Nope... I'm not dead...

"We take refuge in illness and then are trapped there."
-- Mason Cooley
"And now that we have returned to the desultory life of the plain, let us endeavor to import a little of that mountain grandeur into it."
-- Henry David Thoreau
"What woman isn't secretly aroused by two handsome men fighting? It's primitive and quite seductive."
-- The Queen of the Land

I'm back like a bad penny. I want to put all your worries to rest. I am alive! I was terribly ill with Bronchitis *COUGH* for two weeks. The Prince Consort was the perfect Cabana Boy in my recovery. Every request was completed post-haste... Every whine was listened to and every night he was kept awake with my coughing up of lung matter, a complaint was never heard. *SIGH* He took great care of me.

Then came the dreaded Christmas... but everyone behaved and played nice with each other. The food was deadly and I am still paying the price for my indulgence.

The first of the year brought on new resolutions and the Prince's and my sixth anniversary. I am still patiently waiting for the Royal Mail to deliver my anniversary gift :(

Often, my luck in receiving gifts is horrible. Something is broken, missing, I get something similar to what I ask for, but not the exact item ... or Satan decides to keep if from me completely. This is something that has haunted me all my life. Now, I want to qualify the previous statement, so that those of the Royal Family aren't insulted and think I am referring to their lovely gifts that are consistently fabulous and generous. I am referring to the fact, that whenever I want something and ask for it, I never truly get what I want. This is why I have not told people what I want for Christmas or my birthday since I was in my teens. My requests never were what I wished ... I now chalk it up to God keeping me humble! Well on to other things... that pathetic little self-pitying tidbit is for another post down the road.

I was off on intercession break from my evening job, but now I am back... Breaks are never long enough!



George Best 1945-2005
Now, what else has occurred in my absence... Ah, my Roy Keane joined Celtic FC in the Scottish Premier League. It has been a very sad time for Roy and I. Where was he going? It was frightening, exciting... I hoped that he did not land with another EPL team, since it would break my heart, and I think his, if he had to play against Man U. The whole exit is very sad... Reminds me of how the Red Sox hosed Dwight Evans. *SOB* Well... Luckily, the Prince and I get Setanta Sports, so I can continue to watch Roy. At least that is something...

I still have Alan Smith to watch at Manchester United. He is currently plagued with an ankle injury, that needs to get healed fast... GGRR.. I need my fix, baby... I am keeping warm in my heart a recent game that Alan played in. NO not the Man City one, which still hurts... It was against Blackburn Rovers... where much to my chagrin and shameful delight, he received a yellow card for not taking any crap from Robbie Savage ... yeah, Robbie the Prick... He was doing a sliding tackle to steal the ball and Robbie went down like a pansy ass little girlie man... Then Robbie tried to "get into it" with Alan... What a stupid bastard... My Alan would have snapped him in two if the ref and Alfred E. Rooney didn't step in... Roo, almost entered the fray, but kept his head... It was a beautiful, exciting sight... *SIGH*





So, what does this say about me? It really made me think. Why did I find it so titillating? Is it the primitive warrior in me? It is my prurient fantasies involving a hottie hero fighting the villain to the death, rescuing me, and then dragging me off to have his legendary, knowing, brilliant way with me?

Even when I read a J.D. Robb (my favorite author) novel, I hope for a time when the fabulously handsome billionaire Roarke gets all pissed off and beats the crap out of someone who would hurt Eve. I even look forward to the times when Lt. Eve Dallas kicks the ass of some deserved criminal.

Maybe, deep down, I have a desire to break some faces. I feel that I have either been a mouse for a portion of my life or someone who tries to remain calm and do the right thing. I wish I had a dollar for all the thoughts that I have had about slapping someone. I guess I am just an odd eccentric who keeps myself entertained with fantasies of bustin' some ass...

Ah well, I will wake up tomorrow, calm once again... But until then, I will pretend I am on the pitch at Old Trafford screaming "Kick his ass, Alan!"... followed by Alan sweeping me off my feet after the game and showing me some of the delights he learned off the pitch *WINK, WINK*

BTW... The Prince humors me greatly... maybe when I get home today, he'll put on the Man U jersey I have and take some fun instruction... hee... hee... a girl can dream!

Stay cool and safe!