If you are obsessed with a social drive towards the avoidance of atychiphobia or you enjoy deftly pin pointing that which is exsufflicate, then you will most certainly enjoy Grandiloquent. A site with the clear intention of catering for the linguaphiliacs out there, of which I would certainly count myself a member.

Advance both weblically and vocabulistically here.

Jeg er stor Twilight-fan, så jeg må jo blogge om det iblant også Her kommer noen av mine favorittvideoer og bilder.

Robert på the David Letterman show!

Hahaha, jeg elsker når han sier “Mine’s like…. SIDEWALK! Caaandy”
Liker bedre når han snakker amerikansk enn engelsk, egentlig, og jeg syns han er sykt god til å bytte mellom aksenter!

Intervju på The 5:19 show hvor Taylor og Robert må svare som hverandre

Behind the scenes på Vanity Fair photoshoot

Innringerspørsmål til Stephenie Meyer, Kristen og Robert

Disse bildene gjør meg nesten helt målløs, OMG! LOVE <3

Hvis du også liker Twilight, er dette min favorittblogg for Twilight-info/filmer/bilder. Den er svensk, men det er jo ikke noe problem å lese det

http://twilightobsession.blogg.se/

Nå har dere vel fått sett nok av min obsessive side. Noe dere kanskje ikke visste, er at jeg er så obsessed at jeg fikk en venninne til å photoshoppe et bilde av meg med Edward…. Merk dere at det var nesten et år siden! TWILIGHT<3 (ja, selvfølgelig får dere se bildet..)

Og forresten, dere skjerpa dere etter at jeg skrev forrige innlegg, fra 3-4 kommentarer på hvert innlegg, til 20 på det siste! Tusen takk

My one, silent rebellion was prayer.

In Oz it’s rude to talk about spirituality/religion much, certainly not the private kind so I really have no way of reading how ok you’d all be about the mention of it?
(not that I mind being rude, you understand. The odd verbal spanking appeals to me but there is such a thing as context and I get enough spam as it is…)

Sufficiently armed with the above disclaimer, I was thinking (they tell me it’s dangerous, so naturally I find it hard to stop)…
about the resources I have to hold onto. then and now.

Back then the question seemed about externals. I mean, technically God is an external, too except it’s hardly the same. (God is not a Disney film.) But it’s notions like that that kept me even vaguely this side of sane, even with militant atheists for parents or perhaps because of them.

Sounds funny because we normally associate prayer with conformity and with a brand of conservatism that is so mainstream as to go largely unacknowledged and yet remains a central feature of many peoples’ daily lives.

My prayers were always tinged with guilt. Surreptitious and vehement as the stars I’d look to. I heard them swallowed by the silence, the depth and magnitude of nature rang out in response and I was sure they were still there.

My parents were strangely devout in their atheism… and I mean these were people who would disown friends/family for ‘turning religious on them.’ There was a deep-seeded fear of it, for good reasons but at the time all I knew was that you keep it underground.

So day by day it grows a little stronger in response.
Because it’s always there when nobody else is, and precisely because it’s meant to stay out of sight. It’s like telling a prisoner not to mind the bright red escape hatch on the wall… these are not the ways to keep the curious from killing the cat.
I’ll go there because you tell me not to. I’m obsessive like that, or is it stubborn? Either way, it was there.

I went to an Anglican school with enforced prayer but it was the music and the wholeness of each note that did it — a thousand voices soaring, the organ piercing sunlight that had only just before seemed so absolutely void. Scriptures I could take or leave, for the most part. Parables you hear regardless — the lessons had already been marked on my skin, one way or another.

And so they told me, you can sing but do not dare to feel. Leave it at the gates and go… nowhere. offer… nothing. tell… no one.

Sometimes I’d write to God because it turned out Santa was just another fat, middle-aged pervert pretending to be something he was not.

See, there was no replacement for the wonder and belief that had long before been poured into my heart. How do you tell a child they can’t believe in the Moon? It’s right there.

But I learned to ignore those things, somewhere along the way, deliberately forgot the rest, most likely. It is an emptiness, an invitation to deny yourself and in the process lose a little hope with every breath. Not that I hoped for so many things, certainly not that some mystical power would save me from what had by then become my life.

I doubt I wanted to be saved. Kindness hadn’t proved much of a boon up to that point so I thought to myself, just don’t hand me another fairytale. I’m not a princess and there is no pea. There’s just you, me and… ?

What I did want to know was that I could be understood. And if there might, just might be a light switch to find, if I kept to the path I couldn’t help but know lay deep within, then that would be gravy.

These were my messages in a bottle, stored on the very top shelf. I stuffed them in the cookie jar, perched right below the bright red sign that tells you not to dare.

This weekend I finished the sleeves of my OWLS sweater and joined them to the body.

As I’ve discussed, I’m using worsted weight yarn so I’ve have to make some adjustments. Since I have to do my own math anyway, I decided that I might as well correct a couple of things that I don’t like so much about the (otherwise lovely and well-written) pattern. First, I don’t like how the owls start immediately after the join. It sort of looks like the owls are being sucked into the armpits (oh how I wish I could link to examples, but that would be mean, no?). Second, my size was supposed to have 21 owls. I insist upon symmetry in most of my knitting (see rant about Wicked) and there is no way to divide 21 owls in such a way that they are symmetrical and all line up the same way with the armpit joins.

So, here is my solution.  The body of my sweater had 200 stitches, and each sleeve had 64.  I cast off eight stitches for each part of the underarm join, which brought the total number of stitches down to 296.  Then, I joined and worked four sets of raglan decreases at the underarms.

This brought the total number of stitches to 264, and gives the owls a little breathing room so they don’t get sucked into the armpits. The owl motif is 20 rows tall, and in 20 rows a sweater should decrease roughly 80 stitches (four per round, or the more typical eight every other round). I started doing some math, and came upon what I think is a lovely solution. 264 is divisible by six, so I decreased by 44 (264/6) evenly spaced around the yoke.  I can get rid of the extra 36 stitches after the owls, as the pattern was originally written.  Now, I have 220 stitches, 70 each across the front and back areas and 40 across the sleeve areas. Each owl is ten stitches wide, so I can fit exactly seven owls across the front and back and exactly four across each of the sleeve areas, and it will all be symmetrical. Huzzah!

You can all tease me now

Mom and Dad had been arguing all day…they always argued when Dad was manic. It was summer. Memorial Day. To my surprise, my Dad (who didn’t really seem to have many friends) told me to invite my friend, her brother and mother over for a barbecue. He always barbecued when he was manic. Or at least when he was about to go over the edge of hypo-mania into mania.

I was unsure, scared, and upset. Kelly was my best friend, and lately we had been a bit influenced by a new friend we both met at our dance class–her name was Nanaya. Its like we wanted to change into a depressed goth or something…just to talk to her. She was two years older. She was cooler. She didn’t mean to have an effect on Kelly and I, but she just has a very strong influence on the people who interact with her.

I had told Kelly that I was upset. That day…it was really hot out, and yet, Kelly was wearing long sleeves. I asked her why, and she told me that we would talk later. After dinner on Memorial Day 2003, my life changed.

I remember sitting on my bedroom floor, legs crossed in front of me, watching in awe at what Kelly was showing me. Safety pins, I learned that day, were not just for fashion emergencies. I never thought that Kelly would be the type to cut herself. As I watched her drag the pin up her arm, the blood started to dot the surface of her tan skin. I don’t remember feeling repulsed or disgusted. No…I was intrigued. She stopped and got a paper towel. Right then I made the biggest mistake of my life so far–I picked up a new pin, and lightly and a bit tentatively, scratched myself with the safety pin. Kelly was watching and I felt self-conscious…I kept thinking Am I doing it wrong?

Something was strange about cutting myself, something…freakishly pleasing, fulfilling. Something…so fucked up but at the same time feeling so right. It felt good. The fear and sadness about my parents that I had felt earlier in the day immediately subsided. I did not break the skin that night. But I had about 10 welts that were red on my arms for a day or two. I hid those easily.

But things got worse. Within three days, I had graduated from a safety pin to a serrated kitchen knife. I knew this was not healthy. I told my best friend in gymnastics, who then told her mother. Of course, I had planned on Alia telling her mom. I could not work up the courage to ask my mom for help. The shame associated with self harm is so bad that I can’t explain it. Think about how a man can’t say he likes to wear high heels when he is home alone. Its not socially acceptable, nobody talks about it, its seen as weird. It would be like that for a self harmer, but add “crazy” into that equation.

Of course, Alia told her mother, and her mom told my mom, since they were best friends at the time. At home, when my mom and I got home from gymnastics, she said she wanted to take a walk with me. That was one of the most heartbreaking conversations I have ever had with my mom. I found out that not only was I hurting myself, I was tearing her apart.

My baby girl, scarring her body…why would you want to do this to yourself?…Was it something I did?…I love you so much…Promise me you’ll never do this again…promise me…

I promised her I would never do it again. I have broken that promise over and over again. I’m sorry mom.

An unheathly habit

I’m finally cured of OCWSS - Obsessive Compulsive Web Surfing Symptoms. A good friend of mine who recognised the symptoms had commented on the fact that my productivity and earning potential had suffered greatly by spending considerably more time spent on the internet surfing web forums and photography related websites than what would be considered healthy.

Recognising the Symptoms

Lets go back to 2001 when I was invited to act as a field editor for naturephotographers.net this was rather unfortunate if I’m honest as this only served to compound what was an already serious case of OCWSS which meant if I did not get my hourly fix I’d start to have serious withdrawal symptoms. In common with any addiction recognising the fact that you have a problem is the first step on the road to being cured.

The Cure

I’m only allowed access to the internet for a maximum of 30 minutes a day in which time I have to review my inbox for my emails and only use the internet for market reasearch and just one blog post a week. I have blocked viewing rights to all other photographers web sites and forums by password which was set by my girlfriend which in effect means I cannot peruse any site even if I wanted too.

Time to get a life

I feel now its time for me to produce my best work in terms of image making and begin the journey of writing books, collaboration where necessary, projects, revitalise my photography and outlook on life in general. It’s time to get a life and fulfill my potential and not care what others are doing, as other will always do what they want to do. This is a very liberating feeling and has instantly made me less anxious, its time to move on, to part company with the excess baggage, to reaquaint myself with real people doing real everyday activities.

Look to the future

Since I first picked up a camera in the summer of 1995 I’ve learnt a lot about photography - I’ve also met some amazingly interesting and wonderfully gifted people and kindred spirits in the world of photography. I’ve also met some….. lets not go there, we know the types they occur in all walks of life.

Well the second step on the road to recovery is to take time away from photography until the New Year. Spend time with friends, climb some peaks in Snowdonia, sleep in freezing cold mountain bothes, have fun and get fit and rest should take care of itself. Recce some new sites for photographic projects in 2010.

Time to refocus

Come back in the New Year – revitalised with high spirits and a fresh perspective. After all this is the first self-imposed break from photography in 15 years and how I need it. I feel it’s time to refocus, exhibit my work and enter some photographic competitions – time to get organised, time to refocus.

Recognising the symptoms

It’s official I’ve finally been cured of OCWSS - Obsessive Compulsive Web Surfing Syndrome. Since 2000 I’ve posted threads, comments and spent time viewing countless web forums, photographers and photography related websites. I was officially a “Web Junkie” spending more hours than I care to mention glued to the computer and it was ruining my life. In 2001 I was appointed as a field editor of the naturephotographers.net which only compounded the already uncontrollable symptoms of OCWSS. Endless browsing sessions had and have significantly affected my productivity and resulted in not only a reduced output, more importantly reduced my earning potential.

The Cure 

A good friend of mine who understood and recognised symptoms of the disorder pointed me in the direction of LeechBlock a download Firefox extension that allows you to add and therefore block names of sites that in simple terms waste your time. I can tell the list was long but with each “block” I realised that I was freeing myself from what was a compulsive disorder.

• No more perusing web forums.
• If you are not one of my top 5 favourite photographers namely Jim Brandenburg, Laurie Campbell, John Beatty, Galen Rowell or Chris Packham I will not be perusing your website to view your latest images. It’s of no importance to me what you do, it will never add profit to my business, what is important however is what I do.
• Except the fact that some so-called professional photographers will be influenced enough by your images to make direct copies – except it as flattery, it occurs in all walks of life.
• Limit time on the internet to a fixed period of time each day.
• Facebook, Twitter etc.  Now that’s just so nerdy and people who post on such social web forums should get out more and socialise with real people, buy a round of drinks for real friends and eat culinary and gastronomic delights.

It’s time to get a life…

From now on it’s all about competing with myself, improving upon what I have already achieved, writing books, collaboration, setting realistic and achievable goals….. as the old saying goes “It’s time to get a life!”

Joking apart it may be Friday 13th but it’s truly a very liberating day. and a significant landmark in my photographic career.

Ah, delicious lulz.  I do love watching things come together.  Or, come apart, as the case may be.  I’ve been a bit lax in this blog just lately, but not for lack of work, let me assure you.  I mean, I can drop hints, suggestions, innuendos, and all that fun stuff, but the more I delve into hardcore docs, the less I can actually publish in a public forum.  That, and, I have a few things I’m pursuing that insist I see them through to the end before I act on them.  You see, this type of enumeration, when one door opens, it’s usually followed by a series of doors, leading me down several pathways, each with more doors at the end, and efficiency declares I follow these unlocked pathways each to their end before deciding upon my next course of action.  So, you’ll have to forgive me if it seems I go quiet on occasion.  Trust me, I’m never sitting still on this.  I’m always working.

But, just for fun, have a link to a screencap from another milf-populated community, taken by one of the community moderators.  You may be familiar with it; it’s called stretched_snark.  Here’s the screencap.  You may also wonder what my interest in that community is.  I assure you, any small, closed communities that harbor a number of milfs, you will find me interested in (such a st_sn_sa).  Basically, anywhere milfs gather, you will also find me.

And just to keep things fun, here’s a video:

Ta for now.  I’ll be around.

I have been running in circles it seems with very little effect to my life. I have been working and haven’t been able to save. I have been trying to be a normal calm individual with very little success. I can’t even get my own house in order.

To sum it all up… I feel like a waste of space right now. I don’t feel good about myself and my progress… well… there really hasn’t been any progress….

I recently came to the conclusion that I need counseling but I don’t have the money to really go often. I found some information on a low income place that I am going to try but to be honest… I’m a little apprehensive about going. When I was younger, I went to many places trying to do a quick fix on me but to no avail. Back then, I used to pull my hair out and I was almost bald. No one could figure out why I did it, I told them it was because of nervousness and stress and that is true… but sometimes I did it because I just HAD to… it was almost like chewing my nails… I felt pressure until I did it. Now that I’m older I realize that I am an obsessive/addictive personality so no wonder I couldn’t stop back then. I still struggle with it but that’s not why I need a counselor now. I’ve been having a hard time letting things go from the past and I have negative feelings about myself. Worst of all… I’ve been constantly emotional and easily get defensive and angry. Because of this defensiveness I have taken my anger out on Donnie for no reason at all.  He tries to help me and because his opinion differs “I try to defend myself since it’s obviously an attack on ME”.

I have tried many times not to fight with Donnie but I only manage to fight worse and if I manage to keep my mouth shut long enough just so he can speak it feels like a spring inside being pushed down and ready to spring harder and harder. I always cut in on  him when he’s trying to explain things because I have to make sure he knows my side when I hear something I don’t agree with.

I’ve given up on myself at this point. I will be giving the counseling thing a try. I just hope I don’t have to go on medicine.

Have you ever been to counseling? I’d love to hear how it went for you. I’m hoping that I can fix my past to push myself towards the future. Wish me luck.

Werewolfchibichan

It’s a disorder;

I’m obsessive compulsive,

I have to do it!

Government Option or Government Mandate?

I was born in a log cabin on the west slops of Colorado, raised in a home with no running water, bathing in a tub in the back yard under the morning shadow of the Mesa, and slept in an outside shelter on army cots to be out of the rain that doubled as a doghouse for the family pickup in the high country of southern Arizona. In the winter time, we slept with no heat at temperatures of 15 deg and below and in the summer, no air conditioner in the upper 90’s.

The Christmas of 1959 my brothers and I received a five cent package of BB’s, and my sisters shared a set of paper dolls. In 1962 dad announced we would have no Christmas due to the lack of funds and we made Christmas gifts to exchange.

From this, I started working summer jobs from the age of eight. At fourteen, I went to school and worked thirty hours a week. At the age of 16 I was working full time and continued to go to school. I finished high school and went on to college and graduated with a 3.4 grade average while raising my first child without a government loan or subsidies.

Over time, I have been up and I have been down. I have lived in comfort of a home, and slept in a car and showered at the local truck stop. I have been hospitalized thee times, and paid all bills out of pocket. Going without to cover expenses and living in excess when things were good.

I have had Health Insurance, and I have been without. I did not die because I did not have it, and I did not live because I did. Health Insurance is a non-issue, it is an excuse.

Success was not because of government handouts, but from hard work and constant progression to keep the wolf off the door step.

Now, as a middleclass citizen, I am informed that I am among the privileged and therefore I need to make a sacrifice as my taxes are hiked; if not by legislation, by a government overspending resulting in inflation which has two effects. With a cost of living wage increase, I pay more taxes while my money buys less, and without a cost of living increase, I still have to contend with the dollar buying less. We have seen this in the current rising of the cost of fuel as prices of oil adjusted for the lower value of the dollar, thanks to this so called stimulus package that had lowered the value of the dollar  by which I am paid.

Now, I have this government that insist on forcing me to pay for a healthcare program I may or may not want or need which will again place the government deeper in debt, again lowering the value of the dollar by which I am paid; so, to pay my bills I again face the dilemma of a wage increase to counter a shrinking dollar, and higher tax bracket with a dollar that is worth less. With the lower buying power, it is costing more for me to live and feed my family and all for what?

To award the sloth of the “underprivileged” the same class of people that I raised myself up from, along with two brothers and five sisters. That’s right, the entire family, not just one or two of us, all of us; so it not just a privileged few that has opportunity as the liberals what you to believe.

We are living proof that free enterprise with self reliant, will and zeal to rise above the current situation and to excel is not only possible, but it is the norm if government does what government was designed to do, maintain law and order and provide national defense. Not meddling in the affairs of its citizens.

This is what the “Government Option” is all about, a means of meddling in the affairs of the citizens in effort to subjugate. He, who controls your health, controls your life.

In short, this is not about concern for the lives of the citizens; it is a means of control.

I fear that the slothful will overtake the productive in the robbery of freedom and sacrifice made to provide for their family with the governments blessing as they manipulate the slothful as a well oiled army in the overthrow; and the reason so much government money is spent on the likes of ACORN.

What government is succeeding in doing is to rid the nation of those such as I that have proven success, proving success is not a gift from them, but a privilege earned by work, diligence, and fortitude.

Government, through subsidies are breaking the backs of the middleclass, and forcing them into poverty through taxation and inflation. Their end game is a nation with only two classes, the ruling class which they become, and peasants which they make of us.

It is not about concern, if it was, the government would not be spending so much knowing that it comes from the of the pockets of the working class they claim to be trying to help. It is however all about obsessive control of everyone. The government option is just a means to that end.

Need proof?

First off, a call for health care reform does not equal a call for the government option as the [Socialist] Democratic Party is spinning. Fact is, the majority of the American people are against the government option.

Here is proof. The government is now having closed door hearings that has eliminated by lockout any elected officials that is representing the people by standing against the government option in an all out effort to force this option down our throats. If in fact they viewed us as citizens and not peasants, this would not be; forcing it down our throats is the proof it is all about control, not about health care.

Socialism is just a fancy word for slavery.

That is the view from here,

Duane

By Tucker Neel

Originally published in ART LIES Magazine, Issue No. 64, Winter 2009

Sometimes objects are so strange, so obsessively constructed, and unabashedly beautiful that, like a good intoxicant, they leave you mumbling and incoherent, unable to vocalize what they are doing to you. Yo Fukui’s LA debut solo show, Future Imperfect, at David Salow gallery comes satisfyingly close to accomplishing this sense of bewilderment. While it does fail to impress at times, the show is quite literally a spectacular start to this artist’s career.

"Space colony” 2008, Felt, paper, hexagonal wire netting, found object, 73”x42”x40”

Fukui’s stock and trade is his signature felt appliqué technique, where countless rectangle color swatches accumulate to form fantastic patterns and sensuous surfaces.  Five large sculptural works showcase his crafty obsessiveness, usually with an amorphous felt-covered form hovering above or around brightly painted paper mache’ bases reminiscent of Franz West’s sculptures. The almost compulsive constructions are startlingly, but none is more stunning than I Love You No Matter If The Earth is Destroyed. Here Fukui deploys his additive method atop a tie-dyed sheet, creating a zigzag pattern resembling a knitting project executed under heavy psychedelics. The entire form resembles a colossal hummingbird, complete with an erect metal proboscis. At night it glows, speckled with luminescent nipple-like orbs filled with sparkling Christmas lights. The buckling and bulging mass hovers on an unassuming steel armature as its long metal pole prods the unfinished skeleton of a corrugated plastic and metal shed. Work like this is frankly difficult to describe because it’s so insistently phantasmagorical, inspiring hyphen-heavy allegorical interpretations that always seem to miss the mark. And this is where Fukui’s work succeeds, when it generates a kind of ocular overload that renders all description inept.

"I Love You No Matter If The Earth is Destroyed" 5x11x14 ft., mixed media, 2007

The most incongruous and unsuccessful piece in the show is a painting of sorts titled Rain, consisting of countless drippy grey and black diagonal sumi ink brush strokes on over thirteen dozen rolls of toilet paper stacked on towel racks against the gallery wall. A few calculated drips on the wall itself convey that the piece was made in situ. The use of stacked toilet paper as large canvas is a novel move, but the piece is essentially a quick play on materials, marrying bodily functions with abstract painting. We’ve seen plenty of these kinds of jokes before and because of this the piece is forgettable.

"Rain", 72 x47 x 47 in., mixed media, 2009

Perhaps Fukui’s greatest challenge is that there’s so much other work out there employing techniques and materials similar to his – to varying degrees of success. It’s hard to imagine the works in this show going toe-to-toe with the likes of Yayoi Kusama, or even Mindy Shapero, because Fukui simply hasn’t figured out how to push his obsessive material concerns to their most extreme limits. However, his work certainly holds its own among so many of the junk-as-new millennium-totem works that seem to have colonized certain sectors of the art world for the last decade. Fukui’s work will have no trouble surviving this trendy epoch if he can make his next works ones that embrace even more risk while still residing at the fringes of pleasure.

Since I told you that I watch Dr. Phil, I can now say that when I saw this on his show, I laughed my butt off. I mean really, we all know people like this don’t we? The OVERLY dramatic ones?!?!?! I soooooo totally saw someone I love on this show. It really did make me laugh.

I have such a good friend whose life is so dramatic that I never know what’s going on with them. If someone has a cold, it’s pneumonia. If someone’s not feeling well, it’s H1N1. No matter what it is, it’s the worst possible scenario. I do have to laugh but on the other hand, I really never know what’s going on or IF something is really bad because no matter what, it’s made to be bad by her. I know her mother is the same way so maybe with her it’s been passed down. The funny thing is her dad is Mr. Cool as a Cucumber and nothing ruffles his feathers.

Why do you suppose that some people are like this? Who would want all that bad in their life? I think I tend to go the other way. I never make things sound bad. I try and make things sound better than they are.

Do we all know people like this? They don’t just get a flat tire. Their tire falls off the car and they end up rolling down a hill and almost get hit by a semi! They can’t just be normal but have to make everything sound awful and horrible. I couldn’t stand all the drama. Sometimes I get really tired just talking to my girlfriend. Just listening makes me tired and I’m not sure how she can live like that because if she talks to me this way, I know she’s also talking to others like this. I wonder how all the stories stay straight.

there has been lots of discussion among my girlfriends about boyfriends/husbands and marriage…the good, the bad and the last straw. when i read this story today i didn’t quite know whether to post it or what to say. i decided to just file it under “maybe my husband/boyfreind isn’t so bad”

it starts off with an eye-catching headline~~

Man denies sawing off wife’s head

okaaaaaay, it continues with the facts about the couple~~

Sally Sinclair, 40, was found with more than 30 stab wounds at their home in Amport, Hampshire, in August 2008.

At the time, she was head of business analysis at the mobile phone firm’s world headquarters near Newbury, Berks.

Alisdair Sinclair, 48, formerly of Georgia Lane, Amport, admitted he and his wife were involved in a knife fight in which she died but denies murder.

Winchester Crown Court heard the attack in the kitchen of their rented luxury property was partly witnessed by children, who cannot be named for legal reasons.

really sad that they had to start this arguement in front of their kids~~now a description of the fight~~

The defendant said that when his wife of 21 years finally admitted during an argument to having an affair, he ran at her with his fists raised.

Mr Sinclair told the jury she got a knife from a block and stabbed him in the hands, which led him to also grab a knife.

They started swiping at each other before he slashed her throat.

He said his wife fell to the floor and he could not remember any more of the attack, which also caused a number of injuries to her legs, back and torso.

terrible but not unheard of~~this is where it starts to cross the line into bizaare~~

When asked about “sawing” injuries to her neck, which appeared to be an attempt to cut her head off, he replied: “I have no reason to cut someone’s head off, I’ve never cut someone’s head off.

“It’s a dreadful, dreadful thing and I have no knowledge of it.”

now, what kind of guy is this?? that could do something like this?

The court heard Mr Sinclair had been a house husband for almost 10 years while his wife worked.

His duties included domestic chores and looking after their four motorcycles and 13 cars, which he admitted he hardly ever drove.

Mr Sinclair said he was the only one who withdrew money from the couple’s joint account and said he would pay for almost all purchases in cash because he was scared of credit card fraud.

When asked if he behaved obsessively about money, he said: “I managed the money so we didn’t get into debt, I was obsessive to the point I wanted to avoid fraud.”

getting a picture??

Christopher Parker QC, prosecuting, asked him if he allowed his wife to withdraw cash for herself to which he replied: “We were equals.”

He then asked him: “Up until she told you she wanted a divorce, were you in control of the finances in the same way you controlled much of her life?”

Sinclair replied: “Our marriage was sharing, we shared everything, we were honest.”

The trial continues.

i think the lesson from this is, there are clues…clues that the person you are living with is just not quite right. if this woman thought that her husband was “normal” …she was blind, deaf and dumb…but of course she wasn’t, was she?? she was an executive…who also was having an affair?

why, why, why do people stay in marriages, raising kids in such chaotic homes?? how could an intelligent woman think that getting a divorce~~~~no matter how much it cost, how difficult, painful or drawn out it could become, would be worse than this??? i think she waited about 10 years to long to try and kick this guy to the curb.

the moral of the story? don’t ignore the signs~~if your spouse is obsessive~isolated~jealous~secretive~controlling~~it could be the tip of the iceberg…

for the rest of us~~lucky enough to be with a forgetful, video game playing, leaves socks on the floor type guy~~it could be worse….much worse!!!