RSS Feed
Apr 9

Can someone please explain Christians to me?

Posted on Tuesday, April 9, 2013 in Legitimate concerns

I would really love to have the opportunity to talk with a Christian and ask them honest questions about why they believe the things they do, without the conversation ending with everyone involved leaving pissed. In every attempt of having a conversation with a Christian (even with really nice, smart, true Christians), I’ve only ever encountered two things: being on the wrong end of a high-pressure sales pitch or upsetting the said Christian with my honest-to-God-honest questions. I’d like to ask some of them how they can call themselves Christians, yet not help the needy, and love everyone unconditionally. Isn’t that one of the big components of Christianity? How can a Christian be a Republican? Those are two conflicting ways of thinking, technically, yet they seem to go hand in hand so easily. I have a lot of questions that I would like answered, but can’t find someone knowledgeable enough to have an intelligent conversation without the drama of them being offended that I really don’t know about it and would like to know. I don’t know what’s wrong or right, and I certainly don’t want to be preached to.

A few years ago, I reconnected with an old high school friend, who is a perfect example of why I am so perplexed. This friend had always been high-drama, selfish, self-centered. And according to her, when we reconnected, she had “found God” and acknowledged her personal flaws and had made a conscious effort to change them (and succeeded–apparently it isn’t a lifelong struggle to be worthy of God’s love, you just have to say some magic words, or tell a few people that you’ve been reborn or something). But I didn’t see any sign of this actually being true. In high school, she used people, lied to them, treated those who cared about her awfully and was pushy and constantly judgmental. You know, the kinds of friend you feel pressured to lie to, because you simply cant’t stand the judging glare, which looking back now, I realize was just envy and fear. She expected the world to drop what they were doing when she needed them, but didn’t stop to think how others were doing and how they could use help. She threw actual tantrums when things weren’t going exactly as planned. Now, as an adult, and a born again Christian she is divorced once, with two kids from two different fathers, she hides her car from the repo man, sleeps with any man who looks at her twice, obsesses over men–to the point of stacking her whole worth on whether a man will have sex with her or not. She gives her children cough syrup and leaves them in the basement that she is currently living in, alone and drugged. She’s had two DUI’s that she was lucky didn’t kill her or worse, her children or someone else. And she still doesn’t ask about me, my life, how things are going. Instead, she assumes that things are awful and that I need to be “saved”. I only ever saw her less than a handful of times, after realizing that she was the same toxic person she’d always been, only worse. Each time, I heard the same schtick about how God saved her, and loves her, and how I need God in my life to “make things better” (? Yeah, things haven’t been perfect, but I don’t abuse my friends and drug my kids and I feel pretty good about the direction life is going for me). On the surface, I did notice some changes. She smiled constantly. Even when people normally wouldn’t (Like when someone is telling you to go fuck yourself, I personally wouldn’t be smiling), she’d paste this transparent smile on her lips and a glazed over expression in her eyes. She would go out of her way to say glowing things about the mass church she was attending, always recruiting. Always. She said she felt that it was her duty to become an Evangelist for her church, whatever that means (because, as I mentioned above–I really am not sure what that means….I would guess it means someone who is akin to a spokesperson or recruiting officer for the church, but I don’t really know). She even went so far as to stalk me at the hotel I was staying at, dragging me to what was basically a rip-off of Hooters, and giving me a wrapped copy of a book that was basically “Christianity and God for Dummies”.

On the inside, she was the same hateful, spiteful, toxic person she’d always been and I suspect she always will be. It really grates my nerves that she thinks she is superior to me because she goes to church every Sunday and pretends to be this good person, but doesn’t actually bring any good into the world. I was not raised in a particular religion and no one in my family, for at least three generations, has been strongly religious, so my experience is understandably limited. But I do know what it means to be a good friend, a good parent, a good daughter, granddaughter, a good person in general. I don’t lie to people, I try not to hurt people needlessly, I work hard, I don’t expect the world to bend to my will, I don’t put myself above all others at all times, and I certainly don’t parade around behind some pretense that I am a better person because I go to church.

I need to make a distinction here, for any Christians that may just stumble upon this random personal anonymous blog: I don’t not hate Christians, nor do I judge them for believing as they do. I merely have questions I’d like to ask, so that I can better understand their point of view. Maybe the reason fear surfaces so much in these conversations is that they don’t have the answers either? Or maybe they aren’t sure enough in their faith to stand firmly by it and explain it to someone who is completely without religious experience or knowledge.

Mar 31

Back, and stronger than ever.

Posted on Saturday, March 31, 2012 in That's the spot.

overloaded-car

We're moving cross country like these guys (with bigger cars and less turbans), but with the help from Earl.

We’re moving across country in 7 weeks, and I the hubs and I can’t wait! I have enjoyed living close to some of my family and my husband’s family, but it’s time to just go do what’s right for us regardless of the opinions our moms, dads, sisters, brothers and friends might have about it. Hasta la vista dry desert wind and dust. We’re going to the ocean to dip our feet in the saltwater and sand. To read books in the sun and listen to seagulls. To meet like-minded people who shower and take care of themselves (and aren’t judgmental!). To listen to rain and thunderstorms and enjoy all of the benefits of living seaside for a while. I believe it will suit us better than living in the West ever did. We are both ready to leave behind a lot of memories that just weigh us down–whether it be personal, family-related drama, lost loved ones….. Neither of us is perfect and we’ve both made mistakes that have set our relationship back in a lot of ways, but we’re making huge progress towards becoming the people we each want to be individually and as a united couple.

Making bad decisions is easy. Not just easy, but almost preferable. Being a good person, and a good husband or wife, is a lot of work. When my husband and I said “I Do” we had no idea what that meant and even if we really “did”. But, taking all romance and attraction out of it, we are a good team. We’re friends. We are learning each other and letting each other be who we are. It feels good to know that even though we are human and will make mistakes and there will be stumbles and hard times, we’ll deal with these problems as a team. It took one ugly ex-girlfriend, a whole lotta of lies, tears, fights and counseling to get on the path we’re on, but now that we’re on it there’s no stopping this train.

I know that I am a strong individual, and whatever happens, I’ll come out on top–in whatever way that was intended for me. Don’t misunderstand me–I love the life I’m living now. But if tomorrow it all falls apart, I know that I can take my dog, get in my car, and start new and there’s a whole world of adventure out there. I’m a bright, capable young lady who doesn’t need to worry about making it because it will just happen.

Jul 16

Dumping a load

Posted on Saturday, July 16, 2011 in arbitrary nonsense

Some things that are currently vexing me:

  • Sirens in songs that play on the fucking radio.. hello, that’s just stupid, if it scares the shit out of me, just think what it could do to an old person who already doesn’t remember that they’re driving a car
  • Assholes on the bike path who think they own the path. I’d like to spit in one woman’s hair in particular, just for being a stupid bitch–biking is great fun and a wonderful way to get exercise, but man, bicyclists as a group are comprised of some of the douchiest douche bags to ever walk the planet
  • Women who mess around with married men.  I don’t care if you dated him before he got married–it obviously didn’t work out for a reason, so move the fuck on with your life already.  I sincerely hope you can find someone to love your damaged, rotten face before you I move you along myself
  • Friends who didn’t remember my birthday.  Ok, I’ll make a mental note to cross you off of MY birthday list for next year
  • Our $400 water bill…WTF?  We must be filling someone’s swimming pool, daily
  • my neighbor’s dog who won’t shut the fuck up
  • teenaged girls who act like sluts–don’t they realize that they are still children and should cash in on that while they still can?
  • dog hair, endless dog hair
  • I really wish someone would wire Michelle Bachmann’s trap shut, and maybe forget to feed & water her for awhile
  • Men who say “pussy”, grow the fuck up already — if you were getting some, you wouldn’t take about it like that with your loser-ass friends
  • Men over 55 who say “pussy” on the radio, yeah, Jay Thomas, I’m talking to you
  • Christians who act like they are perfect and all forgiving, but then act like total bitches the second they don’t get their way, or encounter someone who doesn’t agree with their jesus crap.  This in particular is annoying to me because I have an ex-friend who hides behind religion to make people believe that she is a decent human being, but the truth is, she is the worst of the worst and I hope she gets what she deserves someday, I really do. I hope when she dies and goes to heaven, she gets turned away at the gates. In other words, burn in hell, bitch.

Boredom is killing me these days, if you couldn’t tell. But I’m feeling much better now.

Jul 9

I fucking love Breaking Bad

Posted on Saturday, July 9, 2011 in That's the spot.

1567_breaking_bad_468Have any of you seen the show ‘Breaking Bad’?  If not, I suggest you get right on that.  To quickly summarize, it’s about a high school science teacher who has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer and as such decides that in order to leave his pregnant wife and teenaged-son with cerebral palsy in a good financial condition when he’s passed, it would be a good idea to hook up with a former student of his to begin cooking and selling meth. Understandably, all kinds of lies, mess and chaos follow.

walter-white-breaking-badThe main character, Walter White, is played by Brian Cranston and he’s the kind of guy that you really want to like but eventually love to hate. Perfect for the role because you can easily like him one second and hate him the next.  His breaking-bad-jessecohort, Jesse Pinkman, played by Canadian actor, Aaron Paul is just downright hi-larious.  Excitable and operating in an often meth-induced paranoia, he provides endless comedic relief to an otherwise heavy plot.  Other characters include Hank, Walter’s bro-in-law who is a badass DEA agent (which makes for some interesting conflicts and near-misses), Skylar, Walt’s suspicious, level-headed and morally superior pregnant wife, Marie- Skylar’s self-centered, blunt-speaking sister who is married to Hank and is currently in counseling for being a klepto, despite being a fairly successful doctor. And let’s not forget Walter Jr., Walt & Skylar’s son, who seems to be the most well-adjusted and good-natured character among the group.

Some pretty serious shit goes down in this show, so I wouldn’t recommend it for your little impressionables, but it’s really worth a look.  Bonus, it’s shot in and around the Albuquerque area, which is cool for local Burque turkeys since many of the locations are recognizable.

Long story short, the show is badass and I highly recommend it. Two thumbs up or whatever they say. Hell yeah.

New & 3rd season starts July 17 on Showtime, reruns of 1st and 2nd seasons on AMC.

Jun 25

Jennifer Aniston: Is it just me?

Posted on Saturday, June 25, 2011 in Legitimate concerns

I just wish I could catch a man!

I am funny, I am! I am!

In what could possibly turn out to be Nosebean’s shortest post, can I just say that I hate Jennifer Aniston?  I don’t understand where her popularity stems from.  She can’t act and she’s dog ugly. She has pretty hair….but that’s about it.  As far as I’m concerned, she’s an aging, washed-up television actress, who has only lasted in the media for as long as she has because she was once married to Brad Pitt (and even though he’s a weird dog, at least he can act).  I really wish she would just meet a guy and disappear, but given her string of failed relationships, it doesn’t seem likely. You see, when you snatch a guy from someone else, that means he’s “snatchable” and can only end in heartbreak and desertion.

One can only hope that in 10-15 years, we aren’t watching her play grandma roles. Jennifer Aniston, gets two thumbs down from me, sorry honey.

Jun 2

What Facebook is NOT…

Posted on Thursday, June 2, 2011 in Legitimate concerns

The time has come.  There is now a need for what I call Facebook Etiquette, so listen up, assholes.facebook

Facebook is….

  • NOT a place to embarrass yourselves and your elementary school teachers by displaying your pitiful spelling and grammar skills
  • NOT a place to advertise “your goodies”, aka, photos of your tits, ass or your muffin-top
  • NOT a place to post wedding photos of a wedding you attended, BEFORE either the bride or groom does
  • NOT a place to constantly bitch about your life and the people in it
  • NOT a place to make other people feel like crap
  • NOT a place to force Jesus down others’ throats, not everyone wants a daily dose of “God Wants You To Know”. Hard to believe, I know.
  • NOT a place for parents and children to be friends with each other or each others’ friends, it’s just weird and the potential for invasion of privacy is just too great, and there’s just no easy way to explain to your friends why your 14 year-old daughter is posting inappropriate photos of herself and her boyfriend in compromising positions at your home (actually, your friends may already suspect that you’re an awful parent, this just confirms it)
  • NOT a place to dispense parenting advice (there are lots of parenting forums, so visit and contribute there)
  • NOT the place to ‘LIKE’ anything and everything your friends post, instead of actually involving yourself in maintaining the friendship by inquiring about their lives (this one will be hard because more than likely, you believe that everyone on your friends list is waiting anxiously for an update on your love life)

exclamation-mark-150x150And most important, if you can’t follow ANY of the above rules, try to at least follow the next rule: Facebook is NOT a place to inform family members or close dear friends of a death in the family or death of a beloved pet PERIOD–not EVER is this ok. It’s shocking and horrible to learn of a loved ones’ death, and to read it on Facebook is an absolute insult on top of the pain and grief.  If you can’t take 30 seconds to send an email or better yet, call KNOW THIS:  you are useless and everyone privately hates you.

Dec 19

Since when do I have nothing in common with a 21 year old?

Posted on Sunday, December 19, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

Crikey. On Thanksgiving, my brother informed myself and various other family members that he got his girlfriend pregnant. Shocking, no? Ok, let me phrase it this way: On Thanksgiving, my 33 year-old brother informed myself and various other family members that he got his 21 year-old girlfriend that none of us have ever met in the whole 3 months they’ve been together pregnant. And that they were going to get married. To quote my brother, “She’s the one” (To quote my mother, “Look at a 21 year-old for too long, and she’ll end up pregnant”). Naturally, I’m excited and jealous, both, simultaneously. Excited because I never thought the day would come when my brother would have to grow up and be a man. Having a wife and kids was only mentioned in the same sentence as my brother’s name when jokes were being made. This was exciting. I was going to be an auntie! Nice. Jealous because I want to have a baby. My husband and I have been trying for awhile now, with no success. The jealousy quickly passed, and gave way to only extreme elated-ness, just as it should be. I started thinking of my brother being a daddy. How very wonderful.

Fast forward to now, present day. It’s a week before Christmas. My brother and his fiance have been married since Thursday (as in a few days ago Thursday). His now wife, lost the baby two days before that. It’s been a hell of a lot of ups and downs in this past week and I’ll admit there have been quite a few tears (for losing the baby, and not being able to attend my big brother’s wedding). But that’s behind us now, everyone seems settled, happy, and ready to celebrate Christmas. I’m now faced with the challenge of purchasing a Christmas gift for my sister-in-law, whom I’ve never laid eyes on or even spoken to. In fact, only yesterday did I see a photo of her for the first time (the wedding portraits, of course). Not only am I purchasing a gift for someone I’ve never met, but I’m attempting to buy a present for someone who was not that long ago a teenager. Again, I exclaim “Crikey!”. Thinking smart, I ask my brother what his wife might like. He says she needs a sweater. Something to keep her warm. And she likes pink. Ok, this I can do–no problem. Yesterday, while shopping, I have the foresight to snap a picture of the sweater I had planned on purchasing and sending it to my brother, asking for his approval. That was a big fat negative, I believe his words were “She would never wear that.” I had picked out a pretty reddish/pink long sweater with big buttons and a belt. I imagined it would look great on her, knowing what I knew of her physical appearance. Strike 1. I pick out a heather gray cowl-neck sweater, snap another shot, and send it off. Strike 2. Ok, a pinker-than-pink ribbed sweater, plain, but pretty. Stttteeeeerriiiike 3, you’re outta here. At this point, I make the call. “Brother, where does she shop?”, I ask. His reply was shocking and inconceivable to me: “Um, she really likes Pac Sun and some store with the number 21 in the name….I mean….she’s a kid…..well, not a kid…but you know what I mean….”. Yeah. I knew what he meant. Screw it, I had my husband pick up a $50.00 gift certificate to Pac Sun while I waited in the car and drove around until he came out because we couldn’t find a parking spot. I have to laugh, because upon his return to the car, he says “Those aren’t our people, honey”. No shit. I felt kind of bad that I was now so old that I couldn’t relate to a 21 year-old well enough to know that “duh, Pac Sun is THE place to get clothes”. So old that I had written Pac Sun off as a silly store for teenagers, filled to the brim with sunglasses and ugly shirts. I’m 30. That’s not really that old. And I guess I have to honest that never in my life would I have ever considered buying any of my daily attire at a store like Pac Sun or Rue 21. The problem I have with my sister-in-law shopping at these stores is not that they are her preference and she likes them, that’s her style–that’s fine. It’s that her shopping at these stores mean that not only do we currently not have anything in common–we NEVER would have, not even when I was 21, because when I was 21, I still was never THAT young. I’ll hold off on assuming too much before I ever even meet her in the flesh, but this situation does make me a little nervous.

I am happy, though. For the both of them. I hope they have a nice long life together, I hope they have lots of babies, and laughter and happiness.  And I can’t wait to meet her!

Sep 23

Toot it & boot it by YG lyrics

Posted on Thursday, September 23, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

yg

Why would anyone want to sleep with this presumed woman-hater? Come on, ladies, get some self respect!

Any woman who likes this song should be tried for treason and be forced to walk the plank straight into the icy waters of the Bering Sea. Let’s take a looky here, shall we? (please note, I copy & pasted this nonsense, so I can’t take credit for the typos, unfortunately)

(chorus)
I met her in the club
then I said wassup    (this alone would get me hot and ready from the get-go, of course, just like any woman, but it gets better, oh so better)
I took her to the crib
and you know I fucked
yea toot it and boot it  (WTF? Since when is ‘toot’ another word for sex? I thought only small children and older women referred to their farts like this..?)
toot it and boot it
toot it and boot it
thats why I toot and boot it (What is why you toot it and boot it? I didn’t see a reason in there…because you asked her a rhetorical question?)

(x2)
She think im cute, she wanna have Sex (cute? not really…  stuipd? Hell yes)
girl knock it off you know you cant have this (Oh, but she will…)

(Verse)
and she told me run that, i told her run it
and she never seen a chick until she met my magic stick (Magic? Not likely, more like infested filthy and probably limp dick.)
yo im a pimp bitch straight game never no sippin (what, now pimps can’t sip?)
And after we did it she was walking with a limp
bust it open leave it wet you know i leave it soakin (at least this makes sense, good job YG. Your 2 years of high school really paid off here.)
who next I don’t ever close, I stay open (oh, so that’s what a manwhore looks like–like YG)
i met her in the club, you know i was drunk
i asked her name and then i said i wanna fuck (this all sounds just so terribly romantic)
and im YG and you know I fucked (Yourself, later, after you puked on  yourself and maybe your dog, too)
and she fucked back like a little slut
and she fell in love ya
and she felt stupid cuz you know (so this is where it obviously surpasses just ok lyric writing..this shit is shooting for the stars, and almost reaching them)
i toot it and boot it

(Verse2)
girl let me toot that boot that stop actin stupid
acting like you dont know me like who that (Unfortunately, YG, until you have your own Wikipedia page, you don’t exist.)
walked in the club but ill fly things
im in the back girl you know where to find me
and I love how she think im cute
and she dont even wanna tell me what she wanna do
its me and my crew her and her friends
and they all trying to leave with us when the club ends
and she toot it from the back and you know she made it clap (this visual could be considered offensive if it wasn’t so goddamn funny to think of.)
and you know I run it back like (like what, YG? **Sigh**)
only for one night and she know im on like a switch on light
hey girl I can have you feelin right
I can supply the pipe (more like a pipecleaner–you know, the fuzzy wire things you make crafts with in the 1st grade?)
just make sure its tight
we can do it all day only for one night (this sounds like a daily special…)
and after that you gotta go (oh, man, if I was stupid enough to fall for all of this, I would want to forget it as soon as possible)

(Verse3)
i toot it to the left i toot it to the right (you put your left foot in, you put your left foot out….that’s how it goes, right?)
fuck with me we gonna do it all night (wow, how lucky can one girl get?)
i seen a bad bitch i swing my hat back (‘I seen’ a loser who would probably be homeless if today’s music industry wasn’t so morally bankrupt)
and after i hit its on my back
cuz i toot it and boot it
and made her feel stupid (wow, how terribly modern this admission is…)

One would think that all of these intellectual lyrics couldn’t be further improved upon, but their sloppy, lazy, slurred delivery by YG really cream my corn. Oh yeah, baby.

The next time I have the flu, I’m going to puke into a freezer bag and mail it to YG.

Sep 1

I’m pretty sure…

Posted on Wednesday, September 1, 2010 in That's the spot.

After a quick glance at the analytics for this blog last night (analytics is so very cool, it lets me know when people are looking at my site, and from almost exactly where), I’m fairly certain that the female accomplice to my husband’s successful attempts to stomp my heart to a standstill emailed me yesterday, politely posing as someone else, asking me to remove her name from my blog. While, at first, being a trusting human being who is working hard everyday to rediscover my faith in the human race’s ability to be good, do good, I not only removed the name, but all blogs associated with the whole mess assuming I had unknowingly slandered someone else’s innocent name. I then apologized in an email to this person. I didn’t even bother with the analytics, until speaking with my husband, who insisted that it had to be her, and that he wanted to write her a nasty email (yeah, go figure that one out–like he has ANY room to sling curse words at anyone, other than his own reflection in the mirror) because after lengthy (and expensive) counseling both together and separately, we’ve really made some progress towards healing (notice I said ‘towards’–not that we’d arrived at healing–because we haven’t) and now, in his words “this cunt-whore bitch appears to rip shit up again”. Ok. True, I could have done without the reminder of how shitty our first year of marriage was (moving, leaving my fulfilling job to be a thumb twiddlin’ housewife, a violent death that left a pretty big hole in the family and the devastating healing process that follows that, going to twice-a-week counseling to get my anxiety and insecurity under control so that my already lying husband wouldn’t take it the next step further and physically cheat on me….and then this). I also could have done without his CHOICE to hide things from me. I could have used a man with balls who hasn’t been brow-beaten by his mother and a long string of loser girlfriends who seemed to believe that their sole purpose in their relationship with him was to make him feel like shit. Ok, he’s knock-kneed…yeah…but…he’s tall and wraps his arms completely around me and makes me feel hugged from the inside out. Ok, he chews with his mouth open–so does my brother, dad, male friends…any dude with a dong, basically. He’s also brilliant–he can read anything and then do it. He has an amazing ability to sense when I am frustrated and lend a hand. He lies. To himself most of all and to others, to protect himself from rejection and conflict. No reason to make him feel like shit about the things that make him who he is and the things he’s dealing with at this point in his life. And it sucks now that we two damaged people managed to meet, fall in love, get married with the hopes of being happy only to discover that we’ve both been severely handicapped by the people who have been inflicted upon us thus far. But, all that being said: He fucked up. It was him. This girl owes/owed me no loyalty, we were not friends, certainly not married. So after laying awake for a few minutes last night, thinking about the situation as it is now, and I guess you could say I ain’t mad at her. She was just doing what she does–she did what she wanted to do with what she was presented with. Maybe she needed a little ego-stroking like he did. No need for the name-calling. I have called her a few things myself–but the disappointment lies squarely on my husband and believe me, he’s been called every name I can conceivably think of–to his face. It is true that she knew that he was married, and based on the fact that he was using a fake name for his email, being the smart cookie that she is, had to have known he was hiding her (and another “Friend”) from me, and at least the other friend had the decency to back off and stay out of it. So, yeah, she could have taken the high road, but the fact that she didn’t doesn’t surprise me. Lots of people think marriage is a joke or temporary.  I don’t happen to be one of them, but it’s really not my place to judge those who do.

It may be hard to believe, but this situation is just one in a long line of disappointments that have sprung from our relationship dating back to the very beginning of our time, and it’s kinda really the least troubling. We both have some serious scars to work through, and as far as I know, we are doing that now. I hope it works out. Either way, I’ll come out on top. I’m smart, capable, have a fantastic family to fall back on whenever I need them, and good friends who support me without judging me, or judging my husband through all of his mistakes. My husband is weak, but everyone is weak at some point or another to varying degrees. And having stood by his side through a lot worse shit than this, I guess I can stick around a little longer to see where we end up.

I am a little confused though, why she pretended to be someone else..had she emailed and said “Please take my name off your blog, you whiny bitch” I would have done the same thing, partially because I need to move past that time, and partially because I understand where she’s coming from, sortof, and partially because she said ‘please’. It would have been nice to at least be leveled with. I follow the “own your shit” camp, but it’s definitely not for everyone.

Jul 11

I still hate Twilight and I’m not sorry.

Posted on Sunday, July 11, 2010 in Someone please pay me to bitch.

So I recently turned 30 years old, and in honor of my birthday (or so I thought at the time), a friend I haven’t seen in many years whom I’d reconnected with on Facebook, flew out from Chicago to visit. I had been really looking forward to her visit, as I have not made many new friends yet in our new town and was feeling lonely and unable to be with family, this visit appeared to be, on the surface, a real treat. My husband was excited that I was excited and we were both really looking forward to her company, me because I needed a female friend, he because he needed me to get the fuck out of his face for five minutes. As the day of her arrival approached, I made various plans about what we would do, what it would be like, etc…basically setting my expectations maybe slightly higher than they should have been, based on the simple fact that I hadn’t seen this woman for over 8 years. I worked hard at cleaning the house and creating a nice atmosphere for my dear old high school buddy. I even bought her a little gift that I had been eyeing with her in mind, wrapped it nicely and wrote out a little note of appreciation of her visit.

The big day arrives. Her flight doesn’t arrive until 9pm, so I have all day to be excited and anxious. At no time in that whole day did I rethink over the past 16 years of knowing her–all of the times she let me down, walked all over me, demanded things of me that no friend has any right to demand of family, let alone a friend, treated me and others around us like expendable characters in her never-ending, completely self-involved “All Melissa, all of the time” show in her mind. Come to think of it now, I am comfortable saying that I hated the bitch. I hated the bitch so much that when I flew back to Chicago to shoot one of our mutual friend’s wedding, I avoided her like the plague and immediately lost the phone number she passed to me through a guest at the wedding via my boyfriend (who is now my husband). I hated that bitch so much that even though I’d heard that she’d been divorced and had two kids and had plenty of life-changing experiences, I had no interest in reigniting our friendship. Not once did I think any of this (had I, I might have just told my husband to turn the car around, let’s save our time and money, honey!).

My husband drops me at the arrivals gate, so I can run in and find Melissa, while he loops the parking areas so we don’t have to pay for parking–(hey, airport parking is a total bitch and complete waste of time under all circumstances). I walk through the doors to see my friend, waving frantically, moving at me at a slow shuffle run. Words like “I’ve missed you so much! I can’t believe I’m here” were aplenty. O.K. so far, so good. We go to look for her bag that is just coming off the conveyor belt, and before I know it, I’ve been snapped into a horrible photo opp of her and I–me in my pajama’s practically, not really at all prepared for photos–and before I know it, it’s been announced to the whole world via Facebook that she and I have reunited and that I now look like an middle-aged lady with horrible (or no) style, a tired face and, as was so eloquently pointed out to me in a repeated & louder than hell fashion–I, gasp!, have GRAY HAIR. Forget about the fact that the whole baggage claim area is going to need chiropractic assistance after craning to see my shout-worthy GRAY HAIR, forget that one of the worst pictures in existence is now floating around on the world wide web….it’s great, right? It’s fine! This is a wonderful reunion that I couldn’t wait for…..right.

My husband swoops in as we exit the airport, and I am relieved to just be near him again—NORMALCY…someone safe, someone who denies my gray hairs, no matter how many times I point them out in every type of light possible…anyways, needless to say, the meeting of these two worlds, the world of my past and the world of my future, did not go so well…

As we head toward the airport exit, my husband and I try to make awkward conversation with someone who has their nose completely buried in their cellphone–texting someone–anyone. I felt like the square parents with their nasty teenaged sourpuss of a kid in the backseat. This incessant texting was to become a pattern throughout the trip. It became such a huge annoyance to my husband that he started texting me anytime she was texting other people so that we could talk to each other and ignore her back (no, we’re not in 5th grade anymore, but it sure does feel like it…!). She would go into a texting coma several times over the next couple of hours and days. I can only imagine the texts were a mixture of “OMG, LMFAO, she has gray hair!”, “OMG LMFAO, I’m in New Mexico!”,” OMG LMFAO, I miss you so much, I can’t wait to get home, LOL, TTYL,”….OMG, LMFAO, I’m pathetic!” Ok, so that last one would never cross her mind, let alone fly out of her fingers onto her keypad, but hey, whatever, it’s my story, so it stays.

We get home, I tried to point out a couple of times where she might find the Sandia Mountains, and various landmarks along the way..all answered by some variation of the words “uh huh, hmmm and ok”. (At this point, my hopes have fallen quite a bit, and I’m contemplating throwing her phone out the window on I-25) When we get home, my husband sets off blowing up her inflatable mattress while I try to talk with her about what the week will bring and how much we have to catch up on…everyone is pretty tired by this point, so we all dress in our pjs, my husband takes off to read for a bit in bed before sleep, assuming that she and I would want to stay up and talk a bit before bed. I’ll admit that I kinda thought this too. At some point while I’m taking care of the dogs, making her bed and getting ready for bed, she gets on the phone. I sit in the chair near her and wait for her to get off, assuming that this would be a short call. I waited, and waited… I soon realized that this was not a “I made it, I’m safe, I’m tired, talk to you later” call, it was an “OMG, he DID NOT say that! OMG, tell me more…tell me what you were wearing, what you said, and then tell me what he said..and then tell me what anyone else you told this story to said…OMG!” conversation. I’m not kidding you. All the while I’m sitting there yawning, twiddling my thumbs like a dumb ass. At some point during this conversation, I got up and went into the bedroom, for what I’m not sure. My husband assumed that since I’d been gone so long, we’d had our initial catching up chat and I was coming in to go to bed. Not so. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to go to bed, but didn’t want to be rude (no, going to bed without saying good night to this thoughtless bitch would have been too rude for me), but I didn’t know how much longer I could stay awake and I was pretty sure my impulse to punch her in the face couldn’t be held off much longer either. Finally, after an ETERNITY, she reluctantly gets off the phone. She then begins to tell me this long drawn out story involving she, him, them, who-ever-the-hell-else-who-cared-to-be-involved. At this point I assumed she was telling me the unbelievably crazy story she’d just spent 35 minutes or so listening to in order to explain her blunt rudeness. Nope. When I asked if her friend was calm enough to go to bed and get some rest, she said “oh, this happened last week–that was someone else on the phone.” What the hell? I went to bed just shaking my head. Duh.

I'm pretty sure this is her "I'm peeing in the pool" face.

I'm pretty sure this is her "I'm peeing in the pool" face.

The next day was my birthday, and I had decided before getting out of bed that I would start this day fresh. Let bygones be bygones…except for the fact that what was to come next was a nonstop cellphone party for this friend and all of her friends (you know the ones she sees all of the fucking time when she’s not over a thousand miles away visiting a new place and an old friend..) What kills me is that at one point, because it was my birthday, I was responding to a birthday text from a friend, and she was in the middle of telling me a long story about how this guy or that guy likes her but won’t date her, and she’s like “um, am I interrupting you?” Bitch, please! Mind you, this is her second day, and it dawns on me that I’d been wishing she would go home since about 9:30 the night before. My husband was very sweet and made sure that despite this rude cow’s presence, I had a nice birthday. And despite that rude cow, I did. It was a pool party, like when I was kid, with balloons and pizza and presents. The whole sha-bang. Thanks, honey!

Let’s see, since I realize now that I am kind of rampaging and not getting to my point, I’ll try to hit the highlights:

  • We paid for a great many of her meals without her offering to chip in (my husband wanted to hit her)
  • She told endless stories about the guy who is the love of her life, the guy she’s in love with (because somehow the two are different), the guy she has a crush on and the guy she has no feelings for but answers his booty call when he breaks up with his girlfriends
  • She made a few more comments meant to be direct blows at my self-esteem, as if turning 30 hadn’t left me feeling fragile enough
  • She went on and on about how there are tons and tons of guys in love with her, but none of them would date her because she’s too good for them (right!)
  • I was so desperate to figure out how to entertain her (a glob of human flesh with no interests outside of FB and texting) that I suggested we go see…(I cringe…) Twilight, knowing that she was a ridiculously huge fan. As was expected, the movies was crap, and all of the people who were there to see it were morons, and I am only sort of glad that I now know that I was speaking correctly in my last blog about how stupid this Twilight stuff is. Literally the movie was over and I was wondering why there was no climax to this movie and why everyone around me was crying or sniffling or some combination of the two
  • She continued to post awful pictures of me on FB and send them to her friends which is just not cool
  • She picked her zits until they bled and then later turned to bruises, then presumably rubbed her nasty face & hands all over the sheets and comforter and anything else she touched
  • She left her clothes around everywhere, never made her bed (which just happens to be in the middle of the living room) and left empty coffee cups on the table, literally feet from the trash can
  • She spouted on and on about how she’s now an evangelist about Jesus, OMG, I just love Jesus.
  • She helped herself to anything and everything in our cupboards–in constant forage mode, much like a locust
  • She squatted on my computer so much that my husband got into the routine of actually cutting off the internet to my computer so she could no longer surf Facebook and PlentyofFish.com (a website devoted to connecting skinny dudes who like fat chicks with fat chicks who like skinny dudes, apparently)

When it was finally time to discuss what time she needed to be at the airport to return home, she suggested 2 hours beforehand, and before she could even finish getting the words out, my husband says without looking at me “That sounds good!”….lol, poor guy, he’s been very understanding. I let the fact slide that being at our particular airport two hours early is silly because they are very efficient and security is quick no matter the time of day. Needless to say, I was as eager as he to be done with this ordeal. The night before she was to leave, my husband and I are lying in bed, playing on our iPads, relaxing, just praying for the morning to come soon so we can be rid of her awfulness, I’m feeling mistakenly confident that the situation can’t get worse and that the worst has passed. I then hear the doomed, and in hindsight, dreaded ‘ding’ notification that I have a text message. Confused at who would be sending me a text this late, I go to look at the message. It’s from her. The message says (mind you I am quoting word for word, hence the horrifying grammar and spelling) “hope u dont care but im lookn at the hood pics…FUCKN AWESOME! why r u not doing this for a living???” Upon reading this, I’m a little confused because no one has seen these photos, the bride, my friend, hasn’t posted them on FB, and I haven’t posted them anywhere either. The only place she could have possibly seen them is….on….my….computer….. Surely she didn’t. Surely she didn’t get on my computer without asking. Surely she didn’t start looking through my personal files….surely. Right? I text back nervously “Where are you seeing these?” She responds “on your computer duh… i check my fb and saw “hood wedding” i was like oh…good.” I’m panicked at this point because I feel totally and completely violated. The wedding file was on my desktop….OOOOOoooohhh shit. This bitch has the nerve to treat me like shit all week, eat on our dime all week, basically toot her own horn all week and act like she’d rather be in our shitty ass hometown from whence she came all week???? Oh hell no. My husband became alerted to my panic and starts angrily getting out of bed as I finish stuttering out what horrible deed she has just committed, presumably to go knock the living shit out of this ungrateful bitch. I stopped him, telling him not to go, knowing I had to do something, feeling for the second time during her visit that I’m not sure what to do, but know that something must be done, but I don’t want to be the one to do it…blaaaarg….dammit you nosy worthless human being! I felt completely powerless and, well, for lack of a better word, little. I just wanted it all to go away. This was, to me, the ultimate betrayal, you really can’t go back on that one. I don’t really remember what I said as I entered the office to put an end to this bullshit, but she got the message, very clearly. She was up and out of my chair like a flash. Nighty-night, shitstick.

I’m not sure where we stand now, and to be honest, I wouldn’t care to ever see or hear from her again. After dropping her at the airport and enduring the chilly goodbye, we threw a mini party in the car on the way  home, just happy to be free of her non-stop “Aren’t-I-Great” party. It’s exhausting, really. We get home and head up the stairs feeling utterly liberated. As I begin the clean up after her destructive departing, I notice that the gift I thoughtfully chose for her was in the very place she left it after tossing it aside thoughtlessly the night I gave it to her. Even knowing what I now knew, about what a thoroughly nasty person she is, I was sad and a little offended. She also left behind a pair of shorts and a pair of holey underwear. What sweet memories I have of those parachute panties when my husband accidentally picked them up, not even thinking that anyone would lay their dirty unmentionables out on the patio for just anyone to see, assuming it was a swimsuit since everything else out there was swimming apparel of some sort. I’ve never seen him move so fast to drop the panties and run to the sink, just in case a communicable disease lingered. This is pure class, for sure. In the guest bathroom, I found all of the towels in a ball on the floor (because at our hotel, that is our policy apparently) and in the trash dangling precariously on the edge, ready to topple out at any moment, was a USED MAXI PAD, not wrapped in kleenex or even somewhat concealed in any fashion. Apparently even her used maxi pads are gifts to be honored and cherished. It’s being dipped in gold as we speak.