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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.

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.

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.

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.

Feb 2

It’s shit, that’s what it is.

Posted on Tuesday, February 2, 2010 in Legitimate concerns

I'm mad.

I'm mad.

A little over a year ago, I designed and built a website for a friend, at a deeply discounted rate. I charged a measly $300, for something I should have charged over $1,000. Not only this, but I designed brochures, printed them, and helped this selfish bitch hang them around town. Additionally, I made several changes and updates throughout this last year. FOR FREE. I did it all because I knew that the business she was advertising was something she really wanted and would be good at, because she was my friend. On top of all of the free advertising I did for her, I asked her about her business, on a regular basis, genuinely interested in her success and funny, albeit stupid stories about clients.

Over a year later, she’s paid me half of what she owes me, and it’s looking like we won’t see the other half any time soon. To be a little more specific, after doing the math, she has paid me $11/month. That’s cheaper than cable! Cheaper than Netflix. Cheaper than the pot and liquor her boyfriend buys on a weekly (maybe daily) basis! What a selfish user she is. Ugh, she makes me so mad- I can’t wait until she is a nearly forgotten memory!

Dec 9

10 things I hate about you, {city name here}

Posted on Wednesday, December 9, 2009 in Legitimate concerns

I know I’ve mentioned in past posts about the lovely town I live in, and how much I sincerely loathe, I mean love, the people who generally populate this area. I’ve decided to vent, once and for all. I’m going to dump it all out there and then move on, or rather, move away! My husband and I are praying to be able to move away from this rat’s nest within the next 6-8 months to somewhere in the Southeastern region of the country.

Let’s jump right in with the list, shall we?

  • This town is up to its neck in trustafarians. By trustafarians, I am lovingly referring to the surplus population of 30- something hippies who live off of their daddy’s trust fund. Trustafarians can usually be found attending yoga in the middle of the afternoon, taking their 6 month old babies to dance class, sipping lattes in expensive but gross coffee shops or talking in a rather animated fashion on their cellphones while they cart their superstar soccer playing kids to and fro.  They preach buying local, being green, hugging trees, etc. When they are finished spewing from their judgmental soapbox, they hop into their Escalades, Yukons, or Land Rovers and drive to their $600,000+ homes with million dollar views, send their household staff home to their apartments or rented rooms on the outskirts of town or further, which is the only place household help can afford to live on the measly salaries they are given, crawl into their lush king-sized beds in Martha Stewart decorated bedrooms. What the CHRIST do these people know about, well, anything?
  • Hippies. These are tricky in my town, because, well, as I’ve always understood it–hippies are loving people, they love everyone, man. They accept you for what you are and they embrace you. Hippies have also been commonly known to stink to high heaven, smoke a lot of pot, and hang out in parks, loving everything…right? This is only partially true in my town. The word “hippie” in my town, might as well be short for hypocrite. Yes, they stink–oh good lord do they stink. And yes, they smoke pot, in inordinate amounts. But when it comes to the hierarchy of judgmental fucks, they are at the very tippy top. I have never felt so judged, in my entire life, for being the type of person who showers, grooms themselves and cares to do a good job at work. If you’ve read my blog, you know I can tend to be a bit judgmental at 4times…I am but a simple kitten in comparison to these people. I might be wrong but I’m pretty confident that disliking someone because they aren’t just like you is the exact opposite definition of the word “hippie”. Oh, and white guys with dreads in my town? No way!! Just on every other block. Good thing there are hardly any african americans in this town, right? Actually, I miss experiencing diversity, because there sure as hell isn’t any here.
  • Real estate. Is a joke. People who work here can’t live here. Well, now, that’s not entirely accurate. People who work here are welcome to rent a room in someone’s house, or rent a nasty apartment for $1300, no students/pets/smokers/poor people. To be clear, I’m saying, people who work here can’t own real estate here. Affordable real estate is $250,000. In other words, affordable real estate is a laugh-out-loud joke. And let’s not forget what comes along with real estate: Real Estate Brokers. Ick. Even typing the words makes me shiver in disgust. Pushy, slimy, glorified sales people is what they are. As I used to be in the real estate “biz” I’ve been over-exposed to these sale-sy type people and if I never meet another one ever again, I’ll live a happy, satisfied life.
  • Skiers. You would not believe the amount of press the ski resort here gets. People praising this or bitching about that. I am so unbelievably tired of hearing about when the resort will open for the season, or people’s complaints that the resort is a shit hole, but that the renovations are taking too long and are making the resort seem like it’s bigger or more important than it is (or ever could be). Make up your fucking minds. As far as I’m concerned, this is not more important news than, oh, say, the tragic death of a great wife and mother. My suggestion to skiers: Take a ski lift to the top of the highest ski run and stay there, because chances are, we won’t meet there anytime in my lifetime, which will be more than soon enough for me. Oh, and let’s not forget snowboarders. The quicker they injure themselves off of the slopes, the better off everyone else is, and not just those on the mountain. They make them so young now. 8 year old snowboarders, whizzing by as you cross your fingers and hope not to die on a green run.
  • Bicyclists. I’ve posted about this previously. Recently there was an article in our paper about a guy who got so fed up with the bicyclists in our area that he had started intentionally trying to run them off of the road with his pick up truck. Hoooooo-fucking-ray. Kudos to him for finally doing what we’ve all wanted (dreamed of, imagined vividly in our daily daydreams) to do at least once a week (oh, come ON–you know you have!), more often for me. Bicyclists in this town are the rudest, most easily hated segment of our population. Share the road–no, share my foot up your ass. What really bothers me about these “people” is that we have plenty of nice places to safely ride your bike and these shit sticks feel the need to ride in the middle of the lane on the busiest, most dangerous streets in the area. Sadly, you rarely hear of a bicyclist being taught a good lesson. You’re probably thinking: It’s December, soon they’ll be off the roads. But no. The thing of it is, these bastards ride come rain or shine, sleet or snow. The below-freezing days of December, January, February, and March mean nothing to them, except MORE LAYERS. Blegh. I hate hate hate bicyclists.
  • SNOW. Seeing as we just got two feet of it, and my husband and I are now aching from head to toe from heaving snow from here to there, it’s safe to say that I hate snow. And we get a lot of it here. Since I don’t ski anymore, and I don’t particularly like sliding around in my car on the roads, I could do without it entirely. On top of the hassle the snow itself presents, this town is chock-full of powder heads. A steady stream of assholes in their stupid subaru outbacks, sliding and skidding 25 miles up the mountain to get in on the fresh “pow pow” as I have heard it so eloquently put, drinking way too too much at the resort bar and then drunk driving 25 miles home in the dark. Sure, put us all at risk, we don’t mind, as long as you had some killer runs, dude. Why not hit a few elk because you can’t see straight or control your motor functions? Why can’t more skiers get lost on the mountain? Ok, I don’t really mean that..but it would be nice if for some reason, all of the snow melted and everyone had to go home and stay there.

This pretty much concludes the worst things about this town. It certainly is not meant to be an exhaustive list, but it hits all of the major things that I hate, so that’s good enough for me!

Dec 7

The richest asshole in my town.

Posted on Monday, December 7, 2009 in Someone please pay me to bitch.

My husband and I went to dinner, on a date, to watch our favorite football team. We have this place that we go, they serve the best chicken wings in the state of Colorado. Our plan was to grab a table with a T.V. and watch the game, have some tasty wings and drinks and just relax.

We arrived at the restaurant and seated ourselves at a table next to a huge T.V. and asked the waitress to change the channel to the game we were looking for. My husband ordered a margarita for me, so at this point, all is going really well. As soon as I made the mistake of making this assumption, a short, pug-nosed lady with a wreck of a haircut shows up with a little girl who appears unable to stop neck dancing. For those of you who may not be familiar, neck dancing is where you bob your head and shift your shoulders in the opposite direction of your head in some form of a rhythm–think of an uncontrollable seizure. Anyways, these two characters show up and begin pushing two tables together, basically right in front of the T.V. Now, this is not the problem, not really. The T.V. is up high and so obstruction is not what I was worried about.

Shortly after this occurs, more of the brood shows up. More kids, and not sweet, well-behaved kids. Hell no. Snot-nosed tween-aged boys with bad haircuts, ugly hoodies and bad attitudes. They also happened to be rooting for the team opposing ours. But that’s not the worst of it. I’d recognized the portly man who came to join his unfortunate-looking wife and kids. He is the brother of one of the biggest douche bags in this whole county, maybe even in the whole state of Colorado, who happens to also be one of the richest guys in town–thanks to his Daddy. So, there’s one more seat left at the table. I’m eying this seat, wondering who it could be–not even imagining that it could possibly be who it turned out to be.

So, a quick recap, we’re now seated next to a table of rowdy, wretched looking people, who are cheering against our team, with one seat open at their increasingly disgusting table. I see him from the doorway. Nasty red hair, beady molesting eyes, a laughable attempt at a scraggly red mustache, topped off with a leather coat and a pedophile’s swagger. My heart sinks as I make the connection. Of course, he takes his seat at the table right next to ours. Appetite is at zero by this point. My whole attitude has taken a dive, and I’m feeling something akin to rage at the entire wreck of a family. It doesn’t help that every time our team messes up, they cheer. Two margaritas in and I’m imagining rolling over more than one of their heads with my car tire.

My husband seems concerned at this point, not knowing just how much I hate this guy. Reasonably worried that I’m going to let these people (if you prefer to call them people instead of pigs) ruin our evening. I explain the reason for my sheer hatred, which includes the way he eyes me at the gym, the way he always tries to talk to me like we’re friends–but with a definite note of condescension, like it should be my honor to be speaking to him while he sweats all over the eliptical. Oh, and let’s not forget how he stops by my office, acting like god’s gift to men and women alike. He owns the building my office was in and for some reason he thinks this makes him welcome in our office and in my life. First off, the building is a slum. The ceiling leaks whenever it rains, there are big mildew spots on all of the ceiling tiles, the carpet is moldy and worn throughout. Not to mention, he seemed to specifically hire only sex offenders to maintain the building. Secondly, the building is home to maybe two successful businesses, everything else comes and goes. If he thinks that owning this property makes him anything but a slum lord, he’s made a serious mistake.

I wish all kinds of bad things on him, and feel terribly sorry for his children, who have no choice but to be raised from little shits to full-grown assholes. I feel pity for his pudgy wife because I know he spends his time eying anyone but her. And, apparently, he’s supposed to be a good example of what a Morman should be. Ha!

Finally, the brood left and I couldn’t have been more happy. My spirits instantly lifted and suddenly, even the fact that our team was losing at this point couldn’t sully that. Even our service from our waitress improved, once she wasn’t busy kissing their asses. I don’t know how many times she refilled their iced teas without even glancing at my husband’s empty glass and melting ice.

In the end, our team didn’t win. But, I did walk away from that restaurant with a bounce in my step, thankful to be reminded that we are not them, and no matter how hard we tried, could never even come close!

Sep 10

Dear Job-that-I-no-longer-have, WTF?

Posted on Thursday, September 10, 2009 in Someone please pay me to bitch.

It’s been about 3 months since I quit my job–a little over 2 since my fiance and I got married. Things have been rocky–left and right. Marriage is hard. But my biggest bitch to lay out today is my ex-boss. She’s been clinging to my metaphorical nuts for the last couple of weeks and I’m ready to strap her to an atomic bomb and send her flying and enjoy watching the bits and pieces gently fall to earth. Better yet, I’d like to punch her straight in the chin.

We built her a website, we showed her how to use it, I exited my job, all’s good right? FUCK NO! That bitch can’t follow directions to save her kids’ lives. For her “It’s so much easier for YOU to just do it”. Free work? Ok, maybe for awhile, just to be nice and help her out. But yesterday, my husband decided to send her an estimate for some stupid thing she wants to add to her website, and she has had the mega balls to write us back and say that it should be free…?? WTF? Since when does punch-to-the-faceANYONE YOU KNOW work for free for someone you feel underpaid you enough already as it is? Bottom line, it’s not going to be free for us to do the work, so why should she not open her stupid german checkbook and pay for it?

I’ve changed my phone number and am getting ready to disappear off the face of the earth–because this bitch is CRAZY!

Also, the items that have made it to the shortlist of things/people I despise:

  • My landlord
  • My ex-boss whom I wish was an ex-citizen
  • watery dog poo
  • RLS….FUCK.
  • VHS tapes
  • websites that don’t work
  • this town

To end on a positive note:

  • My husband got me and iPod Touch! (it’s the devil but I love it)
  • We’re going on vacation in less than a month
  • Goo Gone has saved my ass twice this week–big love to goo gone
  • Work has been coming in steadily
  • I returned my library book EARLY for once
  • Hulu