Into the monster's belly ~& out the demon's ass

Well, is there a moment when you feel as though you have just been ~life fodder~? Yes, it's true, I have lately been going through the intestinal tract of life, and I fear I have been shat out with the fibrous extras. To date, I shall list my current woes: ( you can all boo-hoo along with me, as you see fit, the moment hits you, & or you feel the need to pass gas.)

~ Trip to the dentist's did NOT go as planned, some total DORK was taking impressions, and ought to get a refresher course in basic playdough manipulations.

~As a result, implant may or may not occur.

~ DARN good thing I saved my current crown, to be used until further impression could be scheduled.

~ Unfortunately, hubby lost his job, so benefits will cease before next appointment.

~ Hubby lost his job, so there isn't really any fundage to get it done ANYway.

~ Did I mention hubby lost his job?

The whole tooth thing can actually be lived with, albeit annoyingly. The whole job thing is a little more difficult to swallow. Now I have to really make my online playing actually WORK! Oh woe is me. See, this is what happens when us playgirls who are so dependent on a man get our little rug pulled out from under us. We have to join the rest of the world, and actually become productive human beings.
It hurts, ooohh, how it hurts.
The pain.... the paaiinnnnnn....
The worst part is, I have to actually budget the money I was bringing in, which was heretofore used with quite a bit of reckless abandon.
Actually, a little bit of budgeting might be good for me. Time-wise as well.

So there you go, this was a totally self-absorbed, unfunny, true-to-life post, shats and all.
I think I oughta stick to poetry.

Ok the ACTUAL worst worst part of having an un-employed husband is NOT actually making a budget. I lied. A little. The WORSTEST of ALL part is the house-man zombie that subsequentially appears, and can be seen at various times of day and night doing an odd assortment of activities. ( Or lack there-of)

The list is pretty short ~ the zombie can be seen sleeping, criticizing anything out of order, sleeping, criticizing the world at large, sleeping, using the computer to ~job-hunt~, sleeping, and uhmm, oh yah, playing hockey. At least during the hockey, the zombie is not in a zombie state, and therefore, I suppose, cannot really be on this short list. Too bad, it gave the list some variation.
How is it that a man without daily structure can so quickly fall apart? It is beyond me. As a wife and mother of 5, I have been the primary ~scheduler & maker of plans~ since time immemorial. I am beginning to wonder if this is truly the reason men were not given the responsibility of having children. Imagine if they had to schedule every single event, REGARDLESS of life itself. Women are basically geniuses at this, because we ARE what makes a day start, progress, and end, whereas men sort of ride the crest, and just go along with the schedule as presented to them.
ok, so that whole paragraph was full of biased hoopla... so what, it felt good to get it out.
The whole zombie man part is true, anways.
ARRRGGGGHHHHHH
Well anyway, enough of my whining, I have to actually go get stuff done ( he can't think I have sat about eating bonbons lo these many years, whilst he has been slaving away at a thankless job, providing for my comforts and whims, eh?)

I hate intestinal maladies, especially when I am part of the refuse getting shat out.
Oh well, I suppose it makes for a more effective digestive system.