Unanswered Questions About the Undead

So, what is a zombie, anyway?

Yeah, yeah, I know...He's one of the undead. But I'm undead, at least I was the last time I checked my pulse, but I'm not a zombie!

How do I know?? Well Christ, I think I'd know if I were a zombie! There's got to be more to being a zombie than being undead. What are the other features?

Okay - that's good - a zombie was dead first, and now he's undead. But then, what about those emergency room cases, where a guy is brought in on a gurney and his heart has stopped, and the doctor puts one of those shocker things on his chest and the guy's heart starts beating again and he's okay. Is he going to be a zombie for the rest of his life?

No, of course not. I didn't think so either.

Ah - I get it!. He has to have been dead long enough that his flesh has started to rot and kind of hang in shreds off of his body. But then how is he going to be able to walk around? Don't you need intact muscles to propel yourself?

Oh...sorry, I guess I am being too technical. Okay - so a zombie was dead for quite a while, he's kinda half-rotten and nasty looking, but now he's sort of alive, but not really alive...he's just NOT DEAD, and he's walking around scaring the shit out of people. But what's the point? Whose idea was it to make the poor corpses have to get up out of their comfy graves and run around scaring people?

THE DEVIL?? C'mon, Jack! You're shittin' me! You believe in the DEVIL?

Why not? Because the devil is just a figment of people's imagination, that's why!

Yeah, I'm sure!

Hey...what's going on? Get away from me! What's that noise? Who are all those creepy guys with rotting flesh, coming across the yard? OMIFICTITIOUSGOD! I smell sulfur! And why are you laughing so fiendishly? And where'd you get that PITCHFORK?

Don't be afraid, dear readers. You don't really believe in vampires and werewolves, do you? Of course not! So how can an innocent little Halloween story hurt you? Hmmmm?

Rebel Without a Curse

"It's getting late, son. Drink your dinner."

"But Mom! I don't like blood!"

"What? That's blasphemy! Vlad! Did you hear what your son just said? I swear, this child will be the un-death of me!"

"I'm sorry, Mom. But really - it's so slimy and salty. And it stains my teeth red. All the other un-dead kids make fun of me. Even the werewolf pups! They're always saying things like, 'You suck!' And they show up every day with pieces of human flesh stuck in their teeth!"

"Oh, my poor baby! Young monsters can be so cruel. Next time, you just tell them that 'Stakes of wood can break my mood, but taunts can never kill me.' Or something like that. Improvise! You're 200 years old and those werewolves have only been around since the 1890's. And they only come out when there's a full moon, so they're loony! Ha-ha! Get it? Moon? Looney?"

"Mom, puh-leeze! But seriously, do you think we could vary the menu a little? Maybe add something to the blood to make it solid? I've heard of something the Krauts eat...it's called blood sausage. How about that?"

"Vlad! Get out of that coffin and help me talk some sense into our little batling."

"Okay! Okay! I'm coming. Hey...wait a minute...are you sure this kid is mine? I don't have a mustache! Or black hair! He looks just like...OH MY LUCIFER! It's SON OF GOMEZ!"

Okay, it's been 69 days since I posted anything on my poor little blog. And, as anyone who has read "101 Things You've Always Wanted to Know About Me" knows, 69 is my favorite number, so it's time to rev things up at bad ol' "get-your-zs."

Unfortunately, I'm tired and sleepy, so any revving up is going to have to wait until tomorrow. I've been having some sexy dreams lately, so maybe I'll get some material in my sleep tonight.

This post is all in black and white, so far. That's not very inspiring. Maybe this photo will color up my dreams.

Drink, Drank, Drunk

My husband is an alcoholic. He gets drunk almost every day, starting in the early afternoon. He's a sweetheart in the morning and an asshole (mean and argumentative) in the afternoon and evening. It is driving me crazy. Literally. Twice in the past few months I have been on the verge of suicide. Fortunately, I was able to pull myself out of the pit before actually hurting myself

I don't want to commit suicide, because I know from experience how horribly hurtful it is to the people who love you. My mother took pills to do the deed and, five years later to the day, my father blew his brains out. My sisters and I barely survived the trauma of our father's death. The guilt was so horrible, in both cases. If only we had been more attentive...if only I'd written more often, or called every weekend... or this...or that...or the other. I will not, as long as I have one shred of sanity left, ever do that to my children.

So...what do I do? Keep hoping he'll get sober? That's what I've been doing for 19 years and it hasn't happened yet. Leave him? Why should I have to leave my pleasant little home and live in some grungy apartment, when I'm not the one who's at fault (at least I don't think so)? Kick him out? No, no, no! I could never do that, because I do love him and don't ever want to hurt him. I know, I know...I sound like half the women at an Al-Anon meeting

I am considering a different plan. A couple days ago, we went out to eat. I almost never drink alcohol, but I was feeling "uptight" and the menu featured a cocktail called "Ruby Relaxer." I ordered it and enjoyed it thoroughly! It was delicious and I got relaxed as all get-out! Hubby was a bit apprehensive, as he does not like for me to get "smashed." On the other hand, he doesn't like it when I'm "nervous" either, so it turned out fine, and we had a pleasant dinner. So...last night I drank some wine when I was visiting some friends, and enjoyed the relaxation it afforded. (Hubby was not with me, since he goes to bed at 8:oo every night.)

So...what do you think? If you can't fight 'em, join 'em?? Give him a taste of his own medicine? Fight fire with fire? ______________________________ (Insert your own cliche here)

Hmmm...I'm getting thirsty...

It's Right Where I Left It, Wherever That Is

Don't ever ask me to watch your children, feed your dog while you're away, or hold your purse while you go to the bathroom. I can't be trusted. I have the attention span of a gnat and the short-term memory of a lump of clay. I would blame it on early senility, but I've been this way as long as I can remember (my long-term memory is okay, I think, but I'm not sure).

I have misplaced and/or lost countless items over the years. Purses and keys have been the victims in most of my mishaps. When I was a teenager, I once left my purse on the front bumper of my Dad's pickup, as we were preparing to drive into town. Miraculously, it was still there when we parked, seven miles later. I was not so lucky the time I left the same purse on the hood of a stranger's car in a school parking lot, while I chatted with a friend. I never saw the purse, the car, or my friend again.

I have absentmindedly abandoned my key ring in a breathtaking variety of inappropriate places. Perhaps the worst was HANGING IN THE CAR DOOR LOCK, while I toodled off to the pizza parlor for a couple of hours of eating, drinking and being merry. I didn't even realize they were missing until I was walking back to the car, looking frantically for them in my purse and pockets, wondering if I could break a window to get into the car. I was both relieved and chagrined to see them in the lock. I'm glad it was an old car, or I would have had to walk home, for sure. And then I'd have had to break the house window to get in.

I must admit that my sense of humor was not well enough developed back then to find these events amusing. Now I just say, "What the hell. You might as well laugh." So, just imagine the merriment that ensued yesterday, at the local farmers' market. I never carry a purse anymore, preferring to stow my wallet safely in my jeans' front, right pocket. So, after each purchase, I put my wallet back into my pocket, pick up my bag of produce and proceed to the next stand. I periodically pat my pocket to be sure the wallet is, indeed, in there. So, there I was, at the largest stand, surrounded by several impatient shoppers, all jockeying for position. I paid for my bags of brocolli, bananas and apples, arranged the bags on my left arm, and turned away from the stand. I patted my right pocket, checking for the wallet. It wasn't there! I tried to stay calm, checking all the other pockets. Nothing. I pushed my way back to the produce counter, and frantically looked through all the fruits and vegetables in the area I had been standing, all the while thinking that someone had stolen the damn thing and was at this very moment using my credit card to buy a new car. I called to the clerk and asked her if she had seen a small, brown wallet anywhere in the vicinity.

"You mean that one in your hand?"

There it was, in my LEFT hand, which I had thought was completely occupied by nothing but the plastic bags. Apparently, the look on my face was amusing, because the clerk started laughing. I was so relieved, that I started laughing too. And you know what? I'm laughing right now, just thinking about it.

Slow Down for Heaven's Sake!

I am beginning to be disillusioned with our fearless leader. Why on earth is he pushing for immediate passage of such a massive piece of legislation as this Health Care Bill? Isn't it something like 1,000 pages long? Shouldn't the legislators read it before voting on it? They have other things on their plates as well. Economic matters are certainly a distraction, among other subjects.

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That Health Care Bill, if passed, will change our lives in unforeseen ways. It may be good or it may be bad. Who the hell knows? What I DO know is that it needs careful study and discussion before it's signed into law. Who wrote the thing, anyway? Shouldn't we, the people, know who's behind it? What their motives are? Couldn't we be treated to some calm debate before rushing in?

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But no. President Obama just tells the legislators to pass the bill before they go on vacation next week, whether they've read the bill or not, and without careful consideration.

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Bah! Humbug!

Okay, I'm determined to post something, ANYthing, even though I'm in on of my "Why am I alive, life sucks, the world's going to hell in a handbasket" moods. So, after staring at the blank screen for several minutes, inspiration struck! I'm going to think positive and come up with a list of ten GOOD things, if I have to sit here all night. Here we go...

Ten Good Things

1. Our yard looks really pretty, with lots of flowers blooming and my artful arrangements of pretty rocks around each flower bed. If I weren't so frigging lazy I'd take some photos of those flower beds and post them, so you'd believe me. Oops! Did I veer into negative territory with the "lazy" remark? Skip that part and just pretend there are some nice pictures inserted here:

2. As far as I know, everyone whom I love is healthy.

3. So far, July in Lancaster county has been pleasant, with temps in the mid-eighties and NOT HUMID! HALLALUJAH!

4. Rush Limbaugh will probably not live for more than 40 or 50 more years.

5. I can still picture that hunky waiter in Siracusa. And...it just occurred to me that someone in our group may have taken a photo of him. If that happened, and it can be found, I will post it!

6. We have plenty of beautiful lettuce, cucumbers, zucchini (surprise!), tomatoes, bell peppers, swiss chard, parsley and carrots in the garden. Wow! That's eight "good things" right there!

7. Today I did the laundry AND the ironing in the same day! Usually the ironing sits around, getting more and more wrinkled for days, sometimes weeks, before I get it done.

8. Not all the glaciers have melted yet.

9. Sex between consenting adults is not illegal in most states, yet.

10. Sarah Palin is not Vice President. (Please note that I did not add the word "yet" to this sentence.)