Wednesday, August 28, 2013


We forgot to ask how one might get Intarwebz in the Trailer Park of the Damned. It now looks like we'll be providing some one-toothed Spam-eating cousin-maters with Intarwebz at some point, since I can't see this as more than a year's solution.

I know. First-world problems. But we're FIVE MINUTES from a MAJOR highway. I cannot have livestock. The roads are paved. I can see neighbors. IT'S NOT THAT FRIGGING RURAL.

I am too stressed to ride. This does not happen often. It usually heralds me hiding under or on top of something and refusing to be moved.

Hence, I bring you the following Scene From A Coven:

ME: So, after the initiation, my cat pissed blood, some other bad shit happened, and I got bitten by something ON THE EYEBROW and now my face swells up every morning. So if y'all want to go ahead and give me my second degree and just get this over with, that's fine by me. I'm just saying.

THE ELDERS: (laugh)

Sunday, August 25, 2013

With Only A Week To Go...

Fundie Housemate has managed to royally piss me off.

We're in the kitchen, me, Husband, and FH. Husband asks if FH has heard from Husband's grandma on Facebook, and when FH says no, not lately, how is she, etc., the following chaos and mayhem ensues:

HUSBAND: She and I have been chatting a lot on the phone during my commute home. We were having a great theological conversation last week -
ME: (focuses on Tater Tots, wondering why in the names of the Gods Husband has opened this door)
FH: Let me tell you about my God! My God made your God. MY God blah blah blah
ME: (stabs Tater Tots with spatula in an effort not to do the same to FH)
FH: Blah blah Jeebus blee blee One Twue God blergh
HUSBAND: Well, we know you feel that way, but we don't.
FH: Blah blee etc. so forth
ME: (finally having gotten my hand to release the spatula) I AM LEAVING THIS ROOM. I HAVE BEEN INSULTED.
FH: (somewhat less stridently) Well, I didn't mean to insult anyone...


I then demanded that we watch "The Wicker Man" and texted Evn* about how I was going to look for this old Irish spell I've seen involving butter (since FH can't keep his grubby little mitts off mine, this would just be too awesomely appropriate), and how FH had better hope I don't find it before we manage to get out of here. Husband, upon a subsequent trip to the kitchen, was apologized to by FH, who, of course, still has no idea why what he said was rude as hell. I'm waiting for yet another run-in that will end with my shouting about how while SOME gods hang for nine days and bring back runes, HIS died after only a day or so and still hasn't come back, so who's the beyotch now?

Yes, I know. I am a bad, immature, mean witch and I should be the bigger person and all that. He lives in a shared house with whoever can afford to rent, is on a fixed income, and doesn't really appear to have any true friends. He has limited theological understanding of his own religion and absolutely none of any other faith. His moping every time I don't do what he wishes tells me he has problems with women, which probably explains the lack of any romantic companionship. So really, would it do any good to say, "Look, I have a pretty great life that comes from my own hard work, true, but also largely from the blessings of my Gods. What's your God doing for you, considering that what I see of your life is pretty sad?" Do I really think he'd have an epiphany, maybe deepen his spirituality, stop looking for other people or deities to save him from whatever, or even just shut his blithering piehole until next Sunday or so?

Sigh - no. No, I do not. He's basically just a large, annoying toddler and should be treated as such. I just wish his Big Divine Parent would come, get him out of the way of the grownups, and give him a time-out or something.

*It occurs to me that I should get and learn to use Twitter so that poor Evn isn't the only one who's subject to these little electronic outbursts.

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Four vet trips later...

Puck is home.

He is by my left hip. My dog is on my right foot. For now, just in this moment, even if Puck the Sumo Cat cannot be made well, I have my pets and I am happy. We are ordering a pizza we cannot afford simply because my Husband firmly believes that I should not be made to cook given my rather stressful day, someone may be giving us free furniture for the new place, and tomorrow my supervisor is back and I do not have to deal with chuckleheads at work.

Happiness is so delicate. It's a cat, a dog, a Husband playing video games, being a new Initiate, and a pony I need to ride because he'll be cranky if I wait a week because we got rained out of tonight's lessons.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

The Week Thus Far.

PRO: Found a place to live.
CON: It is a trailer in a fairly trashy trailer park, and needs tons of work before it's ready.
PRO: Our landlord seems nice. He was late to our meeting today because his parents' house was having electrical problems. Husband offered to help, and Landlord paid him despite Husband's protests that he need not pay, that little old people should not be in a house with only half the power in Texas in the summer.

CON: Butthead Housemate moved in his girlfriend (and her two kids who I actually suspect are baby hippos, from the amount of noise made) without asking us, in direct opposition to the "everyone must approve new housemates" policy.
CON: Girlfriend - hereafter Perpetually Vacuuming Concubine - just had to do so at 9pm last night, just as I was falling asleep, and was a little bitch about what I feel was a fairly polite request that she cut that shit out as we wake at 4:30am at the latest.
PRO: While we were out, BH texts Husband that PVC has tripped a breaker and they now have no power upstairs. Said breaker is in our room. Bwa ha ha!!

PRO: I am now a first-degree Gardnerian. And that's all I'm saying about that. It was amazing last Saturday night, and the best experience I could have hoped for/imagined. Really, there's no point in me telling you specifics even if I could/would. To paraphrase Crowley, those who've been there can't explain, and those who can explain haven't been there.
CONS: None.

Friday, August 2, 2013

OK, Universe. That's Enough.

My week is not improving.

We saw a place last night, but must now wait until employment is verified and all that. And other people were calling about it while we were there. Boo. Hiss.

Husband was supposed to be meeting a friend's boss for an interview today. Said boss apparently left for the day, and friend's advice - to take Monday off for this - is less-than-stellar. Friend swears this is in the bag, that if Husband quits his current job the boss will hire him the same day, but I am a bit nervous about such things. I mean, if this boss is this flaky about even seeing Husband, how do we know he'll actually hire Husband?

Work was long and annoying.

I am now home and hoping to avoid all housemates, as I am not sure I can be trusted not to either curse the ever-living fuckpants off of someone, kick them in the 'nads, or both if they so much as look in my general direction. Hence, the following letter.

Dear Universe:

This week has sucked balls from start to finish. I am using all means at my disposal to better my situation. It would be nice if you'd help rather than keep spreading your buttcheeks and raining dookie on my head.

Thanks so much,
The ocelot.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

The First Rule Of Witch Club...

"Let's pretend. You're the Department of Transportation, okay? Someone informs you that this company installs front seat mounting brackets that never pass collision tests, brake linings that fail after a thousand miles and fuel injectors that explode and burn people alive. What then?" - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Let's pretend. You're a witch, okay? Someone informs you that despite the fact that when you moved into the shared house it was with the agreement that no other housemates would be moved in without everyone agreeing, he's moving in his girlfriend and her two kids and you have no choice in the matter, and he's gotten the crazy landlady's ok even though he can't get her on the phone for anything else, like the central air that hasn't worked since April. And he's being a complete asshole about it and bothering you while you're at work. What then?

Then you take the dryer lint he's too dumb to remove to a safe location, the poor frog your cat probably smothered to death, a sigil, your own piss, and then mix it all in a freezer bag like the Devil's own marinade and bury it under said housemate's window.

I didn't set out to become North America's answer to Graveyard Dirt. But when pushed, I shove.