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Journal mcgrew's Journal: Eight: the final chapter 6

OK, it's that time of year again. The time of year when everyone and their dog waxes nostalgic about all the shit nobody cares about from the year past, and stupidly predicts the next year in the grim knowlege that when the next New Year comes along nobody will remember that the dumbass predicted a bunch of foolish shit that turned out to be complete and utter balderdash.

I might as well, too. Just like I did last year (yes, the first paragraph was pasted from last year).

Things have slowed down a bit this last year, although you wouldn't think so from the journals (unless you read last year's journals). It has been a sad year, though.

This time last year, Linda was sitting in Dwight Correctional Center, where she stayed until February. She's dying of cancer right now. She went to the ER the first of November, where they found a tumor on her gall bladder bigger than her gall bladder, and three more in her intestine. They gave her a prognosis of four to six months and admitted her.

They threw her out of the hospital last week. She's indigent, and Illinois wasn't paying her hospital bills any more. The doctors didn't want her discharged, since her blood pressure was dangerously low and she had a fever, but the state overrode the doctors.

She'd been living with me when she was admitted, but as there are three cats there she can't. So she's staying with her boyfriend, who lives with his mother. He's sleeping on the floor because his bed isn't big enough for two.

She's almost out of time. This will be her last Christmas. She's only 47.

My elderly friend Ralph contracted appendicitis but was too ornery to get it checked out until it burst. Three months later he was dead.

My drinking buddy from George Ranks (it's dead too, Jim, killed by the smoking ban), Rocky, who has been drinking at Felber's lately, died of a sudden heart attack on Veteran's day. He was only 43.

I feel old. Like my late grandmother I'm starting to outlive people. She outlived three of her four sons, and two husbands, and all her brothers and sisters and friends.

I fear that. Those who leave are the lucky ones, those of us left behind grieve.

I threw Tami (AKA Lucy Furr) out for 1) stealing thousands of dollars worth of CDs, DVDs, and VHS tapes from me, as well as the wedding rings from my failed marriage and 2) drugging my beer.

I recently found out about being slipped a mickey. Amy saw her do it, made sure I wasn't going to die and left. I'd been drinking whiskey, ao the next day when I slept most of the day and was groggy as hell, I thought I was just hung over.

After Amy told me this (only a few weeks ago did I hear) I started asking people, and it turns out Tami had laughed about it to about everyone, and nobody thought she was telling the truth, that it was a joke.

She also has a habit of talking nice to your face and trash behind your back, with malicious lies thrown in for good measure.

My daughter confronted Tami about the rings, and scared the fatassed worthless dicklipped cunt so bad she pissed her pants, as Charlie (who led her to Tami) recounted with glee.

Charlie's living with me now. My daughter doesn't like Charlie one bit. The time before last when Patty visited, she walked into the house just as I was sitting on the couch and Charlie had jumped up in my lap with her legs around me, full of glee because she'd just had some good news, which was overcome by the embarrasing situation. Then last visit Patty had to come drive my car home because Charlie convinced me she was sober when her BAC was actually over .3 (mine was only .91, I'd have walked if I thought Charlie was drunk).

So Patty doesn't like the fact that Charlie's living with me, although I suspect she wouldn't like anyone she thought I was having a love affair with (as she surely thinks after the lap incident).

Amy's still with Connor, and her dad died from MRSA a few weeks ago.

The biggest news from 2008 is I got my old slashdot ID back! No longer "sm62704", I now have the same name as in meatspace - mcgrew. Also the same screen name I used to use at K5. Speaking of which, here are the "Paxil Diary-like" slashdot journals from 2008.

the Paxil Diaries
A Paxil Diary Christmas Story
A Letter from Prison

Mo' Moe, and a nerd license suspension
Harry's Adult Day Care
"Sweet little Anorexia" part 2
Home cooking
It ends before it begins
Taking a "hydrogen bomb" to school
Police State: In USSA, cops hassle YOU!
Non-Huffable Kitten (1142561) has made you their friend
Delirium Tremens
Black History Month
The Psycho Bitch from Hell
Not Again!
The Robyn 'Hood
The Bleeding Eyeball
Dork Side of the Moon
Blinded by the light
Sane Patty's Day
The Springfield Funny Papers
I'm in a REAL bad mood
(yawn) b000000000000000ring (YAWN)
Lifestyles of the Poor and Obscure
Duke Nukem 4ever
Trolling at Farley's
Home Again
Double trouble coming?
The Hamish
Reruns - TLTR
Party Like It's 1976
The Farmer and the Dell
Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Father's Day
Elcomwa Ota Ederalfa Isonpra
Fireworks Continued
On The Rebound
The Sky is Crying
"Lucy Furr" Burns in Hell
Drought's End
Bars and Star
I need to stop drinking
Star and Wars
A Drunken Mess
Amy again
Psycho Man Slayers
Under the rainbow
Lightning fast
Uploading Amy's Parrot
Lunch with Evil-X
The Return of Lucy Furr
Just shoot me!
This just in - Nerds get laid!!
Black Friday
Open Office Blues
I should have gotten laid
Seven of Nine, or Dors Venabili?
Unhealthy Pursuits
Ask Slashdot: Do you have health care?
Black Friday

In 2008 I only had six stories posted to slashdot (and one of them was *gasp blush* on Idle).

eBay Beats Tiffany In Net Trademark Case
Scientists Look at Martian Salt for Ancient Life
Nuked coral reef bounces back
Study Finds Video Games Are Not Bad for Kids
Universal Surface Scanner Detected
Do Nerds Have Better Sperm?

Last year's predictions:

So for this year's predictions, first that I'll not find a monogamous relationship. I have no reason to believe I will, as I have yet to five years after my ex wife left. As Robyn was only with me for a month before she wanted to go home with someone else, she doesn't count. And as Chris had a live-in boyfriend (who wants me dead of course) when we were going out, that can hardly count either.

That one was on the money. But I'm closer to monogamy, as I haven't counted how many different women I was with this year, but I'm pretty sure it was fewer than last year.

I predict more financial trouble, maybe even financial ruin, Because I'm a complete and utter fool when it comes to women. I'd be better off if I were addicted to the crack you smoke, rather than the crack you stick body parts into.

That one was on the mark, too.

I predict the geriatric Callie won't stop shitting in the bathtub unless she dies of old age. Callie is a calico cat my daughter owns that I got suckered into taking care of.

I found it wasn't Callie but Princess. She's doing better at it.

I predict that I will continue to get modded flamebait, troll, and offtopic despite the fact that when I get modded troll, flamebait, and offtopic I'm almost always shooting for "funny". Despite the fact that "funny" garners no karma, my karma remains excellent. I should predict I'll lose it I guess.

Battin' a thousand here!

I predict the earth will continue rotating around the sun, and we'll be right back here next year, only a little older.

Am I good, or what? Balls of crystal, I tell ya!

But those were easy. What I didn't forsee was having more eye surgery, losing Ralph, having Linda catch cancer, or almost taking a woman with AIDS on a date. I should have forseen my daughter hating Charlie, but I didn't.

I didn't forsee getting my old account back. I didn't forsee a buck fifty gasoline.

Seven women, eight slashdot articles. I met a woman last night, a very attractive young (to me) blonde. Maybe I'll get lucky and seven will be the year of eight, but I won't predict it. After all...

Damn, I don't even remember the blonde. I'm not making predictions this year. After all, nobody expects... excuse me, someone's at the door.

"NOBODY expects the Spanish Inquisition! Our weapons are..."

This discussion has been archived. No new comments can be posted.

Eight: the final chapter

Comments Filter:
  • Am I good, or what? Balls of crystal, I tell ya!

    Loved that line.
  • ...it ain't for sissies, I tell ya.

  • As I said, you are rewarding to read - if the word 'pleasure' isn't an appropriate description.

    • Yeh, It's kind of a morbid fascination isn't it? (-;

      McGrew, don't worry about the odd troll mod, it's inevitable really, the whole *whoosh* thing came up for a reason!

      You will keep your excellent Karma I have no doubt.

      Your story of the Health system in the US frankly amazes me, it seems incredibly cruel to send your friend out on the street like that.

      The mention you made of friends dying was familiar to me, I have lost 4 in the last 4 years, and four of the best too...)-:

      One day you should think about assem

      • by mcgrew ( 92797 ) *

        I've actually assembled the old K5 "Paxil Diaries" as two books: Volume one: the search for sex" (which ends with Fifty Cents (Believe it or not) [kuro5hin.org]. Everybody loves a happy ending! ...and Volume two, which ends with A Paxil Diary Christmas Story [slashdot.org] when I got a girlfriend.

        All I've done with the assembled editions is edit slightly, figure out what to leave out (boy, I've written a lot of crap) and put it on a CD. There's a place you can self-publish, I may do that. I don't see any real publisher wanting them, nor

"Our vision is to speed up time, eventually eliminating it." -- Alex Schure