Dear Nablmo,
I am totally back-dating this entry. It’s actually 12:40 and aside from talking about that Bob Dylan cover I did not blog today. Oh no! Surely the world will end.
But you know what Nablmo, I am sure you will understand. My family is in total chaos. There are two separate factions and I am unfactioned. Do you know what that’s like Nablmo? To be the only unfactioned member over the age of 10 in your family?
Let me tell you, it sucks. It’s hard from my unfactioned point of view. All I see are a bunch of people I love who have made some bad decisions and mistakes. All these people are hurt and angry. The worst part is that all these people say the absolute worst things when they are hurt and angry which just makes the problem even worse. None of them can seem to get past any of this high emotion to see the rationale. At least not yet.
So yes Nablmo, I am late because I was listening. One person has to listen because there are so many of them not doing this one simple task. But don’t worry about me Nablmo. I have come to conclusion that I am big enough and strong enough to absorb all their hurt. I can take their anger since they don’t seem to have any place else to put it.
I’m hoping by doing this that eventually everyone can get past their personal bullshit and come out the other side okay. I do know this, Nablmo, that it’s not going to happen in the timely fashion in which I want it to happen. Thanksgiving is not going to be any fun and Christmas is looking like it’s in jeopardy.
But it will get better, right Nablmo? It has to. I am not sure how long I can be the only one out here all alone without a faction. It’s scary and exhausting. And really, I kind of miss being the emotional, flaky, rocking and rolling one.
So that is why I am late Nablmo. Sure some fascists and rule purists might call it cheating Nablmo. And even though the clock says 12:48, I haven’t been to been to bed so it’s still the 12th in my mind. And if you can’t abide that Nablmo, then to hell with you. To hell with you.
Love,
Jodi
After all the dust settles and the Sisters can see clearly again, surely your role as the Rock will be acknowledged and appreciated.
It had better or there will be hell to pay. You hear me? HELL TO PAY!
I remember the day it dawned on me that I was the stable, sane one in the family. That was a bad, crazy day.
It was still before Midnight out west, right? Totally counts.
So, you’re Switzerland. Switzerland is okay, because while they always get asked for things, they never get bombed, either.
You are forgiven, my child. Now don’t let it happen again.
have you tried weed?
Yes, yes I have. But I didn’t inhale.
Well there’s your problem. Breathe deep! Everybody will think you’re a sage when in reality, you just don’t give a sh!t.
Yeah, I inhaled. A lot. It always just made me tired and cranky. As if I need outside help with that. Nutter Butters are my drug of choice.
That’s funny; it only made me cranky, too. My sister always knew when I partook of the herb by my cranky demeanor rather than any other physical manifestation.
It may not work for everybody or every situation, but when someone starts to say mean things about someone, I’ll take the ball and run with it until I’m the one being told “(person x) isn’t THAT bad”. Unfortunately sometimes you have to go to the lengths of saying that “(person X) probably goes to nurseries, snatches babies and shakes them in a hardware store paint mixers just for fun. I bet (person X) would stab Sandy Duncan in her GOOD eye just to laugh in the bloody socket how they’ll ‘keep and eye out for (her) latest movie’, then plant a half dissolved Jolly Rancher in the cavity. A Sour Apple one.” Yes, the bitcher will stop in stunned silence about your accusations about the bitchee, but it will derail the snarky train and get them to re-evaluate just how rotten the other person is. Sometimes being a bigger person and rising above the situation isn’t enough. Sometimes you gotta be a bigger, meaner, crazier and frothier person… at least when employing the Socratesian method of taking an argument to obviously ridiculous extremes.
Perhaps Thanksgiving dinner can be saved. Even if it’s a snack of pretzels, buttered toast, and jelly beans.
i guess you all are out of weed.hey have you …oh nevermind.