Roses are Red.. So is Blood.

Roses are Red, Surprises are great, I can help you plan your Valentine’s date– Cortanna, at 145AM February 12 2017.


No I don’t think you can, computer.  You are not a male, you are not single, and you are not my type.  I’m single, for the first time in 3 years, and the 3 before, I am single on valentines day.  I don’t like it.

It’s not the preconceived expectations that bother me, It’s not the stuffed animals and flowers at the local Walmart that put me in a piss poor shit soured mood.  It’s the fact that my computer as the audacity to inform me that it can help me plan a date.

I’ve had a wonderful weekend, spent it amongst great friends playing games.  I have hurt every second since a fall last week, one in which the ground caught me..  You know it’s always there with it’s hard as shit arms outstretched, and waiting to catch you when you slide on the slick floor and land on your ass.

Perhaps it’s the first sign of old age, a no nothing injury remains for ages.  I am tired of hurting, and I think I’ve broken my tailbone, but that just sucks.


As I didn’t finish this post that night, I’ll post about today as well 2/13/17

I have to work an hour from home tomorrow.. No big deal I used to do it all the time.

I was telling it to an online friend today.

ME:  So I have to drive an hour to work in the morning.
Him:  That sucks why?
ME:  Luck of the draw I guess.
Him:  Well that sucks.
ME:  What makes it worse, is that one of the nurses I’m working with tomorrow, got engaged today.  So, Uh, I should just hang myself already.
Him:  NO!  Don’t do that!
Me:  What?  Oh hang myself? Please I’d never.
Him:  Then joke about it, it’s not funny.
Me:  Oh, well I”m sorry I didn’t mean to worry you, I’m fine really.
Him:  ok…

Flash forward through meaningless talks of animals and areas and just randomness, I get up to the kitchen and get something to drink (non alcoholic at that).  There is a knock at the door, and my father, yes readers, I live with my father.  My father, gets up and answers the door, it was the county police.

cop: “We need to talk to Maddy Lang”
Dad: “Maddy, You’re neeeded at the door.”
I rush to the door, and dad’s black lab, pantses me… INFRONT OF… THE POLICE.

I look up at the sky and think “WHY ME?”
I have to assure the police that I’m not suicidal, and that I am really ok.  It takes about fifteen minutes, and I finally convince them that I’m not going to slice my wrists at the next available moment.  And they leave.

I get back to the computer and the friend has sent six or seven terrified messages because I’ve not wrote back directly.

Again readers, i’m fine.  I’m not suicidal, I’m not even depressed.  I’m a little sad that I’m single on Valentine’s Day, and I’m sad that I have to deal with Valentine’s Day at all.  But I feel that way every year, relationship or no.

So in closing, I don’t need a computer to fix my date, ( I don’t have one), and well meaning friends are great, but sometimes a simple “are you depresed/suicidal” is all a person needs to spill the beans.. But thanks Mass, you are a peach.


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