A peek at the REAL Thumbster

More Than You Want To Know

Hi Thumb fans.

I decided to edit this entry after posting it a couple of days ago. I really wasn't comfortable with how it turned out. Afterall I have my superhero image to uphold right? Actually that's not entirely true. The reason I edited out the naughty bits is because you're much too nice to read such smut. Actually that's not entirely true either is it? We both know you only read my journal for the smutty bits. Shame on you. The real reason I decided to edit it was because I didn't want to piss off my parole officer again. Okay that's not true either...I could go on and on like this but I'm finding this boring. I know...(I said skillfully changing the subject)...how about I dazzle you with a few quick updates on my cyber problems? Ooooooooooo you say? Well for starters I never know when they're gonna frig up and when they're gonna behave themselves. Aaaaaaaaa (Sorta like the same thing with you now that I think about it) My screens can take 10 or 15 seconds to load or several mintues. Eeeeeeeeeeee My mouse doesn't want to move to the left anymore. Yyyyyyyyyy (I'd prefer it if you didn't make those stupid noises while I'm whining) Xxxxxxxxxxxx Thank you. Has anyone ever told you, you can be very childish? Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

I can tell when I'm boring you so I'll move on. Yaaaaaaaaaaay. I'll repost this entry with the bad bit edited out. I've decided to replace that bit with a wholesome blurb about flowers. (That shouldn't get me into trouble with my parole officer) If you don't like it I can always go back to whining about my cyber problems. (I'm having cyber problems you see) (Wanna hear about them?) (No?) (Good.) (On with this edited entry then)


Note: The following was originally posted the other day. (That's a legal disclaimer) (It makes me feel important to have legal disclaimers in my entries) (I lead such a boring life don't I?) (You weren't meant to agree with me)


I enjoy reading other's journals because I get a peek into another's life. I get to see what's going on in their world and to see how they're coping. I only read a few people's journal but I try to read them religiously. These are only people I care about, all female BTW. (I suspect these are probably the very same people that read my journal) I'm no doubt sexist that way. I find I have very little interest in reading other guy's journals, certainly not their day to day musings. I'm frankly much more interested in how females see the world than how other guys do. I suppose I just assume other guys see it pretty much like I do. I write with females in mind. (I'm talking women now) (Not girls, guys, barn yard animals or monkeys but women)

As many of you already know, I'm a very private person. Comes from moving around a lot as a child and being the new kid in school. The stuff I've shared in this journal might not seem all that personal to you but there's lots of things here many in my real life don't know. (Don't you feel special?)

Okay then, here's a few snippets into my world just for a select few of you.

Today was garbage day where I live. We used to have a garbage pickup every week but then they cut back to only once every two weeks. I never want to miss it because then I have to store garbage in my garage until the next garbage day. (That sucks) When my guys were just starting school, as a joke I used to wish them a "Happy Garbage Day" every garbage day. I later found out they'd wish their bus driver and teachers "Happy Garbage Day" .

Okay, enough garbage talk.

Giblet, my son's Derek's guinea pig died last year. He was such an upbeat little fellow. He'd whistle everytime someone would come into the room. I became Giblet's primary caregiver once Derek got bored with him. Some years ago I let my guys chose which pets they wanted. Derek soon realized guinea pigs don't really do much except eat, whistle and need to be cleaned out ALL the time. Not a big turn on as far as Dereks was concerned. It was costing a small fortune keeping Giblet in fresh woodshavings. (He had two cages, one of which was the biggest cage in the pet store) Eventually I started getting all the free wood shaving I wanted from the local woodworking hobby club. Apparently people with horses also wanted it. I used to fill big burlap bags full of the stuff. (It was clean and without any contaminants as it came from the planer) Giblet actually once won first place in a pet story contest here at Writing. A good friend of mine asked me to enter, as the contest had gone on for months and wouldn't close until a minimum number of people had entered. That was probably the lamest entry I've ever entered in any contest here. I never expected to win as I wrote down any old crap just to get enough entries to close the contest. I miss little Giblet.

Speaking of dead pets...

I vowed not to get another dog after Max died a while back. I also miss Max very much. He was a very good dog and deserved a much better care giver than me. In hindsight I probably should have put him down towards the end. I've had lots of animals over the years so I'm used to them dying. I couldn't bring myself to put Max down if he wanted to live. Then when he deteriorated further I figured he wouldn't last much longer, but he did. I was VERY torn back then. It was a very sad time.

Enough dead pets...more bread making blurbs.

I made my very first loaf of bread the other night. A while back I gave my parents a bread maker which they used to use regularly but it's been put away in a cupboard for the last year so I asked to borrow it to try it out for myself. The crust came out super but the insides were a tad too chewy for my liking. Perhaps it was the organic flour I used? I tried my best to follow the directions. I intend to try making some French bread next. Fingers crossed.

Yet more cooking stuff.

Years ago I used to work in an Italian restaurant on the weekends. I got pretty good at making pizzas from scratch, (dough and all), as well as various lasagnas, rigatonis, spaghettis, soups, salads, etc. I still regularly make several lasagnas or pizzas at once. I have my own little lasagna or pizza assembly line.

Enough cooking...more lawn mowing.

My front lawn needs to be mowed. We've had several days now of continuous rain. I ran out of gas last time I mowed and didn't get to finish and now all that rain has made it very obvious where I stopped mowing. The thing is, I didn't realize I didn't have anymore gas in the garage, so when it started to sputter, I continued mowing as I headed back across the front lawn towards the garage. Now there's a long mowed path across my lawn.

One last blurb...make it good...make it the bestest blurb yet. Make it hot and steamy.

Edited

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*Here is my replacement blurb*

The constant rain we've been having has flattened my poppies. Actually they're not really my poppies but poppies my ex once planted. Each year poppies, daffodils, tulips, tiger lilies, chives, thyme(sp?), crocus, violets and many other things I don't know the names of, sprout up dispite me not doing any gardening. It's inspiring really. Not only have the daffodills and some low lying blue flowers gotten along without any help from me, but they've prospered very nicely and have spread. I once had someone knock on my front door wanting some of my flowers. He didn't want cuttings but the whole plants I think. I'm not sure. I found the entire encounter surreal. I'm not used to people knocking on my door wanting to dig up my flowers. I wonder if this happens to other people? Like you for instance. Has anyone wanted to dig up or cut up your flowers? Do you have flowers and if so, do they grow year after year even though you don't do anything to help them? My parents are the gardeners in the family. Their home and garden could easily be on the cover of those Home and Garden magazines. I'm not kidding. People come from miles around to walk around their yard. They spend many, many hours tending to it. Mum sells some of her lily pads to the local nurseries each year. I could go on and on about their garden but that only makes my neglected little flower story seem pale in comparison. I need to scoot now anyways.


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