honesty*rain

I was just walking along eating a dinosaur shaped arrowroot biscuit when lo but my right foot was soaking wet from a puddle of icey water on the kitchen floor. Which is when I remembered oh, this fridge, it’s fooked. And so it naturally follows that I must discuss the matter on the internet. Because self publishing? A safe haven for all manner of nonsense.

But tell me, what kind of fridge should I buy? We want a side by side with water and ice but of course we all know the perils of a side by side with water and ice. Are they too stupid for words? Do only the oddest of people really buy and LIKE them? Tell me, few remaining people who bother to check this site. I must know what you think.

Extra points for any lovely links you provide sending me to look at the fridge of YOUR dreams. Like maybe as many as ten extra points. In a game where points matter even though you had no idea you were playing.

I’ve had a bit of a time lately. Stress, family brand. I’ve tried to write about it several times but it’s so uninteresting, really. How do you make my sister is mean to me sound like anything mroe than grade eight wimpering? I should be over it by now.

But I am so not. The past few weeks have been yet another opportunity to consider my own role in the several crazy family relationships I am a part of. And the fact that these people would see fault in me if I had cash money flying out my ass and directly into their bank accounts. Because ew, money from a bum? I want different money. Get me different money. Nothing is good enough for these people.

I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to please people who, ultimately, don’t really have any interest in finding me pleasing. There is something to be said for the fact that they need to not like me, really, on any sort of actual human level and while that’s so not okay, it has to be okay. Because I think the time has come for me to just say alright lookit, I don’t return phone calls (and other deep horrible failings on my part) but I’m okay with that.

I Like Myself Because I’m Me.

As long as that’s okay with you.

It’s ridiculous to sit here saying there are people in the world who intimidate me, but there you have it. They are the people I grew up with (and their spouses). I am intimadted by the fears and insecurities of my brothers and sister.

Rather, I was. Because the time has come. Another attempt at letting that go. Have never had any luck til now but I think I’m ready. Fingers crossed.

Because waking up in the middle of the night last night anxious about what they think of me? That was stupid and never ever again.

The past several months have been something like torture. The near constant press coverage of the Anna Nicole Smith melodrama led me to consider an Elvis Presley approach to television management until I finally realized that if I screamed loud enough Dan would turn it off out of just wanting me to stop. And despite my refusing to intentionally soak up anything ANS related I have managed to not only know exactly what is going on but also to have developed opinions on the matter.

I knew Birkhead was the babydaddy. Much as Dan somehow knew Clinton was lying. We have a sense of these things, Dan and I.

Throughout this ridiculous post death process I have refused to clutter my mind with up to the minute coverage of absolutely jack squat, but I confess that my interest perked a little when Dan gave me the news this morning. Larry Birkhead seemed to me the most genuine person in all of this. The lawyer husband (whatever his name is, I’ve no need of knowing) creeps me out and I found myself thinking he must have had something to do with it all in some sinister way. Birkhead, on the other hand, came across as a normal guy who honestly believed the child was his. Turns out, he knew what he was talking about and good for him not letting it go. Good for Dannielynn to because maybe with him she’ll have a chance at normal. Life with the lawyer husband who did not take issue with a constantly drugged up pastic wife could not have been so. Plus how long before she would be added to the list of people within his circle who turned up dead from drug overdose?

Now let’s have no more talk of it. Do you hear me, Entertainment Tonight? No more talk of it.

went the website. Under what I must admit are thrilling circumstances. It would appear that honestyrain was hacked at some point over the weekend. By evil spammers. Which is redundant, I know. But think of it! Hacked! Like the FBI or something else positively reeking of espionage! I bet it was the Brits. They’ve always been jealous of me.

As usual, Tommy brought a swift and glorious end to the madness. In so doing he was forced to abandon the existing databse but vowed it could be retrieved and shuffled over safely. To which I cried, Don’t do it! Because what now? A clean slate? Thank you, Hackers! You’ve saved me so much trouble!

A fresh start. Something this website has been begging for.

And so it is all gone. Rather, hidden. And if I wake in the middle of some night crying for what was we will retrieve it but honestly? Really? We won’t miss it. We will survive nicely. We will be the better for it.

Yes, that is the Royal We which is exactly why the Brits are after me.