Speaking Of Astrology and Halloween… Quintessential Merry Widow

elsahalloween2sm.jpgHow’s this for Jupiter trines to the 8th house?

I’m s’pposed to be a merry widow but I think I’m just merry. A merry widow is a gal whose husband just died and she’s sorta just a little too happy (and perhaps even on the make) at the funeral.

And my God, look at my big mouth. Mars Mecury, blabbin’ on the phone.

I got the dress from Goodwill, poor, poor Capricorn rising… I’m obviously theatrical (Leo) and no doubt as to who is running that bar (Cardinal).

I think I am 20 there… this would be right after I called the soldier a cock and he left me. Er… whoops! That mouth, man… that mouth.

Just goes to show you people don’t change all that much. I have been this weird for a very long time.


Speaking Of Astrology and Halloween… Quintessential Merry Widow — 17 Comments

  1. Hysterical? Well believe me, I thought I was normal. You newbies don’t really understand, when I say, “I am from the desert,” I mean I AM FROM THE DESERT.

  2. I remember taking my daughter to a halloween party when she was littler. she was a princess (of course) and sewed the letter P on a sweatshirt and wore it with jeans. people would ask “???” and I’d say, “we’re from the story The Princess and the Pea.”

  3. love the dress– it’s fabulous. this last year my son bought all his clothes at goodwill… suits and suits and suits. lots of weird suits like chartreuse plaid. and ties, of course.

  4. Jessica – Oh well…

    See I am from the desert so considering that I never had a pair of skates in my life as they do not roll in dirt.

    One day I mentioned this from behind the bar and it led to a date which led to series of events and I used to tell all these stories about 5 years ago but now I do this other thing and the story is long but I DID learn to skate at that time (I was 19) so I figured I would skate the day at work.

    I also had a motorcycle (the one I got from the soldier) in that bar – search “LB Meridith”… and basically I was HELL ON WHEELS, any wheels.

    I had no couth at all either. This was back when I dated the string of millionaires (6 or 7 of them in a row… all in my goodwill clothes), methodically dumping them one after another as in “GET THE FUCK OUT! GETTTTTTTTTT OUT!”

    They bored me see. 😉

    Old timers know what I said earlier today is true. I am from the DESERT, the DES-ERT! And things are just not civil out there, I’m tellin’ you. So what happened is one day (when I was 15) I got to town and what the hell do I know? I know I am going to live and that’s about it so bring it on.

    Things have not changed at all, it’s just I have this hologram and it’s hair is messed up, did you hear?

  5. And… when I dug out that picture, I sent a copy to the soldier. I never allowed him to come in my bar. TOOOOO jealous! He’s all pissed I ever climbed up on the back of that bar but I am telling you, he should have known.

  6. Well, it looks like you had a fine time being up there. I was just curious because I have some personal (interesting) experience with roller derby women!

    If you dumped them like that, I bet that whole string of millionaires is STILL thinking about you today. Frequently.

    I find this whole desert thing pretty fascinating. I am from the Midwest, no two ways about it (by nature I feel I was a born Manhattanite but I have never actualized this) and I don’t have a fucking clue what the desert is like. I mean I’ve visited some of it, but just no concept of the culture. And we are both Americans! Strange to think about.

  7. “I mean I’ve visited some of it, but just no concept of the culture”

    There was no culture. I grew up in the desert with no phone, no tv, no neighbors and no transportation – way to get into town.

    The culture was what my parents provided in the house and what Henry (who lived 5 acres away) taught.

  8. What a great dress! At first I thought the cigarette smoke was a pattern in the fabric, though. *lol*
    Talking about jealousy, you could’ve worn a merry widow instead. 😉 Remind him of that. Heh heh. . .

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