Shabby Miss Jenn

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Hi, hello, where are my hands?

Did you know it was possible to induce a stupor relatively similar to THC without even ingesting anything other than O2? I didn't, either. Until last night! ENTER COMPLETE EXHAUSTION. I'm trying to pick up my house when suddenly in walks two bright yellow spots. And their friend, Mr. Red. Well, hi! Who are you, again? Thanking God my kids are already safely showered and tucked into their beds, (Hallelujah!) I realize the need to sit down.

Or is it stand up?

Or move around?

Or eat?!

Drink water?!!

Something in this cabinet has to take this edge off!!! *rifles through medicine cabinet*

I can feel my heart beat. No really, there it is. In my left ear. And the outer quadrant of my left thigh. Hehe. What a strange sensation... no wait, it's not my heart beat, it's ice! And it's moving down my leg? Ugh.

I find the Q-tips and begin the prodding of my ear, while somehow navigating myself around the house to ensure there really isn't some sort of noxious gas leak.

Nope, juuuuust me. Me and this damn disease.

Hmmmm. Cheyenne wakes up. And walks around the entire house before stopping in the living room with a very blank look in her eyes. "Cheyenne honey, what are you doing?" -me, "Going potty." -her; "NO NO NO NO go to YOUR bathroom, sit on a TOILET honey!" -me, "I am, mommy!" -her...

Somehow she wound up in the correct position on the correct porcelain throne to relieve herself before getting back in her bed, but this story made me laugh for far too long. But back to the events of last night:

I force feed myself lots of pretzels, which tasted far too salty. A chicken flat bread from Schwans. Far too bland. Chocolate chips. Why are they burning my throat?!!?!

I turn on some DVR episodes of Friends only to realize I really am not one of those people that finds this show funnier when out of her own mind, it's even more inane than Chandler's jokes. (haha.)

Try reading, nope-no concentration ability at. all. And those big spots don't help. Hands, wait a minute, I CAN'T FEEL MY HANDS! *enter panic*

I retrace my events as a hero enters to save the day *dadadaDA!* Woody laughs and says IMMEDIATELY "What did you take!? You look GONE!" Well, yes, I was, thank you very much, but all I had this entire evening was two excedrin and a coffee. Hours ago. I follow him around the house rattling off whatever has happened to me that evening, and tell him "I can't feel my hands", making us both giggle; before retiring to bed for humming myself to sleep.

My only explanation is that I must have been sleep walking somehow. Too much activity. I now have a spot on my thigh that feels like I froze an ice pack to it, a very sore back, and this evil need to cry but I refuse to let in. At least I have this entertaining story to share with my future self... or, sorry, past self; should we ever invent a time machine. My future self won't remember but should have the ability to locate this particular thread.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

And the nightmare broadens...

I'm going to write a novel. A brilliant, juxtapose of what is real versus what is not. It will afflict the mind in a similar fashion to that of a white hot iron rod emblazoned on the ass. I'm considering splitting the book into two characters, the character that is really living the daily monotony known as hell-on-earth; and the character her "loving" in-law family claims her to be. Will be astronomical differences, and hilarity is sure to ensue. Be prepared to laugh, cry, laugh until you cry, and cry out in outrage at the travesty unfolding before your eyes!

As vexing as it is, my life has been split into two since I moved to the lovely state of Texas. Perhaps another sign that I really didn't belong here, but I have grown somewhat fond of this bizarre locale. I'm not entirely sure what to make of the recent accusations, and the harsh words that have been built up for at least the past few months. Other than to be completely horrified, I'm at a standstill. Grief, heartache, anguish. Essentially all of the synonyms for pain.

Hmm. Now for the back cover description, what will either repel or further draw in...

Cecilia Barnes is a young woman who lost her way-while using a G.P.S.
She's saved by a tall, dark, and handsome man on the side of the road and 
quickly finds herself married to her savior. She settles in to what should be a dream life,
but she soon learns that Adams' family is far from sane. 
Forced to bear a smile while enduring the drama that unfolds around her,
she barricades herself against the onslaught and forges her own sanity.

Or has she?

Adam's family has convinced one another that she is not who she says she is,
and time and again she is confronted with bizarre stories. Her name is Susan,
she's been to bankruptcy court multiple times, she's a hearing aid thief, and she's a pill popper.
It isn't long before Cecilia begins to wonder who she really is, and questions
both her's and "Susan's" entire life.

Intriguing? In need of an editorial hand, but it sounds promising to me. I'm fairly disgusted of the nature of some of the claims being hurtled toward me, but I do believe in Justice and Karma. And I'm holding tightly to the childish rant "I am rubber, you are glue, what you say bounces off of me and sticks to you!"