Drunken phone calls are only fun in theory

But gothic girls with beautifully trained voices as lead singers of grunge bands are good on paper too.

If you don't know, I'm talking about the new Evanesence album, The Open Door and their first single "Call me when you're sober". It's a good song. Kind of reminds me of my Daddy issues. Good times.

Anyways, I really do like the song and I'm looking forward to the release of the whole album sometime this fall. Josh will probably...find it for me. Heh.

For about five minutes today I felt good about my life. Then I remembered to breath. But actually, I'm being way over dramatic. I have a beautiful son who really is the only reason the sun comes up each day and that's all I really need to know. I love him. Sometimes the pressure is overwhelming, but it's NEVER because of him. He's perfect. I just had to clarify that.

So, to totally avoid the subject that is on my mind right now, I'll talk about Godless. Josh was able to download the whole thing for me and I listened to it on my route. I kept waiting for the proverbial shit to hit the fan but it just sounded like good old Ann to me. The chapter on abortion honestly made me cry, but when the subject is actually discussed, in light of all the known facts, you'd have to be near souless to not shed a tear or two. Then she went into the subject of teachers and the public school system. Apparently, 32,000 children are sexually abused by teachers every year. That's one out of every ten children. My aunt has eight kids she is sending to public school this year so statistically one of them is quite likely to be sexually abused. I have decided that's not a risk I'm willing to take. That fact, and the fact that the public school system is simply a TOOL has swayed me towards home schooling. I basically think private schools are a waste of money. That's a whole other story.

When Josh and I first talked about having kids, even before we were married, we said we wouldn't home school them because we didn't want them to be "weird". Now we realize that weird is actually a good thing. When you live in a society where more people can name two of the Seven Dwarves than two Supreme Court Justices, (and Sandra Day O'Connor doesn't count. She's retired.) weird is definitely a good thing.

Besides, stupidity is breeding like rabbits. I've got to do something to counter balance the universe.

Basically, I'm in a bad mood and my blog is now too public to say what's really on my mind. If we didn't have a baby, I'd be blaring some grunge as we speak.

I'd still rather have my baby. I'll save my grunge for the car.

Paneling is the Devil

I live in a faux wood jungle and I'm slowly losing my mind.

That's melodramatic, I know, but it's somewhat true. The play room and the living room are painted and it's nice but every other room here feels like the inside of a tree. I'm not a squirrel. I don't enjoy trees.

So I found myself in the paint isle in Wal-mart trying to pick out colors for our kitchen. The problem with the kitchen is it is inherently hideous. The linoleum floor was last replaced sometime in the '60s and its gold and orange and yuck all over. The counter is red...ish. There's this dark, faded like red trim that actually makes the dark paneling look even worse. It's like a cave in there. I really want to paint the place white with like an olive green trim, but I think that would really clash with all the gold and red. Heh.

But unfortunately for me, home improvement is not something I'm experienced in. And the help at Wal-mart are not hired because they take an over-whelming joy in life. I guess people skills aren't exactly required. So the old man working the paint counter doesn't tell me that the color I pick out for the walls is too peachy, and that the red is too bright even though I show him what I'm going for. The red trim is pretty, but the walls, yuck. And I guess you might be thinking that I should have asked Josh for help, him being an artist and all. But his art skills don't transfer to picking paint. I've seen the office, he's just a little shy. You can barely make out the colors of the walls. In the end though, it turned out I went a little too bold. I guess we should have let Riley pick out the paint.

In a way, he did have a lot to do with my ultimate decision because as I'm staring up at this big wall of paint swatches and he is whining because he wants to go home and take a nap and I have never picked out paint before I say to myself, "This moment is going to go down in history as the moment when I finally lost my mind." And then I decided what I had in my hand was fine. Blah.

I am now legally certified to serve alcohol in the state of Delaware. I had to sit through a three hour class and I guess it was pretty interesting. I was just distracted by the fact that Riley was probably at home screaming his head off for Josh. And that's when I decided that when I finally get off this route, I won't be getting another job for a while. My certification is good for four years, anyway.

I'm starting to think I will never get off this route. I quit Monday and I am waiting for a replacement to call me so I can train them. Until then, I have to wait but I've already quit and so now I'm anxious. Whatever, if I stay another month then I get another paycheck. It will only cost me a fraction of my sanity and probably my whole soul. Zombies don't really care that they're zombies, right? Here's hoping.

Fear and Loathing

Recently I've become obsessed with the Moth man. Seemingly out of the blue. After taking my route I was surprised to find that I am nearly 22 years old and still afraid of the dark. The moth man is merely that shape that I have given my fears, but that doesn't make it any less scary to me.

I did some research on the Moth man because I figured that since ignorance of an issue is usually the cause for fear, by finding out what the moth man prophesies were really all about I might be less afraid. The problem is, I kind of believe in these weird sightings and things. I mean, not like the alien freaks do. I still don't believe in aliens. My belief is that the creatures of the Bible, the angels and demons that people used to see, still exist. It's not that just because we made it to 2006 they stopped appearing to people, it's just that the minds of people have changed. Suddenly we're seeing "aliens" and "monsters" when really its the angels and demons that have been here since before man. So the fact that the moth man was sighted in Point Pleasant, West Virginia and some believed him to be a product of chemical waste or even an alien, doesn't really quells my fears.

What really gets me though is that when I get up to do my route, I have to turn on every light in the house in order to function. And I jump at every little noise. Sometimes, when I get really freaked out, I wake Josh up and make him watch me walk to the car. I know my fears are somewhat ridiculous, but that doesn't stop me one bit. I tell myself that there's nothing there in the dark that isn't there in the light, though I know that's not true. Yes, fear of the dark is no longer reasonable past the age of five, but having been a night person for the past three months, I will tell you that a lot of weird stuff does happen between the hours of three and five in the morning. Who knows if it's really anything to be afraid of, but I will say I have seen my share of ghosts on the road.

What is it about people that we have to know everything? I mean, it really is true that not understanding something is what creates our fear. People live in fear every day. Will I be able to pay the bills this month? Will the baby wake up? Will my husband make it home from work? What will happen at the party, next weekend, next month, tomorrow? We tend to think if we knew the future we'd be less afraid, but I think the future is pretty scary.

I guess the best solution is to live in the headlights. I told myself that since I'm so afraid of what's in the dark, I'll only worry about what my headlights can show me and anything beyond that, the stuff I can't see and I don't understand, I won't worry about.

When Riley is old enough to be afraid of things, I will probably tell him the same thing. Besides, as adults we know better. We know there are a lot scarier things than anything that could possibly fit under your bed. Life is scary enough with out monsters walking around. I'd hate to tell him that, though. I can just imagine the scenario. Riley is crying in his room because he's scared of the Boogey Man and I go in to comfort him and say, "Son, the Boogey Man is not real. But the IRS man is, and he's a lot scarier. And then of course you know they never did catch Leather Face."

I guess it's true that what exists in our own minds is scarier than anything that might actually exist. But maybe that brings me back to my angels and demons. Just think of Charlie Manson. When there are people with minds like that running around, I shouldn't be worried about any Moth man.

I'm a big Whiner. Whino. Whatever.

I have this crazy belief that if you are going to write music, even pop music (if there is such a thing) you ought to have a pretty good grasp of the English language. So much crap is being passed for music out there these days that it's absolutely disgusting. Wah. I hate it.

Take Mr. American Idol himself, Taylor Hicks. I don't know who wrote his first single, but let me just say. Oh. My. God. It makes me want to stick sharp things in my ears. It sounds like it was written by a five year old, or someone to whom English is a second language. Do you know what I'm saying?! It's terrible. Ahhh!!!!oneone!!!1111!!!!

Hah. I don't have anything to write about. Well, I do but I don't feel like it. My Gawd, do you know its been 115 degrees hot here for three days straight?! Ack. And I'm still not getting any sleep.

And with all that going on, I bet I can still write a better song than that.