This is me in a nut shell. I don't know how I got into this nut shell...

Only a few weeks after Timber Jenny and I moved into our SE abode did we realize that we were not the only tenants of our room. At first, there was the scratching. Tiny reminders now and then that we were not alone. As time went by, the scratching became more frequent, accompanied by the occasional.... I don't know what you call it.... cooing? chirping? whatever.

Now we sit here in absolute certainty knowing that we are fellow tenants to 1 MILLION SQUIRRELS!

We came to this realization last weekend when Timber's mother was visiting. She had befriended a cute little squirrel on our porch which she named, Rocky. Rocky seemed wholesome and innocent, but overly friendly. He had a wheeze and I was curious as to whether he had lung complications. Upon leaving the porch and heading to the second story bathroom Cindy (Timber's mother), heard wheezing at the window..... how peculiar.. And there was Rocky again, wheezing at the window.

Well..... Rocky has pulled a full on BLITZKREIG on our house. 2 weeks ago when exploring the attic for the first time, we found nothing but nut shells. He was toying with us. We are quite sure he and his girlfriend are fornicating in our attic/bedroom walls as I write this. We hear wheezing/chirping/cooing, but much more animated than before. We hear comotion. Furthermore, as our housemate DMLH left the house, he beckoned me outside. On the very tip top point of our house wheezed/chirped/cooed Rocky, triumphantly. He has claimed his dominion. This is the squirly nut house.

Mother fucker better start payin some rent....

I use the word "artist" loosely.

I am stepping down from EVER using oil paints. Before, when I had time and then will to try, I produced a few gems with oils. But now, now my oil paintings are started and then sit there for months on end begging to be finished. I just can't do it anymore captain!

Today I was feeling an artistic buzz. I picked up my guitar and learned "Transatlanticism", I wrote a few rhyming verses, I even started blogging. But then, I had to go and try to paint. This painting that has been unfinished in my room for months is now FUCKING HORRID because I got a wild hair up my ass and had to do something to it. After putting in a few strokes I thought, "Wow. Oil painting is just not for me anymore. But shit.... I have all this fricken oil paint... Maybe I should just throw all of it on this canvas at the same time and be done with it all." (Insert crazy evil laugh here).

So I did that and I feel worse than I felt before about just leaving it there. Holy crap. I don't think people are going to know whether I was painting or puking... Oh well.. Cover it up with more paint in a month or so I suppose.. Now it's into the shower so I can meet my ladies at the Clinton Street Pub and forget about the abomination sitting in my bedroom.

Did we share a moment?

Today was the last day of Timber's mother and co. visiting so we decided to take them to Saturday Market. It was a beautiful morning really. The sun was out, I woke up without a hangover (usually unheard of on Sundays), and I was feeling real nice about the situation overall. After a rather profound palm reading from the lovely Maria (almost cried), Leen, Timber, and myself decided to grab a huge beer and enjoy some UVs. Everything was peachy until...... Creepy Mark!

It starts like this.... My ladies and I are standing there in the middle of the market and all of a sudden a late 40's early 50ish bloke comes over and stands in our huddle. We look on confused as he introduces himself "Hi. I'm Mark".

All together now, "Hi Mark." Us=Looking. Blinking. Confused.

Mark turns to yours truly, slowly bringing his hand up to cup him man boob and says, "Hey. I'm sorry but did we share a moment back there a few minutes ago?"

Horror. "No. We did not".

Mark seemed suprised. I don't quite know what he might have had in mind for the chemistry between the two of us but it makes me kind of nauseas. Leen made a good point when she said "just because we are of legal drinking age, does not nessecarily make us fair game". Well said. When you resemble the guy below, but your smirk is creepier and your picking up on girls that could be your daughters age at a street fair, there's a good chance we won't be hitting it off. Sowwy.

Why today is so terrifying.

This One.

This is Leen. AKA Pooter. Today she turns 21. She may look like a nice girl. All sugar and spice and everything nice. Like here.....
But under that facade of seemingly girl next door demeanor, there is a rampant and wild she wolf cheetah waiting for that 5th shot of tequila that will unleash the beast. I'm pretty sure she's made out of some viscious desert carnivore, electric fence, and a bit of David Bowie. Look at that smirk. It's saying "Danger! I will break everything and everyone the day I'm allowed into a bar."

Terrifying.

Consider yourself warned Planet Earth.

I'm suffocating!

I can't breathe and it's really starting to scare me. For the past couple of weeks I've stopped smoking cigarettes and I'm just beginning to realize the amount of lung compacity that has been compromised. Or is it the volcanic ash form Iceland drifting over this way? Another theory is that it's anxiety. If so, I need to get a hold of myself real quick. All I know is that I couldn't sleep last night because my lungs kept forgetting to breathe and when my body would remember again the initial shock would wake me up from my already shallow rest. Respiration is an autonomic system damn it! I shouldn't have to think about breathing. What a chore.

Image Cred- xCaitx on Deviantart.com

"Yea he's just hanging out... Oh wait no... he's dead.."

So... I found a dead horse today. Yep. I have the terrible image stuck in my head. I'll spare you the gorey details but it definitely triggered my gag reflex. I've decided that the experience of finding a dead horse is comparable to witnessing puppies getting kicked and tortured. At least, I can only imagine the two events conjuring the same emotional response for me. Hopefully, I forget that image really really freeaking soon. I had a feeling I was going to see some death today because last night I had a dream about one of my family members being pregnant. Look it up, dream psychology is weird shit. Anywho...

Rest in Peace Pepper. You were a tired old thing and I never really got close to you cus I thought you were gonna bite me.. But.. you were white, and I liked that about you...

I don't think we're on the same page.

A little word of advice to the fellas out there, I don't mind friendly conversation at the bar. I don't even mind you rambling my ear off about your band for an hour while I try to watch The Shining in subtitles. But if you ask for my number and I give you my email address, there's a good chance I don't want to meet you for drinks next week. Below is a picture of me after recieving your email today.

A little something for the kids..

These days pass like tired old work horses
Hallucinating in their sadness, the beasts bear my burden
Climbing steps for smiles only to bear the false fruit of future events
I am caught in limbo. I am bending backwards.

In the passenger seat, a stolen kiss
Airport sadness and a stiff drink to salt the fresh wound
Self medication and deprivation.
but settling for imaginary friends.

An insatiable appetite for satisifaction is being sedated with water and wine.
I am the drunk girl at the wedding and I will not last forever. Come find me.

Photo Cred; Deviantart.com