There’s nothing ironic about losing your heart

.1. On Sunday, my heart took a hike. She flipped me the bird and left.

Do think she’s gone to the Azores to visit with Hannah and Charlie and I shall leave her be until she’s ready to come back to the comfort of her home. There’s never a point in forcing her to do anything because she is as stubborn as a mule and will always win out in a fight if I challenge her to change her mind at my whim.

.2. Recently, someone said to your blogMistress: “I have something “ironic” to tell you…”

Under different circumstances, I would have cut this person off and offered:
“(A) Misuse of the term ‘ironic’ because you are not telling me the opposite of that which I expect. You really mean coincidental, or interesting, or mind-boggling, or funny or neat. You do not mean ‘ironic’.
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(B) Ill use of the finger quotes. You are not emulating a written quote. I understand that Hemingway used the word ‘ironic’, properly, but there really is no need for you to use your fingers and make little bunny ears at me in this way.
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(C) Pick up a book, please.
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(D) Maybe just stop talking altogether.”

Only instead, I let this individual proceed because I was quite literally having a panic attack and was left with no choice but to smile wide and feign both happiness and interest.

.3. Nanno’s wake is this evening.

.4. If any of you have ever feared that your actions and/or words may be misconstrued as bitter, please take a moment to absorb Liza Minnelli’s following statement, in which she expresses her hopes for ex-husband David Gest (who is to do a reality-type show in Australia): "I hope he gets f*cked by a kangaroo and eaten by crocs."

.5. Rock is in Arizona studying his a*s off in some special homeopathic schooling thing. Upon his graduation in four years, he will be a chiropractor, a homeopathic doctor, an acupuncturist, a super masseuse, a rock star and Heidi Klum. I am really quite excited for him…and for me, as he will be my free “homo doctor”. He doesn’t know I call him this thinks it funny that I call him this.

Of my entire family, he is the one who understands me best and who reads me like an open book. Yesterday was his birthday and I rang and left him a very brief message. In his ‘thank you’ email, which he will kill me for sharing with you, he wrote: “ You seemed a little all over the place on your message and I'm thinking you need a vacation yourself. (…) So who's giving you grief? (…) I can schedule a trip down there and break some knee caps if you want me to. I've been throwing the big f*ck you around to anyone that rubs me the wrong way lately so you can try that approach too. I've got numbers in my phone down to 8 now. I figured I've got too little time and way too much sh*t to get through the next few years to have negativity brought into my world, so I warned people not to f*ck with me. I'm an asshole though and you’re a princess so if you want I could be your ambassador of a*s whippings. Let me know.”

Aren’t you in love with my cousin, then?