When you buy your wedding ring on Ali Express.

:D
Guess this shows how little I think of wedding rings. 

I did such an unusual thing (for me) last night. An unknown, liberating sense of abandon. We drove to Drej's family's exhibition - her parents and sister all came together to exhibit their work and because they are from a fairly small, ambitious town (one very dear to me), this was quite an event. The exhibition took place in a really old building, like, we are talking castle-age, and it was lovely. I've certainly never seen an all-family exhibit before - and they are all completely different creatives. I was asked to shoot, but kinda mentioned I no longer take my camera to the field, as it is rather old and I haven't the finance to invest in a new one, whereas I still direly require to shoot my promotional material. But since Drej's mate has a camera much like Marki is, I said I'm happy to just push the big button. It's really second nature to me. The chubby idiot with the camera, in the corner of social events. 

The even less characteristic part was, though Drej's mate asked if I'll be taking the memory card to brush up the shots, I just chuckled, thinking how much other work I have and feeling so oddly NOT territorial about it, my psyche felt as light as air. I would normally be sunk into the unedited photos teeth and claws. But naah, dude. You go ahead. I'm over that. Even if people have bags under their eyes on my shots, so be it. That used to drive me nuts. 

I'll admit, tho. I did kinda miss it. I've forgotten how much I like human faces.

Same old, same old.

Days are never easy. My parents are still my parents, still making one another's life a pain. I tried giving them one of G's credit cards, so they would stop constantly bickering over money (They're not poor, just annoying), but they still almost divorced four times and killed one another once by the time they returned from their weekly shopping. Mum is trying hard, but I know that if she makes any kind of mistakes - like missing a road exit today and having to drive around - dad won't shut up about it and then when she kicks him in the balls, he is suddenly the victim and the tortured old man. I called to ask how he is and he explained his usual, how bad everything is, closing with: Let us see if we survive this night ...

Well. I've lived with their bullshit for over forty years. I worry all the time, but they haven't managed to kill one another yet. I'm sure someday they will and two nice police officers will knock on my door to inform me, and this tragedy will tear me to pieces, but ... I am kinda really not even invested anymore. "I just don't know what to do anymore..." Well, dada, every time you cry for help, five people come running, rain or shine, night or day, heat or snow, to try and advise and support you and ready to do anything you think is right, two days later you tell us all to go fuck ourselves for being judgmental and to mind our own business. This happens once a month for the past ... at least twenty years. And of course he is riding his 'poor old man' train hard and will tell me to uselessly go fuck myself if I don't know how to set up subtitles on his channel, or if I ask if he'd manage to stay alive for two weeks on his own, and yet he's never had to set up a doctor's visit in his entire existence. It's mum who manages all that and drives him. He has no idea what the name of his doctor is, what medication he needs or how to ask for a prescription. So. You either need mum or you don't, dad. You don't even know how to answer a flip phone, because mum always answers the phone. 

G and I have been going uphill to try and mow some of the vineyard - due to constant rain and dad not being able to work the estate anymore, the terraces have turned to a jungle. We need to spray the vines, we just have to make our way to them first. Ooh, but the fringes are overgrown with raspberries and I love raspberries! And the bees do, too!

I attempted to extract the atlas from a decrepit dog cadaver I found by the road. I should probably try again with my eyes open, because it takes a certain kind of idiot to mistakenly extract the pelvis. In my defence, the cadaver is a mess. It's melted into black goo with ribs sticking out like a broken wicker basket. Being overgrown and me not really wishing to look too closely, I am not even sure there IS a skull. There sure weren't any femurs. G is not too happy, but I barked at him that when he brings the taxidermist a skull it's a trophy, but when I do it, I need professional help. I've put the thing, whatever it is, on an anthill to clean. 

I'm in a mood for a zombie movie. I haven't seen a good one in a long time. 

Awww, a thousand followers! Only took me since the founding of Instagram to get here! ... I should have posted my tits more, I knew it.

If only I knew how to screen-cap my phone.
So many things make sense, once you look at them from that view...

Back to talking ..

Party's over, sorry G. I can speak just fine today :D

(It was still uncomfortable to speak yesterday, so I invoked my right to a select mutism. (I get about five allowances per year to just stop talking.) Not that G's complaining. It's just weird. You can hear all the machines humming and traffic from the street.

Okay, so.

I was just explaining earlier to G, how my brain is trying to out-algorithm internet and will sometimes suggest things before it has time to measure them. Example, I would walk into the hallway at night on my way to the bathroom and one of G's tremendously huge shoes would be lying there, in the dark. The brain KNOWS what it is, because G always leaves his boots like that, lying around at the door area, but the brain will take the minimal margin between sensory registration and mental analysis and suggest, perhaps it's a really huge black dog! .. or I will walk around a corner and sun will reflect from a shop window and my brain will alarm me there's a huge truck with bright headlights about to hit me!! .... It's always these pompous, dramatic, over-the-top thoughts. A small leaf will fall from the tree and momentarily obscure my vision, hitting the sunglasses, and the brain will yell: hot air balloon is crushing onto you!!..
      I appreciate your sense of drama, brain, thank you, you get points for effort, but ... you're over-shooting. Keep it down a notch. Keep it plausible.

So, G utters this tiny phrase, in Slovenian: Misli vsiljivke. "Thoughts which push themselves in." Like intruding thoughts. Intrusive thoughts. And I'm like ... what do you mean? There's a name for it besides IMAGINATION? My brain constantly trying to push more drama into my life is ... normal??
    So I try to google them and OCD keeps popping up. And suddenly I have this list of features people with OCD generally display:
       - awful aversion to being touched(dude, I just slept for five hours because a dentist put his hands into my mouth)
       - washing their hands fifty times a day (Fuck yes)
       - hoarding (Oh, good gods, yes)
       - freaking out if things are out of symmetry (Yeeeesss...So?)
       - obsessing about injuries (Constantly. Like. CONSTANTLY)
       - inappropriate violent or sexual fantasies (Er ... inappropriate? What does that entail?)
       - stacking things ... (I worked in a dollar store. I staked like the devil.)

and so on. What the fuck are inappropriate sexual fantasies? Being gangbanged by twenty orcs is called fan fiction. Thinking of G horribly killed by robbers is what I do every day. Both my parents dead is what I think first when they don't answer the phone. Having cancer is what I think first when my stomach hurts from eating warm pudding. World ending is what I think about when I pack my camping gear. Murdering autistic children is what I do for practise while I'm writing. It's called having an imagination. I am actually insulted if I run into a subgenre on Porhub I'm not familiar with. How does anyone dare have more imagination than me!

... LoL, Wiki says: Sexual obsession involves intrusive thoughts or images of "kissing, touching, fondling, oral sex, anal sex, intercourse, and rape" with "strangers, acquaintances, parents, children, family members, friends, coworkers, animals and religious figures", involving "heterosexual or homosexual content" with persons of any age.
   
So .... fucking?
I don't get it. What's bad about thinking about sex? Sex is fun.
Wiki: Common sexual themes for intrusive thoughts for men involve “(a) having sex in a public place, (b) people I come in contact with being naked, and (c) engaging in a sexual act with someone who is unacceptable to me because they have authority over me.” While common sexual intrusive thoughts for women are (a) having sex in a public place, (b) engaging in a sexual act with someone who is unacceptable to me because they have authority over me, and (c) being sexually victimized.

I still don't get it. How is that any different from how one thinks about sex every day? I mean ... If THIS qualifies for inappropriate, what is appropriate? Having a guy ride to you on a horse and tend to your twisted ankle while his shirt is a little moist from rain? Who writes this shit?

I have a new tooth!

I don't want to jinx it, because this shit is costly as fuck, but yay! Got a new tooth. I am not sure how long I should wait before using it, so far it just feels weird and tender, so I'm just eating ice-cream and whipped cream. But it looks really good. Like an actual tooth. 

Fell asleep again for almost five hours after coming back from the office. And all they did was cement it into place! But being touched, having someone's hands shoved into my mouth, that awful drilling sound/sensation, the whole invasion, pinching my gums, using a dental floss ... I KNOW all of those things are NOTHING. They aren't even hurtful. Just stressful. But I passed right out after returning home. 

I do appreciate the fact the mouth registers an invasion and is tender and upset. Should probably take something for the ... pain ... Or just inflammation. Fuck it, can't hurt. I can literally feel the weight of the damn thing. 

According to the X-ray, the rest are fine. Wisdoms are sleeping, sinuses (sini?), nothing seems agitated. 

The General used this really good word today ... A professional word. Which would explain SO MUCH. I gotta look it up, but first, doggy walk and some pompous upbeat music. 

When all this is over, when this is all gone, you will want to give anything for a day like this... :/

Today I was a lot better prepared for dad's trip to the ER. I had water, protein bars, coffee, a hoodie, crossword puzzles, umbrella, all of it. And mum came right behind me - we took turns watching dad like a hawk; we didn't let him out of our sight not even for a minute. The doctors and nurses kept telling us to wait outside and we kept explaining they lost him the last time, so no way. And it happens all too easily, too - again, mum went in to switch with me, and he was not there, in front of the office - and she had to look and they found him in an 'observation room' where an orderly parked him after dad asked to be taken to the restrooms. They would have left him there until the end of shift again. It's really fucking scary. It just took four hours today, down from the previous six. I mean so far. I am still waiting.

The best part was his family doctor before it all began. The nurse on house-call took his blood yesterday and the results were supposed to be in today and when mum finally got to the doctor on the phone, the dumb bitch said he should probably just drink less. Twenty minutes later she's calling back, hysterical, that she looked at his bloodwork and she's already called him an ambulance and they're on their way!

Oh, right. Good thing she, you know, looked at his bloodwork. After questions like: What makes you think his heart muscle is weakened?... BECAUSE YOU HAD HIM TESTED LAST YEAR, YOU FUCKING RETARD!

Can people just take an on-line course and then get jobs as doctors? Because I am really worried about his medication regiment. She was literally asking my mum about the diabetes injections, whether those were, maybe, making his legs swell. My mum is a freaking art critic, not a family physician!

This is all super funny until one day when someone will die and our happiness will be over. These nightmares will seem like happy memories. Some day someone will die and we will wish to give anything to have a day like this back. A day of storms and over-priced coffee and retarded people in white coats telling us not to question them. 

The family doctor wrote about his upper extremities being inflamed with some sort of dermatitis... Yes. My father has legs on his head.