My Token Whine Post

My McAfee Spam filter is an overachiever. More than that, it is arrogant. I explain to it several times who my friends are, but to no avail. It blocks messages wily nily and keeps them hidden in a file I can never remember how to get to. This distresses me because people have responded to this blog and I can only see that email may or may not have been received from them. Most times I can’t read what they’ve written. I’m usually a really good responder, and my whole reputation is going down the tubes because of this uneccessary protection. Tonight, when it is sleeping, I’m going to uninstall it….

I listed a house that is VERY RURAL – the owner suggested the perfect buyer would be the manager of a nearby ‘gentlemens club’ to provide ‘boarding’ for the ‘ladies’ who are bussed in three days a week. This is actually a very good idea. I need to set up a meeting with this ‘gentleman.’

My youngest son has recently joined a youth football league. After Downtown Dave took him to get the big things – pads, uniform, helmet – it has been my uncomfortable duty to take my son to pick up what they forgot… such as ‘practice jersey’ and ‘nut cup.’ We drove home with my youngest son grinning at neighboring cars with the ‘nut cup’ hanging from his nose.

My only daughter is buying school clothes- ’nuff said.

Above mentioned daughter is taking drill team and dance classes to perform at above mentioned son’s games wearing things barely larger than above mentioned nut cup and practice jersey.

We must see that our plumber finishes the bathroom renovations and we must finish the new deck on the old house we have for sale that is costing us beaucoups bucks every month.

I’m annoying my friends with my shamless plugs of this blog.

I spend way too much time writing this blog, yet, everyone I know and care about says you should be a writer, so if I’m a writer and I’m writing, how can I be spending too much time?

My beater van is embarassing and uncomfortable to drive but we owe more on it that it’s worth.
I hate fashion and trends. Each day, what I put on and what I say is hopelessly out of date. Each day I struggle with the comfort of clinging to my ways and the righteousness of sticking to my ideals. Each day I venture forth into the world defending my choices. And damn it, every day I wonder if it wouldn’t just be easier to knuckle under and go with the flow. Each day I chose to be myself, but I go to bed wondering if tomorrow is the day I give up the fight and become mundane.

I miss my old friends.

I really enjoy the friends I have here, but feel judged and inadequate in a societal and fashion kind of way.

I hate whining.

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