44. Last person you went out to dinner with? The Old Guy, Kay and Mira. It was his birthday, I think.

45. What are you listening to right now? The heater warming up and the cat yowling at the boys.

46. What is your favorite color? Indigo or Lapis Lazuli

47. How many tatoos do you have? None yet.

48. How many are you tagging for this quiz? I would love for anyone to join in !!!

And she doesn't even want a prom dress...

She just wants to jump right into the dating scene and by-pass all the niceties.
She wants to date. And she wants to date, BAD!

Bad Boys.
Boys that are far older than she is... and boys that have been around the block a time or two.

Men that have already fathered children and who don't even care how hard it is to raise young ones... because they're the 'love 'em and leave 'em" types.

She has no idea what she's in for, and she hates my guts right now for not allowing her to do what she wants, even though I do know what's best for her.

I understand what she's going through, because it wasn't all that long ago, that I was young myself... and I remember the longing for love and the dreaming of someone who would love me forever.
I remember the urges and the excitement and the new-found knowledge that I had the power over the opposite sex.

We've had "the talk", and she said she understood.

I've held her as she's cried... and then she pushes me away and runs off and hides in her room.

The screams of frustration and anger at my saying "no" are breaking my heart, but she doesn't want to listen to a single word I say anymore.

Our close bond and treasured moments are just a memory now, because she's blossomed as a woman, and she's moved beyond my reach.

And I think back and wonder what I must have put my poor mother through, all those years ago...

At least my potential suitors didn't pee on every door in the house.

Geez, I need a day off !

Well... actually it is my day off... kinda, sorta.... but you wouldn't know it.

It's supposed to be my "on" Monday today, but my one and only little one, canceled last night... so I stupidly thought that I could have a nice relaxing day today.
Yeah... right.

I only had one little thing to do, and then the entire day would be mine!

I was just going to get my police clearance signed off and turned in... and I had it all ready to go.
All I had to do was take it to the post office, so that they could witness it, run off copies of my proof of ID, throw it in an envelope, stick a stamp on it, and voila!
The rest of the day to myself! Wooo Hooo!

HAHAHAHA! Fat bloody chance!

We went to the post office at 9am this morning, waited in line for 20 minutes, only to get up to the clerk, who said to me:
"We don't do these here. You have to go to the "main" post office."

So we did.

We went to the "main" post office.

Stood in line for another 30 minutes while the 3 clerks on duty argued over which one of them was going to have their break first.
They finally decided who would be having their break ... so it was now time to begin serving the long-suffering customers... and the line began moving again.

By the time I was third in line, I pulled out my drivers license, credit card, utility bills and proof of insurances ( totaling 115 points, thank you very much - which was 15 points more than I actually needed, but hey, I'm thorough and organized, eh?) as well as the poor dog-earred and crumpled copy of my police clearance application.

So we finally get to the head of the line... and I handed all my paperwork, with the original copy of the application for my police clearance right on top, to the lovely woman serving me.
The one who wasn't on a break a mere hour after she started.
Only to be told
"Sorry, but we don't do these anymore."

But see here? I have this form, and it says that this can be done at any Australia Post post office, by any employee who has been employed by the post office for 5 years or more".

Sorry, but they changed that ruling last year.
You now need to go to the police station to get it done.

So after picking up 632 pages of documentation and cards to prove that I am who I say I am, off we traipse again...

And I'm more and more grateful that I've got the Old Guy with me, because chances are, that he'll hold me back when I threaten to hurdle over the counter and throttle someone by their stupid, little, turkey wattled neck.
Preferably the person who isn't on her break, but I'm offering no guarantees.
But I would be dealing with the police on an entirely different matter then, wouldn't I?

So off we head to the police station.

And all those free "15-minute police business" car parks are full, probably by druggies who have shown up on Monday morning to have their drug tests done... so we have to park a block away, and slog through the rain.
Only to stand in another interminably long line, but this time with people who smell of week old sweat and alcohol breath.
Oh joy...

Now... you would think that if a form says it can be done at a police station, you would assume that that means that the police working in that police station are pretty much trustworthy people... and they could be entrusted with witnessing my signature and checking off copies of documentation.. right?

No.

I have to get in the other line and talk to that old lady with tufts of blue hair on her balding pate and with black hairs sprouting willy-nilly on her chin... Who's seated at the far side of the office.
So I do.

And she's helpful.
She says to me:
"These are the original documents, aren't they?"

Yes... yes they are.

"Oh, but dear, I don't want to see the originals, I only want to see the photo copies.
You can go across the street to have them copied, and then come back here to me."

So we left.

Only to find that the one and only person who is running the Quik Copy is on his break, and won't be back for 15 minutes.
The sign in the window said so.
But it lied.
We waited 27 minutes, and finally gave up.

So we get back in the car and drive all the way back across town to the Tattslotto agency, where they'll happily do all the copying I need done, for only 40 cents a copy.
And they did. Happily and nicely. Which went a long way to calming me down and dissipating my urge to kill someone.

Then back to the police station.

Where the lovely dear old lady is now on her break.
So we wait and wait... which is probably a good thing, because it allows my blood pressure to return further to somewhat normal.... and my urge to kill someone, well it slowly begins to ease off.

Then the old lady comes back.
After waiting for everyone in front of us to ask her inane drug testing related questions, only to be sent elsewhere, I'm next in line.
So I hand her all the copies, the proof of identity paperwork, the application for my police clearance, the money order and everything that she could possibly want.

Except for the original copies of the stuff I had photo-copied.
It's back in the car, parked a block away.
Because I didn't need them now.

Well, I guess I must have looked near tears or more than a little psycho, because she says
"Oh alright, I can just do it from these, but I really should have seen the originals."

You DID see them, you silly old chin-hair sprouting bat... when I was in here a short while ago.
You thumbed through each and every copy, humming and hawing, and seeing for yourself how much I spend on my utilities every month and raising your eyebrows and tut-tut- tutting... before telling me that you only wanted to see photo copies.
Which I then went off and did.
Just for you.
Because you told me to.
At great monetary expense to myself, not to mention the loss of what little sanity I had left...

So eventually, after looking back and forth from me to the police officer standing a short distance away (she was signaling him with her eyes. I swear she was) she signs and dates everything...

Like she's killing time before the grim reaper comes to take her away...

And there's no fear that that will be anytime soon, because he won't take her until every last i is dotted, and every t is crossed on my photo-copied, no original copies anymore because it's in the car, paperwork.
And she checks and then double checks each and every page, and each and every piece of documentation and all the photo copies...
At least 6 times.

And that's when she suddenly realizes that she doesn't have her stupid litle frigging rubber stamp thingamajig, and she totters off to find it.
Because her signature isn't good enough.
Oh noooooo...
She needs a stupid frigging red-inked rubber stamp vowing and declaring that she's an honest to goodness certified Justice of the Peace, to make everything all legitimate and colorful.

So, eventually, we got it all done and we head home... where I can finally relax and pretend that I have the whole day off... even if it's just half of it now.

And I no sooner sat down to relax, than the office rang me, asking if I had any available vacancies for a special needs 6 month old - starting next week.
Yak yak yak.. yada yada yada...

I eventually got off the phone, kicked my shoes off, turned the kettle on and checked the fridge for a leftover scone ( biscuit) from last nights dinner, and then I planned on sitting down, breathing deeply and just enjoying the peace and quiet and what's left of my lovely relaxing day off.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh !!! It'll be heavenly!

And then someone knocked on the door.
My 3 after-schoolies have arrived.... and I haven't had a single, solitary moment to myself all day...
Excuse me kids, while I go beat my head against the wall....


So tell me...
How was your day?
;-)

More translating English to English... ;-)

Lol... the translation service continues...

Miz N. called me twice yesterday morning, trying to figure out what she needed to buy at the grocery store in order to make biscuits and gravy for breakfast today... and try as she might, the clerk at the grocery store just couldn't understand what she was asking for, when she said she was looking for "biscuits in a can".

He was showing her Arnott's biscuits in decorative tins... and he insisted on taking her up and down the biscuit (cookie) aisle a dozen times, trying to find what she was looking for... but she didn't have any luck.

And the only biscuits in the refrigerated section are actually packaged cookie dough, (Aunt Kath's) with M&M's in them. (which she bought anyway. Smart girl.) But if cookies are biscuits, why is the Australian product called "cookie dough"?


Then she called back, asking what the difference between ground beef and beef mince was, since they looked the same to her - and to tell me that there was no pork sausage or bacon anywhere to be found... and what section would they be found in?!

And it just dawned on me, just how used to things and certain terms, that I've become. They're just words... but when it comes right down to it, it can almost seem like you're suddenly being asked to speak a foreign language and it can become confusing as hell. Especially when you're not used to it, or someone throws a spanner (monkey wrench) into the works.

But it got me thinking. I guess I've always been a bit of a stickler with using the words I grew up with. I guess we all do that, to one extent or another, no matter where we come from...
I still say stuff like chesterfield for couch, dinner at lunch time, supper for the evening meal, soda or soda pop for soft drink and "I feel peckish" at about 8pm. And I still sit on my fanny when I'm not working.

But I've noticed that I use words like beef mince instead of ground beef...
brekky instead of breakfast,
play lunch instead of morning snack...
lounge for living room
tap for faucet...
And if anyone says "fanny" outloud to me nowadays? OMG... I blush like an old nun in the men's locker room.

So yeah, I guess words evolve over time, and sometimes I wonder how much of it - here in Australia anyway - was due to the vast influx of Americans into this country back in the 1800's.
Yeah, I know it's happened all over the world, but the "U.S. to Oz" thing is all that I've actually experienced myself.

See, most Australians aren't even aware that the famous Cobb and Co stagecoach company was actually founded by American's... Freeman Cobb, John Murray Peck, John B Lamber and James Swanton – and that it was originally called the American Telegraph Line of Coaches, until someone decided that was too much of a mouthful, so they simplified it to Cobb and Co(Company)...


Fosters Beer... the great "Aussie icon", was actually started in 1887 by 2 Americans - William M. Foster and his brother Ralph R. Foster- They had sailed from New York, USA with the dream of starting a successful brewery on the other side of the world. And they did... with Fosters now being known around the world.


Not that it actually makes any difference in the big scheme of things, but I do find it fascinating to think of all the words and terminology - and products - that exist in Australia today that people consider to be 100% Australian... that aren't actually Australian after all, when you come right down to the base root of it all.
Or at the very least, they weren't originally founded or - in the case of words - used by Australian's.
And I just wonder if anyone even knows (okay, maybe "cares" is the better word) where the words or brands that are considered purely Australian, (or any nationality in the world, for that matter) originally originated from. I just find it fascinating, is all...
But maybe I'm funny that way.

And who in the hell decided that a fanny was now in the front of a body, instead of the back?

Words... A rose by any other name...

Words.... I just love 'em, don't you?

I love everything about them.
I love how words and their meanings and definitions can change with time...
I enjoy studying up on the origins of words...
The look of them marching across a printed page...
and mainly just the feel of words on my tongue...

I love the power of words and the sheer evocative-ness of them.
And okay, my head and spell-check knows that "evocative-ness" isn't a correct word, but you get what I'm saying...right?
And isn't that the whole point of words? To convey what's in your heart and mind? To get your point across?

See, I love big words and little ones, archaic ones, modern ones, plain speech and just using words in general.

I've been told that I write just like I speak and that people can hear my voice when I write... and I guess that's true.
But you see, the words are always whirling around in my head, and I'm just a tool for getting them down on paper.
They use me sometimes... rather than the other way around.
So to speak anyway.

I can clearly remember my first words, or rather my first sentence, from when I was about 18 months old.
I remember it clearly... because, for about a year or so, it was about the only thing I did say. Because I said it on a daily... no... make that probably an hourly basis for over a year or two.

"Beebee cy'in, pweese make stop."

Which leads me to believe that my baby sister was born a sooking, whining, pain in the ass patootie... and that some things never change.
She's been gettin' on my nerves for nigh unto 53 years now, so I guess she'll never change at this late date. And neither will my attitude towards her.
Which is kind of sad, innit?

Oh, this "word stuff" is always floating around in my brain, but what really brought it home to me last week, was meeting another American who's over here for a few weeks... and I've been simply lovin' just sitting and listening to this 'friend of a friend', say words...

Now don't get me wrong, I love the Aussie accent and I love most Aussie words, but it does my heart good to hear words pronounced the way I'm used to hearing them pronounced - you know what I mean?
Not that one is better than the other - because they're not .
But it's just different.
You know... just having the chance to hear the words that I listened to and learned when I was growing up.
Just the plain ol' homey-ness of it all.

Words like Nokia being pronounced as No-Kee-a, (that might be a California thing... I'm not sure) rather than Knocky-a.
Or hearing Nike pronounced as Ni-key instead of Nike (rhymns with "like")
Adidas ( A-DEE-das) instead of Added-ASS.
Celica, not Suh-LEEka,
Tortilla instead of tor-tiLLa.
(that one just makes me {{shudder}} when I hear it on cooking shows)
Taco instead of Tack-o...

I get so busy with just listening to the old 'familiar and well-loved' words rolling off Miz N's tongue, and right outta her mouth, that I've actually lost track of what she's saying...
Which has earned me some puzzled looks, I can tell you true, when I sit there listening, and then say things like "Wow! I LOVE this" "This is so cool!" (Hey, I'm very erudite when the occasion calls for it, whot?)... while she's recounting the details of a car crash she witnessed!
But see... it's not what she's saying... it's more how she's saying it.

I just love the wordiness of it all... The homeyness
(as opposed to what the Aussies call homely-ness.
Like in:"Oh what a homely little house you have here." Which is supposed to be a compliment.
And which took some getting used to, believe me... when someone once told me I had a very nice, homely face!)

Now... what had me laughing and pondering last week, was hearing Miz N tell us about an Aussie congratulating her on picking up the Aussie lingo so quickly. After just two days, she was now speaking genuine "Aussie"... and she couldn't figure out what they were on about...

Because the word she had said, was simply "reckon".

See, Miz N and I are both from California, with our parents originally coming from the South... so we've both been saying "reckon" right from the get-go.
It's not a word we learned here in Oz... it's a word we were born and raised with.
Millions upon millions of Americans have been using the word "reckon" for hundreds of years.

And with me loving the meanings and roots of words like I do, (which kinda makes me a self-styled, self-promoting, etymologist, doesn't it?) well... I've almost always known that "reckon" is originally from the German word rechnen.
(I'll spare you the details, okay? But it was my 6th grade teacher that started my life-long love affair with wordiness)

But "reckon" has been a part of the general American language for nigh unto 300+ years now..
("Reckon" is mainly used in the midwest, northwest and southern U.S., while "consider" is used extensively or exclusively on the upper east coast, as well as in parts of the northern U.S.)

Yeah.. I love my words, and I just figure if I've gone to the trouble to listen and learn all about them and absorb them, and because I love the joy that they bring to my life, the least I can do is let them out every once in awhile... and let them dance across the pages.

Do y'all know what I'm sayin'?
What do you reckon?

Ear Ye... Ear Ye...

Hey, I just wanted to reassure that Jazzy and I are doing just fine, with our respective ear problems, so 'ears the latest update.

Jazzy's ears are healing up beautifully and - fingers crossed - the stitches come out in another couple of days! Plus, she seems to be enjoying living the life of Riley around here, laying on the couch and only getting up to have a "special" can of food twice a day.
You know... the little expensive, " I could have made the car payment with what these are costing me for 10 days" ones... like shredded chicken and egg in truffle aspic and duck liver with cream and chives... which are totally unlike the el-cheapo cans of Whiska's the other poor cats are getting.

I can see a revolt coming... and I've even seen several of the other cats sitting in the window trying to sun their ears, in hopes of getting them fried, so that they can have that special food too.
Little do they know...

And me? With the antibiotics and other crap the doctor has given me, I'm doing just fine. I'm still a bit scatter-brained, but I think that's just my normal little ol' self, and at least the dizziness is much better.
I haven't found the urge to clutch at any strangers for the last few days, anyway.

Reading is still a bit of a hassle, with words and letters dancing around like spit on a hot iron, but it's getting better day by day...
Geez, I just can't wait until things are back to normal, and I can get back to catching up on y'all!

I have ears! Isn't that wonderful??

Or is it? I don't know anymore.
Nowadays, I don't know if I'm coming or going.
I don't know if I'm Arthur or Martha...
If I'm Tom or Jerry...
Frick or Frack...
Laurel or Hardy
I honestly don't.

I've been snowed under with one thing or another and it seems like the faster I go, the behinder I get.
I take 3 steps forward, and two steps back.... and nothing, but nothing, is getting accomplished around here.

I thought it was just me.
You know... just terminal laziness or lack of concentration on my part.
Overwork, or maybe even a brain tumor.
You know the kind of stuff.
(well maybe, I'm the only here with those silly hypochondriacal thoughts running through my head.)

The stuff that has you folding a heap of towels and then leaving them to just sit on the kitchen table for days on end, because putting them away seems like so much effort.
It just all seems so overwhelming and you almost want to cry because nothing is getting done.

Doing stupid stuff... like getting out of the shower only to realize that all the towels are still in the kitchen and you left the blinds open and you have no chance in hell of dashing across the living room in your birthday suit, without someone seeing you through the windows (which would cut down on peeping toms, I'm telling ya, if there were any out there) and laughing their arses off... leading to feeling of worthlessness and shame on my part.

And then to top it off, I've been feeling just a titch under the weather.
Nothing serious, and certainly nothing that I could put my finger on, but just not feeling 100%, ya know?

Sticky oozy eyes in the morning... a sore nose like I had been punched in a cat-fight over Tom Selleck or something, and a head that just felt a little more than a little top-heavy.
Trouble reading... in bed or otherwise, which was making taking first aid and child protection tests and quizzes a real chore and a worry... and wondering if the entire class would get the chance to practice first aid on little ol' me.
Being put into the recovery position, if I fell outta my chair and hit the floor, had me worried, let me tell ya, and I was so busy worrying about it, that I got behind... and that isn't like me at all. I'm usually pretty much "on the ball" and focused when it comes to class work and studying.
The teacher even asked me last night, if I had a history of epilepsy... which scared the chit out of me!


And then this morning, it hit me.
Literally.
I've been a bit dizzy and light-headed for days ( I said dizzy, not ditsy, so let's not be going there. We already know about the ditsy part.)
Anyhoo.... I got up this morning, made my usual mad dash to the tootie, and realized that the room was spinning a bit. Well, actually more than a little. I felt like I had had a night on the wine, without the tummy upset.
And instantly I said "AHA!

It's not me... it's my ears!
I've got that freakin' Labyrinthistis back again.

You know, the inner ear problem that throws your balance off and has you clutching madly at cute, spunky doctors and threatening to swoon in their strong manly arms.

The problem that has you feeling like you're on a roller coaster, tilt-a-whirl combination and you stagger around like you've been into the booze cupboard at 6am in the morning.
Throwing yourself into any available arms... manly or otherwise, just to keep from hitting the deck.
Not that it's that bad yet, but if it runs it's course like it has in the past, I'll be taking some time off work, rather than trip and fall on small smelly persons...
And of course cooking or housecleaning will be out of the question as well.
Good thing I have a helpful man around the house, eh?
(Oh Lord, just shoot me now...)

It's not a brain tumor, epilepsy, or early onset, senile dementia problem... or me losing my mind and going around the twist because of the hippy-dippy lifestyle I lived in 70's... like I thought it was... it's just too much juice in my head and ears.

I should have seen this coming, but with worrying about Jazzy and all... and running my arse off with stupid unnecessary night classes, and just the day-to-day drivel that goes on around here, it just never entered my pretty little head that it was anything actually physical.

So instead of working today, I think I'll take the day off and go see what cute manly doctors I can throw myself on.

I hope and pray that I get the cute spunky one and not the old guy with the bad comb-over and terminal dandruff. {{{shudders}}}
If I'm going to faint, I want someone cute and strong to be there for me...
I don't want to clutch at the old dandruffy doctor and end up with both of us on the floor.
It would ruin the day for both of us....

(Disclaimer:
I didn't re-read this at all to check for making one tiny little iota of sense, or do any spell-checking, so if it's absolute rubbish and totally incomprehensible... tough titties.
I have a good excuse.)

Hissssssssstt.... I'm back!

Well, it seems that my mom wasn't waking up after all. She just rolled over and did one of those bottom burp things and then started snoring again, so here I am... back again.
I just wanted to share some of the photos that I took of me.

Now, I wanted to try and use her webbed-foot cam or whatever it's called to get some pics of my beautiful face and my poor, poor ears, but her chair is too low and it just kept taking pictures of air!
So I told Willow to get her furry little butt over here, to take some photos of what mom paid those people to do to me.
And the stoopid cat did as she was told, but then again, she certainly knows who's the boss around here!

Here I am before... and I think I look just fine the way I was.
I have to admit my ears did hurt when I flicked them, and pieces kept falling off though...

And this?
This is what they did to me!!
Can you believe it?
I'm seriously hissed off here!
And yes, that's blood on the wall. When my slave mom wakes up, she'll wash it off, because like Willow, she does as she's told!
(by the way, I've had cat flu, so that's why my eyes look the way they do. I'll be back to normal in no time.)

All I can say is, I'm not happy with my photos.
Not happy at all!
It may take me a long, long time to get over what she did to me!

Now don't forget to read that last post I did, because I put a lot of time and effort into it and when I do something, I like people to pay attention!!
At least now I understand why my mom is always bitching about her nails when she types on here, because typing on this box is just so hard on my nails!
Maybe that's why she's always carrying on about getting a peticure!
And as for a manicure?
Thank you very much, but I'll pass!


Oh.. and I remember now, why I know I'm Royal.
My mom was a Queen... that's why!
Which makes me a princess.... and princesses are royalty, isn't that right??
I thought so!

You can hiss off now.
I'm going back to bed.