"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my submarine lair. It's long, hard and full of seaman!"
I could so go for a shrimp cocktail right now. Mmmmm, I loves me some shrimp. If I had to choose one food to live on for life, it�d be shrimp. Fortunately, I�m not forced to make such a choice. I heard that too much shellfish can make you ill or something like that.
Anyway. What the hell was that?
I love this diary. Know why? Because just when I feel like a complete and total freakazoid, I can just post it here and get all kinds of feedback from people that are equally as freaky as me. I kid. Honestly, though. I don�t think I�ve ever felt more normal in my whole life as I have in the almost two years (!!!) since I started this thing up.
I�ve barely stopped thinking about the whole Brian thing since last Thursday night. Again, I�m a freak of nature. It�s made for some good fantasies, though. But anyway. Yeah. I still can�t get over it. And I so forgot to write about how the whole time I was in the class with them, I kept thinking of how I was going to write about this on dland.
I�ve been fairly impressed with Andrew�s efforts to improve dland lately. I mean, yesterday I saw that he made two new built in template designs. Holy crap! I�ve been playing on dland for more than five years and he�s made more progress in the past few weeks than he ever has. I guess I�ll stick it out and renew my gold membership.
So. My little credit union, where I worked for 2 � years and continued to do my banking, has merged with a much larger one. This has been going down for the past six to nine months but over this weekend was the total conversion. No more Gateway, now it�s all St Mary�s Bank. Which, they�re a credit union, but they call it a bank. And guess what? They act like a fucking bank, too. My accounts are all fucked up and I�m annoyed. I went in yesterday to make a deposit and I had to make out fucking deposit slips for every account I wanted to deposit in (I had it all set up to make life easier. I had my checking, a savings where I save money for the kids health insurance, another savings for the rent, another savings without Hub�s name on it so I could hide money from ex-wives and the IRS, and a Christmas Club. And two loans, my personal loan--two more payments and that one is DONE!--and my car loan). And then, they don�t take deposits directly to a Christmas Club account. WTF? In the words of my favorite Mexican, Carlos Mencia, �That�s retarded�.
Let�s not even go into the $100 that my checking is short, that I can�t look into until I get my last Gateway statement sometime this week. Because my account history is history with the conversion.
I�m going to be patient, but I�d really like to bank elsewhere. We have our business account over at Triangle Credit Union, where I was for years before I worked at Gateway, and the only reason I moved my stuff to Gateway was because I worked there and it was easier. But I can�t really move my accounts to Triangle. Guess why? Hub. They have like a credit check they do before you open accounts, where they check to see if you�ve ripped off anyone else in their network (basically, any financial institution). Well. Hub�s credit sucks, and he has shit from when he was with Helen, shit that should have been gone with his bankruptcy, but like everything else on his credit that he was supposed to fix up last winter, it didn�t get done. And our accounts, for the most part, need to be joint. Rrrr.
A few weeks ago, Muffy gave me this idea in one of her entries to show where we live. Since I was short on diary fodder, I went around the house and took some pictures. Well. I changed my mind on that one, seeing as my house was a fucking disaster area. It usually is. Anyway. Mickey made a point to be in some of the pictures. He�s too cute, which is why I share these with you now. You can see my little sweetie boy and peek at the mess that is my home.
You�ll have to pardon the mess. Or don�t. Whatever. Remember that I have two teenaged boys, two little kids, and a husband that actually live here, two step daughters that visit, two little kids that come over everyday, other random kids from the neighborhood, and a lazy streak. My house has been called �lived in� more than once.
My kitchen, and the boy, in his new Spongebob PJ�s:
The kitchen again:
(Oh, don�t call my cell phone. Or Linda. Or Brendan�s cell phone. The very observant might know what I�m speaking of).
This one cracks me up. He�s such a goof. This is the living room. The entertainment center sucks ass, and we�ve (finally) been looking to replace it. I hate it. It reminds me of the mole on The Mole�s face. I just can�t stop looking at it.
My computer desk, where all the dland magic happens, and an even cuter face on this goofy little guy:
And finally, just a cute picture of the cutest little boy EVER:
Oh, and I totally didn�t even mention the fact that last Thursday, September 29th, was the fifth anniversary of his open heart surgery. I remembered it that day, even Hub did, but I neglected to mention it here. I suck. Oh well.
Anyhoo�I�m off. I hope the pictures don�t fuck up the entry. Let me know if they do. Not that I can so anything about it except yank the pictures.
Ciao, motherfuckers!