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Being Disabled Sucks Balls

Ah, man. The moving company that finally found my stuff and is bringing it here forgot to remind me that they are going to hold my shit hostage until I finish the payment for delivery. It’s five months late, y’all. I deposited the money orders in the bank after two months, figuring my shit was lost forever anyway.

If I could pay with a debit card, there would be no problem. I can’t. They demand post office money orders or cashier’s checks. I can’t leave today. I used up all my go power yesterday, running my mom around to various places. The library, the book store where I thought I saw Jax, Smoker Friendly because my parents are two-pack-a-day smokers, and CVS for my dad’s medication. He’s not doing well at all. He’s been into the hospital four times this month.

If you have a great father, kudos. I don’t. If I did, I’m sure I’d be broken up about everything going on. But, then again, ‘Let that shit go’ as the faux Buddha shirts proclaim. I asked God if that’s what enlightenment is. He said, ‘Yes.’

I don’t know why I can’t get any other kind of money order to pay the ransom for my things that are half a year late. I don’t know why they don’t take debit cards. It can’t go through if the money isn’t there, you know. It’s short sighted is what it is.

Bansidhe says, ‘Meow.’ Or, rather, a rumbling purr storm that never ends, really. She’s sitting in my lap, trying to garner my attention instead of the keyboard.


I sincerely hope my electronics are not permanently damaged by sitting in the elements for five months. I bet I’ll be calling them about it next week. I’m going to wait until they fully warm up to room temperature before I try them. I daydream of playing me some Borderlands 3 soon. Pew pew pew! I wonder if my mom will play with me! I bet she would, especially if I protect her from dying too much. That’s my new mission: get my mom well enough to play BL3 with me.

If she won’t warm up to that, I’ll get her hooked on Katamari for sure. Especially since I beat them all thrice over and she can pick any board she wants so she won’t need to sit around frustrated on the same board endlessly. Not that I did… people hate me for how good I am at Katamari. In fact, I remember playing it with a boy once and he felt he needed to step up suddenly because I am a Katamari ninja. I can play any board, even if I’ve never seen it before, and win in three tries, basically. Often, it’s on the first try.

I own hundreds of games. I bet my mom will love getting into the PS1 and PS2 games again with my fully backwards compatible PS3 (80GB). I might need another controller, I can’t remember. I lost one somewhere, I think. But, one controller versus a whole system is quite doable. Yup yup. Especially with Gamestops everywhere. I love buying refurbished shit; it lasts longer than new shit.

Oh and all my movies!!!!! ❤ I have so many movies. So many books. So many games. An entire lifetime of entertainment to retire to, is what I was building. Stuff to keep me busy after my work life ended. If it ever did. I planned to work up to the moment I die, originally. That’s why I say I died. I can’t anymore. I can’t wrangle my brain to do the mental gymnastics of techno-wizardry. It’s possible I won’t, but I’m pretty sure that part of me is dead and never coming back.

I took a deal with God for true love and he said, ‘Okay, but your career goes.’ It’s gone, you guys! Bam. Dead. All because I nearly died of malnutrition and starvation. Thanks, Dr. Hell, you’re a gem, she says sarcastically.

Now, I am a writer. That is the deal. I write for God. Can’t you tell?

Today, he asked me if I would make breakfast for my honey bunny so he could go to work every day. Since he will gladly drink a smoothie every day, I agree! One blender to rule them all.

In fact, I’m excited. I bought a blender for the two of us before I left St. Louis, before I really understood what was going on. Before the whole plan was revealed to me. The plan is: catch a shy guy who works in a deli who will never look at another woman the way he looks at me, ever. ❤

I bought a blender, a pair of sandals for me, and a grill set for him. We danced in the kitchen — I remember that clearly. I yearn for it, actually. I never had so much fun as the time we spent together early last year. He tickled me while I played Borderlands 3 and called me a murder hobo. So many fond memories, I must say. I can’t wait to make more. To make new ones. And, he volunteers to make dinner, apparently. That’s the hardest meal anyway, if you ask me.

So, it seems my deal is this: I don’t have to work anymore aside from keeping house and writing for God. I can write while my honey bunny is at work. It’s perfect. I make two meals a day for everyone involved — including my parents — and snacks and he makes dinner. It sounds delightful to me.

‘What about the bedroom?’ they all ask. How rude. That’s private! But I assure you it’ll be dyn-o-mite! ‘How can I be so sure?’ God told me so, jackass. I trust God. Don’t you? He said he was giving me everything I want and need because I was willing to settle for only what I needed to begin with. And what I want is a man who is loyal above all else. Not a brainwashed slave or servant, not a man who goes to work mindlessly and comes home to be more mindless, not a person who bows down to my every whim and desire. A man who knows who he is, knows where his fealty lies, and commits to living with me in harmony.

That’s a real man, right there. It’s not washboard abs or a trim silhouette or any of that shit. That’s vain bullshit. My man has a beer gut and plays his tummy drums well! And I’ll play my tummy drums, too, and we’ll be a duo of tummy drummers. ‘Cuz why not? We are real people shaped like real people. Chasing this fantasy of perfection just makes people beyond miserable. Women and men both starve themselves to try to look perfect, not realizing — as God wants you to know without a doubt — that you are eating foods your body cannot digest. That’s the reason you’re fat.

You’re going to have to go on a self-discovery mission to figure out what you can and cannot eat. God’s blanket suggestion is to eliminate grains to the best of your ability and dairy products. I know, it sucks. I’m sorry. That’s why I’m working on recipes to help get people over the hump. That’s why I share them freely. I’m just plugging Wegmans so hardcore so that someone stumbles upon this blog and tells the man of my dreams that he needs to read it, they think it’s about him.

I really do prefer the Wegmans brand over most other brands and I’ll tell you why: it’s made out of love. That’s the one difference that matters. Instead of following rando recipes for how to create things, they dream up new things with love in their hearts. For instance, if you take a look at their plant-based cheese, at least the cheddar… it does not use xanthan gum like most neo hippie crap does these days. Xanthan gum is not my friend. I gain weight like you wouldn’t believe with that shit in my system. It’s actually why I’ve been the same weight for a whole year now.

I lost forty pounds by eliminating dairy and nightshades from my diet. I know you can do it if you set your heart on it. I believe in you. ❤

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