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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 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.

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
Apr 11

Those Friends: part 1

Posted on Saturday, April 11, 2009 in Keep your friends close., Someone please pay me to bitch.

So I’ve got a couple friends–everyone’s got at least one of them. You know, the type of friend who you’re not quite sure is actually your friend. Takers who readily take and wouldn’t know the first thing about giving. Today, I’ve got one friend I’d like to discuss.

Friend A, we’ll call her A. She’s overly confident for reasons that are not apparent to the naked eye, a terrible singer who loves to sing more than life itself-the kind of singing that would drive a deaf dog crazy. Not just a hum-a-long-to-the-radio-singer. A my-life-is-a-broadway-production singer. Sitting in a fishing boat, on a lake stocked with fish trained to jump in your boat (for 5 hours…) and there’s not a fish to be found, BUT, I did get a full on re-enactment of Rent. As truly annoying as I’m sure this sounds (and truly is!), this has nothing to do with why I don’t believe she is a genuine friend to me. It has more to do with the fact that I can pour my heart out to her in an email about something huge in my life that’s really bringing me down, and she can manage to respond without actually addresssing a single word I wrote in my email. It has to do with the fact that we mainly keep in touch via email because she lives far away, in a big windy town, yet every email she sends are only about her and her stupid illegal alien boyfriends who claim to have been deported (who in reality have only been “deported” to the South side of town) just to cleanly and quickly end their relationship with her (how awkward would that be to walk into the pub and see your deported boyfriend, or, if you are as dillusional as she is, you might just jump for joy that he managed to escape Immigration..? To further the dillusion, you just might concoct a story in your head that he actually planned all of this and was here at this very pub to surprise you!!) So, feeling like our emails were missing each other by a mile, because obviously what I was writing was of no interest to her, and while I always asked how she was, and what was new and did this or that happen, did it go well, etc (and genuinly cared that she was well), her self-absorbed emails quickly lost their glimmer and gleam for me, I decided to stop responding to her emails (oh, btw, I was also bombarded with mass email and text updates on her life, I mean, this bitch wb178969537ould stand on a mountain top and shout out her business to anyone who would listen) just to see how long it would take for her to notice that I’d stopped responding. It took 2 months (for me to get tired of the bullshit emails and point out to her that she had stopped receiving emails from me). A little background on this friend. We went to college together at a pretty little liberal college in the midwest. We had a baseball team and a joke of a football team. We had halls named after bodily functions. We spent our free time drinking watermelon pucker(remember that nasty shit?) on various bunkbeds in various dorm rooms between classes, her: theatre, me: science & lit. We met on a trip to build a house for Habitat. We sat on the roof of this house and smoked a cigarette together (ick, now). I listened to her stories about her then boyfriend (who later hit on me, blatantly in front of her while I was visiting her in her big windy city, but she did not notice) who was of course being a douchebag. I think I learned early on, somewhere in my gut, that for the most part, our friendship would be one that looked better on paper, it sounded better when retold in stories later, but really wasn’t all that reciprocal, like, at all. But, after college, we didn’t see each other all that much for about 4 years and by the time we reconnected, I (stupidly) assumed that she had matured. After all, she was now a high school drama teacher, working on her master’s degree. She came out to visit me in my high, wide open space-filled town, about 3 years ago (we actually reconnected on Myspace haha!), where I quickly realized that she’s only aged in years, not in maturity. Her eyesight has not broadened beyond her own nose, and it’s not looking good folks.

In conclusion, yes, she will be invited to my wedding (I guess I haven’t had enough torture yet!), because it’s expected by others and she expects to be invited and I think the hassle of not inviting her at this point would be greater than just letting her come and having her there (I’ve hired bodyguards and professional listeners, she won’t get within a good arm’s length of me). And also, we have had some crazy times, that are super funny, together. We laugh our asses off, until we cry or pee a little, and I’m content to be the listener and the sympathizer, because the center of attention has never been a great location for me. We camp, drink beer, eat burned corn on the cob and dehydrated camping food, kayak, fish and pitch a mean tent together. So will I keep her as a friend, sure. Will I trust her with my life and my deep dark secrets (regardless of how many of her deep dark secrets I currently house)? Never.

nosebean, out.