the secret diaries of nadin

[franksolich]

3 September 2011.  Dear Diary: During breakfast, I had an argue ment with the hubby today; he just doesn’t know how to fold fitted sheets correctly.  He hangs them on coat hangers instead.  I tried to show him how to do it, but he wouldn’t listen, calling me a “know it all” and other names.

Hubby’s been short tempered lately.  I think he’s hot for Bianca in the office, and trying to find an excuse to get rid of me.  He’s been coming home late for supper, and some times not for supper at all.  And he’s always tired when I suggest we bounce around in the sack.

But this thing with folding fitted sheets so they lay flat in a stack in the closet—I just don’t get it.  Surely when he was a plebe at Annapolis, when they taught housekeeping, he learned it, and given how plebes are treated, he probably had to fold a lot of them, for upperclassmen cadets.

Oh well, dear diary; there’s another woman involved here.  I know it, I can feel it.

It has to be Bianca, that over mascara’d trollope in the office.

I’m not sure, dear diary, why he doesn’t seem to care for me like he used to. 

I mean, dear diary, it’s not like I don’t have any thing my self.  Yes, yes, yes, I’m a middle aged woman, but I still retain my Reubenesque stature, and I know a lot of stuff.

And there’s some men who like Hebraic features in a woman.

Ugh.  franksolich.  I just thought of him.  He likes women with Judaic features, finds them instantly attractive, would like to hop around in the sack even before being introduced.

But franksolich.  Ugh.

[md11hydmec]

Bravo, sir, bravo.....   Loved it.  Good job.

[franksolich]

Bravo, sir, bravo.....   Loved it.  Good job.

Look for a new entry every day, sir.

Or rather, what I hope to be a new entry every day; sometimes real life interferes.

[FlippyDoo]

Great work as always coach. Did you start this in the DUmping Ground rather than the DUmpster?

As nadin's unofficial CC advocate I'm always looking for ways to bring her to the forefront so this is appreciated.

[franksolich]

Great work as always coach. Did you start this in the DUmping Ground rather than the DUmpster?

As nadin's unofficial CC advocate I'm always looking for ways to bring her to the forefront so this is appreciated.

I did it here--the DUmping Ground's just as accessible as the DUmpster, just not as popular--because I'm hoping it's a daily series, and didn't want it to interfere with the DUmpster itself.

[md11hydmec]

I'll definitely look for it.  It looks good!

[franksolich]

4 September 2011.  Dear Diary: Last night when hubby came home—he’d missed supper and the late-night news, of course—and jumped into bed, he was reeking of perfume that wasn’t mine.  Didn’t even try to hide it, and claiming to have been spent, rolled over and went to sleep.  I didn’t even get a poke last night.

I’ll get even though; the next time I take apart his Naval uniform for cleaning, I’ll dump the gold braids into the washing machine with my pink under wear.  My pink under wear isn’t color fast.

Dearest Diary, I really need to find a man.

You know, I’ve heard that Nebraska is the most woman-starved state in the union, and the Sandhills there in particular.  Some thing to do with an extra ordinary unbalance of male infants being born, as com pared with female infants; out of whack with the rest of the world.  And that a high percentage of women born there, once they graduate high school, they migrate to other states.  A man’s state.

I’ll have to google Nebraska; I suppose it’s north of Illinois or south of Louisiana, wherever they are, or something.

The problem is, Dear Diary, franksolich lives in Nebraska, and no way do I want to meet him.

He's a creep, franksolich.

But at the same time, I’ve heard from hippywife, the unappellated eohippus, and warpy that franksolich is in fact quite well formed, and they have good reasons for knowing, having been up close with him, warpy especially.  Also, I’ve heard there’s a picture of a nude franksolich whirling around the internet, from 2007 or something—he didn’t want it taken, had no idea it was being taken, but it was took.

I suppose I’ll do some porn-digging today, I suppose just to confirm he's a low-life.

[franksolich]

September 5, 2011.  Dear Diary: I saw some thing really odd today, at a discount store in Poway, while I was standing in line waiting for my stuff to be rung up by a cashier.

Two lanes over, there was this man—and oh! Diary! what a man!—also waiting, a package of cigarettes in his hand.   He was jammed in between several in front of him, and several in back of him, with shopping carts loaded to the brim.

A big black woman right in front of him, her cart loaded, turned and said something to him.  He just smiled.  Then she started yelling at him.  He just smiled.  Then the big black woman started talking with the obese white woman behind the man, her self with a large cart filled to overflowing.  The two women exchanged comments, and then the woman behind the man started pummeling him with a super sized bag of potato chips.

He looked startled, but didn’t do or say anything.

Then other customers, waiting to be rung up in that same line, began staring at the man with the package of cigarettes, some of them screaming invectives at him.  Someone threw an apple at him, and somebody else a six-pack of macaroni-and-cheese.  Everybody was yelling and screaming at him, throwing things at him.

He looked startled, but kept his peace.

Then the cashier lifted the receiver by her register, requesting, “STORE SECURITY, PLEASE, CASHIER LANE 5, CUSTOMER MISBEHAVING.”

Then everybody in all the other cashier lanes paid attention, watching as two big burly guys came up to the man, tackling him.  He looked greatly surprised, and probably could have knocked both their heads together, but instead he just went limp and they hauled him away.

“What was that all about?” somebody in my own lane asked.

“The guy had one item,” someone in the next lane explained; “just one single item, and he was in between all these full carts.  Since he had just one item, the customers in front of him suggested it’d be okay if he went before them, but no…..he said he could wait his turn.

“He said he could wait his turn.

“Now, is that weird, or what?  It sounds like a terrorist to me, he could wait his turn.”

By the time I had gotten through my own line and was outside, walking towards the car, I saw him again—and oh! Diary! what a man!—walking towards his own car.  He was tall, thin, with a full head of dark brown hair (although the hair seemed too long), his face of the Welsh sort, the package of cigarettes in his hand.  He acted s-o-o-o-o totally laid back and mellow, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

His car had Nebraska license plates.

I’m going to have to google “Nebraska,” to see where it’s at; probably somewhere between Florida and Georgia, wherever they’re at.

[seahorse513]

Those are great Frank...keep them coming.
and by the way Nadine needs some extensive tutoring in geography...

[franksolich]

6 September 2011.  Dear Diary: Last night, hubby and I had an argue ment.  He said I ruined the epaulets for his uniform by washing them in hot water with his sweaters, and now he has to order some new sets of them from Annapolis, because these are shrunk.

I told him nothing I do pleases him, and I’m tired of it.  I wanted to ask about the other woman—I’m sure it’s Bianca in his office—but he stormed out before I could.  He hasn’t yet found out what happened with his white Naval dress uniform.  I’m not saying anything, but after I washed that, it’s not white any more.

Think light orange, because I washed it with my orange polyester slacks, which aren’t color fast.

This morning I went out with my girl friend, for break fast.

We ate at a restaurant near the beach.  We were seated at a booth next to the windows when that one man, the guy from Nebraska, came in—you know, Dear Diary, the one who caused a ruckup at the discount store yesterday.  He was seated in the booth across the aisle from us.

Oh, what a man, Dear Diary, what a man.

He ordered a hamburger—this was break fast—“well done, burnt is okay” and french fries “fried on the grill and not in the fryer”, besides coffee and two bowls of sour cream.

While he was waiting, he read a 1937 copy of Time magazine, probably something he’d picked up at a book store.

Oh, Dear, Dear Diary, what a man.  So lithe, so elegant, so hand some, so manly.

The waitress brought his order, but it wasn’t his order.  It was two eggs scrambled, hash browns, strips of bacon, and whole wheat toast.  She had gotten the two bowls of sour cream, though. 

He looked as if he was going to question it, it wasn’t what he’d ordered, but then shrugged his shoulders, and ate it.

When he was done and got the ticket for what he’d ordered, as he got out of his seat, he looked over at us and gently smiled at me.  We don’t know each other, but it was nice of him..

Oh, Dear, Dear, Dear Diary, what a man.  And he wasn’t wearing a wed ding ring.

And such a nice ass behind him.

I haven’t yet googled “Nebraska” to see where it’s at, but I suppose it’s one of those New England states on the Gulf Coast, or something.

[Chris_]

That was good.

[franksolich]

That was good.

A new entry planned every day, sir.

The life of nadin.

[md11hydmec]

Great job!  Love the story lines.it almost as if Nadin herself is writing it.

[Revolution]

 

[BlueStateSaint]

I'll see your three and raise you one, Rev.

 

A fine job, Coach.  H5.

[franksolich]

7 September 2011.  Dear Diary: This morning, hubby yelled at me because he had to go to the office in his full dinner dress uniform, rather than his working uniform, as I hadn’t gotten around yet to washing his working garb.

Always thinking of himself, never me, the hubby.

You know, Dear Diary, this has been going on since even before we were married.  At our first meeting, at a party, after sizing me up, he glanced around to see if there was anyone else more interesting.

And unlike most other husbands in the Navy, he didn’t seem to mind the long tours of duty that took him half way across the world from me.  He always seemed happy to leave, sad to come back.

I still haven’t googled “Nebraska,” but my girl friend insists it’s right next to California, and has Hoover Dam.

[md11hydmec]

 

[BlueStateSaint]

Pass that over here!  This is getting good.

[md11hydmec]

I'm still waiting for the part where she finds out conservative men are real men and not sissies.

[franksolich]

12 September 2011.  Dear Diary: I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Dearest Diary, but there’s been a lot going on the past few days.  There was the black out, and a whole lot of other things, and now hubby’s all upset and bent out of shape because I lost his medals.

He says he needs to wear the medals on his uniform at work, but I don’t believe him.  I think he just wants to wear the medals to im press Bianca in the office.

I was unable to hang around Skins’s island during the black out, and then the place was mobbed protesting the commemoration of 911, and one couldn’t get a word in edgewise.  I’m not used to being shoved out, and don’t like it at all.

I haven’t seen that man from Nebraska lately, although I dream about him all the time.

He seems so different from hubby; so modest, so patient, so gentle, so kind…..and so good-looking.

And remember, Dear Diary, I noticed he doesn’t wear a wedding-ring.

When the black out was over, and I got back to Skins’s island, I found out that the repulsive franksolich had shown his bare naked backside to Stinky and Anne, mooning them.  He also tried to get Redstone, but Redstone left before he could drop his pants.

Ugh.  A right-wing ass.

But I wish I'd seen it, though.

[franksolich]

13 September 2011.  Dear Diary: Another day, another argue ment.  I forgot to send hubby’s uniform to the dry-cleaners, and so he had to wear his old Commander’s uniform to work today, instead of his Captain’s uniform.

He was upset about it, but I can’t do everything around here, even though he thinks I should.

Dear Diary, I don’t know what to do.  Again last night he came home from work late, when I was already in bed, and he hadn’t even botthered to get rid of the scent of her perfume when he got in.

I’ve been being suppressed on Skins’s island, my campfires there doused by ignorant moderators, but I’m not yet silenced.  As long as a prophet has an audience of at least one, the prophet must speak.

I’ve been hearing rumors, passed to me by my girl friend, that the handsome guy I think is from Nebraska, is really either one of two guys the reprehensible franksolich hangs around with, most likely the banned one.  But that doesn’t explain the Nebraska license-plates.  I’ll have to figure this out.

I haven’t yet googled Nebraska, to find out where it’s at, but someone told me it’s between Maine and Vermont, wherever they're at.

[franksolich]

14 September 2011.  Dear Diary: Another big argue ment with hubby today.

He was trying to find his Annapolis yearbook, the year he graduated from there, probably to show Bianca.  He couldn’t find it, and I had to tell him I’d donated it to the Junior League book sale last spring, as it was just an old book and nobody wanted to see it any more.

He gets up set over the smal lest things, the hubby does.

I’ve been checking in at the cave, to watch that repugnant franksolich.

I’ve been told that there’s some amazing similaritys between a guy he hangs around with, BannedFromDU, and the tall good-looking stranger with the Pagini-Zonda with Nebraska license-plates.

In fact, Dearest Diary, I’ve been told that BannedFromDU and the gorgeous Nebraska guy are one and the same man.

That doesn’t explain why BannedFromDU would have Nebraska license-plates, but as he and franksolich do work for Karl Rove, there’s probably some mischief going on here.

The mystery deepens, Diary; I really have to google Nebraska, to see where it’s at.

[Boudicca]

Frank, which CC lady is the alluring Bianca?

[franksolich]

Frank, which CC lady is the alluring Bianca?

I never thought of that, but these diaries are still in their least-evolved state.

Is there any female member here, who lives in or around San Diego?  I could use her, if there is one.

If not, I suppose I can have hubby having an affair with the kaput primitive, the "kpete" primitive, the copy-and-paste queen of Skins's island who lives in a gated community in the most-affluent neighborhood of that city.

[JohnnyReb]

I never thought of that, but these diaries are still in their least-evolved state.

Is there any female member here, who lives in or around San Diego?  I could use her, if there is one.

If not, I suppose I can have hubby having an affair with the kaput primitive, the "kpete" primitive, the copy-and-paste queen of Skins's island who lives in a gated community in the most-affluent neighborhood of that city.

the copy-and-paste queen of Skins's island ...yeah, that's the ticket...you can make it easy on yourself, just copy and paste a few lines from a romance novel....with a few corrections of course.

"She He went limp in his her arms as he she  ........"