random: almost late at night but not quite late yet

I think I am going nuts.
When am I not going nuts?
When am I not thinking that I am going nuts?

………………………………………………………………………you asked. Fair point. My apologies for such redundancy.

Though I beg your tolerance.

Tonight is different. 
At the door that demarcates the end of my mother’s baking room and the beginning of what she calls her country chicken kitchen {some sort of a tongue twister after a few shots of Vodka} which is also affectionately known as her mud room, I stood there thinking out loud, 
“I wish I have my gun” 
and there I was visualizing the weight of it on my palm and the green expense of the shooting range. It’s still and quiet. The air and moment freezes. No sounds of clay ducks being struck down nearby. Then again in the many countless of hours where I had spent some close to 7 years ago while figuring life out for a few months, it was often quiet there. 
Occasionally the pakcik who walks with a limp would check me out to see if I’m ok.
I wonder if he worries about the club rules, my safety or my sanity. 
In any case he loves me. 
He has to. 
I am possibly the only person who sweeps the spent shells after me and picks up the shells that have gone array to toss them off in the proper depository. 
Or maybe he enjoys seeing me win bets after bets against the rich male chauvinist who made the majority of my shooting “partners”.
But none of this is really the point. 
Well, the point kindda took on it’s own course after “I wish I have my gun” and now that I’ve typed at least a couple of hundreds of letters thereafter, naturally I have lost the entire plot.
In any case, tonight I discovered Penelope Trunk.
Penelope who? 
Since I’m not really in the mood to elaborate and explain, having to write blog entries at the drop at the hat at work for announcements that are far from inspiring, please help yourself HERE. Just so you know, I have stopped wondering where Corporate Communications are a few past lives ago – until and unless I meet one with brains, talks less and cut the two-face phony act out, I will change my views and start wondering why I’m doing their jobs for them.
The one in the present job not only suffers from the above syndrome, but lacks any sense of style and fashion. Look, married women who have had kids and who do not pass the horizontal measure of 5 feet 7 inches and can’t afford a 6 inch Louboutin must never where baby doll dresses or those with paunchy frills and gathers around the waist! Not even if you are a Betty Crocker look alike; which she is far from it.
This point of observation somehow disturbs me a lot.
The lack of fashion sense that is.
But frankly who has any fashion sense, where I’m stuck at? Who has any indeed.
A related but definitely not the point I had started this blog entry is:
don’t you think it’s bizarre to be talking and crying over a cancelled date with the ex- ?

I thought it was.
So despite the tears streaming down my cheeks on my drive back home, I cut the call short when the ex- called to find out if I was o.k.
Well, naturally I am NOT ok.
But it was just too strange to be talking to someone who, to put it bluntly had similar wrong doings in the end of the day.

{Alarm Bells Ringing}
I must start cultivating women friends.
Gays don’t count.
.

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{by the way all my blogs have scheduled listing … so, please do NOT call me to ask if I am ok.
If there’s still sign of life HERE or at other avenues, of course I am ok. 
Thanks though! 
… and thanks to the supporter who gave me this poster below}
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One thought on “random: almost late at night but not quite late yet

  1. Just go shoot film and digital pixel.The problem with you is you own a gun which you still have not brought me to the club … bah!Cheer up!Forget the damn guy who cancelled the date. This is him him right? Jeez!!!!!!

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