One can only put up with so much bullshit...

Dear Baby Jesus, let this week from Hell be over...

Allow me to elaborate:

My Crohn's is acting up.  Nothing new, but not exactly comfortable.

Roger and I haven't had sex in a week.  Depressing but with stress, being busy etc...

Roger left JPMorgan Chase two weeks ago and SHOULD  have a new job by now.  He's being courted by everyone and their mother, but whatever he does (dealing with algorithms - (pronounced AL-go-rith-um) is a procedure or formula for solving a problem. The word derives from the name of the mathematician, Mohammed ibn-Musa al-Khwarizmi, who was part of the royal court in Baghdad and who lived from about 780 to 850)    SIDEBAR:  I didn't know exactly what it was either.  I know they dealt in security.  /ENDSIDEBAR  is expensive and not all that many people are as good as he is at creating these mathematical genius puzzle thingies.  So FINALLY he's contacted by a company who wants him!!!  They are kinda like Vistaprint...but not.  I say this because I can't for the life of me remember their proper name.  So does he finally get a job?  More stress.

Ok, now it is Sunday morning and I believe the previous rant (not to be confused by the last entry) was like...Tuesday.  I'm positive parce que Roger was starting his new job the next day.  Ok, since then, I've been just about ready to pull a few Murder 1's, a handful of Murder 2's & a vehicular homicide or 3.

First large stresser?  My mom calls on Sunday to inform us that they will no longer be needed several times per week.  I was too busy trying to tell my bestie that my dad is dying.  Ok, a little factoid about mom & dad?  They are in better shape than Roger & I am combined.  A few years back, they moved to Los Angeles to be near her youngest sister, Frances, her dick of a spouse, Henry & their daughter, Heather and Morgan, her Hound from Hell.  Heather used to be married Clay-who-worked-for-the-PGA-TOUR, until she found out he was banging half of the Temperence League.  So, she left his ass & moved to Cali to be with the remainder of her "they are trying sooo hard to be normal and fashionable" bizarre Stepford family.

Rounding out this cacophony of personalities is my cousin, Ashley Suzanne Hutsell.  The most normal of them all, an All-American Gymnast.  All of her friends were also in-training.  They all self-flagellated if they got within 3 feet of a Hostess,  they had no social life & did positively everything with each other.  I prayed to God every night that he would leave me ignorant in the mysterious ways oh the cartwheel.     I'd never been able to do one & prayed that I would NOT be blessed with the elusive knowledge overnight.