Posts
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Help Toby Keep Crunkin'
Help Toby Keep Crunkin': On Thursday, January 12th, the miniature love of my life Toby got unexpectedly ill. He hasn't been able to eat or walk since, and has been sadly just laying by the heater
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Occupy This
I will be the first to shamelessly admit for the first two weeks that the Occupy movement started, that I had no idea what it was. I saw jokes surfacing on the old Facebook and thought it must be some new hot funny thing that people who have the time for tumblrs, and feeds, and avid blog readers were privy to that I just didn't have time for.
I was too busy, you know, working, going to school, trying to dig myself out of the never ending bill hell that I have somehow managed to burrow myself into.
When I finally asked someone, they were like, "Uh, really, do you not read the news?" No. Not really, sorry. In between bouts of doing things that make me loathe my life, I like to take a load off and get drunk or watch a shitty 80s comedy so that I can unwind and not think of everything that is going to further my pissiness in this world that I feel I have no control over.
I am selfish in some aspect, but in the least selfish way possible. I have created this bubble in which I exist that extends out to those I care about most. Because I only have so much brain left and so much empathy to give, I choose who I dole all that out to.
Sure when a disaster hits, I am aware of it, and if I have the money to kick down to the cause, I will. But for the most part, if I were to have 6 different news television programs going at once that were blasting all of the injustice that is going on, I would eventually go mad with helplessness.
So, that being said, I never did come to a direct conclusion as to whether or not that I agreed with this Occupy movement. It's always good to see people standing up for what they feel has wronged them, but what exactly had we been wronged by?
I know by a series of unfortunate events that I have now given some bank exec's kid a really fucking sweet Christmas based on the amount of overdraft fees and them not being sympathetic to my plight. I hope Junior likes that deluxe whateverthefuckitis kids play with these days this year.
But standing outside of places where people who are professionals and have worked their way to the top telling them it is time to pay the poor piper did have me slightly baffled.
I am of the opinion that we need to burn down all banks or at least wrangle in and new world order their asses. They are running around like the wild west, fucking over whomever they please with no consequences. Same with insurance companies, medical and vehicle and home related. They have no restrictions on whose pockets they reach into, and it seems the less money you make, the more they want to keep taking from you.
But, I am not going to stand outside of Johnny Lawyer's house and scream at him because he went through law school, has a sweet Hugo Boss suit, and drives a BMW and goddamnit, I want a BMW too.
Anyway, that is probably all here and there, but my cousin posted a link from Adam Corolla's show that I laughed really hard at calling a lot of the Occupy people self-entitled monsters and my new favorite term, doucheasses. To a degree, he is spot on with a lot of what he says, but like I said, I am still standing in the middle of this whole mess that is going on, because we are in a generation where so many arguments can be made about this whole debacle that in the end, nobody is going to be right. There are far too many variables to nail down a who is right.
Everything has gotten so lost in translation that arguing Occupy is like arguing abortion and religion at this point. My cure for our economy right now is everyone stop paying their house payments at once and play musical houses. There is no way the banks could take all our houses away from us, and if we all played house swap, it would be a mess trying to sort out all the work. At least we would all have a comfortable place to reside in for awhile.
It is true though, the envy syndrome has kicked into high gear. And people are acting like spoiled little shits going, "Meh, I want that car why does he get it and I don't?" Well dear friends, we don't know his story and what he had to do to get that car and unfortunately this is not a fucking Communist society where we all get to share and unfortunately not everyone is going to want to share with you.
Life can be random. You can bust your ass all of it and get nothing in return. You can bust your ass and build a great empire and stare down from floor 134244 at all of your little scuffling ants that you boss around all day in pride at what you have accomplished. You can be a complete and utter bumbling idiot, yet somehow manage to make bajillions dollars. You can meet that same kind of idiot and he is just hanging around bars being that same kind of idiot.
The thing is though, is that nobody should ever expect anything to be fair or handed to them. The whole point I have learned in my vast 32 years of life is the golden do unto others rule. Except I have decided to change it up a bit due to the times a changin. Do unto others as you would like for them to do unto you. If they don't do unto you the way you would like them to back, then fuck em and move on.
Oh and by the way? I have a solution for all this Occupy business that should make everyone happy:
Sure when a disaster hits, I am aware of it, and if I have the money to kick down to the cause, I will. But for the most part, if I were to have 6 different news television programs going at once that were blasting all of the injustice that is going on, I would eventually go mad with helplessness.
So, that being said, I never did come to a direct conclusion as to whether or not that I agreed with this Occupy movement. It's always good to see people standing up for what they feel has wronged them, but what exactly had we been wronged by?
I know by a series of unfortunate events that I have now given some bank exec's kid a really fucking sweet Christmas based on the amount of overdraft fees and them not being sympathetic to my plight. I hope Junior likes that deluxe whateverthefuckitis kids play with these days this year.
But standing outside of places where people who are professionals and have worked their way to the top telling them it is time to pay the poor piper did have me slightly baffled.
I am of the opinion that we need to burn down all banks or at least wrangle in and new world order their asses. They are running around like the wild west, fucking over whomever they please with no consequences. Same with insurance companies, medical and vehicle and home related. They have no restrictions on whose pockets they reach into, and it seems the less money you make, the more they want to keep taking from you.
But, I am not going to stand outside of Johnny Lawyer's house and scream at him because he went through law school, has a sweet Hugo Boss suit, and drives a BMW and goddamnit, I want a BMW too.
Anyway, that is probably all here and there, but my cousin posted a link from Adam Corolla's show that I laughed really hard at calling a lot of the Occupy people self-entitled monsters and my new favorite term, doucheasses. To a degree, he is spot on with a lot of what he says, but like I said, I am still standing in the middle of this whole mess that is going on, because we are in a generation where so many arguments can be made about this whole debacle that in the end, nobody is going to be right. There are far too many variables to nail down a who is right.
Everything has gotten so lost in translation that arguing Occupy is like arguing abortion and religion at this point. My cure for our economy right now is everyone stop paying their house payments at once and play musical houses. There is no way the banks could take all our houses away from us, and if we all played house swap, it would be a mess trying to sort out all the work. At least we would all have a comfortable place to reside in for awhile.
It is true though, the envy syndrome has kicked into high gear. And people are acting like spoiled little shits going, "Meh, I want that car why does he get it and I don't?" Well dear friends, we don't know his story and what he had to do to get that car and unfortunately this is not a fucking Communist society where we all get to share and unfortunately not everyone is going to want to share with you.
Life can be random. You can bust your ass all of it and get nothing in return. You can bust your ass and build a great empire and stare down from floor 134244 at all of your little scuffling ants that you boss around all day in pride at what you have accomplished. You can be a complete and utter bumbling idiot, yet somehow manage to make bajillions dollars. You can meet that same kind of idiot and he is just hanging around bars being that same kind of idiot.
The thing is though, is that nobody should ever expect anything to be fair or handed to them. The whole point I have learned in my vast 32 years of life is the golden do unto others rule. Except I have decided to change it up a bit due to the times a changin. Do unto others as you would like for them to do unto you. If they don't do unto you the way you would like them to back, then fuck em and move on.
Oh and by the way? I have a solution for all this Occupy business that should make everyone happy:
Let the people who worked hard and built their empires be, let them have the respect they deserve and their nice things. But, force anything that ends with a Kardashian or starts with a Snookie that have waaaay more than I do merely by televising their drunken whoriness and stupidity with pride start kicking down penances to the less fortunate as punishment for forcing us to endure their shameless idiocracy.
That, my friends, is what we call a win/win.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Anti-Travisty
I have been all of the mope lately but not really outwardly, thank all the gods, nobody wants to be around me outwardly mopey, it is just a bunch of disjointed thoughts sputtering out of my mouth that make none of the sense. But I put on some Twee Pop. What is Twee Pop? Urban Dictionary who can NEVER be disputed with describes it as:
A type of indie pop that is known for simple, sweet melodies and lyrics, often combined with jangling guitars; twee is also British slang for something almost sickenly sweet. I concur!
Which then made me decide that instead of complaining today, I am going to give praise to friendship. Because today, friendship made me feel on top of Mars. If Mars was an awesome place to be that is. Speaking of, it has been decided that everything is cooler in outerspace. Well, decided by myself. Though it did take some convincing to this friend that it was.
When I was explaining to him how someone sure looks pretty cool playing a guitar, but wouldn't they look cool doing it.....IN OUTERSPACE???? He thought it sounded like a pain in the space suited ass. Until I explained, NO, I mean you don't need a space suit!! Then he said, AHHH I get it! So I can shred guitar in my people clothes to the tune of AC/DC while flames lick up around me and everyone cheers and we don't even need the proper breathing apparatus? Everything IS cooler in SPACE!!!!!
How did I meet Travis? At a bar of course! Until recently, he was in my phone as Travis Twilight Bone. Because I was drunk when I met him and I was at the Twilight bar. I was outside being harassed by a panoply of overly annoyingly drunk patrons that were out like a gang of cockroaches that night. The first couple had to let me know I looked like Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane Spiderman (NEVER HEARD THAT BEFORE RIGHT?) and normally I say, oh yeah I get that a lot, but this one could not let it go. She kept yelling MARY JAAAAAANE! MARY JAAAANE! Then some other dude came out and wouldn't let up with the annoying things that humans do.
Travis came out for a cigarette, I told him I was pretty sure I had met him before, and then he immediately jumped in with the let's make fun of drunk annoying strangers and see if they notice it banter. It was amazing. And enjoyable to find someone who didn't think I was an asshole for not having the patience to put up with blatantly annoying and ignorant drunks. We exchanged numbers, and then became buddies after.
He is not only a very talented poster maker, go look at his site! He makes posters for prolific artists, and some that are not so prolific but they are good men, they pay hiz billz. http://furturtle.com/
So I just got distracted there, but he is not only a very talented ARTISTE, he is one of my favorite people that I have ever met in my lifetime. He doesn't get offended by my crass humor, he actually joins in, instigates, or starts it. He may not know this, but when I was beyond sick and beyond poor (please see that I am still beyond poor) he would call me up and take me out to lunch. He literally kept me fed.
Sometimes we both get busy. Or caught up in life. But he always texts me out of the blue and says, "Let's not fight anymore. I miss you. Let's go eat." "Why are we texting right now? I want to text with mouths" Or, "We are terrible people, aren't we? Why are we not hanging out?"
When he got me to go to South By Southwest in Austin last March, it was such a fun trip that I never ever ever otherwise would have done had I not known him. I remember waking up the day before we were to go home in the throes of the WORST hangover I had ever experienced in my life, covered in bruises, full of a pounding in my head, wobbly, on two hours of sleep and still covered in makeup the night before, lying on the hotel couch trying not to throw up the nothing that was left in my stomach, and he was walking around singing Southern Man and playing guitar in an overly exaggerated Neil Youngesque voice. And I was laughing my ASS off as I drifted in and out of sleep. I haven't laughed so hard with that bad of a hangover ever.
He is also the only friend that has laughed so hard that we were BAWLING in a hotel room bed staring at a photo of a monkey wearing people that was vomiting while a man patted it on the back and someone in the background took a picture. We laughed about it for hours and hours later. He GETS my humor. I love it.
Today we went out to lunch at the Busy Bee which is a garlic burger place/bar and had some burgers and beer. He looked at the picture of the Busy Bee on the wall and said, "I am scared of that bee. I am pretty sure it is going to rape me. Look how menacing it is with that Bud Light in its hand and its grin. I spat in laughter. We were trying to figure out if it was a pack of bees, a hive of bees, a gaggle of bees or what if they were to gang up on you and R you. We then coined the term Stangbang. We are terrible. But funny. Look at the bee though!!!
We decided that we were going to start a relationship advice column. Two of our ideas today were:
Trying to get over your ex-girlfriend? There's hope. Go out and get yourself a sweet looking little puppy to keep you company. Name it after your ex-girlfriend. Then proceed to stab it to death.
Need to feel a bit vindicated after getting your heart broken? This is a surefire trick that works every time to help you not only feel closer to her after the breakup, but also works wonders for your hurt feelings. Go to your ex-girlfriend's house, have a nice talk with her. Stab her to death, cut her face off, wear it as a mask, and then kill her whole family wearing said mask.
Then we concluded that may not be a good idea due to people maybe actually taking our advice.
After burgers we left to get some bubble tea. A guilty wonderful pleasure for both of us. As he got his and took a sip, he said, "Goddamn this is made out of the jizz of angels."
The Barista working frowned the WHOLE time while we had this conversation casually as though maybe this is really something to be considered when I said, well what kind of Angel jizz is it? Is it masturbation jizz, sex jizz, or wet dream jizz?
He retorted with, "Pssh angels don't need to have wet dreams, are you kidding me they get laid SO much up in heaven. I was like you don't choose wet dreams, they just happen, maybe they don't need to masturbate though."
As I attempted to pay for lunch earlier, he would not let me. He tried to pay for tea and threw his card down, and with all of my cat-like reflexes I do not possess, I swiped it and put it in my back pocket. He said "NO that was not fair give it back!!!!"
I said, "You can't get it back because it is in my back pocket, the Barista has my cash, and if you try to get card out of my pocket that is sexual harassment and I am suing." He sat there helpless, and the Barista continued her permanent scowl as she took my money.
I could tell more tales praising Travis, but this was literally an hour or two of our day, and I am still leaving out all of the other things we talked about, had fun about, chortled over, and it would take me a book to include the other amazing lunches we have been on, best ofs of my trip with him, and all of the porch time we have had while drinking beer.
So I am just going to include a video of Southern Man at the bottom here, and be grateful from the bottom of my mopey little heart that I have such a wonderful friend in my life that brings in some twisted sunshine into my days.
A type of indie pop that is known for simple, sweet melodies and lyrics, often combined with jangling guitars; twee is also British slang for something almost sickenly sweet. I concur!
Which then made me decide that instead of complaining today, I am going to give praise to friendship. Because today, friendship made me feel on top of Mars. If Mars was an awesome place to be that is. Speaking of, it has been decided that everything is cooler in outerspace. Well, decided by myself. Though it did take some convincing to this friend that it was.
When I was explaining to him how someone sure looks pretty cool playing a guitar, but wouldn't they look cool doing it.....IN OUTERSPACE???? He thought it sounded like a pain in the space suited ass. Until I explained, NO, I mean you don't need a space suit!! Then he said, AHHH I get it! So I can shred guitar in my people clothes to the tune of AC/DC while flames lick up around me and everyone cheers and we don't even need the proper breathing apparatus? Everything IS cooler in SPACE!!!!!
How did I meet Travis? At a bar of course! Until recently, he was in my phone as Travis Twilight Bone. Because I was drunk when I met him and I was at the Twilight bar. I was outside being harassed by a panoply of overly annoyingly drunk patrons that were out like a gang of cockroaches that night. The first couple had to let me know I looked like Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane Spiderman (NEVER HEARD THAT BEFORE RIGHT?) and normally I say, oh yeah I get that a lot, but this one could not let it go. She kept yelling MARY JAAAAAANE! MARY JAAAANE! Then some other dude came out and wouldn't let up with the annoying things that humans do.
Travis came out for a cigarette, I told him I was pretty sure I had met him before, and then he immediately jumped in with the let's make fun of drunk annoying strangers and see if they notice it banter. It was amazing. And enjoyable to find someone who didn't think I was an asshole for not having the patience to put up with blatantly annoying and ignorant drunks. We exchanged numbers, and then became buddies after.
He is not only a very talented poster maker, go look at his site! He makes posters for prolific artists, and some that are not so prolific but they are good men, they pay hiz billz. http://furturtle.com/
So I just got distracted there, but he is not only a very talented ARTISTE, he is one of my favorite people that I have ever met in my lifetime. He doesn't get offended by my crass humor, he actually joins in, instigates, or starts it. He may not know this, but when I was beyond sick and beyond poor (please see that I am still beyond poor) he would call me up and take me out to lunch. He literally kept me fed.
Sometimes we both get busy. Or caught up in life. But he always texts me out of the blue and says, "Let's not fight anymore. I miss you. Let's go eat." "Why are we texting right now? I want to text with mouths" Or, "We are terrible people, aren't we? Why are we not hanging out?"
When he got me to go to South By Southwest in Austin last March, it was such a fun trip that I never ever ever otherwise would have done had I not known him. I remember waking up the day before we were to go home in the throes of the WORST hangover I had ever experienced in my life, covered in bruises, full of a pounding in my head, wobbly, on two hours of sleep and still covered in makeup the night before, lying on the hotel couch trying not to throw up the nothing that was left in my stomach, and he was walking around singing Southern Man and playing guitar in an overly exaggerated Neil Youngesque voice. And I was laughing my ASS off as I drifted in and out of sleep. I haven't laughed so hard with that bad of a hangover ever.
He is also the only friend that has laughed so hard that we were BAWLING in a hotel room bed staring at a photo of a monkey wearing people that was vomiting while a man patted it on the back and someone in the background took a picture. We laughed about it for hours and hours later. He GETS my humor. I love it.
Today we went out to lunch at the Busy Bee which is a garlic burger place/bar and had some burgers and beer. He looked at the picture of the Busy Bee on the wall and said, "I am scared of that bee. I am pretty sure it is going to rape me. Look how menacing it is with that Bud Light in its hand and its grin. I spat in laughter. We were trying to figure out if it was a pack of bees, a hive of bees, a gaggle of bees or what if they were to gang up on you and R you. We then coined the term Stangbang. We are terrible. But funny. Look at the bee though!!!
We decided that we were going to start a relationship advice column. Two of our ideas today were:
Trying to get over your ex-girlfriend? There's hope. Go out and get yourself a sweet looking little puppy to keep you company. Name it after your ex-girlfriend. Then proceed to stab it to death.
Need to feel a bit vindicated after getting your heart broken? This is a surefire trick that works every time to help you not only feel closer to her after the breakup, but also works wonders for your hurt feelings. Go to your ex-girlfriend's house, have a nice talk with her. Stab her to death, cut her face off, wear it as a mask, and then kill her whole family wearing said mask.
Then we concluded that may not be a good idea due to people maybe actually taking our advice.
After burgers we left to get some bubble tea. A guilty wonderful pleasure for both of us. As he got his and took a sip, he said, "Goddamn this is made out of the jizz of angels."
The Barista working frowned the WHOLE time while we had this conversation casually as though maybe this is really something to be considered when I said, well what kind of Angel jizz is it? Is it masturbation jizz, sex jizz, or wet dream jizz?
He retorted with, "Pssh angels don't need to have wet dreams, are you kidding me they get laid SO much up in heaven. I was like you don't choose wet dreams, they just happen, maybe they don't need to masturbate though."
As I attempted to pay for lunch earlier, he would not let me. He tried to pay for tea and threw his card down, and with all of my cat-like reflexes I do not possess, I swiped it and put it in my back pocket. He said "NO that was not fair give it back!!!!"
I said, "You can't get it back because it is in my back pocket, the Barista has my cash, and if you try to get card out of my pocket that is sexual harassment and I am suing." He sat there helpless, and the Barista continued her permanent scowl as she took my money.
I could tell more tales praising Travis, but this was literally an hour or two of our day, and I am still leaving out all of the other things we talked about, had fun about, chortled over, and it would take me a book to include the other amazing lunches we have been on, best ofs of my trip with him, and all of the porch time we have had while drinking beer.
So I am just going to include a video of Southern Man at the bottom here, and be grateful from the bottom of my mopey little heart that I have such a wonderful friend in my life that brings in some twisted sunshine into my days.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Good the Bad & The Mildly Unnatractive
So I had that talk where I try to maintain a positive attitude. And things really did get on the up and uppish?
I applied for, and received a job in a mere 1.5 day's time. I was very excited for this.
I went out that same night with a friend that was in town visiting and we had a lot of fun.
We went to a bar that made me feel olde. See, I can go to places like da club and I can drink loads of jagerbombs and dance my unadulterated overadulterated ass off. But When I enter an overly crowded bar that is playing Katy Perry to be ironic as two pool tables stuff themselves into overly crowded said bar that is swimming with a sea of hipsters, I start to feel a little out of the loop.
Because at least at da club they aren't being pretentious. That's what you are there for. These kind of places are almost designed to make you feel uncomfortable once you set foot in there if your shade of plaid is not up to Urban Outfitters par with the rest of the population.
It was still fine, screaming over Lady Gaga. I can honestly as stated above,make the best of all situations.
We had an ending of the night drink and then I went home. And foolishly checked my email. One thing you should never do when awaiting news on something is check your email at 3:00 a.m.
Your brain is not functioning correctly, and you are at a heightened sense of odd emotion that only kicks into high gear past the hour of midnight. My unemployment had been denied, and while I had this new up and coming part-time job, I have also had creditors and a car payment due.
And might I mention AGAIN, that I got fired due to being too ill to come to work?
Well, we did what is to be expected of me and let some fat rain fall from my eyes. Wiped that rain off with toilet paper windshield wipers, and asked it to please stop.
But there had been a tsunami brewing in my brain, and the storm was angry. And my eyes kept leaking. And piece after piece of t.p. could not dam up the floodgates. And I probably repeated the phrase, "I am so fucked" at least 599787415 times.
And I felt helpless. I have felt helpless a lot lately, but this was that overwhelming sense of I have no more shit to sell, I am afraid things are going to start getting taken from me, I am so tired, but my brain is now telling my body to eat shit and figure this out fast, but my fix it instincts were scrambled since all prior options has officially been exhausted.
Before I knew it, it was 6:45 am and I had officially been weeping for over three hours. And I was beyond loopy.
And even though I am almost a grown 32 years in age, sometimes we all just need our mommy.
I texted my mommy (thanks technology for not being 1995 and making me page her with a 911 at the end of it.)
She almost immediately called me and I was a snotty hiccuping mess of nonsensical and not in the cute rhyming Dr. Seuss way.
She stopped me mid-sentence and said, "Let me get your dad on the phone."
I froze.
Sorry, but my dad is not the person I melt on. I was wondering what he could even possibly do at this point to even begin to comprehend the inane ramblings of a female on the verge of Sylvia Plathing herself.
He got on the phone and I hiccuped so many of the things I just did to my mother.
My dad is a very intense and serious sounding person. We never have had a heart to heart. As a matter of fact, we didn't speak for almost ten years.
And in the interim of us speaking over these past few years it has been light funny conversation. Or when I am being an irrational idiot, he says things that says he cares, but also tell me I am being an idiot.
I was being an idiot this time. I was feeling sorry for myself and crying why me. He stopped me in his calm voice and said:
"When we had to move you kids out here from Iowa, it is because my law partner was a drunk and a criminal. He was my best friend. He embezzled all my money. We had to file bankruptcy, and we had to siphon money from your college funds so we could even barely get standing on our feet again.
It was horrible. I had to mop floors as a janitor and your mom had to work in the Frito Lay factory, and we had you five kids to support. That was the lowest point in my life. I had this wife I was supposed to support, and here she was working in a Frito Lay factory while I mopped floors, after going to law school mind you."
I thought to myself, "Well that sucks. I hate that I was such an asshole kid during this period of time, and hearing other people's stories like this sucks too. How does this help me?" Selfish, not selfish. It just made me feel bad.
He said to me to elaborate. "You need to realize that you are going to reach the lowest of your low. You are going to be so down and you are going to be so out. And all these people that you feel are screwing you over, you can't take it personally. This is greed. These are businesses and corporations. They don't hate you persay, they are just greedy people that only care about themselves at the end of the day, and while you may feel powerless, the only way you will be powerless is if you lay down like a beaten dog and take it. You just keep standing up and you keep plowing through this.
You have opportunity. You are smart, you are going to school, you are so close to done, and you just have to get right back up again and not let people that mean as little to you as you do to them bring you down to the ground. You earn things in this world, and that makes them that much sweeter. If you actually have to work for something and not have it handed to you, you are going to appreciate it that much more. That being said, what me and your mother love most about you kids is that you have always been so independent and you guys are smart, so smart and intelligent, but at times life is going to hand you things you can't quite understand and be able to handle. I know you are self-sufficient, and I know how much you hate asking for help.
But it's not your fault you got sick. You can't control your body. And your mom and I are where we are now because we worked hard for it and we fought for it. And we love you guys so much, we will do whatever it takes to see you succeed. And you need to not feel guilty for taking our help during these times. You need to stop seeing yourself as a burden when we help you and you need to take it and stop blaming yourself for all of these things happening to you. We love you, that is why we are here and we are happy to help you and make sure you are able to get out of this.
Then my father said to me words I will never, ever, ever in my lifetime forget.
And maybe this will sound like the lamest thing ever, but I don't care. The next thing he said, trumps any lyric of any song I have ever heard, it surpasses any deep and thought provoking sentence I have read in a novel. Namely because he meant it, and also because he gave me faith that the beauty of the human spirit is still alive and kicking and it made me not want to drown myself in the bathtub.
"You know. Your mother has a lot of health problems. And she is so kind. She is so sweet and selfless. She is so happy through it all. And she reminds me so much of you in that aspect. And at this stage in her life, she requires help for a lot of the problems she goes through. And she is just like you in the way that she doesn't want to burden anyone or put anyone out by having to receive help for anything. And when I help your mother with things, just as I feel about helping you out with things, I don't look at it as a burden. Because of who you both are, I look at it as a privilege."
I say this with all honesty, I think going through everything that I have, with all of the frustrations and financial difficulties and trying to get myself back on the up and up again, I would do it all again 1,000 times over just to hear someone utter that paragraph again.
I applied for, and received a job in a mere 1.5 day's time. I was very excited for this.
I went out that same night with a friend that was in town visiting and we had a lot of fun.
We went to a bar that made me feel olde. See, I can go to places like da club and I can drink loads of jagerbombs and dance my unadulterated overadulterated ass off. But When I enter an overly crowded bar that is playing Katy Perry to be ironic as two pool tables stuff themselves into overly crowded said bar that is swimming with a sea of hipsters, I start to feel a little out of the loop.
Because at least at da club they aren't being pretentious. That's what you are there for. These kind of places are almost designed to make you feel uncomfortable once you set foot in there if your shade of plaid is not up to Urban Outfitters par with the rest of the population.
It was still fine, screaming over Lady Gaga. I can honestly as stated above,make the best of all situations.
We had an ending of the night drink and then I went home. And foolishly checked my email. One thing you should never do when awaiting news on something is check your email at 3:00 a.m.
Your brain is not functioning correctly, and you are at a heightened sense of odd emotion that only kicks into high gear past the hour of midnight. My unemployment had been denied, and while I had this new up and coming part-time job, I have also had creditors and a car payment due.
And might I mention AGAIN, that I got fired due to being too ill to come to work?
Well, we did what is to be expected of me and let some fat rain fall from my eyes. Wiped that rain off with toilet paper windshield wipers, and asked it to please stop.
But there had been a tsunami brewing in my brain, and the storm was angry. And my eyes kept leaking. And piece after piece of t.p. could not dam up the floodgates. And I probably repeated the phrase, "I am so fucked" at least 599787415 times.
And I felt helpless. I have felt helpless a lot lately, but this was that overwhelming sense of I have no more shit to sell, I am afraid things are going to start getting taken from me, I am so tired, but my brain is now telling my body to eat shit and figure this out fast, but my fix it instincts were scrambled since all prior options has officially been exhausted.
Before I knew it, it was 6:45 am and I had officially been weeping for over three hours. And I was beyond loopy.
And even though I am almost a grown 32 years in age, sometimes we all just need our mommy.
I texted my mommy (thanks technology for not being 1995 and making me page her with a 911 at the end of it.)
She almost immediately called me and I was a snotty hiccuping mess of nonsensical and not in the cute rhyming Dr. Seuss way.
She stopped me mid-sentence and said, "Let me get your dad on the phone."
I froze.
Sorry, but my dad is not the person I melt on. I was wondering what he could even possibly do at this point to even begin to comprehend the inane ramblings of a female on the verge of Sylvia Plathing herself.
He got on the phone and I hiccuped so many of the things I just did to my mother.
My dad is a very intense and serious sounding person. We never have had a heart to heart. As a matter of fact, we didn't speak for almost ten years.
And in the interim of us speaking over these past few years it has been light funny conversation. Or when I am being an irrational idiot, he says things that says he cares, but also tell me I am being an idiot.
I was being an idiot this time. I was feeling sorry for myself and crying why me. He stopped me in his calm voice and said:
"When we had to move you kids out here from Iowa, it is because my law partner was a drunk and a criminal. He was my best friend. He embezzled all my money. We had to file bankruptcy, and we had to siphon money from your college funds so we could even barely get standing on our feet again.
It was horrible. I had to mop floors as a janitor and your mom had to work in the Frito Lay factory, and we had you five kids to support. That was the lowest point in my life. I had this wife I was supposed to support, and here she was working in a Frito Lay factory while I mopped floors, after going to law school mind you."
I thought to myself, "Well that sucks. I hate that I was such an asshole kid during this period of time, and hearing other people's stories like this sucks too. How does this help me?" Selfish, not selfish. It just made me feel bad.
He said to me to elaborate. "You need to realize that you are going to reach the lowest of your low. You are going to be so down and you are going to be so out. And all these people that you feel are screwing you over, you can't take it personally. This is greed. These are businesses and corporations. They don't hate you persay, they are just greedy people that only care about themselves at the end of the day, and while you may feel powerless, the only way you will be powerless is if you lay down like a beaten dog and take it. You just keep standing up and you keep plowing through this.
You have opportunity. You are smart, you are going to school, you are so close to done, and you just have to get right back up again and not let people that mean as little to you as you do to them bring you down to the ground. You earn things in this world, and that makes them that much sweeter. If you actually have to work for something and not have it handed to you, you are going to appreciate it that much more. That being said, what me and your mother love most about you kids is that you have always been so independent and you guys are smart, so smart and intelligent, but at times life is going to hand you things you can't quite understand and be able to handle. I know you are self-sufficient, and I know how much you hate asking for help.
But it's not your fault you got sick. You can't control your body. And your mom and I are where we are now because we worked hard for it and we fought for it. And we love you guys so much, we will do whatever it takes to see you succeed. And you need to not feel guilty for taking our help during these times. You need to stop seeing yourself as a burden when we help you and you need to take it and stop blaming yourself for all of these things happening to you. We love you, that is why we are here and we are happy to help you and make sure you are able to get out of this.
Then my father said to me words I will never, ever, ever in my lifetime forget.
And maybe this will sound like the lamest thing ever, but I don't care. The next thing he said, trumps any lyric of any song I have ever heard, it surpasses any deep and thought provoking sentence I have read in a novel. Namely because he meant it, and also because he gave me faith that the beauty of the human spirit is still alive and kicking and it made me not want to drown myself in the bathtub.
"You know. Your mother has a lot of health problems. And she is so kind. She is so sweet and selfless. She is so happy through it all. And she reminds me so much of you in that aspect. And at this stage in her life, she requires help for a lot of the problems she goes through. And she is just like you in the way that she doesn't want to burden anyone or put anyone out by having to receive help for anything. And when I help your mother with things, just as I feel about helping you out with things, I don't look at it as a burden. Because of who you both are, I look at it as a privilege."
I say this with all honesty, I think going through everything that I have, with all of the frustrations and financial difficulties and trying to get myself back on the up and up again, I would do it all again 1,000 times over just to hear someone utter that paragraph again.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Roadarrhagia
I have this condition that is actually not very abnormal if you add up all of the instances you have encountered with the majority of the driving hoi polloi.
Medically, I believe the term is called Roadarrhagia. If you look up the suffix rrhagia, it means an abnormal or excessive flow or discharge. And while I am generally a very shy and soft spoken person (sober) in public, Roadarrhagia is what happens with my mouth once I get behind the wheel of a car and am forced to endure more than five minutes of completely and utterly imbecilic drivers.
I think riding with me operating a vehicle can go either way. It may be one of the most amusing or one of the most stressful experiences for a passenger. Because once something happens that triggers the Roadarrhagia,there is not much that can stop the flow of expletives and hand gestures coming from me, the volcano has erupted and what's been done cannot be undone.
It's like the Exorcist, sans all the vomiting and green skin. Sometimes I just cease to make sense, which can make this humorous; other times I start baiting other drivers, falling into the whole trap of being almost as equally senseless due to my Hulkmones taking over.
When I say Utah drivers are the worst, some people think I may be exaggerating. Granted, I haven't driven everywhere in the Universe, but I have been in traffic jams in Los Angeles that flow more smoothly than a freeway ride on a semi-desolate Utah freeway. People know that they have to work with each other in order to keep the traffic moving in L.A. Here, everyone looks at you as though you are the enemy and if you put your blinker on to get over, that means they need to get in your blind spot and sit there until you miss your exit.
One of my hugest pet peeves is a person who cannot for the life of me stay off my ass ie the tailgater. They just love to hump my car no matter how fast I may be going, or if GOD FORBID, I am going the speed limit. I do not know how anyone can comfortably drive behind someone that way without fear that they will start braking every minute. Or their mind may break.
Which, if they don't get off my ass I do. And then I go under the speed limit. Which then results in them trying to pass me, so I speed up with my middle finger out as they look at me. All the while I am yelling "How is my ass? Does my ass look good today is that why you are riding it??? Oh going to keep doing it huh? What happens if I brake? That's right I'm braking asshole, oh wait you want to pass me now? NOT GOING TO HAPPEN because whoops my foot just found the gas again!"
Sanity has no place in my driver's seat apparently. I have once even spouted the words, "You know, this is why I don't own a gun. Because I get why people jump out of their cars and shoot people on the road." It's pretty awful that I have once empathized with the above uttered sentiment.
I have cogitated over what pisses me off so much that I want to get out of my car at the red light me and the guy behind me honking at me and tailing me for the past five miles and throw my hot overpriced Latte in his face, trust me I hate wasting good coffee, and the conclusion was actually quite simple:
There are two things that really effect me in this world, and they are two of the least regulated things that I can think of.
It goes like this; someone can tell me where I can and cannot smoke cigarettes, how old I have to be when I start drinking, and I am forced to pay taxes every year and get raped by insurance companies (auto and health alike) yet when it comes to the matters where the most obtuse and reckless people manage to excel at, it is virtually not really regulated tightly.
That would be breeding and driving. Yeah if you get caught without your license, or you can get a ticket, or you get in an accident without insurance, or child services blah blah blah, but that never stops these people from doing things.
With transportation,suddenly my life, which I surprisingly enjoy having at this point in time, is in the hands of that fucktard on his cellphone, that texting child, that 956 year old whose grandkids aren't kind enough to take him to his doctor's appointment, and that Bro whose truck is waaaaay bigger than what he is trying to compensate for. And if one of those bozos, leading their life of bozoey existence, not a care in the world for anyone else's welfare ends up mowing me down on the way to get tampons, and I die in a fiery inferno getting tampons, probably listening to crunk, I am going to be fucking pissed.
I can picture my car upside down on the freeway with women's personal care health products scattered all around me lighting themselves off of the blaze like sparklers on the Fourth of July one by one while something like a J-Lo/Pitbull collaboration blasts out of the only working part left in my car, the speakers. I probably wouldn't be wearing cute underwear that day either. Of course not, I was on my way to get tampons, so that faded pair of Hello Kittys that I got 6 years ago would be stretching out of my skinny jeans as I lay splayed across the pavement.
And I am going to haunt the living hell out of whoever did that to me.
Of course we have the dude that can't use his blinker. That's my standard: "Only in America are people's fingers too fat and lazy to turn on a blinker!"
The dude who cuts me off. The start seeing motorcycles guy in flip flops, shorts, no helmet and a tank top who just can't seem to stop cutting through lanes, the Escalade driving soccer mom who has to do her makeup while driving so the coach thinks she is hot when she gets to the game, and the texting carful of teenagers listening to.....probably what I'm listening to.
The other day I yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING DICK & BALLS???" To someone who would not get out of my way. After screaming that, I said, "That's right, dick and balls you're the whole package buddy!"
The term "suck my egg sac" was invented when I realized how ludicrous I sounded yelling suck my dick since I don't have one.
Sometimes it is just a string of incoherent swear words mixed in with some made up new vocabulary. A sailor would be embarrassed to ride with me.
Not too long ago, I literally almost got into a fight coming home from the mall with another driver. Not one of my proudest moments, I will admit. But she really just managed to push all of the wrong buttons that day.
I was starving and completely hot and dehydrated when I was taking a route home from the mall. I looked in my rearview and some crazy bitch had pulled up behind me severely tailing me. She was so close I could see her screaming and shaking her fist while honking her horn.
She whipped into the hospital adjacent to me, and that is when I let go of my anger for a second. I assumed maybe it was an emergency.
Well it must have been an emergency all right. Someone must have informed her that all the McDonalds were closing down in ten minutes, because she was in a hurry to get somewhere. She had pulled into the hospital in order to cut me off.
I did not do this on purpose, but I happened to pass by right when she was trying to pull out which infuriated this woman beast even further and she started driving more erratically, and I started getting even more irritated by the moment.
We were in residential neighborhood land, and she attempted to pass me. That is when I put my middle finger up behind me, and proceeded to speed up, denying her efforts. I just held my finger there, and slowed down to a nice safe speed of 15 miles an hour.
I didn't make a new friend doing this. I went to turn right, and turns out she needed to as well, I sat there a good while, not turning even though there were plenty of gaps, and I turned around, looked her in the eyes and mouthed the word "Cunt." Then turned right.
Okay at this point I had made a murderer. She pulled up so close behind me, got up next to me honking and screaming and then cut me off, literally coming within an inch of hitting my car.
At got into the next lane, and what do you know? All that hurrying had put us at the same red light together. I supposed I should have just let it go at this point. I was so mad though. And shaking from hunger probably crazy from dehydration. So I unrolled my window, pointed and laughed and said, "Oh look who's at the same red light with me now????"
She drove off and pulled into a parking lot, and for a brief flash of insanity, I almost considered pulling in as well and confronting her. Somehow my need for food and beverage trumped my need to get into my first ever fight with someone who apparently had no regard whether or not she or I died that day, and I took off.
Probably lesson learned, but I doubt it.
Today driving, my iPod was kind enough to know what I wanted to hear while it shuffled, and while I had it blasting on the freeway singing out of the top of my lungs to the following:
The Beatles
Roxy Music
The Jam
The Kinks
Pete Townsend
The Pixies
Bust out your white sports jackets STEELY DAN!!!!
I actually had to stop and laugh at myself because I was singing, "Lovely Rita, meter maid, may I inquire discreetly, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET OFF MY ASS YOU FUCKING FUCKWAD GOD I HATE YOU GET THE FUCKING FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!!!!"
and then segue happily back into, "Rita! do do do do do do." This happened throughout all of these songs.
Sometimes I thank God for music in the car, as it is the only saving grace I have. Except for that once hiccup, albeit and enjoyable one, I know had that semi crashed into me today, it would have been during a SuperMash Brothers song.
Medically, I believe the term is called Roadarrhagia. If you look up the suffix rrhagia, it means an abnormal or excessive flow or discharge. And while I am generally a very shy and soft spoken person (sober) in public, Roadarrhagia is what happens with my mouth once I get behind the wheel of a car and am forced to endure more than five minutes of completely and utterly imbecilic drivers.
I think riding with me operating a vehicle can go either way. It may be one of the most amusing or one of the most stressful experiences for a passenger. Because once something happens that triggers the Roadarrhagia,there is not much that can stop the flow of expletives and hand gestures coming from me, the volcano has erupted and what's been done cannot be undone.
It's like the Exorcist, sans all the vomiting and green skin. Sometimes I just cease to make sense, which can make this humorous; other times I start baiting other drivers, falling into the whole trap of being almost as equally senseless due to my Hulkmones taking over.
When I say Utah drivers are the worst, some people think I may be exaggerating. Granted, I haven't driven everywhere in the Universe, but I have been in traffic jams in Los Angeles that flow more smoothly than a freeway ride on a semi-desolate Utah freeway. People know that they have to work with each other in order to keep the traffic moving in L.A. Here, everyone looks at you as though you are the enemy and if you put your blinker on to get over, that means they need to get in your blind spot and sit there until you miss your exit.
One of my hugest pet peeves is a person who cannot for the life of me stay off my ass ie the tailgater. They just love to hump my car no matter how fast I may be going, or if GOD FORBID, I am going the speed limit. I do not know how anyone can comfortably drive behind someone that way without fear that they will start braking every minute. Or their mind may break.
Which, if they don't get off my ass I do. And then I go under the speed limit. Which then results in them trying to pass me, so I speed up with my middle finger out as they look at me. All the while I am yelling "How is my ass? Does my ass look good today is that why you are riding it??? Oh going to keep doing it huh? What happens if I brake? That's right I'm braking asshole, oh wait you want to pass me now? NOT GOING TO HAPPEN because whoops my foot just found the gas again!"
Sanity has no place in my driver's seat apparently. I have once even spouted the words, "You know, this is why I don't own a gun. Because I get why people jump out of their cars and shoot people on the road." It's pretty awful that I have once empathized with the above uttered sentiment.
I have cogitated over what pisses me off so much that I want to get out of my car at the red light me and the guy behind me honking at me and tailing me for the past five miles and throw my hot overpriced Latte in his face, trust me I hate wasting good coffee, and the conclusion was actually quite simple:
There are two things that really effect me in this world, and they are two of the least regulated things that I can think of.
It goes like this; someone can tell me where I can and cannot smoke cigarettes, how old I have to be when I start drinking, and I am forced to pay taxes every year and get raped by insurance companies (auto and health alike) yet when it comes to the matters where the most obtuse and reckless people manage to excel at, it is virtually not really regulated tightly.
That would be breeding and driving. Yeah if you get caught without your license, or you can get a ticket, or you get in an accident without insurance, or child services blah blah blah, but that never stops these people from doing things.
With transportation,suddenly my life, which I surprisingly enjoy having at this point in time, is in the hands of that fucktard on his cellphone, that texting child, that 956 year old whose grandkids aren't kind enough to take him to his doctor's appointment, and that Bro whose truck is waaaaay bigger than what he is trying to compensate for. And if one of those bozos, leading their life of bozoey existence, not a care in the world for anyone else's welfare ends up mowing me down on the way to get tampons, and I die in a fiery inferno getting tampons, probably listening to crunk, I am going to be fucking pissed.
I can picture my car upside down on the freeway with women's personal care health products scattered all around me lighting themselves off of the blaze like sparklers on the Fourth of July one by one while something like a J-Lo/Pitbull collaboration blasts out of the only working part left in my car, the speakers. I probably wouldn't be wearing cute underwear that day either. Of course not, I was on my way to get tampons, so that faded pair of Hello Kittys that I got 6 years ago would be stretching out of my skinny jeans as I lay splayed across the pavement.
And I am going to haunt the living hell out of whoever did that to me.
Of course we have the dude that can't use his blinker. That's my standard: "Only in America are people's fingers too fat and lazy to turn on a blinker!"
The dude who cuts me off. The start seeing motorcycles guy in flip flops, shorts, no helmet and a tank top who just can't seem to stop cutting through lanes, the Escalade driving soccer mom who has to do her makeup while driving so the coach thinks she is hot when she gets to the game, and the texting carful of teenagers listening to.....probably what I'm listening to.
The other day I yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING DICK & BALLS???" To someone who would not get out of my way. After screaming that, I said, "That's right, dick and balls you're the whole package buddy!"
The term "suck my egg sac" was invented when I realized how ludicrous I sounded yelling suck my dick since I don't have one.
Sometimes it is just a string of incoherent swear words mixed in with some made up new vocabulary. A sailor would be embarrassed to ride with me.
Not too long ago, I literally almost got into a fight coming home from the mall with another driver. Not one of my proudest moments, I will admit. But she really just managed to push all of the wrong buttons that day.
I was starving and completely hot and dehydrated when I was taking a route home from the mall. I looked in my rearview and some crazy bitch had pulled up behind me severely tailing me. She was so close I could see her screaming and shaking her fist while honking her horn.
She whipped into the hospital adjacent to me, and that is when I let go of my anger for a second. I assumed maybe it was an emergency.
Well it must have been an emergency all right. Someone must have informed her that all the McDonalds were closing down in ten minutes, because she was in a hurry to get somewhere. She had pulled into the hospital in order to cut me off.
I did not do this on purpose, but I happened to pass by right when she was trying to pull out which infuriated this woman beast even further and she started driving more erratically, and I started getting even more irritated by the moment.
We were in residential neighborhood land, and she attempted to pass me. That is when I put my middle finger up behind me, and proceeded to speed up, denying her efforts. I just held my finger there, and slowed down to a nice safe speed of 15 miles an hour.
I didn't make a new friend doing this. I went to turn right, and turns out she needed to as well, I sat there a good while, not turning even though there were plenty of gaps, and I turned around, looked her in the eyes and mouthed the word "Cunt." Then turned right.
Okay at this point I had made a murderer. She pulled up so close behind me, got up next to me honking and screaming and then cut me off, literally coming within an inch of hitting my car.
At got into the next lane, and what do you know? All that hurrying had put us at the same red light together. I supposed I should have just let it go at this point. I was so mad though. And shaking from hunger probably crazy from dehydration. So I unrolled my window, pointed and laughed and said, "Oh look who's at the same red light with me now????"
She drove off and pulled into a parking lot, and for a brief flash of insanity, I almost considered pulling in as well and confronting her. Somehow my need for food and beverage trumped my need to get into my first ever fight with someone who apparently had no regard whether or not she or I died that day, and I took off.
Probably lesson learned, but I doubt it.
Today driving, my iPod was kind enough to know what I wanted to hear while it shuffled, and while I had it blasting on the freeway singing out of the top of my lungs to the following:
The Beatles
Roxy Music
The Jam
The Kinks
Pete Townsend
The Pixies
Bust out your white sports jackets STEELY DAN!!!!
I actually had to stop and laugh at myself because I was singing, "Lovely Rita, meter maid, may I inquire discreetly, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET OFF MY ASS YOU FUCKING FUCKWAD GOD I HATE YOU GET THE FUCKING FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!!!!"
and then segue happily back into, "Rita! do do do do do do." This happened throughout all of these songs.
Sometimes I thank God for music in the car, as it is the only saving grace I have. Except for that once hiccup, albeit and enjoyable one, I know had that semi crashed into me today, it would have been during a SuperMash Brothers song.
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Immunity
Note to all of your bodies: Never ever, ever, get an auto-immune thingie.
After spending all of those months ill as all of your sicknesses combined, I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt. Instead I am left with creditors calling me more than my friends, a negative bank account, and I am sitting here with mashed up lemon peels on each side of my temples in an attempt to alleviate this headache that is pounding itself into my head like a Nickeback song on repeat. I can only take Tylenol as all of the other pain guys hurt my stomach, and I hear Tylenol is bad on a sad liver, and I had some of the booze last night so since I GUESS I love my liver, I am reduced to trying natural remedies. (not working)
I went on an eBay marathon listing things like crazy last night, so I didn't crawl into slumberland til past 5:00 a.m., so while I was tired today, I was still doing pretty all right considering. I was ready to be the most productive person on the planet since Donald Trump, when out of nowhere I got a phone call from the unemployment office.
Why have I filed for unemployment? Because I was not well enough to return to work and I got canned from my fun job. Why didn't I just continue with my short-term disability? Well, because I have NO idea how lazy rednecks stay on disability forever, because it is actually harder to stay on than actually getting up and going to work. They basically bullied my Doctor into not wanting to send in any more paperwork. Thank GOD I am feeling physically on the up and up, and I will be your fat little friend again in no time, as I am stacking on a few pounds. But, since he would not send in the papers saying I was not well enough to return to work, next comes canned and then comes the unemployment filing, and then comes unemployment asking my Doctor to sign a release stating that I am well enough to work again.
Which in true Dominique's life form he did not. So now I am in Catch 22 land. Only in my world could I get fired for not having papers saying I am too sick only to not be able to file for unemployment and go through job services due to not having papers saying I am well enough to work again.
You know how angry I got right? You know how well I operate when I am angry right? I SHOWED THEM BY CRYING ON THE PHONE AND FOR THE NEXT TWO HOURS! Why do my eyes decide to rain on all the hos when I am pissed? If I can solve this mystery and make that not happen anymore, I would probably rule the universe, so there is probably a reason why this doesn't happen; the universe likes being safe and happy right now. This fault of mine has always led me to hiccup through a pile of snot and reddened eyes, "I'm not sad I'm MAD damnit!!!"
I am now left with my residual bawlbaby headache. But not all is lost. Back to the Future is on, and this movie brings back many fond memories. Namely learning all my first cuss words from it and getting my mouth washed out with soap due to said cuss words.
When I have days like this, I always say, "It's cool tomorrow will probably be totally awesome to make up for today." And then when tomorrow isn't, I just repeat that all over again pretending I didn't say it the day before. And there is always beer. And puppy cuddles. And a sweet truck I saw outside that somehow managed to trump my neighbors giant red truck that has the sticker on the back that says "Pimp Inside."
After spending all of those months ill as all of your sicknesses combined, I didn't even get a lousy t-shirt. Instead I am left with creditors calling me more than my friends, a negative bank account, and I am sitting here with mashed up lemon peels on each side of my temples in an attempt to alleviate this headache that is pounding itself into my head like a Nickeback song on repeat. I can only take Tylenol as all of the other pain guys hurt my stomach, and I hear Tylenol is bad on a sad liver, and I had some of the booze last night so since I GUESS I love my liver, I am reduced to trying natural remedies. (not working)
I went on an eBay marathon listing things like crazy last night, so I didn't crawl into slumberland til past 5:00 a.m., so while I was tired today, I was still doing pretty all right considering. I was ready to be the most productive person on the planet since Donald Trump, when out of nowhere I got a phone call from the unemployment office.
Why have I filed for unemployment? Because I was not well enough to return to work and I got canned from my fun job. Why didn't I just continue with my short-term disability? Well, because I have NO idea how lazy rednecks stay on disability forever, because it is actually harder to stay on than actually getting up and going to work. They basically bullied my Doctor into not wanting to send in any more paperwork. Thank GOD I am feeling physically on the up and up, and I will be your fat little friend again in no time, as I am stacking on a few pounds. But, since he would not send in the papers saying I was not well enough to return to work, next comes canned and then comes the unemployment filing, and then comes unemployment asking my Doctor to sign a release stating that I am well enough to work again.
Which in true Dominique's life form he did not. So now I am in Catch 22 land. Only in my world could I get fired for not having papers saying I am too sick only to not be able to file for unemployment and go through job services due to not having papers saying I am well enough to work again.
You know how angry I got right? You know how well I operate when I am angry right? I SHOWED THEM BY CRYING ON THE PHONE AND FOR THE NEXT TWO HOURS! Why do my eyes decide to rain on all the hos when I am pissed? If I can solve this mystery and make that not happen anymore, I would probably rule the universe, so there is probably a reason why this doesn't happen; the universe likes being safe and happy right now. This fault of mine has always led me to hiccup through a pile of snot and reddened eyes, "I'm not sad I'm MAD damnit!!!"
I am now left with my residual bawlbaby headache. But not all is lost. Back to the Future is on, and this movie brings back many fond memories. Namely learning all my first cuss words from it and getting my mouth washed out with soap due to said cuss words.
When I have days like this, I always say, "It's cool tomorrow will probably be totally awesome to make up for today." And then when tomorrow isn't, I just repeat that all over again pretending I didn't say it the day before. And there is always beer. And puppy cuddles. And a sweet truck I saw outside that somehow managed to trump my neighbors giant red truck that has the sticker on the back that says "Pimp Inside."
Monday, August 08, 2011
Hipster=MeAsQuare
Now that I think about my general aura that I exude to others (my dogs mainly I'm sure) I have come to the conclusion that I could have accidentally molded myself into a hipster without necessarily attempting to. I have compiled some of the evidence and will list it for you below.
1. Skinny jeans. The tighter they are, the better. I spent a good portion of whenever these things came into style making fun of them once I heard the term, "jeggings." Now if it comes with a zipper on it, I don't want it. This is due to the fact that I have a tendency *by tendency, see ALWAYS, to forget to zip my fly up. It's a good thing I don't have a dick, I would have been arrested at least 5,685 times by now for flashing people at local shopperies. In addition, all that junk I had up in my trunk, went on vacation. I don't know if it is old age, or losing all that sick weight, but I have no officially become your local plumber crack. So I had to get really tight pants that would not sag off my new lackluster of a bottom. I'm short. Not 2Short, I wish, he is awesome, but all jeans are seem to be made for this femmebot that has gotten off of planet tall, skinny, and hot, and they really don't fit this little hobbit body of mine. Jeggings tend to run short. My only beef with them is, why are they too fucking lazy to put front pockets on them??? I don't like jamming change or a lighter into my back pocket. You sit down and damn near accidentally get raped by inanimate objects.
2. PBR. Look. I don't want to pull the whole, "I WAS BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BEFORE THEY WERE" card. But I have to. I was drinking PBR BEFORE THEY WERE DAMNIT!!! I was drinking it, because i liked cheap shitty beer. Because I was poor. Because I always drank Bud Light and PBR because I wanted my beer to taste like carbonated water and my hangover to feel like a trailer park and my mouth to taste like the inside of one of Bret Michael's bandanas after a concert. After "they" started drinking it, the prices slowly crept upward, and suddenly PBR was no longer a viable drinking option for me. I have since rebelled & did a 180 and started to enjoy dark beer out of nowhere that is probably going to throw me into bankruptcy. Still, I cannot resist the sweet siren song of a PBR floating my way, and if I see one, you but I am going to lovingly cup that can and whisper, "Baby, I drink you dry because I love you."
3. Ripped clothing, stains on clothing, dirty hair, smeared makeup. Yup. My jeans get holes and stains in them. So do my shirts. And I keep wearing them after that, because it is always my favorite rock shirt or most beloved pair of jeans that gets that hole in the knee. How does this happen? you may be asking yourself. Did you take scissors and cut the whole in the knee of those jeans? Did you spill beer on that rock t-shirt at your favorite Indie rock concert? Nope. I am a klutz and a slob. I should just combine the words and we will say that I am a Klob. Jeans have been ripped by running drunkenly and getting caught on rosebushes, shirts are stained because I am a magnet for people dumping beer on me at shows, and because at some point in my life I was never taught where my mouth was when it came time to eat. Today, I found ranch underneath the armpit part of my shirt. I was eating french fries, and dipping them in ranch. I FOUND RANCH UNDERNEATH THE ARMPIT PART OF MY SHIRT. How does my food make it to these places? I have found food in my hair, down the front of my shirts, so many times on my crotch that I have started a list of "Things you shouldn't spill on your crotch lest someone mistake it for something completely and utterly different" that I am starting to wonder if I need a big and a high chair when I eat. I cannot even list the amount of times I have eagerly gone to take a nice hearty swallow of a beverage, and I somehow end up drooling it down my shirt like my mouth just had a stroke.
Well my hair, say whatever the hell you want. I can't afford a haircut, it gets thick, and I hate washing it all of the time. Besides, it's not healthy to wash your hurrr every day so technically mine probably stays healthier than yours. It may not look better, but underneath all this dirt and grime and grease is shining Sleeping Beauty hair, there has to be! I grew it out long again too so what does that mean? Oh ponytail, thank you for taking over my life.
4. Giant sunglasses: I wear giant sunglasses at night or during the day, due to the fact that I feel as though I have a very giantly disproportionate head. I can't look all cool in tiny RayBans like the rest of you populated awesome people out there, and well, I just don't look good in sunglasses generally unless they are filling out the rest if this jack o lantern that we call a face.
5. Tattoos: Fuck you, I got tattoos. And got most of them when I was a youngster. And really wasn't thinking about all of you douchebags when I got that free you can practice on me konji on my neck.
6. Greasy as all get out food. It's really all I can afford.
7. I cut myself: It's true. I do. I cut myself with knives. I cut myself with razors. I even cut myself with bottle openers. Not even those surface wussy I am just going to do it to see what happens cut. But deep within the realm I am going to leave unattractive scars all over your body kind of cuts. But this is not to see if I can still Trent Reznor feel pain. This was more along the lines of I cannot cut fruit, open a beer, or even shave my legs correctly. Proof in picture earlier tonight as I bathed and sliced a fresh new chunk off my leg and yelled OH FUCK OUCH WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK??? And then had to place 4 Toy Story Bandaids atop it. As I am fully aware than I can still feel pain, yet apparently I am not old enough to operate a razor.
So basically what it boils down to, is that I have all of the amazing attributes to be a full-blooded hipster, but I am far to spazzy to fit into this population that would most definitely not accept me if I explained all of the above to them.
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