Obviously writing anything remotely coherent is not a priority for me.  If I only posted that which was clearly understood by the masses, I fear I would have nothing to offer.  Once again my brain is filled to capacity with randomness and absurdity and the need to siphon some of it out has been overlooked for too long.   For the safety of the passengers, the captain is asking you to don the Coast Guard approved life vest located under your ass and keep in mind that the woman with the ample bosoms on the other side of this screen can also be used as a flotation device should the boat she is so fond of rocking capsize. 

    I contradict myself constantly, get over it.  Eternally mocking this new method of impersonal personal relations being forged behind the cloak of the Internet, I smile hypocritically as I type knowing there are some, who's inner sanctum I have yet to violate face to face, madly and inexplicably in love, or is it lust, with me?  Run on sentence, quick, grab the red pen and circle it!  Can you imagine the future generation's innocent query, "Grandma, how did Daddy and his fifth wife meet?"  "Well on the Internet of course, young people don't meet in the respectable places folks in my generations did, like in a bar, at the corner porno market, or at a sex addicts meeting."  Gone are the days of people leaving their house to meet their potential victims, um I mean, mates? That would require wearing pants and feeling the sunshine on your skin.  So what if you aren't 6'4" tall and currently working as a body double for The Rock, she's probably not a 5'8" leggy blonde built like Jessica Rabbit either.  I'm not judging, it's just that the feeling of my palm wrapped tightly around the smooth hard wood makes my mind wander.  Want to hold my gavel?  All the cool kids are doing it.   Just so we are all clear, I love all of the people online I surround myself with at night when my house grows eerily silent and I sit alone folding laundry or working on whatever project I am currently working on. And sometimes I even wear pants, ok, I'm lying, I never wear pants at night, it's usually..... I now return you to the first sentence in this paragraph.

     Last night I fired up the webcam and waited to see if any one noticed the icon lurking at the bottom of my display photo.  I hate being seen on webcam.  Before you ask me why I have it let me first tell you to fuck off.  That said,  my hubby bought me a webcam, not sure why, maybe he hopes that I will bump us into the next tax bracket with some kinky M.I.L.F porn? Oh now the baidu searches for kinky milf porn are going to pour in and more request to be added by freaks with spaces sitting empty save for a profile that lists women, sex, cyber sex or cunnilingus as their interests will be awaiting my callous denials.  I get a few of these everyday and no, they don't make my dick hard, do they Dick?  No, I didn't think so.  After a few minutes of chatting whilst camming I got over myself and had some fun.  Yeah....fun....mmmmmmmmmmm, yes.....WAIT!! No, that's not, um, err, never mind, it's not my keyboard shelf being violated twelve ways to Sunday.  Hey, where are your pants?  I don't know if I look better/worse/different or the same on webcam as I do in a photo or in person and I don't really care.  I almost asked last night then decided not to ask a question to which I don't really want an answer.  Curious?  I bet. 

    Do you ever visit a person's site and head right to the media player to stop the selection they have as accompaniment?  Well STOP IT!! That's just plain rude.  Some of us go to great trouble to choose either a song that supports the current entry or their current mood.  If the media player is indeed functioning properly today you will hear one of my favorite songs playing.  My musical taste is as confusing as my schizophrenic lack of style when I spill the contents of my mind into a blog entry.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have some dirty naughty dirty dancing to do.  The screen doors are open so go ahead and pull up a chair.  It's going to be a good show.  Come baby come baby, baby come come, you gotta give me lovin' and you gotta give me some!

     DANCE WITH ME!! THAT'S AN ORDER (but really, where are your pants?)

Watch the sunset tonight... Wishing you all a blessed Litha! Much love~ 

~*Raven*~

     Ok, it seems I came back from my hiatus a bit too soon.  This last week of school is hell bent on dragging endlessly AND I can't seem to sleep these days.  I'm pretty sure that one is directly affecting the other seeing as I have a zillion things cycling through my brain in an attempt to keep everyone's schedules straight, but just the same, once I make that flying leap into my bed, I want to roll over, do my happy "I love my huge bed!" naked between the sheets dance and fall asleep.  No luck.  Instead, I have been rolling over, staring at the ceiling, rolling over again, falling asleep for 10 minutes, waking up sideways in the bed, etc etc.  I have tried the usual sleep inducers, chamomile tea, an assload of calcium, meditating, masturbating, and even a little drinking (not necessarily in that order), but to no avail.  Is it Thursday yet?  Thursday is the last day of school and even though I may choke on these words in a month or so, I can't wait for it to arrive.  I need a nice stretch of time with no schedules.  Routines are all right, life, to some degree, needs a few in place to avoid lolling about and doing jack shit all day, but waking up at 5:30am and rushing about like a madwoman until I try to go to bed has gotten old.

     What I need is a hot bath in a tub deep enough to submerge me up to my shoulders in water, a lo-ooooong massage, a tall, cold drink and about 10 hours of unbroken sleep.  I'm willing to drive up to an hour or you can come to me. Just in case,  I'll leave the door unlocked...HURRY!   

    As soon as Luna reads that title, she'll know we're in for a wild ride.   Today, I, Raven Lunatic, am officially done with my hiatus.  Also today, for some reason I can only explain as possible demonic possession, I called my mother.  I am prepared to blame one of you as I had just read some very funny things on your space and wanted to share them with a member of my family.  The 3 hour time difference between Luna and I makes calls after a certain hour tricky, so I called my Mother.   Stupid stupid stupid *smacking myself on the ass only to realize I rather enjoy it instead switching to banging my head with the phone*  You would think after 37 years, I would have learned.  So after dialing what may very well become the last time I ever speak to my mother without first quaffing a hell of a lot of yill, I proceeded to carry out my plan to relay some of the funnies to my crazy mother.  She listened, but only for the sound of  my voice to stop before launching into yet another fabricated story entirely about herself, or a tirade about my baby sister, father, the injustices her family has heaped on her,  her feet, her weight, her untreated depression, or well just about anything.  My favorite was her sad tale of woe in which she told me she would like to start walking to the stop sign at the end of her street and back every day but since her cell phone died she's worried that if her feet pain her to the point she can't make it home, she has no way to call anyone for help.  At this point my brain is screaming FUCKING NUTBALL....you see it's not nearly as dramatic as my mother makes it out to be since she lives FIVE HOUSES AWAY FROM THE STOP SIGN!!!!!   If she were to fall and couldn't get up I'm sure she could just hobble to the neighbor's door and ask them to call an ambulance to transport her back to her house FIVE HOUSES FROM THE STOP SIGN!!!!!  (Just so you know, I'm not as heartless as I might seem, well maybe I am, but in any case, my mother's feet only hurt because she spends all day sleeping so they are unaccustomed to bearing her substantial weight) As I bite a hole in my own lip waiting for her to take a breath,  the most amazing thing happened.  All of the sudden the sound of my mother's voice was replaced with EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.  Ah....relief, but it was only temporary.  Soon the sound ended and I became painfully aware that I had not processed a single word she had said.  Well now, isn't this awkward?  Did she ask me a question? Did she make some profound revelation?  What? What did she say?  Why do I care?  Smiling to myself as my daughter came into the kitchen wanting some ice cream.  "Ok Mom, gotta go"

    When I returned to the living room my spouse was smirking.  Yeah, he knew what I was thinking.  I told him about the newest in the Insanity Chronicles and he innocently inquired, "why don't you just e-mail her?"  Now on the verge on uncontrollable laughter, I divulged the shameful reason why, in fact, I don't just e-mail my mother.  "She can't check her e-mail still"...the laughter now bubbling up to the surface..."because she still doesn't have a mouse"   This sent the two of us into hysterics.  My mother's wireless mouse died a few months ago, most likely it only needs a new battery, but my mother is using this as her reason, as if she needs another, not to function.  Oh wait, my mother doesn't function anyway so what does it matter whether or not she is connected via Internet to anyone else in the world?  After we regained our composure I had to translate crazy to English for the spouse.  "You see," I said in my best naughty librarian voice,"in order to fulfill the order for a new mouse, my mother will need to make a trip to the super secret mouse store.  There is only one of these stores open to the public, the rest are run by evil dictators who require one to be tattooed with a super secret barcode in a place which they will not tell you unless you answer the question that opens the portal."  My husband is laughing hysterically at this point so I wait for him to breathe so I can finish. "Now since my mother doesn't know of the evil underground mouse shop-o-rama lama ding dong, she has to make the journey to the public one, which is only open certain days of the year, but which days only they know.  So you have to go up and wait to see if today is one of those days, but even then you may not get in since each day of operation is limited to a block of 37.9 minutes.  If, upon arriving, you realize that it's your lucky day and the store is open and you are there in the 37.9 minute time frame, then you must draw a number from a Viking helmet filled with electric eels to see if you will be allowed to purchase a mouse that day or will you have to spin the wheel of cheese or risk waiting the required 365 calendar days before being allowed to repeat the process." 

    The next time I think of calling my mother I'm going to close my eyes, spin around until I am thoroughly dizzy and then try to run backwards and naked through my house.  Should I hook up the webcam for this or can you all just use your imaginations?

     We interrupt this hiatus to bring you the following:

     It seems that the Matrix is displeased with my little attempt at a hiatus and has set about terrorizing me with a long and nearly irresistible series of rant worthy events.  Not even 24 hours after my self induced retreat from blogland one of these events occurred right next door.  My neighbor's son, a teeny tiny sexually conflicted waste of a human I have affectionately dubbed, "candy assed mama's boy" drove his GINORMOUS lifted to the sky what do you think he's over-compensating for Ford F-350 to his mommy's house to give it a washing I have now decided will forever be known as....The 8 hour Hand Job!  When the offspring and I left to walk to school at 7;25am Little Jimmy was in the process of unfolding a step ladder so he could reach the running boards on his big trucky wucky.  His mommy was out in the driveway helping Little Jimmy since that's what the mommies of 35 year old men who still wear baseball caps backward with low rise board shorts, wife beater tanks and white nifty sun glasses do.  Keep in mind that in the year he's owned this truck it has never seen off road action.  Me and my razor scooter get more dirt in our tires than Jimmy's monument to little men with little Jimmies.  Aaaanyway....When I arrived home he was still on his ladder sudsing up the truck.  I'll summarize the rest for you: 8:30am-I left for the last board meeting of the year, Little Jimmy (now known as LJ for short-pun definitely intended!) still stroking his truck.  11:30am-I return from meeting, LJ giving still lovingly stroking the big black beast.  11:45am-spouse and I leave to go out to lunch despite my near aneurysm while fighting the urge to yell, "It's a truck, NOT A DICK!" at LJ.  2:25pm-Spouse and I return with one offspring, LJ STILL giving truck a thorough hand job.  3:15 pm-Offspring number 2 is fetched, LJ has moved his penile extension mobile to the curb and is now fingering the treads of his tires with a tiny brush.  I suppose he never plans on driving it on the street again or perhaps he parachutes out at each stoplight to remove all debris from the tires?  Maybe this would not be an issue if he didn't put tires with tread deeper than the Grand Canyon on a truck that he drives to work at UPS and back, did I mention that out here in Southern California all of our roads are paved?  Make a note!  I'm not sure when LJ finally got his truck off, but I can say that I hope an entire flock of incontinent geese flew over it on his way home.

     As if that wasn't enough, several other events occurred in the last week, including, but not limited to; several visits that made me wonder how it is I don't carry a flask filled with Malibu rum when near my mother, the annual "Variety" show at the kid's school which isn't called "The Follies" by accident.  I suppose calling it the, "just because your mama tells you that  standing completely still on stage while moving your lips in a manner that cannot be seen by the naked eye whilst some insipid song from some insipid musical which was unfortunately made into an equally insipid movie about high school musicals plays in the background is entertainment", show could seem a bit judgmental?  Plus it would be a bitch to fit all of that on the program and the talentless masses were not limited to lipsynching that made Britney Spears look like the fat lady in an opera.  Oh noooo, there were bad dancers,  bad skits, and all kinds of bad stuff to make you search your purse for the lemon soaked toothpicks and penis straw.  Not my boy of course, his martial arts and weapons exhibition set to Breaking Benjamin's "Blow me away" did just that.  Yikes...I bragged.  Better make another note.

     Let's see, what else did I need to get off my round and amazingly firm considering it's size chest?  Oh yes, the season premiere of Hell's Kitchen.  What the F%@K  is with all the crying?  I could slice a habanero chili, inadvertently forget to wash the flesh melting oils from my hands and then masturbate and not cry that much. Holy shit people!!  Man up will you?  I like a man that cries too, WHEN I HIT HIM!!  Sheesh! 

   Just a few  more things before I smack your ass and leave a $100 bill on the nightstand.  Miami Ink returns tomorrow night and while I was once a big fan, watching all those whining people choking back tears while explaining the significance of having their dead grandfather's second cousin's ex-boyfriend's first wife's wiener dog's favorite chew toys tattooed on them got to be too much for me.  When I found myself in the living room yelling at the television, "either shut the hell up and get the damn tattoo or go home and find someone to hold you while you write about it in your journal!!" I knew it was time to stop watching.  Do you think it's strange to watch it with the sound turned off while I touch myself inappropriately and moan, Oh Chris....show me your big needle Chris...? 

   And last but certainly no less offensive.  What's with all the people trying to find themselves?  I am with myself the majority of the time, at least when I'm out of the house, and at no time have I ever lost myself.  I have lost my temper, my patience, my purse, my panties at L.A. Zoo, my marbles and even, and this one may shock you, my virginity, but never myself.  Let me just ask you this oh lost people, have you looked in the last place you were with  yourself, under the cushions of the couch, behind the dresser or between the seats in your car?  This is usually where I find the things that I have lost, well, except my virginity.  If anyone has that go ahead and keep it, I haven't used it in.......wouldn't you just love to know!!

     WHEW!!!  I feel a lot better, I'll lift up my top and lean close to the monitor so you can feel for yourself, or so you can feel yourself?  No, wait...nevermind....feel what you will, just don't send me photos of it!! Now if you'll excuse me, I hear my hiatus calling me.

    Thank you, drive through......Raven

     This time last year I was plotting my invasion of the East Coast, a tour which included stops in New York City and it's 5 boroughs, Pelham Manor, Salem MA, Boston MA, Mianus CT and the best part, the 6 perfect days I spent occupying common space with my best friend and sister Luna.  The pain I experienced when we pulled out of her driveway was one I never could have imagined.  I once thought that watching she and my nephew board a plane bound for New Hampshire was excruciating, I was wrong.  A couple years later she moved back home only to leave again 7 years ago, this time with 2 nephews in tow.  That left a hole in my world and a pain that I simply couldn't express.  Last summer, after surviving on only one visit in 5 years, we were finally in the same house again and it was bliss.  Just to hear the way our family's voices co-mingled as if we had been together all along was more than anyone could ask for.  Looking through doorways to see some combination of our spouses and children and oftentimes all of them engaged in what became an insignificant activity compared to the amount of love pulsing through us was just what we both needed.  Luna and I are both dedicated mothers, wives and women, but before we were any of those things we were sisters.  I miss my sister and her family desperately. 

     I'm not sure we will be able to make it back east again this summer due to new school schedules, different vacation times and many other factors and that's only on our coast, my sister will be equally as busy plus my nephew will be practicing driving in anticipation of his upcoming 16th birthday, such is part of family life for us.  At the risk of sounding utterly pathetic, the idea of not being on the same coast this summer crushes me.  Since I am not one to roll over and die when my life isn't going exactly the way I want it, I'm prepared to deal with this in the only way I know how, keeping insanely busy.  My children are in school until the third week of June which means I have meetings, events, concerts, shows, conferences and my son's graduation from elementary school.  As if that alone weren't enough to kill most people my monster in law has also made the uber-wise choice to head to New York on Wednesday to once again enable my sister in law to continue a streak of uselessness as a human and mother rivaled only by Britney Spears.  Not only will she be gone for ALL of the events my children will be performing, competing or participating in but she is also leaving my 76 year old father in law, who had his knee reconstructed a few weeks ago, alone in their 2 story home.  Did I forget to mention that his doctor won't clear him to drive for at least 3 more weeks?  I guess what's really important is that my absurdly paid brother in law get to drag his useless wife and the oldest of the Russian warbrides with him on the business trip to Spain, right?  I have to wonder why my sister in law's own mother, a recently retired kindergarten teacher, isn't going out to watch the twin Russians until the 21st?  Sure, my son will graduate from elementary school again, oh wait...NO HE WONT!!!  Don't feel sorry for me though, I have been laying the guilt on grandma extra thick, it's a miracle she can function at all between the endless harassment by me and my spouse.  Go ahead and say it, we're evil.

     What I'm trying to say in a long and indirect way is that I'm going to take a break from my space for a bit.  I need to plant my veggies for fall, finish my house, bask in the sun, play with the kids, watch the sunset at the beach....you know feel the sun on my skin and my feet on the Earth.  But never fear, I'll be back before you even realize I'm gone, hopefully you will notice I'm gone....anyone...anyone...is this thing on?