The Time Was Right

I once had a friend who married a widower. I loved this woman at the time when I met. She sat near me in work. She was married. She was pregnant. But we had so much chemistry and similar senses of humour, that we just connected. Obviously nothing was ever going to come of it. She was a Montague. Joke. Me thing she said to me though was in connection with her husbands late wife. She said that just before the woman died (of a sudden condition) she had cleaned the whole house, washed the car, paired a few broken things etc, then a couple of weeks later had passed awy. My friend said that she felt the woman knew she was going to die and wanted to do what she could to leave the children they had in the best possible condition.

I wanted to smack her upside the head. Grab her by the shoulders and shake her and tell her she was being irrational. I couldn't. She was pregnant. I mean, clean everything for you know on some level you're going to die. It sounds to me like she was cleaning up so she'd have nice 'living' conditions.

Hmmm...

Well, today, I start university and am joining the gym. I am happy. If I die, DO NOT say of me that it was best that I go while I'm happy. Don't be a dick. If I was gonna die, I wanted it to be at the start of my seven years of pain, not the beginning of the high times. Get a grip!

Name Changer

I want to write this on Facebook, but the way I discovered this information was on Facebook and I don't want to offend anyone. I wanted to write it on Twitter, but the person who wrote this is also on there too, even though she doesn't go on there, that I notice. So I'm writing it in a place no one will see it - my blog. 'Congratulations to ----- and ------ on the birth of their new son: Jaxx'.

I just... I don't believe it. It's... it's incomprehensible to me that even someone from this backwards town would call their child - ahem - fucking Jaxx. I hope the blood in my semen is an indicator of something terminal.