Another whirlwind weekend ahead...

Hiya Stevie, what's shakin'?

I watched Stephen Colbert last night and saw that the 405 highway in LA will be shut down all weekend, which is apparently causing quite a "Carmageddon..." (I gotta tell ya, I loathe what the news stations do with that let's-name-it-something-clever-like-a-pun stuff, it drives me bonkers). You'd NEVER get Walter Cronkite to do that shit, ya know?  Or for that matter, Edward R. Murrow.  Hell no.  They'd both slap you silly if you even asked them to. THEY were REAL journalists.

I went to college to become a journalist, until I learned that 90% of what happens on any given day is less than 10% of what they report.  Disgusting.  Not only that, but I learned that every newspaper is written at a fifth grade level.  Can you believe that?!  What an insult to my intelligence.  Then I realized, if somebody's house was burning down, I could never EVER stand there with a microphone in their tear-stained face, asking how they FEEL about it, just to get ratings.  That just gives me the creeps.  How the F@#$K do you THINK they feel when their house and everything they OWN has just burned to the ground??  I think the biggest, worst possible scandal EVER in the history of journalism, however, (or at least one of the top 10), is Princess Di. What those reporters did was CRIMINAL, as far as I'm concerned.  She would have lived if they hadn't been pursuing her so fast through that tunnel.  It broke my heart when she died.  She would have been 50 years old this year.  Feels like yesterday though.

Anyway, so this "Carmageddon" stuff is really, royally gonna suck for you this weekend, ain't it?  Tsk tsk, I guess you'll have to get into your private jet and just fly everywhere then....you rich sexy beast you.
Ah well, I hope you won't be stuck on the highway all weekend long, just stay home and work on that album dammit.

Okay, well, this coming weekend is going to be a whirlwind....again....(life with Pete is a whirlwind all the time).  I gotta tell ya though, I'm exhausted just thinking about it.  Tonight, he's taking me to see MEATLOAF in concert....yeah, he's coming to the 'burgh, down around the river, to croon at me tonight.  Then, tomorrow we are going to the MAYHEM festival all day long, to see Disturbed, Godsmack and Megadeath, plus several local bands that play heavy metal music.  Then, on Tuesday evening he's taking me to the theater to see Jesus Christ Superstar, and dinner first....then on Wednesday we're taking both the mom's with us to see JOSH GROBAN in concert.

My head is spinning.  I think I need a nap.

Pete doesn't seem to understand that I am what they call a HOMEBODY...that is, I like to stay HOME sometimes, to watch t.v., or just read a book, or just enjoy some relaxing time to myself.  We've got a great big HOUSE now, that I love, and I'd like to spend more TIME in it.  Pete, however, is Mister A.D.D., like the Energizer Bunny, can't sit still, can't just chill out, has to always be busy doing something or going somewhere, constantly.  It really does make my head spin.  He's also very "touchy-feely," which annoys the hell outta me...especially in the mornings.

I am NOT a morning person by any stretch of the imagination.  So when he rolls over, and starts rubbing my arm, I pull away and grunt.  Then he starts rubbing my boob, or fondling me elsewhere, and it starts to really get on my nerves.  I roll over and say PERSONAL SPACE PLEASE as loud as I can, (the man apparently has an issue with personal boundaries), and then I roll back over again to try and get back to sleep.  But nooooooo, Pete doesn't give up.  He is one persistent little cuss.  He'll start kissing me on the arm, or on my cheek, or whatever body part is closest to his face at that moment, and it makes me feel like he's SMOTHERING ME, so I end up trying to ESCAPE from the bed, and away from him.  Then he wants to "snuggle," which is typically MORE than just "snuggling." He's always horny in the mornings, and I most assuredly am NOT.

So, on days like today, when I get rudely awakened like that, he says something glib like, "Someday when I'm dead and gone, you'll wish you had me there to fondle you and snuggle with you every morning like I do now."  (Sure, that makes sense, but right NOW it bugs the shit outta me).  Today was just a crappy way to begin the day.  The doorbell rings at 9 a.m. (an unusual thing around here), and I had forgotten the Terminix man was coming to spray around our house for bugs.  Then, I have to drive Pete to work, then I pass by another dead damned deer on the side of the road near my house---I swear I'm going to post a sign that says SLOW THE FUCK DOWN AND STOP KILLING OUR DEER!-- stupid ass people, the speed limit around here is 25 miles an hour.  Not 55.  But they don't seem to know how to READ in this godforsaken city of Pittsburgh. Buncha redneck sports-geek beer drinkin' assholes.

BLEAH.

So then I go to the store where I lost my @#$%! prescription sunglasses last week---I am so MAD at myself I could spit nails---I had them in my hand, with my cell phone, as I was leaving the damned counter where I paid for my items, but somewhere between there and my car, they vanished.  I searched that store all over the place when it first happened, but I didn't find 'em anywhere.  I called to have the employees look around, to no avail.  Then I went BACK in today to double-check again, just in case, but they were still nowhere to be found.  DAMMIT TO HELL.  So I had to go BACK to the optometrist, order the same damned glasses, and pay AGAIN, the outrageous price of $168 to get them re-made.  That's a $325 pair of sunglasses.  And if I lose THESE, I'm gonna slit my own damned throat.
Well, okay, that might seem a bit extreme, but you get the idea. (STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID)

And now I'm home, only to discover that the damned garbage men have DUMPED some loose garbage all around the spot, and now I get to go clean it up...grrrrrrrr....and then I go to peek in on Florence, and I find yet another pile of cat puke on the carpet.  Her carpet in her bedroom is ruined, because of that stupid cat.  He has a sensitive stomach, but she feeds him too much and he eats until he pukes.  I have taken the feeding of the cats AWAY from Florence, but sometimes she still sneaks them food.  GRRRR.

So if it's not Pete driving me bugshit batty, then it's Florence's damned pukey cat, or somebody ELSE on the daily agenda who just royally pushes my buttons to the point of no return.  I now have a headache from all this, and I only have 2 hours before I have to go back and pick Pete up from work, and then go to this concert tonight to see Meatloaf and his angry temper sing "I would do anything for love, but I won't do that." (This was a last-minute surprise from Pete. I really didn't care if I went to see him or not). I've lived 43 years on this planet without seeing Meatloaf even once, so I could live without it again.

Anyway, so that's been MY day, and this weekend is going to be insane.  I'm looking forward to seeing Josh Groban, but all the other stuff, I really don't feel like doing.  I mean, okay, the Mayhem festival is pretty damned cool, sure, but it's 90 degrees and humid outside...not exactly "fun" weather to go and stand around outside with a bunch of drunk 20-something-obnoxious-idiots all day long.  Ya know?  A nice, quiet evening, here at home, curled up on the couch watching an old movie is more my speed.

SIGH.  I guess in life you just get mismatched with some people, even if most of your connection SEEMS to match each other....there just seems to be something off-kilter no matter what.

Okay, well, I will try to take some pictures at the concerts and stuff, to put on this blog for you to see later on.  Hope you have a nice weekend, stay off the 405 and safe at home, keep writing those songs and singing, and recording that album, and if you DO decide to get into that private jet of yours, fly on over here to the 'burgh, and rescue me so that we can sit home and watch an old movie tonight, ok??

Love, Rebecca