Normally, Sunday is a wonderful day for me.  A relaxing day, a day to leave behind the stresses and stupidity of the petulant prior week and its chores.

Just not this Sunday.  To quote the great early 90’s philosopher hair band, Poison, “I went to bed too late and got up too soon.”  When I arose from bed and placed my feet on the floor, I could not seem to find my shoes.  I later found that my dog had slept next to me and must have pushed them from their rightful place and under the bed.

Fine.  Not a great start, but at least I was not hung-over and I knew where I was, and I knew who was next to me, so it was better than Freshman year.

I wearily search, eyes still half-shut – vision blurred and strained, for my coffee cup.  One of my favorite cups, my Rocky & Bullwinkle cup.  No luck.  I settle for my “I got up for this?” latte mug.  I place the sugar in the bottom of my mug, slightly smiling, watching and listening to the sugar slowly pour from my Diner-esque shaker, filling the bottom of the tall latte mug.  Then I hastily fling open the refrigerator door, desperately searching for the light cream.  (I always put the sugar and cream in first, I learned that trick early in life when I purchased my coffee from gas stations without stirrers or spoons.) DAMN!  Where is the cream?  Suddenly my morning mind melds with my evening enigma of what I would do this morning after using the rest of the cream last night.  I know the answer.  Today my coffee will be black and sweet like Night Rider.

Fine.  Not a great start, but at least coffee was already made and the kids were still happy, yet to fight or whine, so it was better than last Monday.

I try to watch the news, but to no avail.  I am hastily reminded that my new fridge is coming today.  Doesn’t seem to horrible right? Wrong.

The doorways leading to my kitchen are too small to fit the fridge, but I know that already.  What I didn’t remember was that to get it in, I would have to bring it in through the back.  Over the snow and ice-covered lawn, over the snow and ice-covered porch and into my house.  Now, I realize that relaxation is not happening this morning- it’s time to scrape and shovel.

Fine, not a great start and I’ll have to do some more chores, but that’s ok because I know I should have taken care of it earlier, you know, before it was 7 inches of ice.  My bad.

Now the fun part:  Remember the psycho blogger from tree-hugging hell?  Yeah, she’s back.  I’m already I little upset, but this wacko wondermutt has really pissed me off now.

She makes these wild accusations about me and my friends, she insults everyone, lies about everyone and then refuses to let them defend themselves.  I had had enough of her stupid fascist crap.

In a second I know what I will do.

She had control of her blog, and she uses that control to stop people from having the opportunity to refute her obnoxious accusations and lies, so the solution is simple– take it off of her blog and out of her control.

Then I started to smile- out of her control, out of control, chaos.  Yeah, chaos.  Hail Eris and thanks for the inspiration.

I will take her own writings, refute them with logic and post them- not just on a blog or some random website- post them in the community.  In the local papers (they are dying for something to fill the white space), on the community bulletin boards outside of the grocery stores, the municipal building, the parks- place it in ad form in the school’s newsletter, the booster club’s programs- bring it to the local cable access (of which the blabber-mouth blogger participates,) to the local radio stations (they are both dying for something to fill the air time.)  In short, a total old-school broadcasting blitz.  I might even break-out the old telephony machine… (anyone remember those?)

Finally, I’m feeling better- then I get a chance to laugh!  This ravenous writer says she’ll sue me if I quote what she has written in a public blog to the public.  Now, granted I didn’t do much in college, but after four years of media law I know you can’t sue someone for quoting your publicly written words in public.  She then goes off on a tangent about how I can’t use her real name– she might have a point except– she told everyone, publicly, to read the publicly published minutes from the town meeting in October to read about her explaining her troubles with a wood chipper.  The minutes are on the web, go ahead look it up… I’ll wait… there!  See that?  Yeah, right where she tells us to look it says, (HER REAL NAME) had several problems including a wood chipper in the audience portion of a public meeting in which she knows she is being taped and the minutes are made public.  She, in effect, told us her name by telling us exactly where to find it and under what pretense it would be used.  That’s like saying a certain mayor of this township whose name is that of a male turkey in a blog entitled the name of the town.  I mean, it could only be one person- silly right? Oh, wait.. she actually did that.

In keeping with early 90’s music quotes, I’ll go with Onyx‘s “Slam”, “but wa-wa-wait it gets worse…”

She then writes that she will not back down or stop posting her inflammatory defamatory statements because I can not silence her and she is not afraid of me – shortly followed by “want it now to be uttered that I am scared for my safety and for the safety of my family.”

Of course, she might not remember as far back as a couple of sentences ago, I mean studies have shown that drug use can cause short-term memory loss.

Oh well, if you, the world have anything you could say to help me wade through the mess, or even make the mess bigger, please let me know.

This Sunday sucks.

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