The Wildcat and the Volunteer are finally together.

Permanently.

I’m moving to Tennessee!

We really found out who our friends were at Mary Breckinridge Hospital — maybe two or three — and the rest can kiss our asses! In Knoxville, Mark’s friends became better friends than I ever had in Leslie County. When they ask you how you’re doing, they really mean it. And when they say they love you, they really mean it, too.

At this moment, we’re right where we need to be. We’re right where we belong. We’re soulmates. Right where God intended us to be, and nobody can keep us apart.

Mark, I love you with all my heart. I’ve never met anyone who’d fight this hard for me. You proved it… you proved your love. Because you stuck by me when no one else would, you showed things that no one else ever has. Your showed me what true love is.

And for that, all I can do is return that and say, thank you so much. 

Kenny Chesney: Better as Memory

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBgNbSA4WdM)

But he finally met somebody he can’t just be a memory to.

Oh, baby… I love you.

Always.

So to all the ladies before me, thank you for moving over so the Wildcat could move in!

     I had a guy write me a bad check back in January.  He made it good with another bad check.  And another.  Finally, when I got back to Knoxville and could rip him apart for it, he made it good.  With another bad check.
     Today, I followed him to two banks.  I got my money.
     “Don’t ever, ever, call me again,” I told him.
     He gave me an extra hundred.
     “I just want to make amends,” he said in the voicemail.
     Some things, you just can’t undo. 
     In my opinion, I deserve more than a hundred for putting up with his ass for 15 years.

     I’ve been working on cars a lot lately.  Weird stuff. 
     There’re some youngsters who have some pretty good ideas, but they really don’t know anything about cars.  That’s where I come in… and it’s kinda like butting heads sometimes… and since I don’t everything about every car, I do my own bit of screwing up, too…
     But… if we can keep this project on track, man, it could be worth a small fortune.
     Anyone wanna invest in an unknown, really kickass project, lemme know.

     I got a used ‘96 Delco CD player off Ebay.  After installing it, I found that the motor doesn’t spin.  I stuck my original AM/FM/Cassette back in.
     Tonight, I tore it down to the mechanism — after locking my keys in my car and using Jim’s Super Bar and a coat hanger to get ‘em out — and found that, sure enough, the motor is toast.  That sucks.
     Thanks, butthole!  Appreciate ya!

     Today, I went to Catscratch Jane’s for a burger.
     “Mark!  Where’s your Wildcat?” asked Shirley the bartender.
     “Uhhh, in Kentucky,” I replied.
     “Hey, wait a minute,” she said.  “You all are still together, right?”
     “Yeah, it’s just hard right now.  I moved up there, and all Hell broke loose, so I’m back here.”
     “I thought you moved…. Why isn’t she here?  She loves you.”
     “I know, and I love her more than anything in this world.”
     “She needs to get her ass down here!”
     “Yeah… It’s just hard right now.”
     “Didn’t you all get married?”
     “Nah, not yet…”  I didn’t feel like going into those details.
     “Listen, Mark, you two are in love.  A blind person could see that.  The next time you talk to her, you tell her to give old Shirley a call.  We’ll straighten that out.”
     “Will do.”
     I paid for my burger and beer, and left thinking about it.

     I miss you, baby.  I love you.  Maybe you oughtta call Shirley. 

     It’s kinda like this … Love the emotion, love the lyrics, and sometimes, it’s sorta pertinent.

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qtf-JeaNM8)

      But I hate hate the makeup.  It’s not the 60’s anymore, and you don’t have to turn tricks.  It ain’t the 70’s anymore, and you don’t need a gimmick.  It’s not the 80’s anymore, and you know how to kick Trent’s ass.  The 90’s were just a bunch of “alternative” that all sounded the same.
     Believe what you write, believe in what you do.  That’s what’ll make me like you a little more.

     I mean, Jesus, sorry you smacked your girlfriend when you were drunk.  You poor bastard.  Wonder how she feels?

     Yeah, yeah… I know, you’d hate to see my enemies.  Well, I usually just wait for Karma to kick them in the ass.  I mean, if I didn’t plan out a way for something cool to work and have it turned into another thing to blow them up already, anyway.
     That’s blood on my hands.

     Got any songs for that?

     Dude, you drank.  You were an asshole.

     Get over it.

     Mind you, it’s a brilliant song.  It’s where you meet someone in a lonely world and you want spend you entire life with them, yet….

(Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ldq-efmOhfw)

     You still might.  Go figure.  *shrug*

     Keep it up, tho.  And if you do, you’ll have more friends that Trent Reznor. That’s Life.

     And Mikey will still like it….

     Yesterday, Zacque and I went down to Knoxville Cigar Company to relax for a few minutes.  No big surprise, I’ve been stressed, and needed a little time to sit down in an air-conditioned place with a big comfy leather chair.  Rather, at least a place like that that wasn’t in the confines of a doctor’s office…

     We decided to go across the street to DaVinci’s Pizza and grab a couple of slices first.

     “Hey, fellas, whatcha need?” asked the rather large, oily man behind the counter.
     “A slice of cheese, please.”
     “Ahhh, man, I’ve got pepperoni coming out of the oven,” he added.
     “No, I’d really like the cheese, thanks.”  No emphasis added.
     “Alright, Well!” he said annoyed.  “II’m just trying to be helpful!”  He seemed agitated.
     Zacque ordered, “Two slices of cheese.”
     “Ahhh, sorry,” I said.  “I’ll take two, too.”
     The fat man huffed.
     “What’s your name?” I asked.
     “Dave,” he replied dryly.  “Want the special?  It’s $1 more and you get a drink.”
     “Sure,” Zacque replied.
     “Six dollars,” the fat man said.
     Zacque handed him six dollars.  I handed him a ten and a one.
     “Oh, man!” the guy started annoyed.  “You are not taking my last five!  This is stupid!  I’ve only got one left!  I can’t go the bank!”
     “Ummm, sorry,” I said.  “It’s all I’ve got.”
     “Well, you can’t have it!  I’ve only got one five!  I told you, we don’t have anyone to go the bank!” he exclaimed.
     Zacque helped.  “Here,” and handed the guy two fives for a ten, leaving him one ten in the register.  Apparently having only one ten wasn’t cause for alarm.
     The fat man grasped for ones, shaking his head and mumbling the whole time.  He now had three fives.
     “So, can I get a five back now?” I asked.
     “No!  I told you there’s no one to go the bank!” he snapped.
     “Jeez, dude,” I mumbled with a grin.
     “Here!” he said sarcastically as he threw six ones in my hand.
     “Mellow, man,” I replied.  “Jeez…”

     Zacque and I sat and ate our pizza silently.

     At the end of the meal, I filled the plate with crushed red pepper and parmessan cheese.  I drank half of my Dr. Pepper down and placed it carefully on the cash register where there was no chance of it spilling — leaned into gap where the receipts come out where it’d be nice and stable, and just a minor annoyance to move, and certainly wouldn’t cause any damage.  I took the plate and placed it upside down on the counter.
     It’s the least I could do given the guy was an asshole from the time we went in.

     We walked out.  A random passerby said, “Hey, did you guys enjoy your pizza today?”
     “Not especially,” I said.  “But that was mostly because of the asshole serving it.”
     “Sorry!” he grinned as he walked on.

     As we stepped into the road, the guy runs out screaming.  ”What the fuck did you fuckin’ do that for you fuckin’ moron?”
     “Sorry, man.  I dropped it,” I replied dryly.  I found it odd he should come out raising such hell for such a minor mess.
     “Fuck you, you fucking retard!  I’ll ring your skinny little neck!”
     I turned around.  “No, I really don’t think so,” I said calmly, smiling.
     He stepped back.
     I turned to cross the street, and fat bastard screamed, “You fuckin’ retard!” and shoved me.
     I turned around again.  “Dude, you really don’t wanna do that.”
     As I turned and walk towards the cigar shop, Mr. Asshat decided to keep on screaming.  One of the other local business owners came out to see what the commotion was.  He crossed the street, and as I turned around, the guy’s pushing Zacque — someone who hasn’t done a damn thing.  So here me and the aforementioned business owner go back across the street…
     “You fuckin’ fucked up my register!  Goddamn fuckin’ retard!  Fucking threw shit all over my counter!”
    “No, I didn’t!  It’s in one spot, easy to clean!”
    “What you did is wllful destruction of property!”
    At that point, I got pissed.  I stepped towards him, finger up.  “And what you did is assault, motherfucker!”
     He turned his attention to the other business owner.  “Dude, come in here and look what he did!”
     Zacque and I turned and crossed the street.
     “That fuckin’ retard is never allowed back in here!” he screamed to my back.
     I gave him a well-deserved one-fingered salute and walked into the cigar shop.

     A few minutes later, the other business owner came into the shop.
     “Dude, what did you do?” he asked.
     “I put the plate of cheese right in the middle of his counter.”
     “Why would you do that?” he asked, half laughing.
     I shrugged.  “I’m stressed, and the guy was an asshole from the time we walked in.  I really don’t need that shit right now.  He pissed me off, and that was the least destructive thing I could think to do.”
     He laughed.  “Did you also put the drink on his register?”
     “Yeah, half full where there was no chance it would spill.  Why he’s going on about me destroying anything is beyond me.  That guy’s gonna have a coronary before the night’s over.”
     “Yeah, especially if you guys go back over there!” he laughed.  “He stepped back!”

     After selecting the cigar of my choice, I sat down at the bar for a Guinness on tap.  I felt so calm and peaceful.  I started laughing.
     “Mark, what are you laughing about over here?” asked the bartender.
     “Ahh, Pizza Dave’s an asshole.”
     “Yeah, that’s news?” he grinned.
     “Apparently I ruined his day.”

     Also apparent is the fact that I’m not the only person who has the opinion that Dave is an asshole.  It’s just that most people seem to tolerate him a little better than I do.
     Of course, there’s at least one other person on the Internet annoyed with him, too… 

     Actually, I’m worried about Dave. 
     Even though he’s an asshat, he’s still a human being.  Well, in theory, anyway.  And with an attitude like that where he thinks he can come out screaming abuse and shoving people when he could just as easily pick up a rag and wipe it off, it’s apparent that he’s got some rather serious health issues.
     There’s plenty of evidence that physical problems can manifest in peoples’ behavior, and this guy, given his size and trouble breathing, seems to be a ticking time-bomb for coronary disease.

     I would urge my fellow Knoxvillians to visit DaVinci’s Pizza in the Old City.  If Dave’s working, I suggest that everyone turn their plates over on the table.  This should give him some much needed aerobic excercise, as it would require him to do something besides scream and shove people, which is largely a stationary act.
     In doing this, it would ensure that Dave actually has to come from behind the counter and move his arms in a circular motion a few times, thus giving him a bit better workout.  This would probably cause him a little more shortness of breath given his slothful condition, but if it’s done multiple times a day, it may actually save the asshat’s life.

     He should thank me.

     I mean, I’m only looking out for his health.

     *snicker*

     As for my sense of calm from the incident, and why I didn’t turn around and kick the living shit out of the guy, there’s an easy explanation.
     it was actually refreshing, given that during the last three months in that tiny little town where I was working for a Healthcare company, everyone is so non-confrontational that they’ll gossip and stab knives in each others’ backs, spreading the most insane and vicious slanders imaginable.  There are never any questions, never any explanations, just filth and over-reaction.
     It’s nice to be back in a place where people will actually attempt to do something about their problems rather than just bitch about them and make up vicious rumors in an attempt to discredit and ruin a person’s livelihood.  It takes small minds and a lack of humanity to do what some of you people have done.
     And so, for those who’ve partaken in recent events can share this Asshat of the Day Award.  Myself, I can walk away with a clear conscience, knowing that I’m a better person, and certainly a better worker, than you people will ever be.
     Talk’s cheap, people.  I have a feeling that very soon, you’re all gonna learn some lessons the hard way.  Karma can be a real bitch. 

     Two years ago, a group of women known as “The Pirate Chicks” help pull me out of a bad, bad funk.  Although we don’t keep in touch so well anymore, I still consider ‘em to be like sisters.  They were family when I felt I had none.
     One passed away, and I wrote this bit, and couldn’t ever bring myself to hit Publish.  It always seemed incomplete somehow.  In other ways, I felt it was too harsh.  Besides, I was falling back into the funk again and unwilling to admit it.  Eventually, I found myself unable to follow my own advice, and thought, “How can I drop that in there if I’m unwilling to do it myself?”

     A little later, I met my Wildcat.  Writing kinda took a back seat.  She’s taught me to be more patient (I said more patient, not patient *snicker*).  She showed me how to Love, when I’d always kept just enough distance so that I could save myself at the last second.
     No matter the roller coaster, I’m just glad I’m on it with her.

     Suddenly, today, I got lucid and realized how much outside crap can get in the way of being happy. I read through this, and thought, “Man, I broke my Number One Rule!  Mark, you asshat…”
     Then I laughed. 

     Seems that was the whole point… To Laugh.

     And so, today, I’m gonna ignore that fear of hitting the publish button on a blog that’s been sitting in draft for over a year…

     Enjoy.

     I’ve had some friends going through some pretty rough things, so I’ve been adding to this as I go.  I wanted it to be a small, concise thing, but that’s just not gonna happen. Every time I think I’ve got it all there, there’s a 10% more that someone else will come along with.  Those things give me pause to try and work it in.

     So … on with it. 

     Some people will tell you, “Happiness is hard to find.”  If they have a French accent, it sounds like, “A penis is hard to fine.”  Either way, it’s one of the biggest loads of horse-puckey I’ve ever heard.  Some of this might be hard to hear, but if you’re unhappy, I urge you to give it a try.

1. It is impossible to be objective when you’re being an Asshat.

     Seriously, it is.  If you’re unhappy, and you have your head up your ass, you are lacking a very important vantage point where you can step back from a given situation and look at it practically and logically.
     This can lead to you making, or being led into, some pretty stupid situations which can only serve in prolonging your state of mind. [ Note: and make you feel like you're in a world of shit. Go figure! ]

2. What you feel is not wrong.  What you do with it might be.

     It doesn’t matter if what you’re feeling is anger, hatred, fear, loathing, worry or any of those other “negative” feelings.  They are not negative, and have absolutely no bearing on your happiness.  They’re defense mechanisms, and they’re supposed to be warning you to step back and take a look at a situation from a different point of view.

     Here’s a parable:
     I was sitting in a bar in Waterloo in 1986, and someone brought around the shooters.  Yellow shooters.  This shooter happened to be an intensely sweet, oily liquer made of Bananas.  Not 99. Not 100.  Not 1000.  Ten Thousand Bananas.  That’s what that shit was called.
     It turned my stomach, and I ran to the bathroom and got sick.  Fortunately, I made it to the toilet, didn’t make a mess, or anything else.  Controlled puking.
     After I expelled the offensive liquid, I went back to the table, smiling, and drank the rest of the night.
     But now — I HATE BANANAS.  The flavor of a Banana reminds me of that incident.  It reminds me of some people I was with.  It reminds me of some people not to trust.  And, especially, it reminds me of the rotten disgust that was in my stomach at the time.
     So I have an irrational hatred of Bananas, and probably always will.
     But If I start berating someone who offered me a banana, that’d be pretty freakin’ unhealthy.

     Hate, anger, worry, stress … they’re natural.  If your “religion” tells you they’re bad, then why would God give ‘em to ya to feel?  They’re defense mechanisms, plain and simple.  Basic instinct.  And they can be used to help motivate you.

3. If you lie down with dogs, you’ll get fleas.

     Wallowing in self-pity is the worst thing you can do.  It’s also very selfish and Toxic.  Toxic people will make everyone around them sick — just like fleas.  If you’re a Toxic person, then you should at least have the decency not to spread it to other people.

      If you’re in a situation where a person’s very existence makes you unhappy, then find someone else to hang out with.  That is so simple, it’s ridiculous.

4. If you’re having a bad day, approximately 6 Billion people will not give a damn.

     That’s a hard Truth for a lot of people to swallow.  Noboby, or at least very few people, care whether or not you’re unhappy.  And nobody can make it better, no matter how much they care about you.
     You are alone.  Shut your hole.

5. Your happiness does not depend on anything else but you.

     You can choose to be unhappy and hurt, or you can choose to not give a damn and go on.  Sure, you can be happy to see your family, friends, lovers, bands, celebrities, and so on… but ultimately, you’re the one who chooses to be happy when you see them.  It’s artificial.
     Ponder that thought, where the very sight of someone makes you happy.  Why does it?  Sometimes, you’ll come up with the right answer.

6. Your belief in God cannot make you a happy person.

     Some people will use their belief in God as a springboard to think that they’re better than someone else.  Others will use their Faith to try and pretend to be happy, when in fact, they’re an Unholy mess.  A great majority pray to God to get them out of that mess instead of taking the steps to pick themselves up.
     So let’s get one thing straight: God hates whiners. 
     As it says in the Vedas, “Call on God, but row away from the Rocks.”

9. You control your own destiny.

     One of the biggest mistakes a lot of people make is blaming their circumstances on someone else.  It’s someone else’s fault that the house is a mess.  It’s someone else’s fault you can’t afford a new car.  It’s someone else’s fault that you got drunk last night — she was cute, and you just couldn’t he… nevermind.
     When it comes right down to it, most people will blame their past for the reason they’re not doing what it takes to make things right in the present.  
     Three words:  What.  Ev.  Er.

     If it’s dirty, clean it up.  Budget better.  Put down the friggin’ glass.  It’s easy.

     And if you let your past hold you back from enjoying yourself, it’s time to grow up and take responsibility for your own actions.  Getting all manic because someone said the same thing someone else said twenty years ago is about as out-of-context as you can get.
     The 80’s are over.  Enough with days of the Powder Blue Sport Jacket!
     Oh, and 90’s are over, too.  Are you really that traumatized that Kurt Cobain blew his brains out?

10. Worrying about things you can’t do anything about is futile.

     Even I fall victim to this one, and it’s one of the worst.

     People are dying in some far corner of the world.  Children are starving to death in First World countries.  The Pentagon has its agenda.  Politicians are screwing you over.  And it’s bugging the shit out of you right now that there’s no Seven or Eight in this list.
     And none of this matters one iota to your happiness.

     You have to keep in mind that stressing over things that you have no control or bearing over makes you part of the problem — your bitching and complaining will probably make someone else unhappy, so for chrissakes, just shut up. 

     And refer back to other sections as necessary.

I’ll admit that I am subsrcibed to I Can Has Cheezburger and I look forward to new posts throughout the day to take my mind off work. And I have sent them some images of my kittehs in action.

The other day one of the images had some problem, so I went to the site rather than just looking at it through my RSS reader. I noticed that even though it was just posted, it already had 90 comments. As a blogger, I knew how rampant spam was and since this was one of the most popular sites on the web, I figured the bots were all zeroed in. I took a peak because I wanted to see this sad state of affairs.

Um. Whoa. What tha?

No spam. Instead, it was a very long thread by real people all speaking LOLcat talk! Page after page! On every post! In less than 15 minutes from post to my reader getting it, 90 comments by these people!

I have never seen a more sickening display of a waste of time in my life! I was sure I was looking at a convergence of all those crazy cat ladies, coming together in one common obsession.

Good Lord. If “Get a life” ever had meaning, this is it! This was all fun, and now it somehow makes me sick…

So, as of late we here at blogitude.com have not been writing as frequently as we should.  Although I think it might have something to with the fact some of us got caught up in our own lives.  So I will take the first step in order to break the silence.  I have to offer two funny articles: the first on why unothodox Christians would never breed if they truly followed their own ideas  (Yay! No more Temple Baptist Church, School, or Crown College); the second more condom news!

Whack, Unwrap, and Enjoy!

Tip: Thanks to Beth for the links.

     Everyone knows everything everyone else does small towns, although they live quite a distance apart.  One day, in my best redneck accent (I do voices quite well, and though it’s dead-on, you’ll rarely meet anyone who sounds as inbred as I do when I do it), I quipped, “By God, you could fart at one end o’ th’ county and by the time ya git to th’ other end, ever’body knows what it smelt like!”
     They died laughing, although they didn’t like that I said “fart.”

     Good thing they don’t hear some of the other words I say on a regular basis…

     One of the things I’ve always known is that there are many factions in small towns.  There are people who it’s okay to talk to, and there are people who it’s not.  That’s kind can get tricky, because quite honestly, I talk to everybody and don’t care about that kind of stuff.  Generally, people don’t bother to get upset with me about it, because I’m a ”nice guy.”
     One of the unique things, tho, is the constant use of the archaic word “queer” to describe these people you’re not supposed to talk to or “watch out” for. Although, it has nothing to do with someone’s sexual preference, and is pronounced quite differently…  
     One day, I asked, “Quare?  How ya spell ‘at?  Like ’square’ without the ’s’?”
     This resulted in the age-old, universal, one-fingered gesture in my general direction.
     To which I replied, “Well, ain’t that mighty Christian of ya?!”

     Also good for a laugh.

     A couple of weeks ago, after hearing about how everyone in town was “queer,” someone asked me, “So, Mark, how ya like it here?”
     I said, “I dunno.  They’s too many quares.”
     “What?” they asked, shocked.
     “Yeah, by God, ever’body I talk to, they tell me, he’s quare, she’s quare, and by God, they even told me you was, too!”
     The blank look was priceless.

     Give it a minute, give it a minute… Yep, they died laughing. 

     Another incident happened when an elderly gentleman came up and said, “Oh, man, it’s a beautiful day!  I’m gonna home and work in my garden!  Do you have a garden, Mark?”
     “No, sir,” I replied.  Keeping a straight face, I added, “My girl won’t let me play with hoes.”
     One person who overheard the conversation cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.  It took him a minute to catch on.

     Now every time I see him, he laughs, and tells me, “Stay away from them hoes!”

     Another day, I was answering questions about some software when I leaned forward and hit my funny bone on the edge of the desk.  My uncontrollable reaction was to blurt out, “Motherf…” at which point, I caught myself and stopped the profanity midstream.
     She ignored it, and continued her explanation of the software issue without skipping a beat.
     I gave her the answer and showed her an alternative method to do what she was asking.
     She responded to the answer, and added, “And, by the way, I know that must have hurt.  But next time, just go ahead and finish the word because we all knew what you were thinking, anyway.”

     Laughter is always good medicine.

     And being just slightly off-color does tend to relax even the most uptight people.

     Older people, especially, seem to enjoy it even more…

     In response to a message asking, “What does ‘happy’ look like?” I decided to post a photo from earlier today.

     It looks something like this…

     …minus the squinty eyes from snow blindness.

     Nice Snow Angel, huh? 

To find out how you too, can participate in The Monday Melee, please read the main Monday Melee page, grab The Monday Melee logo (and view the participant list too).

In a sick way I want to thank you
for holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself,
you were trying to stop the fight
     — “Hate Me,” Blue October

1. The Magnificent: Name someone you absolutely adore, and tell us why.

     Two hundred eleven days, ten hours and forty-two minutes ago, I met someone who made me start getting my shit together.  I needed that. 

2. The Muddy: Tell us something about life you just don’t “get”.

     An Order of Protection can keep an unstable person from owning a gun — and if they’ve never owned a gun, or even plan on owning one, it’s sort of a moot point.  However, if you’re served with an Order of Eviction, no matter the situation (oh, for the sake of this, let’s say, “Retaliation” for serving an Order of Protection), it not only screws up your credit rating (because Evictions are immediately reported to credit bureaus), but also makes it quite difficult to find another place to live, secure employment, gather business capital and, in many cases, causes companies to cease to do business with you.
     The ol’, “You screw me, and I’ll screw you, even if I did deserve it!” mentality is just ridiculous.

3. The Magnetic: Name something or someone good (or bad) you’re drawn to and you just can’t help it. Tell us if you want to change this or not.

     Right now, I’m being drawn to change… changes in lifestyle, work, home, business, and pretty much everything in my life.  Things are looking up, and some time away from the tumult of several situations will afford me the insight and subjectivity that I’m desperately lacking right now.  I’m making some rather serious decisions regarding my future … and loving every minute of it!

4. The Mainstay: Who or what is something you just can’t live without? Why?

     For the last year, I’ve lacked the stability I desperately needed.  The more I get back, the more I realize how much I’ve missed it.

5. The Masquerade: Tell us something about yourself we wouldn’t already know.

     Would anyone guess that I actually sprang from a family of moonshiners & coal miners and spent the first part of my life in a trailer park?  *grin*

6. The Mettle: Tell us about a time you showed courage in yourself, or tell us what you wish you had the courage to do.

     Like everyone else, I have a healthy degree of fear.  Sometimes they’re rational fears, and other times they’re irrational.  But every single day, I try and face them and move forward.  I don’t feel like getting specific right now, so let’s just say that as of this past weekend, fear or not, my life is about to change drastically.
     And I wouldn’t miss it for a second.

Now it’s your turn.

You can take part in The Monday Melee, even make it a regular feature at your site by visiting The Monday Melee page and following the steps. Kick-start your brain on Mondays and meet other bloggers.

1. Fracas - creator of The Monday Melee | 2. Kate | 3. Rootietoot | 4. Dive | 5. Robyn | 6. Dear Prudence | 7. Lynn | 8. Iced Mocha | 9. Joey | 10. JerseyChick | 11. Tracey | 12. Vic | 13. Gaijin Girl | 14. LindaC | 15. Amber | 16. Krishanna | 17. Ma Titwonky | 18. sauer kraut | 19. kimberleyanne | 20. Ealasaid | 21. Cat | 22. lucy lemon | 23. hazel8500 | 24. Miz Minka’s Musings | 25. Gabrielle | 26. buttercup | 27. Marianne | 28. j u g g l i n g c a t s | 29. Sky Windows | 30. Vyxyn | 31. Mark - Blogitude | 32. Tendrils’ Ink | 33. Now Write, Right Now | 34. flowerchild | 35. ladycalliah | 36. Creation Junction | 37. A Blog of 2 Witches | 38. Meowminx | 39. The College Critic | 40. Winged Musings | 41. Missy Sue Hanson | 42. The Kat House | 43. Holocaust Labs | 44. no school, just learning | 45. Carrying Contraption | 46. Let Them Eat Cake | 47. Zacque - Blogitude | 48. Diva - Blogitude | 49. Modified at Random | 50. Jewel - Blogitude | 51. Get AMPed | 52. INDIEchouette | 53. Perky’s Perspective | 54. The Jaded Lotus | 55. Maiylah’s Snippets | 56. The Painted Veil | 57. Incurable Insomniac | 58. DivaThoughts | 59. Twenty Something And A Little Nutty | 60. PajamaMom | 61. Livin’ Life SandyStyl | 62. So This Is Growing Up |63. GirlieGeek | 64. Diary of a 70s Teen