Some of y'all that I talked to in private (ahem,
Merryweather) will recall over the weekend that I said I was quite certain I wouldn't be hearing from
the one guy over his birthday. And you know, I should never say things like that, because this morning at 4-ish in the a.m.? He called and said
Opie would be dropping him off. Not thinking quickly enough (as it was 4-ish in the a.m. and I was fast asleep prior), I said all right, even though I knew he'd been with his other girlfriend at some point over the weekend. Of course, I bitched about that as well as bitched intermittently on the ride home this morning about various and sundry other things while he was feeling rotten. Oh, and I never really did say "Happy Birthday," either, so THERE. We take our victories where we can. Heh ...? (she says weakly, knowing that it was pathetic, yet really not so much caring). I do wish I'd thought of telling Opie to just crash on the couch before he was like halfway home, but we're hoping he made it home without getting run over by a semi. Oh, and did I mention
Cousin Nancy was still here? She found it hilarious, and even better? She didn't narc me out to Crazy Aunt, who would've surely beaten my ass.
Anyway.
Since everyone else and their blogging brethren have talked about tomorrow, I'll throw in my two cents about why I hate Shrub -- in story formation.
So today, Nancy and I took Mother to pick up her new glasses, which look very much like her old glasses, except not as old-lady looking (by that I mean shiny). But see, I picked out the old ones, too -- a fact Mother threw up to me at least 150 times during the course of the afternoon -- but you know how you do choose something and then decide you can do better the next time? Yeah, it was like that: I THOUGHT I was going to like the glasses last year when she got them, but then when she got them, I didn't like them as much. So this year, I chose something else. (And actually, I did choose something completely different from what she had at first, but her bifocals wouldn't fit into them.)
Now, that may sound like it has nothing to do with Shrub and world politics, but here's my point: There's no question that mistakes have been made during this war business -- and are you really going to argue that there haven't? I mean, seriously -- yet Shrub and his crew are all "Stay the course, blah blah blah," and all that other happy horseshit. Now, I don't know about y'all, but when I mistake, I choose a different course of action (at least, I do most of the time), and I don't trust someone who can't or won't do the same. I don't want someone who a) can't admit that they're wrong or b) if they can't admit it, at least change their actions. I mean, fuckin' ask Dr. Phil, man, or Maya Angelou: You did what you did when you knew what you knew; when you knew better, you did better. It's real simple.
Two other words come to mind: Patriot. Act.
Oh, whatEVER.