If You Could Go On a Reality TV Show, What Would It Be?

I am a reality TV junkie. I would love to go on Survivor. The show started when I was caring for my dad and I couldn't leave him to try out for the show. After he died I intended to try out at the first opportunity but I started getting sick (with my heart unbeknownst to me). At first I intended to get stronger and then go on the show. Now I know it will be an unreallized dream.

However, I did qualify to go on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" 7 times back in the Regis days. Back then you had to call in and answer 5 fastest finger type questions. They qualified 40 people daily and then 10 were drawn randomly to be on the show. (as I understood it) I was thrilled the first few times I qualified. I just knew I was going to go on the show and leave a millionaire. There was one thing I could say about myself in those days, "I was a veritable fount of useless knowledge."

I never did make it through the drawing to be in the final ten.

If I had on iota of talent I would go on America's Got Talent. But since I don't ... oh well. I keep trying to discover acts however. I have a really cool mouth harp act that I am going to submit on the youtube auditions this year. I wan't get anything out of it though. Just the pleasure of saying, "I knew them when...."

Remember Dark Shadows

I sure do. I was only around 5 when it was on the first time. My mom would watch her afternoon soaps. I don't remember the order but I do remember "The Secret Storm," "The Edge of Night," "General Hospital," and "Dark Shadows."

We weren't even allowed in the living room when "Dark Shadows" was on, mostly because I had nightmares every night. I do remember sneaking up behind her recliner and peeking around it to watch "Dark Shadows." I remember being terrified by it but I couldn't resist. At least until the day I heard a haunting voice calling through the mist for Angelique....Angelique... I watched as another woman (probably Angelique) walked through the fog until she got to the cliff and there was the most terrifying apparition ever! Her hair blowing in the wind around her obviously dead face. I don't think I ever sneaked and watched it again!

The in high school they had "Dark Shadows" reruns. All my friends would watch it and race to school the next day to discuss the episode we had seen the night before. We were avid followers.

Last but not least there were my first lucid dream. As I mentioned I had nightmares ( now called night terrors) every night. My poor mom was up with me sometimes several times a night trying to calm/wake me from my dreams. She used to tell me to make the dream do what I wanted it to. Kill the monster! Make a door and run away! Anyway here is my first lucid dream and the beginning of the end of my nightly nightmares.

I was dreaming that Barnabus Collins was in the room outside my door waiting for me to come out of my room so he could get me. Finally I got tired of that big bully. I marched out of my room right up to his face and told him, "this is MY dream and you don't scare me!" Then I spat a wad of tobacco right iin his eye! I never dreamed about him again. Obviouly my smokeless tobacco assault worked!

The Just Gave Us New Stoves...

There'a Always Another Minimum Wage Job Down the Street

There's always another minimum wage job down the street! That has always been my motto and it has served me well. I wish other people would realize it, there would be a lot less misery in the world if people wouldn't put up with their bosses' crap just to make a nickel. Here's one of my favorite examples:

I went to work at McDonald's. Now this was a part-time job for me. I already had another job that I loved I just needed a little more money at the time. I went into work for the first time arriving about a half hour early just in case I needed to do some preemployment duties such as paperwork or something.

The manager handed me a shirt and tells me to go change, so I went into the restroom. I put on the shirt and right at my nipple was at least a quarter size hole. I went back out and told the manager that I needed another shirt. I informed her that the shirt she had given me had a hole in it in an embarrassing spot. She flung the shirt back at me and told me to "Deal with it."

I started to tell her again that the shirt had a hole in it "right over my nipple". She told me once again that it was a problem that I would have to deal with. So I looked at the shirt. I looked at the manager and I said "Okay".

I tossed the shirt on the counter and I walked out the door. I went across the street to RAX and they gave me a job for the same pay but they gave me a shirt without a hole in it. In the meantime I left the McDonald's manager staring at me with her mouth agape as I walked out the door.

Tra la la

.I lost the seven pounds last night that I gained last Friday. I feel so much better. It felt like a python wrapped around my chest and breathing was so difficult. When I walked it was like raising a cinderblock with each step.

I feel so much better this morning. Usually when that happens the weight stays on for around a month. I guess it wasn't heart related this time. Must mean the ole ticker is clicking at a good pace.

NOW FOR A REPOST OF A BLOG ABOUT THE EFFECT OF MY HEART DISEASE ON MY MOM

5 years ago I was in the hospital dying from heart failure. This diagnosis was a complete surprise to me. I was in the hospital for 5 days the first time. When I was released they sent me home with an oxygen machine and 3 tanks of oxygen. I didn't know how to use them. I was so weak that I didn't think I would make it to my house without passing out.

Once I got home I realized I was too weak to be alone. I made arrangements with my neighbors to continue caring for my animals and I drove to my mom's house. What followed was a week of hell. She was not home much because she had a lot to do that week. I do know that what time she was home she stood over top of me screaming at me to get up and do whatever it was that was upsetting her so bad. I don't remember the exact details. I do remember that she couldn't speak to me without catching her breath. I knew the stress of my diagnosis was too much for her to bear and when she feels that way she lashes out - fast and hard!

I know she was mad about my condition. She was also mad because she wanted me to go to the Social Security Office and take care of signing up for SS disability but they would not give me an appointment for another month. She was mad because I didn't have a 3 month safety cushion to pay my bills, even though I had been sick for 9 months before and had missed tons of work and not asked anybody for any help to pay for anything. ( I didn't go to the hospital because I didn't have insurance which of course worsened my condition). She was mad because I was sleeping almost 24 hours a day and mostly staying up at night. It did not matter to her that I had been working midnight shifts for over a year and I needed time to turn my body clock around as well as to recuperate. Basically she was mad because I was at her house and she didn't want to care for me. The reason I went there was because I had assurred her a 100 times when I was caring for my dad that I would care for her if something ever happenned to her. She told me each time she would do the same for me. Little did I know, she didn't mean a word of it.

She would stand over me shrieking if I was awake and she was home, then she would go upstair and call whomever and laugh and have a most excellent time on the phone. Things came to a head on the 5th. day and she threw a fit on me so bad that I left for my house. I went to Walmart because I needed groceries and I had to ride one of those mobile shoping carts around the store. People would look at me and quickly avert their eyes because I looked like a walking, dead person, or they would look at me with such pity that I would be forced to look away.

On the way home I decided to call her to assure her that I was OK and I was thinking maybe I was just so sick that I had blown things out of proportion and she had not done anything wrong. She threw a fit on me then for "shopping". It didn't matter to her that I had no food in my house and I had to buy some groceries...she was mad that I had spend my last $30 at the store. I knew once I got home though I wouldn't be going back out again because I was too weak.

The next day I started to have severe chest pains again so I went into the hospital again. I called to let her know. She was thrilled because she said I would get better care at the hospital I was in. (she didn't like the first hospital even though there was no doubt they saved my life). The next day I had a heart catherization. I asked her not to come because I knew I would need sleep. She showed up anyway when it was over beaming with motherly light. Absolutely thrilled to be by my side and show the nurses how much she cared for her daughter. I knew then I had misunderstood the entire week before.

They released me 2 days later. They didn't want me to be alone so I called my mom and I asked if I could come to her house. She told me "no". So I went home alone and I knew that I hadn't imagined the previous week, she was just showing motherly devotion at the hospital because she is always a different person in public than she is in private. It is her way.

Now my mom complains because she knows nothing about my heart condition. I only tell her the positive things and I only go around her when I am having a very good day. She tells me now that her doctor told her she had a mini heart attack but doesn't know when it happened. She believes that it was when I was at her house that time. It makes sense given the way she acted. She says that she can't fathom having to bury her daughter, that it will be a pain beyond belief if she has to do that.

I have donated my body to Marshall University Medical School, so she won't have to bury me. Also shere will be no financial burden to my family for funeral expenses. Also, she is not my emergency contact at the hospital. That way she won't receive that dreaded phone call when I finally do kick the bucket.

Cleopatra Floppyears Brennan

That was the name of our first dog. She was a beagle that our Uncle Wallace gave to us. We called her Cleo for short. She received the full name because she used to ride in the boat behind our car to Summersville Lake every weekend when we went camping. We loved to look back at her and watch her ears blow in the wind.

Cleo used to pull her doghouse around the neighborhood behind us as we ran and played. Quite frankly she used to do this if she just wanted to go somewhere. She did not let a little thing like a doghouse deter her! Unfortunately this wander lust was her downfall. My mom called my uncle and asked him to take her back. She thought she would be happier hunting rabbits and that is probably so.

Until about a month ago I had thought she died on the road like most of our dogs did. My mom was laughing about Cleo pulling that doghouse around after us and I mentioned that it was a shame she was killed. That's when she told me what really happened to Cleo...about 45 years later.

Now before ya'll start hollering about dogs in boats and getting killed on the road, please remember this was in WV in the 70's. Things were different back then. I am not really for Romney for President but this thing about him letting his dog ride in a carrier on top his car is way out of proportion. Lots of people did that 25 years ago. The dog was lucky in had a carrier and wasn't in the trunk or something.

Tradgedy Averted

http://www.curesearch.org/ArticleView2.aspx?id=9964&l=8810&c=7eb54f&r=8816

This is an article that my cousin posted today. The FDA has announced that the mexotrexate shortage has been averted. She points out that there are no future guarantees. While it was too soon for her campaign to have much effect for now. She urges everyone to please contact their congressmen and the drug companies to avert future shortages.

She also wishes to thank everyone who sent her prayers and well wishes and who pledged their support.

As do I.

If the link doesn't work, I will try to fix it as soon as possible. Fortunately I have a good friend who takes care of these things for me.

The Joke's on Them

One time I was moving. I left with a van load of stuff leaving my washer and a dolly beside the driveway. When I came back, not only was the washer gone but the dolly was gone as well! THE NERVE!@ They had used my own dolly to steal my washer. The good news is that the washer didn't work.

I HOPE THEY HAD BUNCHES OF FUN PUSHING THAT WASHER HOME AND THEN HOOKING IT UP ONLY TO FIND THEY HAD STOLEN A DUD!!!

I Broke His Little Leg So I Had to Smother Him

Yes, I committed murder. I confess. It was brutal. It was ugly. It was a mercy killing and the only thing worse than killing that poor, little mouse would have been to let him live. Let me explain....

I was working in a kennel. We had some mice. My boss put out those horrible glue traps to catch them. For those of you who don't know, a glue trap glues the mouse to it. They don't die, they just get stuck and then you throw them away to die a long, slow death in a trash can until they smother or starve or get crushed.

I was so horrified by these traps that I sneaked and coated them with vegetable oil. The oil was the same color as the glue and it was undectable until my boss picked one up one day to see why it wasn't working. He thought it was hilarious when he questioned me and found out what I had done. He also warned me that if I did it again he would fire me on the spot!

The next day he and Danford went down to morning schooling. They left me in the kennel to do some other work. When I walked into the kennel, on the counter was a mouse trapped square in the middle of a glue trap. It couldn't budge. I knew that when my boss got back in about 15 minutes that he would just throw the mouse in the dumpster to die a horrid death. I couldn't have it.

I walked over to the mouse and inspected the trap. I decided to put a little oil on it for lubrication and then the mouse could just skitter away on it's own. This didn't work. Now the mouse was stuck in the middle of a glue trap and it was covered in oil.

Then I decided that I could wedge something under it's feet and free it that way. It took a tiny fingernail file and slid it under the mouses leg and I was trying to work it under it's foot when "SNAP" it's little leg snapped like a twig! It was horrible. Now not only was the mouse stuck but it had a broken leg... a severly broken leg!

I couldn't let it just lie there and suffer and I knew my boss would be back anytime to throw it in the trash and then it would really suffer. I didn't have the heart to smash it with anything so I decided the most humane thing I could do was to smother it. So, I pushed it's little face into the glue and I held it there until it was dead. It was terrible. When you smother something it actually takes quite a while to die. I could feel it struggle beneath my finger and I could see little air bubbles in the gluey, oily mixture it was imbeded in.

Now I am a murderer.It was a mercy killing but it was still murder. My good intentions meant nothing.

Want to Feel Better Quick?

Then type these letters over and over. Go ahead. Pound the hell out of the keyboard. It makes me happy everytime I do it. Then again I'm easy to please.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH

My Greatest Defeat Ever

When I was in high schooll I went out for the track team. I had dreams of being the next great miler of the world and running the first sub 4 minute mile by a female.

I went to practice every evening and ran around the track until my little heart was bursting from the effort. Keep in mind that I was one of the greatest backyard athletes ever and I had been a starter on my softball team for years.

The day came for our first track meet and I was so happy. I was gonna show the world what a great racer I was. I was suprised to learn that the coach had put me in a 440 relay, but he was the coach so I didn't question it. I wanted to do what was best for my team. It didnt matter that I had never seen him at a practice not one time in the month or so before the meet. The only time I had seen him was in class and at the initial meeting where he told us he wasn't going to coach if they didn't pay him.

The gun went off and I took off like a rabbit. I had to. The girl I was racing against was flying and I didn't want her to leave me behind! I flew around the first turn on her hills and I was right on her for the second turn as well! In the back stretch she started to leave me but I pressed on and she was only about 5 yards ahead by the third turn. I could hear the cheers of my fellow teammates and I was determined to stay with her so I could hand off my baton with my team still in the running.

Then I rounded the last turn and I had 100 yards to go. GAWD, I was tired. There was no way I was going to let that girl beat me though. No sirrreeeeee! Then I hit a wall. I didn't see a wall but that's must be what happened! I legs felt like concrete blocks and I could barely raise them. My chest was on fire! The overwhelming pain and fatigue was pressing on my shoulders like a giant boulder! But still I pressed on.

I gritted my teeth. I focused on the finish line that was still about 75 yards away as the next girl on the other team rounded the second turn in her leg of the race. I couldn't hear the cheers of my team anymore either. I was in a complete fog but I knew I had to get that baton to my teammate. I kept moving.....barely....one inexorable step ..... after another bone grinding baby step....

Then the girl from the other team lapped me! How could this be? Was this race never going to end? I still had about 10 yards to go to hand off my baton. I could see the looks of pity on everyone's face as I finally handed my baton to the next girl. She had not even started to run yet. She had backed up in the lane as far as they would legally allow her to without disqualifying our whole team. She didn't have a prayer of catching the other team.

I made my way to the fence and stood there clutching at it while I was gasping for air and tried to maintain conciousness. Even in my exhausted state I could feel the humiliation as others were pointing at me.

No one offered words of comfort. No one even offerred me so much as a sip of water. After the race was over they did give me the starting blocks to take back to the equipment room. I was so tired that I walked over to one of the school's star athletes. I didn't choose him, he was just the nearest person between me and the equipment room. I handed HIM the starting blocks and asked him to put them up for me. (no, he didn't know me) He raised an eyebrow and started to say something and then he clamped his mouth shut as I saw the look of pity rise in his eyes. He turned without a word and took the blocks to the equipment room for me. I dare say that was probably a first for him. He was used to being catered to as are all high school, star athetes.

I was cut from the team the next day.

Never did see that coach.

Hard to Explain to Someone Who Doesn't Have a Clue

Hard to explain to someone who has no clue. It's a daily struggle being in pain or feeling sick on the inside while you look fine on the outside.

Please put this as your status for at least 1 hour if you or someone you know has an invisible illness (PTSD, Anxiety, Bipolar, Depression,Crohn's Disease, Diabetes, LUPUS, Fibromyalgia,TM, MS, ME, HS, Chronic Fatigue, Arthritis, Celiac, Cancer, Heart Disease, Epilepsy, Autism,M.D. Scarcoidosis,Migraines, etc.)

" Never judge what you don't understand, I don't know which of my friends will copy. Be interesting to find out. Thank you