I’ve written about my friend Veronica, she doesn’t read my blog because she can never find it despite me sending her the link like a thousand and one times (just another little annoying thing that bugs me about her). Anyway, this past week was a test of the will for me and my friendship with her. The last time around it was because of her being gaslit, or gaslighted or gassed (however you want to spell it) by her now ex-boyfriend. But the more time I spend with her the more I realize that it’s her, not me, and that may sound pretty self-absorbed. But, when you realize that your best friend latches onto you because she has no boyfriend or significant other in her life, I think that’s when you have a problem.
Negative Characteristic #1 – Neediness, it’s annoying as hell, and I’ve never been like this because I had a narcissistic, needy mother. I actively have tried my entire adult life to do for myself so I wouldn’t come off clingy, needy or to drain someone of their will. I just can’t, and won’t do that. My mother was too absorbed in her self-induced crisis to show or help me as a teen age mom, or at all for that matter. And when she did try to do something for me, she turned it around and made everything about her.
So, of course needy people put me off, and sometimes it takes a while for me to realize the extent of their neediness until it’s too late and I want to bash their head in against the hood of their car. I’m getting off track her, so, on Thursday my friend gets invited out to dinner with someone she met a couple of months ago. At around 11:15am I begin to get text messages from her asking what she should wear on that date. I’m like, wear what you fucking want (I really did put it that way) it’s not rocket surgery to pick out an outfit. Well, apparently it is, because she asked if I could go over to her house after work to help her put together an outfit. The thing is, she’s needy as hell but can’t pick up on social or emotional cues that she sometimes overreacts to a lot of things?! Needless to say, I did not go to her house to help her pick out an outfit for this date.
It’s like she has to have constant validation, from someone, that all her decisions are the right ones. I have no idea how she’s made it through her 56 year old life this far with that kind of mindset. It’s bewildering to be honest, not to mention extremely annoying.
Negative Characteristic #2 – The Damsel in Distress act she has going on, it’s really getting on my nerves. We both work in higher education, in different universities, she also deals with the submission of grants, funding and everything that goes with it. Last week I get an email from her, sounding desperate as hell and then she asks me if I know how to use EndNote. Which is a reference/citation software she NEEDS to use because her boss is asking her to use it. I tell her that I do know how to use it, I used it a lot when I was getting my Master’s and writing research and academic papers. As soon as I said I knew how, she calls me begging me to see if I could go to her office during lunch and show her how to use it. Her office is just down the street from where I work, but I’m not about to spend my lunch hour showing her how to use software that she could learn in that hour by watching a YouTube video or two. Seriously, when I had to use it I didn’t know how to either, but you know who showed me? ME…..I SHOWED ME HOW TO USE IT!!
I got online, downloaded the step by step manual and saw about four or five YouTube videos and that’s how I learned. What is so hard about finding out yourself how to do something?!?! It’s aggravating! Okay, I’m composing myself *breathe, breathe*……..anyway I sent her an email with step by step instructions and a couple of YouTube videos. I don’t know if she’s taken that as a “No, I’m a grown adult, so are you, fucking learn how to do shit yourself” kind of hint.
Negative Characteristic #3 – She can attract a man, but isn’t able to keep them around, why? I’ll tell you why, because she’s the kind of person who has her….attitudes mixed up. I have no other way to put it, so let me try to explain. She’s 56 years old, has been married and divorced twice, she owns her own house, has a good job that pays very well. She drives an almost new car, but…..has credit card debt up the ass, she’s a cheapskate like you can’t imagine. And she’s kind of fucked up when it comes to men. In October, she went to lunch and found a note on her windshield from a guy who had seen her the day before. He left a note saying something to the effect…”Hi, my name is Marc, and I saw you getting out of your car and I had to just let you know how beautiful you are. I’m not a stalker or anything like that. I’m ex Navy, I’m currently a student and if you’d like to talk to me here’s my number so please call or text me. I’d really like to meet you.” If someone has to tell you they’re not a stalker, they’re probably a stalker.
Shit like this happens to her all the time, she gets approached by men everywhere she goes. Back to Marc the non-stalker, so she texts him, they meet for coffee ONCE and then she’s all in love. They keep talking or should I say texting because this mofo doesn’t call to talk to her. He starts to show up uninvited to her house, which would really get on my last nerve. He never asked her out on a “real” date, like to dinner or a movie. She said he only kept talking about it but never followed through.
Then, after a dinner at his apartment, and a couple of his relatives dying on him and her supporting him through these so called family issues, he shows up a couple of more times unannounced at her house. Once while I was there, I quickly left to leave them alone, even though I was annoyed as fuck but hey, it’s not my place to say anything (yes you did hear that right). She also happens to belong to a book club, they meet at different places once a month. This last time they met at a hotel called The Indigo, which has an awesome bar and restaurant. So after this, he tracks her via Facebook and then accuses her of cheating, can you believe that? This motherfucker had the nerve to accuse her, of cheating, just because she checked in at the Indigo. Then, a couple of hours later, he breaks up with her, and this is where I wanted to fucking kill her.
She decides she needs to explain, and continuously texted Marc the Loser, and he would respond with “Leave me alone.” Or “I don’t want to talk right now” and how do I know this? Because she showed me the texts, and then she called him, which of course he didn’t answer. But seriously, she called him over fifteen, FIFTEEN TIMES!! And text him over twenty-one, because she HAD to explain to this loser why she was at the Indigo!! She did this same thing with her ugly ass ex-BF, Humpty-Hump! The one that was gaslighting her!! She didn’t have to explain anything to him and yet she persisted.
She becomes this wishy-washy, spineless, nothing but annoying, crying, whiny, clingy woman. Then she wonders why they don’t want to talk to her again?!?! Because it always comes to that, then when she’s in between relationships she has the nerve to say “I’m not the one that has to impress them, they have to impress me.” And I want to grab her by her long black hair and beat her face in until it’s unrecognizable!!! Because, of course you have to impress, it goes both ways!!! Relationships are a two-way street, its neither him nor I, it’s both of us, and if she keeps thinking like that, she’s going to be alone for the rest of her life. She insists that she isn’t the one that needs to put any effort into impressing a man that PURSUED her. Which brings me to…
Negative Characteristic #4 – Passive Aggressive Narcissism. When I say she attracts men left and right, I’m not lying. It happens all the time, when we’re out together having margaritas after work, when we go listen to our favorite local band, when we’re having breakfast at IHOP, you name it, men come up to her to ask if she’s single and if they can have her number. She’s been married and divorced twice as previously mentioned. But she’s never had children, and she looks younger than I do, which in itself is aggravating.
So, she goes on a lot of first, second and third dates, but they never result in anything because of her attitude of “I’m not the one that has to impress” so they drop her after they talk to her for a couple of dates, realizing the kind attitude she has. Then she spends the next couple of weeks crying and asking me “What’s wrong with me?”
And I always answer her with “Do you really want me to tell you or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?” I’ve told her several times why these men don’t turn into serious relationships. But it goes in one ear and out the other, so I don’t try anymore. I just sigh and shake my head, not telling her what I really want to and that’s “What’s wrong with you is, you’re a fucking spaz! You’re needy and fucking annoying and when these men get to know you they run back to their moms asking why women like you roam the fucking earth?!”
Then her passive aggressiveness kicks in and she says “You’re so lucky you don’t have that problem my friend. You’re better off because you don’t have to go through what I go through.” I tell her that I am lucky, because if I were a man, and met her and got to know her, I’d fucking join the priesthood. She just looks at me, laughs and says “Oh stop it” thinking it’s a damned joke. She also gets a jab in there as to why men don’t approach me when we’re together, and this is going to sound so unbelievably cruel, so….”Some material may be inappropriate to some readers, reader discretion is advised.”
She actually told me once that she thinks the reason I look older than her, when she’s clearly older, is because (are you ready for this?) I have had children, that I’ve had three pregnancies and that is why I look the way I do. She told me they drain the body of necessary hormones to be able to maintain our youth. Calmly I looked at her, while drinking my pitcher of margaritas and said “Well, my friend, that may be true, but at least I won’t grow to be an old spinster with no friends and only my dog to keep me company because I have three boys, and they are what I will have, even if I don’t meet anyone else or remarry anytime soon. I know my children will flourish, get married and have kids and continue my bloodline.”
Then she has the fucking nerve to cry and tell me how I could say that to her knowing that she can’t have kids. Needless to say, I don’t feel sorry for her one bit, and I tell her the truth, because if you’re my friend, I am honest about everything. Including our friendship, and I told her that beauty is only skin deep, but emotional intelligence runs so much deeper than superficial beauty, anyone will see that, and men, especially smart men will realize that.
I have to also mention that I stopped taking her calls because I’d always answer her, but when I’d call, she’d ignore me, and send my call to voicemail. Then she claimed she “never got my call.” Which I know happens sometimes, but come on, not all the fucking time. I only answer now when I feel like answering, then I get the feeling sorry for myself drama from her, and once I just hung up on her. She called me back and said we’d gotten disconnected and I said “No, I just hung up on you because I’m not in the mood to deal with your needy ass right now” and she got offended, wow…….she got offended….ugh.
So, I’m on the verge of cutting cord on yet another friendship, which will leave me with two IRL and a couple of blogger friends. I’m just too old to deal with stupid shit and self-induced drama from anyone, let alone my friends, when they tend to create it themselves and for me when I’m with them.
So, does this make me overly critical of my friend? Or is this common sense kicking in and letting my gut tell me that this is too much for me to undertake in a friendship?
Work has been crazy, I’m talking super crazy, like Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad, carry a baseball bat, custom chrome revolver in your gun holster, hold my water bottle full of vodka while I tell you what I think of you, crazy. Assumptions are something I don’t like to make myself, but yet most of us do it at the drop of a hat, all because of what someone says, how they dress, their likes or dislikes, all that nonsense. And, well professionally it can go both ways and I’m going to explain why.
I work in an office of sponsored projects, which means a group us works with faculty members and their proposals for external funding for their research. We try to steer them in the right direction in many ways. Such as editing of their written proposals, reading sponsor guidelines (because believe me, most of them don’t) to keep within what the sponsor requires or allows. But a big chunk of what we do is work with budgets, how to get them within sponsor maximum amounts, indirect costs, allowable expenditures etc. But, within the last year we’ve had another office/department stick their dirty little, money grubbing, uneducated fingers in our sponsored project business. I’ll call this department, the department of Bernie Madoff, and for the most part they are in charge of our university’s brand, logo, how it’s used, when and where it should be used and by whom. They are also in charge of fundraising for the university from alumni, community leader and others that wish to donate to the university.
They are a group, for the most part, of stupid people who can’t define a sponsored project from a donation or gift. The two “top” people come from a University in a near by state that shall remain nameless, and their experience combined is about……….NIL! One of the people who works for them is someone I worked closely with in the past, and she is probably the only sane and remotely educated one out of all the office. She, through no fault of her own, has to be associated with this group of idiots because she works there. She helps with grants that are submitted through our university’s foundation, because “they” believe that if it’s a donation, their office should be the one to submit that proposal on behalf of the faculty member and institution. This is done to boost their “donation” numbers and this was implemented by the previous Vice-Chancellor. Before I go on, I will give a little background on the previous Vice-Scammer, because they scam people into giving to the foundation so they can say they’ve met their fundraising goals. Her name is not important, but she believed that anything that resembled a “donation” would boot their offices numbers and my managing director agreed. But my director said she would decide if it was a worthy of Bernie’s department’s involvement in the submission.
Well that quickly spiraled out of control when the former Vice-Scammer decided to take control over a lot of the submissions despite our office trying to stop her. It was financial train wreck, and now it’s headed downhill, full speed ahead. In any case, the former Scammer was promptly fired when they found she was embezzling funds from the foundations donations. Yep, she was stealing money from the donated funds to purchase things like designer purses, shoes and other personal items. She was fired from her position, and was walked out of her office by campus police without allowing her to gather her things other than her purse and whatever she had on. She was banned from ever setting foot on campus again and was told she had to resign instead of it getting out she was getting fired. Why they did that for her to save face is beyond me? She was also ordered to repay what she stole in order to avoid having charges brought against her.
She agreed to everything, and I’m thinking she wasn’t prosecuted because she happens to be closer personal friends with one of the Board of Regents and prominent business owner here in town who helped bring this medical school to El Paso. So, back to the current Vice-Scammer, she and her entire office, who believe that they have a say in what we, in office say and do. I’ve already made several enemies in that office because of my “strong” character. One of them happens to be the managing director, who was recruited by the current Vice-Scammer from her previous university near by, not saying which one but close.
He’s a horrid person all around, he has NO experience in what we do, but feels free to constantly question out methods and work. So let me give a bit of information on this so called “professional writer” and fundraising, piece of shit, asshole prick, mother-fucking narcist. He, is a published author, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good writer. I looked up his books, and he is a “dark fiction” writer. And yet, his professional writing leaves something to be desired. I read a proposal he supposedly edited for one of our faculty members and there were so many grammatical errors it wasn’t even funny. Anyway, I won’t mention the names of his 7 books but one has a character who is a narcist, and having issues with his daughter. I’ll call him Jar-Jar Binks, because of the hatred for this character and all that he does and stands for. Because his ego is incredibly over-inflated and this is perpetuated by the Vice-Scammer, he thinks he can talk down to everyone in our office, and his rude attitude also shows up in emails as well.
Because of all the friction between our offices, the President’s office had to get involved, and there have been a series of meetings with our office, the office of scamming for funds and two other accounting offices and the office of audit. Yes, it’s gotten that out of hand and all because of Jar-Jar and the Vice-Scammer. Oh, yeah and a woman they recruited from a local non-profit that has many years of “fundraising” under her belt. Under her big, fat, loud eating, slurp-drinking, food in her mouth, nasal-talking, whiny ass belt! She reminds me of Roseanne Bar, only less attractive. I’ll call her….Roseanne, because of these three inept people we’ve come to a head and our office is getting tired of them meddling in our daily business. So, we had a meeting with all the people mentioned above. When the meeting began, we (all of us) were civil, and I was trying real hard to keep my mouth shut as they (Jar-Jar and Roseanne) were attempting to give us their reasoning as to why, they should approve OUR WORK.
After 45 minutes, it was clear we were getting nowhere and both my directors were beginning to fray. And, we just found out our director is expecting, and she’s the sweetest person I could have ever worked with. So, sitting there listening to all the stupid gibberish and seeing that my director was beginning to stress out. I looked over at one of my co-workers and she nodded like saying, “Please, whatever you do or say, don’t piss anyone off.” But, hell, you know me, and I actually took her silent plea and didn’t say anything. But as Jar-Jar and Roseanne kept on about how they have the “right” to see what we submit because half of it is, as they put it, donations and gifts, I finally lost it. I finally broke my silence and asked “Excuse me, do you know the definition between a gift and or donation and a grant?”
They looked at me and Jar-Jar responded “That’s irrelevant here, because your office……” and then I interrupted again and said “I see, so no one in your office knows the definition, right?” Then Roseanne smugly asked me “Well, do you?” and I said “Yes, I sure do. A gift is an unrestricted amount of funds that can be used at the discretion of the recipient. And a grant is restricted amount solicited for the specific purpose of utilizing those funds according to the sponsor’s guidelines that are bound by an agreement, budget, financial reporting and a timeline.”
Then Jar-Jar laughed and said “Did you just make that up?” and Roseanne joined in the mocking as I finally felt the last of my ever fraying rope snap. My directors were both angry at these idiots dismissal of what I had just said. And before they could answer to either of them I said “No, I don’t make things up, I’m not a so-called professional writer of dark fiction, I only present facts” and Jar-Jar turned red with anger.
I could see his eyes throwing virtual darts my way as I sat in my chair, with a smirk on my face. Then the Vice-Scammer said “Well okay we need to keep things professional here” as she turned my way and continued “I’m sure you can try and do that can’t you?”
I looked at her and responded with, “Of course I can, and I shouldn’t have lowered myself to your staff’s level since they are the epitome of unprofessional, as constantly proven in their communication with our office.” She looked at her staff and that’s when my director said “We need to find a solution to working with each other.” For the remaining two hours (yes it was a long, long day) I maintained my professionalism, and they strained themselves to do so as well. Although I could see it was hard for them on their stupid faces, trying to speak but no doing so for fear of a quick retort from my office.
After our meeting both my directors asked to speak with me and I thought for sure I was going to get fired for speaking out of place. Because after all, I was rude to the Vice-Scammer, the managing director and director corporate relations. She’s more like the director of horrid table manners and line snorting the mini muffin basket that was on the conference table between us. NO, I’m not fat shaming her, because I don’t like her it’s different. She’s a narcist, half-wit that thinks she knows everything who happens to be overweight. If she was a nice person I’d never think of her in that manner. BUT I DIGRESS….
Both my directors were kind and they said that I might need to take some anger management, and I looked at them and (in a nice way) said “I don’t need anger management, I manage my anger very well, that’s what I do in situations like today’s. I manage my anger at the very point of it beginning to boil over. I say what’s in my head and I never take work anger home with me.” My direct supervisor laughed and said “I know you do, and what you said was not only the truth and well deserved but maybe next time, you can tone it down just a tad?” I was like, okay but I’m sure from now on I won’t be sitting in on many of those meetings.
Assumptions about these people and of course their arrogant manner, I have no other impression than the one they made on me and coworkers. And I’m sure they’re assumption of us was, at one point, that we knew our shit. The entire experience was annoying and stressful, and conjured feelings of coworkercide and torture (them not us) not to mention Baby Kermit’s CONSTANT throat clearing!! This made me think that these asshole pricks from the Madoff office definitely saw us as inept. I was beyond angry, I wanted to just turn to Baby Kermit and yell out at her “Will you fucking desist already?!!? Do you not know how fucking annoying that shit is?!?!”
But I didn’t, I just sat there as those asshole pricks looked at her like the bitch had horns on her head, covered in green skin and boogers coming out of her fucking nose. I was not only pissed, I was embarrassed as well. After trying to make them see that, no we didn’t need their input, and we know how to do our jobs, Baby Kermit and her operatic throat clearing made us look like fucking idiots, because she did it almost every other minute during the dialog between our offices. And everyone would stop and look at her, but she never looked up and kept taking notes on her pad, like no one would notice that annoying noise coming out of her fucking, piehole!
Not to mention her high pitched voice when she answered questions. She talks like a fucking fifth grader, with the constant….Um…yes, but…um….well….we could see about that….but um….
By the end of this meeting, I wanted to fucking kill her just as bad as I wanted to kill Jar-Jar, Roseanne and Vice-Scammer. To drag their lifeless bodies wrapped in tarps into the drainage system behind the university and watch their bloody corpses roll down the hill into the puddle of sewage. Yes, including Baby Kermit, that bitch has stomped on my last fucking nerve with her throat clearing! Now, just for the record it’s not normal throat clearing. It’s an annoying, loud bullfrog, raspy throat clearing!
Needless to say, I was in dire need of a couple of bottles of wine to get me through the weekend before I walked into the office this morning.
Remember, keep your friends close and your enemies on deep freeze until you can find a place to bury them where no one will find them.
P.S This has nothing to do with my post, but I saw Birds of Prey this weekend and found there’s a character called Huntress, not “The” Huntress but Huntress and she seemed like a woman hell bent on revenge……..I liked her. But did you think I wouldn’t?
P.S.S I had a dream that I was married to Chris Pratt…….it must have been the three bottles of wine I had on Friday night…..I’m not complaining.
I’m sure those of you that have kids have encountered or have been in conversations with them while they were little and the things that are in their heads are just………..awesomely weird. I have three boys (men now) but when they were growing up they were each a handful. So when they’d decide to get together and combine their shenanigans, in what I’d call a verbal tag team of sarcasm. Which at times had me at the end of my ever fraying rope!
Frogs are NOT Tampons……
My youngest was always an adventurer, he’d wander out during rainy days to go find worms, frogs and all kinds of buggy, little squirmy things to bring back to me. Well apparently one day while my two older boys were insulting each other they called each other douche bags and tampon lovers (they’re boys go figure). They must have been around eleven and nine years old respectively. My youngest was about four, and very impressionable at that, this kid would never forget a damned thing I said or did. And believe me he’d call me on it, but I digress. One day we had just left the dentist office as all three of them had their annual checkup and cleanings and we were on our way back to the east-side, looking for someplace to eat lunch. At the time I had a 2002 Red Mustang, and all four of us were in the car, and they began to get loud, then louder and then an all-out fight began, name calling, yelling, my oldest telling me to tell my middle son to stop being a smart ass. My middle son telling me to tell my oldest to stop being a douche…..and on and on.
I was, to say the least ready to snap as I had promised them I’d take them to lunch after we’d finished with the dentist. I yelled out at all of them, telling them I’d leave them by the side of the road if they didn’t stop it and shut up! And my middle son said “Okay mom, maybe someone can buy me lunch because you’re starving your kids by driving so slow.” And my baby yelled at him saying “Don’t yell at my momma you big tampon!” We were all caught off guard, there was silence, and then laughter and my middle son said to him “Shut up butt face, you don’t even know what a tampon is!”
My baby turned around and in his innocent, baby like voice he said “Ah-ha, I do so know what a tampon is, it’s a little baby frog that is born in the puddles after it rains, you big tampon!”
My oldest and I were trying to hold in our laughter but it was too much because that’s when we realize that my youngest son, the adventurer, the one that never forgot anything I’d tell him thought a tampon was a tadpole and it was hilarious!” I laughed all the way to Sonic, because there was no way in hell I was going take these three boys into a restaurant acting the way they were.
Stigmata isn’t an Eye Condition….
My oldest was about fourteen years old when I had to take him to the eye doctor so he could get a checkup have his eye glass prescription checked and adjusted. It seemed like we’d waited for hours, and it was only myself and my two oldest boys because my middle one had a doctor’s appointment earlier in the day because his throat was bothering him. He’s the impatient, smart-ass, sarcastic one (I wonder where he gets that from?) and was beginning to whine about the wait. After my oldest walked out of the eye doctor’s exam room, the doctor told me that his prescription only needed to be slightly adjusted and that he was fine.
I thanked the doctor, paid and went to go look for frames for my oldest son. About half an hour later as we made our way down I-10 (headed to lunch again) with my oldest in the passenger side of my red mustang and my middle son sitting in the back seat, my oldest turned to look at me and said “Mom, the eye doctor said I had stigmata, is that bad?” And me being the sarcastic mom I responded with “Oh my god, are you serious, where?” And my middle son sitting in the back busts out laughing. All the while my oldest looks at me and says “Duh mom, I have stigmata in my eyes!” And my middle son (laughing that mocking laugh he has) says “You have astigmatism dumb-ass, not stigmata!” My oldest looks back at my middle son, and punches him in the leg, and my middle son keeps laughing and said “Ohh better watch it there, you don’t want to aggravate your stigmata!”
By this point I couldn’t help but laugh, seriously where do they come up with this shit? I tell them to cut it out and we head over to Pizza Hut for lunch. As we’re sitting there eating my oldest son quietly asks “So what’s stigmata mom?” I sat there explaining what it was, trying really hard NOT to laugh, we finished our lunch and went home. As soon as we walk in the house, my middle son yells out to my parent’s “Hey grandma and grandpa, guess what Joe has stigmata, better get out the rosary and candles!” Then I slapped him upside the head because I knew I’d have to explain to my mom what was going on, and that wasn’t going to be easy. Because my mom has no measurable sense of humor, especially when it comes to religion.
Don’t Try and Flush Fruit Down the Toilet, It Doesn’t Work……..
When my middle son Mike was about seven years old he was what I’d call a……rambunctious child. You know those kids like Dennis the Menace only he’s yours and you’re the one that has to explain his behavior to family, friends and neighbors. He was also the rebel child of the three, always doing something I or my ex-husband had said NOT to do. One day, we’d just gotten home from grocery shopping, and I’d put away all the food and placed some green apples and bananas in the fruit bowl on the dining table. My two older boys were outside playing, getting dirty and yelling at each other. As it got dark they came in and I’d told them to go and take a shower because dinner was going to be ready soon.
Mike walked by me and grabbed a green apple from the bowl and before he bit into it I said “Don’t take it if you’re not going to eat it Michael, do you hear me? Because if you don’t finish it, I swear I’m going put it in the blender, make it into soup and give you an apple enema!”
He rolled his eyes at me, and his dad reiterated what I had just said, telling him that he wouldn’t have dinner if he didn’t finish the entire apple. Now, these green apples were huge, I’d bought them to make caramel apples because it was close to Halloween.
As we’re sitting down to dinner, I ask my oldest Joe, what’s keeping Mike. My oldest said his brother was still in the shower. I shrugged thinking nothing of it, and we sat down to eat, after about five minutes I yelled out for Mike to come to dinner. Then I heard it, it was the toilet flushing. Then again, and again…..two, three, four times I heard the toilet flush. I told Joe to go and see what the hell was going on, and I looked over at my ex-husband thinking, is he sick?
Then I hear yelling from the bathroom in the hallway “What are you doing Mike!?!” And Mike answers almost crying “I need to get rid of the apple or moms going to enema me!” I got up and walked into the hall bathroom, and as I did I saw a partially eaten green apple rolling in the toilet. Mike looked up at me as Joe began to laugh, and he said “Mike you can’t flush an entire apple Mike, its round and it will stay there forever!”
All the while Mike is still pushing the handle on the toilet and the apple continuing to roll in the water with every single flush. Again I’m trying really hard not to laugh, because the kid was only seven years old. I told him to take the apple out of the toilet, wash his hands and go sit down for dinner. He looked up at me and asked “So you’re not going to enema me?” and I looked him straight in the eyes, hugged him and said…….”Yes later when you’ve finished your dinner.”
Now as sarcastic as my boys grew up, they did turn out to be respectful, hardworking, honest men and I’ve very proud of them. I wonder what my grand-kids will be like? Anyway, this nana is going on a cruise when they all start having kids! YAY NANA!!!
And some of you are thinking, so what else is new right? Keep that thought in your heads my children…….
I was supposed to travel to Nashville this coming week for a conference that my department was sending me to. I was actually looking forward to it, I bought clothes, commandeered a carry-on suitcase from one of my friends and I packed everything I was going to take with me all nice and neat. I even purchased all my toiletries in stupidly small travel, Ooompaloompa size portions, so they could all fit into ONE QUART SIZE re-sealable plastic bag.
Then, on Friday, I contacted our university Travel Office who was supposed to deposit the already authorized/approved travel advance into my bank account, to find out how long it was going to take for me to receive the funds. Mind you, this has been in the planning since mid-December, all the appropriate forms were circulated for approval, all registration payments were made, flights had been purchased and the only thing pending was the travel advance for me to pay for the hotel. Then I get a response saying that my travel advance payment was denied, because I have a warrant hold with the GODDAMNED STATE OF TEXAS!!!! Now, calmly I was like wtf is going on here, what hold could possibly hinder a travel advance? Hold the phone, it turns out if you’re an employee of the State of Texas, this hold can keep you from getting travel advances, it could keep you from claiming lottery winnings (well there goes that $10 scratch off I have in my car) and/or keep you from local or federal jury duty. Okay so two out of three relevant things, what can I say? I was given contact information and a name so I could “clear this up” in a timely manner in order for me to get the hold taken off and get my travel advance.
So I did just that, I called the number and extension my university’s travel office gave me, I waited for the automated system to give me prompts for what I was looking for and then…….I get transferred to a collections department for the State of Texas Unemployment Benefits department or the Texas Workforce Commission aka bitch, asshole, dick sucking pricks from hell! Seriously, I think that’s their legal name…… anyway, I get this lady on the line and she asks me for my name, social and date of birth and quickly informs me that I have an outstanding balance of $500 for over-paid unemployment benefits from (are you ready for this?) 2002!!!!! The one and only time in my life I was on unemployment.
AND to top it all off, the collections lady said I HAD to pay the balance before the hold could be taken off. I was like are you fucking kidding me? I asked why they thought they had over paid me unemployment benefits and they said because I REFUSED SUITABLE EMPLOYMENT!!
I told them that was not the case, because I remember this situation very well. At that time, I had TWO job offers and I choose one over the other but that did not mean I refused suitable employment according to what they though was suitable. I mentioned that I have my income tax information to prove I was working when they “believed” I had turned down work to keep getting unemployment! Hell I’m not that ghetto, I have pride and I haven’t been out of work since 2002, so they can kiss my entire ass because I’m a classy broad dammit!
Then she proceeded to say was that I had to either pay the entire balance of $500 or file a claim to fight for them to take the hold off. Seriously four fucking days before I was to leave and then I get notified that due to some stupid asshole at the TWC, I have a state hold! And because I work for the State, this will continue to affect me if I don’t get this shit fixed.
I also asked the lady at the TWC why I was never notified and the smug bitch told me that they sent notices to my mailing address. So I asked her what address they had on file and she gave me my parents address AND it’s not even the mailing address, it’s their physical address because they have a P.o Box. I told her that I hadn’t lived at that address in over 15 years and how was I supposed to know about this issue when they don’t even update their own records! I also asked her that “if” I owed the State of Texas money, why hadn’t I gotten a garnishment notice from them. I mentioned that I would have gotten notice from my university’s payroll department that my wages would be garnished until the amount was paid back.
She couldn’t answer me, she kept saying, “I’m only in collections ma’am you need to call the appeals office.” Seriously I’ve been at UTEP and my current university for 17 fucking years combined and they could figure out by my social security number that I had this state warrant hold pending?! I went onto the TWC website and it clearly says that if you have a balance pending, they will either garnish your wages or your income tax refund. AND THEY HAVE DONE NEITHER AND IT’S BEEN FUCKING 17 YEARS!!!! Because you can bet your ass I would have fought that shit tooth and nail.
Well, back when I actually got a substantial income tax return that is, anyway I digress. So I filed an appeal online because I sure as hell am NOT going to pay for benefits I know I deserved! Needless to say, I had to cancel all my travel arrangements, the only thing on my card was the hotel, and I cancelled in time to not be charged any kind of fee. I told my supervisor and she wasn’t mad, well not at me anyway. She said the fucking Travel Office should have caught this before the travel advance was approved in full.
So, in short (or long rant, call it how you see it) I won’t be traveling anywhere for work anytime soon and I’m going to appeal this shit because 1) they had the wrong address, 2) its plain ridiculous that it’s been 17 years and I haven’t gotten any kind of notification and 3) I’m not going down without a goddamned, fist-first, hell hath no fury like a woman denied travel, I deserve every cent of unemployment benefits, hold my hoop earrings and high heels, I’ve had two bottles of Chardonnay, I carry a shank in my purse fighting bitch!!!
And now this mood has been exasperated further since my director (the one that loves to talk about her grandson in actual baby talk) was standing in front of my desk letting me know that this entire disastrous travel episode wasn’t my fault. OF COURSE IT WASN’T MY FAULT!!!! I didn’t even know about this shit so stop talking to me in your baby voice!! Seriously, I’m thinking I’m stopping by Total Wine after work and using the $75 gift card my son gave me for Christmas to chill the fuck out because I’m fuming right now….more about my director taking up literally half an hour of my time talking about her grandson in her baby voice more than the entire travel disaster that started this entire mood…..ugh
Upward and Onward………or to jail, at this point its a toss up….
Seriously, I’ve been contemplating this all weekend long because I get so frustrated with one of my friends because sometimes I’m sitting there in front of her after she tells me something important or that happened to her and my inside voice is just……”she’s your friend, don’t kill her, don’t kill her.”
This is what happened on Friday…..picture it, El Paso, it’s cold as fuck in the early morning hours of January 17th and my friend Veronica text me that she has a “flat” tire and is worried. I respond and ask her if she’s okay. I get a picture of her damned tire, which instantly infuriates me because that’s not what I asked her.
So I text her again if she’s okay, and then nothing but silence for two hours. I called her but the bitch sent me to voicemail. So I thought to myself if she’s not answering she’s taking care of that flat tire. It’s not until Friday night that she calls me back to tell me her “harrowing” story about how she got the flat tire and the “ordeal” she went through to get it fixed.
Apparently she had gone over to her new boyfriend’s house because he made dinner for her the night before, this is a new relationship and he lives on the opposite side of town. So she drove her over there and apparently she must have caught something (it turned out to be a small sharp, screw like they use on construction sites) in her tire the night before. But being either naïve or stupid, she didn’t feel her car driving any different that night. It wasn’t until the next morning when she saw, she fucking SAW the low tire pressure light come on, but chose to ignore it. Now she and I have the same make and model car. Only hers is six years newer than mine, and the Ford Fusions are notorious for have bad tire pressure sensors, they go off even when you don’t have low tire pressure. Or when there is a change in temperature, I’m talking NOTORIOUS! I did my research online and with Ford. Apparently the 2018-2019 models have fixed this problem but, that doesn’t help me or my friend who have a car older than that. In any case, she continued to say that she ignored the tire pressure sensor and still decided to drive to work. When my tire pressure sensor goes off (which is usually in my drive way, as soon as I start my car) I get off and walk around my car to make sure that I don’t have a flat. But did she? No, no she fucking didn’t, and I asked her when she saw the tire pressure sensor go off and she told me when she was (are you ready for this?) IN HER GARAGE!!!!!
She didn’t stop until she was almost at work, which is a good ten miles from her house. She sent me a picture of the tire and I was like, seriously you couldn’t have checked your car before you drove out of your damned garage?! Okay I know, I sound like I’m being all judgy and critical but I assume that my friend has some sort of common sense right? Wrong….ugh. So she calls me Friday night to tell me that it took the roadside assistance for Ford to get to her and her car over two hours to the dealership. Which was half in, half out of the emergency lane off of I-10 and Geronimo, then I asked her why she just hadn’t driven (slowly) right off the freeway onto the exit and this is what she said. “I didn’t want to ruin the tire any more than it was”……and I almost fucking lost it!
My inside voice, the common sense voice was yelling so loud that it almost gave me a headache, as it yelled…..ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! YOU DIDN’T WANT TO RUIN THE TIRE MORE THAN IT WAS?!?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID!!!!
Yes, that’s what my inside voice was yelling. But I said to her (calmly) “It didn’t matter what it did to your tire, you should have just driven slowly off of the freeway and into the parking lot of the Renaissance Inn and you would have been safer.” She said “I never thought about that. Besides I also didn’t want to ruin the rim on the car” and again I thought to myself…oh right, you didn’t want to ruin the rim, that’s cool, you were just perilously stopped half in, half out on the emergency lane on I-10, where you would have gotten hit if you’d tried to exit your car…sure I can get that………….NOT!!!!
Then she tells me that the flatbed truck got there after about an hour and a half, then they towed it to a Ford dealership. And she complained about how long she had to wait for the Ford dealership to change her tire and put on the spare. My head was spinning by this point, I asked her why she didn’t just have the tow truck take her car to Martin Tire (where she bought her fourth set of tires in less than three years!) and she said that since its Ford’s roadside assistance they have to tow it to a Ford dealership. Okay I understand that, but none of this would have happened if she had only checked her tire, in her garage when the tire pressure sensor went off when she started her car that morning (AAAGGGHHHHH!!!!!!)
Then she tells me that her boyfriend had shown up less than an hour after she got the flat, and stayed there with her until the tow truck took her car to the dealership. I thought okay, at least he did that, he was there to support and calm her down because according to her, this was a “horrible experience” and that’s when I said to her “Yep it sure was, one that you caused by not checking your tires before you left your house.” Then she gets all butt-hurt and tells me “How can you tell me that? Who checks their tires every day before they leave their house?”
I pointed to myself and said “I fucking do, it’s something my ex-husband taught me, and something that my stupid ex-boyfriend reinforced and that my oldest son still harps about because you never know what might happen to your car, better safe than sorry. Especially since I’ve found that the Ford Fusions have an issue with the tire pressure sensors, I make damned sure I keep on top of that. AND I’ve told you about the pressure sensors over and over, so you caused what happened to you today.” She said that I was making her feel stupid, and that her dad or either of her ex-husbands didn’t teach her to be careful with her car because they always maintained them. And that’s when I was close to tearing her hair out and said “And how long have you been single? How long have you been on your own and had to take care of yourself? Seriously, this fucking damsel in distress act is fucking annoying as shit! You, just like I do have to take care of ourselves which includes making sure that everything from our jobs, house and cars aren’t being neglected and in working order. No one is going to do this for us, and I sure as hell don’t need anyone to tell me to check my tires, car, get my oil changed or take my car for a tune up, I know this. I keep a maintenance log for my car, AND if I would have called roadside assistance I would have used my insurance roadside assistance and had them take my car to the tire place and wouldn’t have wasted all day for the dealership to change my tire and then gone to get my tire replaced.”
She just looked at me and then said “You are making me feel stupid” and I said “No I’m not, I’m telling you what I would have done. AND had you asked me I would have told you but you didn’t even respond to my text to see if you were alright.” And after her ordeal with her flat tire, that same weekend she buys a brand new, 65’ smart television for her house. She texts me the Saturday following her flat tire debacle and tells me that she’s got a new tv and that I need to go and watch movies the next weekend and sends me a picture of her new television set she bought at Best Buy. She also proceeds to tell me that Best Buy is going to go an install her new television, which I find weird because, I mean it’s not rocket surgery to install your own television, or is it? Seriously that’s what I’m asking, because to me hooking up a new television set is pretty cut and dry and it doesn’t matter how hard it’s made out to be, all one does is follow instructing right? Wrong, apparently the Best Buy people cut the wrong cables, and I’m like WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING CUTTING CABLES?!?!?! All they were there doing was taking the old tv off and putting in her new television, right? Take off the cables, all of them including whatever she had connected to her tv, like her dvd player, surround sound, sound bar, and HDMI cable and switch out her tv, and reconnect all the cables back the way they were. Am I crazy or am I being too critical of my stupid friend?
So I proceed to ask her why the hell they cut cables and tell her that it’s not that hard to connect a new television set and that I hope to God she’s not paying Best Buy to install it for her. I also told her that if she would have told me I would have installed the thing for her or even better why didn’t she ask her new BF to install it for her? That was the last text message I sent because I didn’t receive a response. Then when I tried to call her later that day she sent my call to voicemail. This is the friend that was being gaslit by her ex-boyfriend, the one who got her tires slashed (by the same ex), the one who I had to intercept a phone call from because he kept harassing her and told him to go to hell because we (okay I) knew it was him making her suffer all along. There isn’t a big enough face palm for how I feel right about now.
And I’m seriously tired of this stupid damsel in distress act she pulls, the thing is, can my friend really be that naïve or is it just stupidity? I really want to know, because to me, common sense takes over when there are issue life throws at you. I mean I installed the smart tv in my room, my computer, my printer, hell I even installed the mini blinds in my house and I fixed the ceiling fan in my room. I changed out the cabin filter on my car, and if I absolutely have to, I will do the tune up as well, but I don’t have to because my son does it for me. He volunteers since he lives with his mom and doesn’t pay rent, lol.
But, I’ve learned to do so much on my own because even when Lestat was in my life, I learned from watching him do things, and I managed to patch a hole in the wall in my hallway, as well as patch the small holes in the bedroom doors, change out the doorknobs and install the washer and dryer I bought myself. I mean, I’ve changed out a flat tire on my car (not that I wanted to but I didn’t have a choice) because I was shown how to by my stupid ex-husband and ex-boyfriend to fend for myself because nothing, and I do mean nothing in this life is certain. So am I being too critical of my friend and her inability to think for herself or is she really that fucking clueless about using her common sense? Seriously, if I’m being a bitch I want to know because I can’t deal with stupid people, it’s draining and the constant having to reassure them is out of character for me. I will not reinforce stupidity, it only germinates into more stupidity and then I will have to kill a bitch for being that fucking dumb.
Also before all this happened, she found a job posting for JP’s position (my ex work husband who left) and asked me about it. Then she told me she was going to apply for it, but I don’t think I can take working with a friend here at work, especially if I can’t figure out whether it’s stupidity or naiveté that she suffers from. It’s already bad enough having to deal with Baby Kermit and her incessant throat clearing operatics I have to hear on a daily basis, ugh. And if I’m going to have to train her what I learned from JP, because I had to show him how to create sub-awards, it will be unbearable, so I think I may just apply for his position myself………because I know I can do it.
I know many will read this and criticize me for being hard on my friend. But one can only deal with situations like the ones she’s gone through, being a friend, and not wonder if she really is naive or not. Seriously I don’t think I’ve met someone as clueless as my friend and I love my dear friend. But sometime I have to wonder…..where the fuck she comes up with some of the situations he gets herself into or her manner of thinking.
Until next time, when the Huntress will talk about the things kids say……to embarrass their parents.
This question came about because of a shopping excursion to buy a pair of jeans……
I will buy a lot of things on Amazon, for convenience of course, like shampoo, deodorant, laundry detergent because they come in bulk. And sometimes one gets a really good deal on these items if you purchase them often. Clothes however I will buy with caution, especially women’s clothes because one size does not mean it fits all. Women’s clothing sizes will vary from one brand to another. So a size 10 dress in one brand can be a size 8 in another, frustrating for sure. But jeans are one thing I won’t buy on Amazon or anywhere online because sizes vary drastically by brand/manufacturer. So during my lunch hour (and in order to get away from Baby Kermit’s constant, annoying bull frog, scratchy, loud, raspy throat clearing) I made my way to Kohl’s to find some black jeans for my upcoming trip to Nashville.
I walked in thinking I’d find the perfect black jean to go with my business casual wardrobe for this training/conference. Then, as I made my way from one jean design/brand to another I didn’t even bother with the sizes. Why? Because I couldn’t get over the damned sticker shock prices that’s why. They were advertising a “sale” half off or buy one get one half price, and I was like why the fuck would I buy one pair that probably costs as much as a goddamned car payment to get half off the other?! Seriously, the Levi’s women’s jeans were $59 and the other brands like Gloria Vanderbilt were $44, and nothing lower than $35. Which is fucking ridiculous, their jeans not diamond encrusted bras, like Victoria’s Secret make for their annual fashion show, I mean come the fuck on!
Then adding to my aggravation I go to Target which is seemingly more my price range, and then find that all the jeans, I MEAN ALL THE JEANS are low rise, skinny. Why would stores like Target cater ONLY to millennial’s and carry just skinny low rise jeans?!?! Has their marketing department not realized that the majority of the American population is overweight? I’ve seen millennial’s (overweight millennial’s at that) try and fit their full sized, chubby asses into skinny jeans, it is NOT a pretty picture. I’m not fat shaming here, I’d never do that but sometimes one has to wonder why a person would try and fit into something that clearly is two sizes too small?
Anyway back to shopping, and as I’m trying to look through the sizes I hear some snarky young girl tell her mom that if she didn’t like any of the jeans at Target, she can go and get old mom jeans to wear. Then this snarky little bitch laughs and walks away, she must have been 13 or 14 years old at the most. I really wanted to just tell the little bitch, your headed down the same road, remember this. But, meh who am I to say something like that? Okay I have and I probably will again but I was still in sticker shock at the jeans I was looking at.
So why do older women like me seem to not be able to find jeans for us, sensible jeans, jeans that aren’t overpriced, low rise, skinny ass, can’t fit my muffin top, my ass is too big, my calves are literally COW jeans?!?!?! Skinny jeans are my enemy, I have big calves, and skinny jeans don’t do it for me, they accentuate my big, fat lower legs which are already a menace to my ego and self-esteem, don’t even get me started on trying to find boots to wear in winter, ugh. I can’t, for the life of me find a normal pair of dark blue or black denim, straight leg jeans that I can wear with boots or high heels for a business casual look. I’ve seen memes online about acid washed jeans. But you know what? I’d give me right calve for a pair of blue, acid wash, button fly, straight leg Levi’s jeans right about now.
Don’t even get me started on the phenomena called………..JEGGINGS! No support, no fashion sense, no way I could wear those to work, clothing disaster I couldn’t possibly pull off. Again why would companies market jeggings to the majority of the population when the, according to NIDDK 40% of women are obese. Jeggings are okay if your 5’5 and weigh 105 pounds, and even then I think jeggings are just wrong. Besides, thanks to our “executive assistant” who wore leggings without underwear one day, leggings/jeggings were removed from our dress code.
But then again the definition of obese is subjective, I’ve lost 46 pounds, and because of my height (5’4) I’m considered obese even though I wear a size 8 jean. So maybe the NIDDK needs to reassess what they consider obese according to height, because when did having curves become unattractive, like seriously……..but I digress.
I just want to find a pair of regular cut jeans, that are a perfect fit for me and that I won’t have to spend a fortune to buy. If it were up to me, I’d banish the so called skinny jean from the face of the earth. After all there were only “regular” jeans before some stupid woman decided to sew a regular pair of jeans into stupid skinny jeans because her bony ass didn’t look good in them, and made them a fad. I’d also obliterate the so-called “mom jean”, those over-exaggerated lose fitting jeans with elastic waist bands as well. Seriously who comes up with shit like this?
Not to mention that now almost all stupid skinny jeans are sold…..TORN, ugh. When I was a kid (don’t even go there with your fucking “Ok boomer” shit…..you know who you are) because I’m a Gen-Xer and grew up in the 1980’s not the goddamned 50’s. We’d work hard to make new jeans comfy and worn. And now people pay for torn jeans to wear as fashion? I must be living in the mirror dimension, seriously (if you don’t know what that is, watch Dr. Strange and then get back to me). Right now I’m so frustrated with this entire jean situation, I’m going to go have a donut (or maybe two) and contemplate my jean conundrum.
Stay tuned for next week’s show where the Huntress will go into detail about how bras are devices of torture……
We all have them, coworkers that are spectacular at their jobs, but total imbeciles when it comes to common sense. Sometimes one doesn’t really see this until you talk to them in depth about something other than work.
Case in point……………Baby Kermit’s Son Mac. We talked a bit about our personal lives during a staff meeting. I normally don’t join in because I don’t like to divulge info about my private life. Like how drank my weight in white wine spritzers during the holidays, or how I almost killed my soon to be ex-sister in law. Or how I almost got into a fight at Walmart with a woman who was clearly going through a mid-life crisis wearing a short ruched party dress, a fake white fur coat (not in El Paso, don’t even….) and some trashy lace high heels because she was arguing with the cashier that the ugly ass lipstick colors she was buying said they were on special. She was holding up the line, and the self-check outs were packed to the gills. This lady had to have been 65 or more, and dressing like she thought she was still in her 20’s…ugh but that’s a post for another time.
But that day something Baby Kermit said just struck something within me, like a mental thunderbolt. She was talking about how she spent her holidays and then mentioned that one of her son’s names was Mac. I didn’t think anything of it until our director asked her what his full name was. She said his name was Macnamara, and then Thing 1 asked “Like the tennis player?” And she said “No, just Macnamara” I wasn’t paying too much attention to the conversation up until that point when she said her son’s name was Macnamara. Which to me is quite odd for a Hispanic/Latino/Mexican person to name their son.
Then Thing 1 persisted, and asked Baby Kermit why they had chosen Macnamara as a name for their son. Baby Kermit looked at Thing 1 almost as if to imply the question itself was stupid. She responded with “My husband had always wanted a son named Mac.” So, I, being the astute person I am asked her “So why would you name him Macnamera?” She looked at me kind of confused and said “What else would his name be if we wanted to call him Mac?” I took a sip of my coffee and said “Maybe you should have named him Makenzie, Mac for short. That way he wouldn’t have to go through life constantly explaining the reason why he was named after a tennis player.” She looked at me……in stunned silence, I could see the wheels turning in her empty head as she thought about what I had just said. I feel for that kid, really I do because he’s now 19 years old. That’s like someone wanting to name their kid Jack, and then finding out the dumbasses named him Jack In The Box instead of John……*facepalm*
I got up from the conference table and left, all the while thinking to myself, Cheesus Crust I work with some stupid ass people!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I took some well-deserved time off from work because I’m slammed and it seemed to pile up while I was gone. I was happy to get away from Baby Kermit and her throat clearing harmonies for almost two weeks. But now I’m back and I hadn’t been in the office for more than five minutes when it started………..that annoying, raspy, bull frog mating call that continuously comes from her office. Dear lawd kill me now! This is kind of long post, because one of the entries has cops, handcuffs and a severe, severe beating….now that I have your attention, here we go.
#5 – I Lost My Work Husband
On my last day of work JP, the only other coworker that didn’t drive me absolutely bonkers with an annoying habit, snotty attitude or condescending tone asked me to his office because he “had something to tell me.” I thought it was going to be some juicy gossip about a faculty member or that he had come up with a plan to hide Baby Kermit’s body after I beat her to death with her own desk chair. No, that would have been awesome, he proceeded to tell me that he had resigned his position with our office and was taking a directorship in another department. I tried to hide my disappointment with a hug and hearty congratulations. But I was to say the least, extremely sad, because he grounded me here at work. He made me laugh when I needed it, and calmed me down when he saw me losing my cool, and he was my lunchtime chess partner. Another coworker mentioned that, because of our love of chess we seemed like we were married. Because we argued about the rules of chess, not that either one of us was right, it was just the fact that we both love the game and we both have a sadistic sense of humor.
#4 – I Almost Got Arrested for Assault…………I said ALMOST
In the early hours of Christmas morning I got a text from my mom, and I knew I was bad because my mom NEVER texts me. As I heard the notification I got up out of bed and read her text telling me that my stupid, idiot, piece of shit, belligerent, degenerate sister in law had hit her and knocked her down. I don’t think I finished reading the text when before I knew it, I was dressed, in my car and racing down I-10 the entire 21 miles to the lower valley it takes to get to my parents’ house. My oldest son called my mom and asked what was happening while I drove, she explained that my brother’s daughter was in the kitchen and that my mom asked her to please wash the dishes she used and the little bitch responded with “I don’t have to do anything you tell me, my mom said so.” That’s when my mom slapped her, then my SIL came out of the room because apparently the little bitch was yelling like she’d just been shot. She asked her daughter what had happened and she told my SIL that my mom slapped her. That’s when my SIL hit my mom and pushed her onto the kitchen floor yelling at her not to touch her daughter.
I was FUCKING FURIOUS!!! My youngest and oldest were with me and we were all pissed as hell. As I walked in (at 1:52am) to my mom’s house I saw her at the dining room table, my brother holding an ice bag to the back of her head and my dad making coffee. My brother began to explain to me what had happened and I quickly shut him up and asked where his bitch wife was at. As I asked, I heard commotion coming from the hallway, and as I turned around there she was, the fucking bitch that had hit and knocked down a 76 year old grandmother. She had a gym bag in her hand and her daughter behind her (she was the reason for all of this) I don’t dare call her my niece because that little asshole bitch isn’t my niece.
She dropped the gym bag and ran out the front door, and I ran right after her. She tried to get into her car and as she unlocked it she dropper her keys. I got to her, grabbed her keys from the ground, grabbed her long, stinking unwashed hair and I bashed her empty head into the driver side door of her Jeep Grand Cherokee! I did this as she fought me, I grabbed her by her hair and literally dragged her from the driveway of my parents’ house, up the side walk as she screamed and called me every name in the book. Her daughter and my nephew came outside and her daughter began to cuss at me (mind you the little bitch is only 15 years old). My sister in law so drunk she couldn’t put up a fight, and even if she was able to, I was raging mad it wouldn’t have mattered at that point. I got her to the front porch and began to beat her ass into the brick wall as I asked her “Is this what it was like to push down my mom?! Are you feeling what my mom felt right about now you goddamned lush?! How does this feel you fucking bitch?!?!” As I stomped her stupid ass into the porch concrete.
By this time my brother came out and tried to stop me, then her daughter came up and tried to slap me, the little bitch actually tried to slap me! As I held her mom by her hair with my right foot on her stomach (I might have been stomping her over and over, I can’t remember) I took the kids hand and I pushed her down and slapped her with her own hand. She fell on her ass onto the sidewalk, and then I looked her straight in the eye and said “You’re going to remember that you caused all of this you little ingrate, you’re going to hate me for the rest of your life because of what I’m doing to your goddamned mom right now. You’re going to remember the beating that I gave this bitch because of you! And you know what? I don’t fucking care if I never see you or your sorry-ass, beer chugging, low life living, broke ass bitch of a mother or you again!”
The little bitch looked at me all the while I was holding down her idiot mother with one hand and my oldest son calling 911 for the sheriff’s department to send someone to my parents’ house.
Then my brother’s wife tried to bite my calf through my jeans, and I picked her up and once and for all, I two fisted PUNCHED THAT BITCH RIGHT IN THE FACE I was so mad!!! She fell, hitting the metal flower pot my mom has on her porch, then fell face first in the dirt.
My nephew kept pleading with me to let his mom go, and I just simply told him to go back in the house and get his mom’s and his ingrate sister’s things together because I was throwing them out of my parent’s home for good. My brother and his family have lived with my parent’s for a couple of years now because his idiot wife lost their house by giving half mortgage payments and not telling my brother about it. Yes, he’s to blame too because he should have known better and should have kept an eye on his finances a bit more. But ultimately he didn’t find out until the foreclosure notice came in the mail, she was hiding the mail from him too.
All of this happened within a matter of minutes but it seemed as though it was in slow motion. That’s when I saw the lights of the Sheriff’s police cruiser in our drive way and the deputy asking me to step away from the “victim.” My brother’s daughter ran up to the deputy and began to lie her ass off about how I beat down her mom for no good reason. My youngest son walked up to them and calmly said “No officer that’s not what happened, please come inside. The animal on the ground hit and threw down my grandmother.” The officer walked up to me, told me to get away from my brother’s wife and he asked her if she was okay. She couldn’t speak and when she did, he asked her if she’d been drinking. She lied of course but she was fall down drunk, even if it was me that helped her “fall down.”
The deputy called for another car and walked me to his car, and he then asked me to explain. So I did, as I was talking to him another cruiser pulled up in front of my parents’ house. My oldest went to go explain and take him inside to talk to my mom. All the while my idiot SIL began to yell that she was going to have me arrested, and she yelled continually at the deputy that I was talking to. Finally after ten minutes he walked over to her, helped her to her feet, put handcuffs on her and walked her to his car. She continued to yell, about how she was going to press charges against me, blah, blah, blah. My brother had taken my nephew and his daughter into the house and the deputy told me he was going to handcuff me and put me in the back of the other cruiser. I was like WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK?! I asked him “are you serious?” He said it was until he and the other deputy talked to everyone to sort out what happened. So there I sat in the back of a Sheriff’s police cruiser waiting for what seemed hours for these two sheriff’s deputies to get their shit together.
One deputy came and let me out of the car and took the handcuffs off, then the other went and took my SIL out and walked me back into my mom’s house as they kept my SIL in handcuffs. Deputy Salinas asked me why I had decided to take it into my own hands and beat my SIL before calling the Sheriff’s department. I looked at him and said “Officer, my mother is 76 years old, can barely walk on her own, she has a multitude of health issues, she and my dad have opened their home to my brother, my nephew and those two worthless pieces of shit out there. And this is how they repay my parents? By being ungrateful and inconsiderate AND abusing an elderly person? Seriously, what would you have done in my situation?”
He looked at me then asked my mom if she wanted to file charges against my SIL, and she said yes. The other deputy came in and said that my SIL wanted to file charges against my mom for hitting her bitch daughter. My brother finally spoke and told the deputy that his daughter is undisciplined and she deserved to be slapped. Even though my mom can’t slap hard anymore, he said that if one parent corroborated the actions of what my mom did they couldn’t charge her. They asked me and my brother to walk with them outside and confirm that all three of us wanted to press charges against my SIL. As we walked out my brother’s daughter gave me a dirty look, and I stopped, got right up in her face and then said “I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of your life, as far as I’m concerned you are a little ungrateful bitch and you WILL get you ass kicked in school for being such because someone, someday will be the karma you deserve for what you caused your grandma. YOU will remember the beat down I gave you mom and YOU WILL remember from this night forever. Also remember this, you do NOT have family on your dad’s side anymore and we, all of us couldn’t be more pleased to be rid of your stupid ass!” Honestly I don’t care if I ever see my brother’s soon to be ex-wife or daughter again in my life.
The deputy came back and took my arm and walked me out, as I told my youngest and my nephew to get both of their shit together and leave it outside so my SIL’s mother can come and take this ingrate bitch away. Which they did as my brother called his MIL (whom his wife hadn’t spoken to in four years) to let her know she needed to come get her granddaughter because they were going to arrest his wife. We gave written statements to the deputy all the while my SIL was yelling in her drunken stupor from the back of the police cruiser, handcuffed and cussing at all of us. They took pictures of my mom’s bruises, the cut on the back of her head as she cried. One of the deputies told me that another car was coming to the house to transport my SIL to the county jail. As the car arrived the deputy walked over to the one that had just pulled up, leaving the door to the back where my SIL was sitting. I thought to myself, why not?
I walked slowly towards the open door, the SIL yelling for me to get away from her, and I got in one last, hard swinging punch to the side of her head. She yelled and just as the deputies turned around I was already by the fence door where I was before.
Yes, they got it on camera, yes they knew it was me, and yes I could potentially be charged later on, but it was so worth it to get one last hit to the bitch who hit my 76 year old, disabled mother for no reason after my mom and dad have done nothing but help my brother’s family whenever they needed it. My brother and nephew were tending to my mom and dad, and I told both of them that neither of those two ungrateful bitches were to set foot in that house again and that on my parent’s behalf I was going to file a restraining order on both of them to make sure they didn’t. I spoke to my brother for a while after things calmed down, and he told me he’s been dealing with his wife’s alcoholism for years but he’s done and is going to file for divorce. It’s funny because he’s said that to me before, but somehow this time I believe him.
Everything got wrapped up around 4:50am, by the time I got back home it was close to 7:30am and I was exhausted and I didn’t even remember it was Christmas. Later on that evening my brother drove my parent’s to my house and we had Christmas dinner. There was a sense of piece and we didn’t talk about what had happened. As they left and my dad walked out after everyone else he whispered “Mija, where did you learn to fight like that? I didn’t recognize you.” I laughed and said “Life taught me to fight like that dad” only I said it in Spanish.
All in all this is the short, abbreviated version of what happened, but what can I say, family drama at it’s best.
#3 My Periodontist Doesn’t Have a Sense of Humor
During the holiday’s I had to continue my periodontal treatment for the molar implant I’m going to get in February. So on Friday the 27th I made my way to my appointment to see Dr. Caldwell so he could assess the bone graft he’d implanted in November. He examined me and said “It’s looking really good Huntress, very good indeed.” I was happy, like I had anything to do with the progress when in actuality many patients can reject the bone graft and have to start all over again. Then he made a comment about me needing to build up my canines.
Dr. Caldwell: Well I’m going to recommend to Dr. Robertson that he’s going to have to fill in a small gap in between your right maxillary cusped and the right maxillary 1st primary molar. Also you’re left and right maxillary cusped and your right and left mandibular cusped’s need to be build up, they’re pretty worn down.
Me: You mean my canines, my vampire teeth?
Dr. Caldwell: *laughs* Yes those, do you grind you teeth? Because they are pretty worn.
Me: No…….it must be all those people I hunt at night…….
Dr. Caldwell: Um…hunts at night?
Me: Yes, that’s why my vampire teeth are dull….but I’m glad that Dr. Robertson can build them up again. *smiling*
Dr. Caldwell: Oh…ha…ha it’s a joke.
Dr. Caldwell: *stares at me in silence*
Me: I’ll be really glad to have those teeth built up again. I’m really getting tired of walking up behind someone and stabbing them in the neck with a pencil before I can suck their blood out, this will help me out a lot.
Still me: *blink, blink, blink*
Dr. Caldwell: *getting up from his chair slowing backing out towards the door* Umm, I’m going to get Linda (the assistant) to set your next follow up and get you that referral for Dr. Robertson. *Disappears into the hallway and I don’t hear or see him before I leave*
Linda Dental Assistant: *laughing as I walk up to the counter* Okay here’s your next follow up with Dr. Caldwell and here is your referral to Dr. Robertson to, ahem, build up your vampire teeth.
Me: *laughing* Was he scared?
Linda: A bit, actually he came up to me and asked me if there were real life vampires, and then I said to him “oh you must have Ms. Huntress in your exam room today.” Stop messing with the Dr’s head, he’s a good guy but takes things so seriously *laughing*
Me: What fun would that be? See you next month Linda!
Now Dr. “Cutie Patootie” Caldwell is younger than I am, but not by much and seems to have a very dry sense of humor. I can’t wait until my other dentist build up my vampire teeth, grrrrrrrrr…..
#2 Off To Nashville I Go
I came back to work today and then during a staff meeting, was told I’d be going to Nashville to a Research Administration conference at the end of January. I mean, I could not hold back my excitement, seriously! I’ll be away from Baby Kermit, for four entire days!!! Yes it’s a conference and it will probably be boring but I’ll be somewhere I’ve never been to before!! Super excited!
#1 – I’ve Completed My 17 Months of Vampire Relationship Rehab!!!!!
It’s been 17 months since I’ve had any contact with Lestat, and I can honestly say I feel fucking great! Why 17 months you ask, yes you I saw you raise your hand and then put it down again.
Because I read an article that stated it took exactly 17 months to fully get over someone. That year and five months, the article stated, was what it took someone to heal both emotionally, mentally and physically from a long term relationship with someone that you truly cared about. And it also said it took 17 months for one to be completely over that person with no chance of falling off the relationship wagon so to speak. I am, completely over Lestat, so much so that my son brought it to my attention that while we were at Target, Lestat (and his ugly wife) passed us and I didn’t even notice!! I was floored, I was amazed and most of all I was relieved!
Now, I’m not one to make New Year resolutions but I will say this. I will try to focus on the positive, I will try to see the good, I will try NOT TO KILL BABY KERMIT, and I will make sure that this year is a good year, upwards and onwards!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Someone in my office asked me what I’d like to receive this Christmas, then backtracked and asked “What would you like for yourself this Christmas?” I thought about it long and hard and I came up with a wish list for some things I’d like before the end of 2019, so here I go…
Wish #1 – I’d really, really like a bra that fits, that doesn’t ride up or have the straps constantly fall of my shoulders. I’d like to wear a comfortable bra underneath my clothes that makes me feel like I’m footloose and fancy free. A bra that isn’t made by Satan’s handmaiden, stitched together by lava thread and unruly, barbed underwire! I’d like a goddamned bra that doesn’t bother the shit out of me all damned day long reminding me, that even though I’m not top-heavy, I still have to wear this torture device that reminds me I have to keep the sisters in check!!
Wish #2 – I’d like to not be asked (constantly) if I want to participate in a secret Santa Gift exchange here at work. Seriously, if the Huntress wanted to participate I’d go and sign up with the fervor of Baby Kermit and her throat clearing symphonic harmonies. All to remind me I really, really miss Female Sheldon and her social awkwardness!
Wish #3 – My Smokey and the Bandit, drive to work in a black Trans Am, swerve into the parking lot, past Truckzilla’s parking space, straight into the first parking spot, stereo blasting Halestorm’s “It’s Not You”, slow motion door opening, stepping out in my high heels, aviator sunglass wearing, cooler than shit walk into my office, still applies.
Wish #4 – World peace…..that’s all I can say for this one. I want world peace.
Wish #5 – Karma, I want karma to come to life and bite those that deserve it in the ass. I want karma to realize that there are so many people that need to have karma bitch slap them so hard they actually realize what they’ve done and who they are and change into decent people!
Wish #6 – I wish I could afford a face-lift and a full time trainer, I have no willpower to do any sort of strength training. I need to tone…..everything, I need to tone up….ugh.
Wish #7 – I wish I didn’t hate the holiday’s so much. It’s hard because of so many factors that have gotten me here. I told myself that I’d try harder for my boys, even though they are adults, they still deserve to have a wonderful holiday experience. I’ll try alcohol, yeah that’s it…alcohol.
Wish #8 – I wish I could meet all my blogger friends, I realize that it would take an incredible feat of money and will, but nonetheless I’d like to be able to meet all of you. I think we’d have a blast.
Wish #9 – I wish my eyelashes still curled, seriously what the fuck happened that they stopped curling, they use to curl, when I was younger. I have very long lashes and when they’d curl I’d get asked if they were false. To which I’d answer “Of course not, they are all mine.” But now, no matter what the hell I do, by the time I’m done putting on my makeup, their flat as pancakes…..goddamned eyelashes, you are just doing this to piss me off!
Wish #10 – I want to wish all of you a very safe and happy holiday season, stay safe, celebrate with family and friends, have a spectacular New Year but most of all know that I am so very grateful and thankful to have found each and every one of you!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I might have a cavalcade of things to write about this week, it’s been busy but there have been quite a few misadventures going on as well, so let’s get started shall we?
Holiday Gathering, White Elephant Gift Exchange…..Don’t Make Me Punch You!
We had our departmental holiday gathering on Friday, and it wasn’t exactly how it should have turned out. First of all they asked for everyone to participate in a white elephant gift exchange….whatever.
It was purely voluntary, but some I think might have felt obligated to do so. They asked us to purchase a gift of no more than $20, wrap it and bring it to the holiday party. Then after we ate, we were going to do this absurd game which we all pick a number, and then when our number is called, go up to pick a gift, unwrap it and then if we like what someone else has, we could steal it away.
I bought something I liked and wanted because I decided I was going to choose my own gift. So when they called my number (which oddly enough was 13, on Friday the 13th) I went up and got my gift, unwrapped it and was asked if I wanted to keep it. I said yes and went back to sit down, gift in hand and left everyone else to their own devices. I knew no one would want to steal my gift away from me. How do I know this? Because I bought a beautiful wooden chess set, and I knew no one else other than myself and JP would care for it. What can I say, I work with a bunch of heathens who all fought for a huge over sized bottle of wine, a waffle maker, a Starbucks ceramic mug with a $10 gift card in it, a set of four copper beer steins, and two Star Wars coffee mugs. They fought for these fucking things, seriously I felt like I was in the wrong office for once, like I was in a class with a bunch of sugar-rushing kindergartner’s. Someone even said that if they took his Star Wars mug he’d punch them. I sat there with a constant eye roll expression wanting for the day to be over. At least the food was good, we had our shin-dig over at a BBQ place and the brisket and jalapeno sausage were excellent.
Charlie “Dirty Paws” O’Houlihan……Come At Me Bro
Last Tuesday I stayed home because the property management company was going to do the annual inspection of the rental house I live in for the lease renewal. So I spent the previous weekend making sure that everything was clean, put away and in its place. Which meant that I had to make my wonderful cat Charlie disappear for about an hour. They don’t know I have a cat, and I’m not going to tell them because I don’t want to pay the $350 pet deposit for him living with us. Besides he’s an outdoor/indoor cat and my house has almost no signs of him living there other than his cat bed, his food and water bowls and a catnip mouse he plays with occasionally. He doesn’t use a litter box because he goes and does his “business” outside, which I love and am thankful for.
So I had to get him out of the house by 10:30am since they said they’d be there before 11am, my neighbor was kind enough to cat sit for me, and even lent me a pet taxi to use so I could carry him over there. In theory it sounded easier than it was, I picked up Charlie from his slumber and then proceeded to put him in the travel carrier. Easier said than done, I picked him up and now I know why he’s the Kat Fight Klub champion of the east-side, he fought me paw and claw for ten entire minutes! I got him in the cage once and then I guess I didn’t lock the door and he jumped out and tried to run. I caught him by his back leg and he bit me! Then I was trying to calm him down by holding him in a hug and he looked at me like “I know what you’re trying to do lady and it’s not going to work, I’m not going quietly!”
I tried the second time and got him in the cage again long enough to get him out the door and as I walked across the yard he did it again! He tried to escape and the door flung open and he hit the muddy ground and almost bolted across the driveway. I was able to catch him and fight him for another five minutes as I tried to put him back into the carrier. I finally did and took him to the neighbor’s house. I had muddy paw prints all over my black warm-ups, from the waist to my ankles, I had the mark of a losing opponent from fighting with Charlie “Muddy Paws” O’Houlihan. I changed quickly before the inspector arrived and made sure no signs of my precocious feline could be found.
After the inspection was over I went to go and fetch my cat from my patient neighbor and as I walked her house he saw me and jumped into my arms. He’s NEVER done that, and he clung to me for dear life. I thanked her and she said he behaved like a good cat, all he did was look outside the back window and howled for ten minutes and seemed to calm down afterwards. I thanked her again and as we walked out of her house the minute we got to the back door he began fighting me again. I had to make sure he was alright so I brought him into the house after placing all of his things back where they usually are. He went room to room as if inspecting the house himself. Then for the entire afternoon he proceeded to give me the cold paw, he was mad for sure, I could see it.
Then he got a hold of my phone and tried to text for a pizza with cat nip, but I stopped him before he charged anything to my card. Cats can really hold a grudge can’t they?
It’s been a long time since I’ve had an aversion to the holidays, it first began because of my mother and her mental issues, then it culminated with Lestat and the fact that he’d never spend the holidays with me because as you know, he was/is married and spent them with his farce of a family. The stress and anxiety was enough for me to wish I could just stay in bed and sleep and not get up until the New Year came around. Both my mom and Lestat made these day’s seem like they lingered on forever, the constant waiting, the trying to please everyone, cooking, baking making sure that I was the one that made time for Lestat. Hoping my mother wouldn’t have another of her tantrums because she didn’t like the gift she got, hearing her complain about how I didn’t make the food the way she did, “back in the day.”
I use to pray for when I’d be able to get back to work to some sort of normalcy, to a routine I knew was one I could control. But over the last year I’ve begun to stop feeling so much like the holidays were a chore, especially since Lestat is long gone. At least one factor of anxiety and stress is no longer an issue. I didn’t realize this until this past weekend, I finally felt like a ton of bricks was lifted from me. I no longer felt anxious about making time to spend with him because we all know, I had to wait on him for everything. But last year nor this year will I wait, I felt a bit more at ease, more relaxed so to speak. Then I remembered……I still have to deal with my mother but that’s only half of the stress now. I can do it, and if she doesn’t cooperate I can always threaten her with sending her to the nursing home…..hey if it worked for Dorothy on the Golden Girls why not?
No Quiero Trabajar…..
It’s true, I don’t feel like working much this week, we’ve been so freaking busy I haven’t taken lunch a couple of the days. I’ve worked almost everyday until 6pm, and that’s a lot for me since I’m supposed to leave at 4:30 everyday. So to say the least I’m tired, mentally and physically. Although the physical part I can handle because I try and run when I get home. I must say, I’m getting better at it I may actually be ready to run my very first 5K sometime next year. But, as for work I could do without all the bad writing, the miscalculated budgets I have to fix and the cheeriness of everyone in my office that absolutely LOVES the holidays (Baby Kermit). What I could use at the moment is a large Super Supreme pan pizza with jalapenos from Pizza Hut and a well poured pint of Guinness, now that’s my kind of holiday celebration.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Work has been hella-busy so I’ve neglected to post and to respond to bloggers I follow. I’m truly sorry, but I’m going to try harder to keep up. So here we go!
Holiday Gathering……Bring a Guest, oh Wait Never Mind
So back in early November, our entire department was invited to the annual holiday event. We were told to bring a guest. So I invited one of my BFF’s to go with me, Veronica (not in my head Veronica). We were both really excited to attend as it was going to be held at a party hall with catered food and live music. To say the least we live very quiet, sheltered lives, lol.
Then, a couple of weeks later we get the notice below…..
And I had to uninvited my BFF to my holiday event. No one in our office was pleased with this turn of “events” no pun intended. Last week I approached one of the ladies in charge of coordinating this and asked her what happened to the original plan. She said (quietly) that the catering company they had initially hired decided (after being paid) they didn’t want to cater to us. Us being the university I work for, they gave no reason but they didn’t want to cater to/for us and here’s the kicker, they don’t want to return the money. Apparently my department had already paid half of the amount and would pay the remaining when the even came to a close.
So when I found out what caterer was keeping our money, I went onto Google and gave them a scathing review, which has since gotten 18 comments. It pays to be a bitch sometimes.
You’re Related to Whom???????
A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post about an office event that I had to attend and about PD and his social awkwardness and how Kevin his “friend” came to my rescue. Well, it turns out the PD and Kevin are brothers, that’s why Kevin was so appalled by what PD was saying and his trying to intervene in the socially inept PD’s exchange with me. I was shocked to find out they were related, let alone brothers because they look NOTHING alike. Weird….
Relationship Rehab and Lestat’s Baiting with Emotional Crack…..
It’s been over a year since I reached my 12 month sobriety in my relationship rehab from Lestat and his emotional sucking, vampiric ways. I’ve blocked him from my phone, and personal email (he won’t use my work email because he doesn’t know it and too inept to look it up online). But, for the last couple of weeks I’ve been getting voicemail messages from him from phone numbers I don’t recognize. Well, to be honest I don’t answer my office phone like, ever because I deal with so many faculty members I prefer to have them communicate via email so I have proof if they say one thing but then renege on whatever it is they first said. It’s a great system actually, for work anyway.
But, Lestat’s been leaving me these sad, pathetic, emotional voicemails that say “I wish I could see you” and “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you.” As soon as I hear his voice I delete the voicemail from my phone. His voice or feeble attempts at trying to bait me don’t work anymore, he’s trying in vain and to be honest it’s sad. I don’t feel the same about him anymore, actually I’m completely done with him that I even surprised myself. No emotion, no second guessing my decisions, nothing. I am over him and don’t feel anything but hate at the moment, which my therapist Terri say’s will pass and then the indifferent stage will take hold.
One of my friends asked if I’m afraid he’ll show up at my office or home to try and convince me to give him yet another second chance. I told her honestly, no and here’s why, he’s a coward he has no balls to fight for what he wants. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, he wants both me and his family without having to give up one to be with the other. So, I made that choice for myself, I am NO ONE’S CONSOLATON PRIZE!! I deserve so much more than that asshole prick is willing to give me and I’m not in the same state of mind I was in when I was still in love with him. So, he’ll never take the chance at trying to find me, or show up at work or my house because he’s a spineless, selfish, self-involved, self-centered, narcissistic coward.
If he’s unhappy, then too damned bad, he made whatever choice to stay with Fiona Shrek and his ogre children, and the sad pathetic life he leads pretending to be the perfect husband and father. And I, well I’ll keep moving forward without him, end of story. Okay this wasn’t so much a random thought but a “happening” of what was going on at the moment.
New Office Policies and Codes of Conduct……Someone Always Has to Fuck It Up for the Rest of Us…..
We had a departmental staff meeting where the directors went over a “new and improved” code of conduct and office policies. These codes of conduct address our dress code, now for me it’s a no brainer, I don’t dress inappropriately, never. But for others, well that line is a bit blurred, so that made me think that the higher-ups decided to revamp the dress code policy. Which before anyone could wear leggings so as long as they weren’t translucent or see through in nature. And they had to be black, brown or navy. No pastel or light colored leggings were allowed, but in our meeting about the updated dress code, well someone fucked it up for the leggings to be taken off the table all together.
And I know exactly who it was, although JP mentioned it was him, an off color comment that made everyone laugh. But I know it was our VP “executive assistant” who thought her fat ass could fit into some maroon leggings and it be okay NOT to wear underpants. This happened back in September, and she showed up wearing some dark maroon leggings (with boots mind you….in September we hadn’t even begun to feel cold weather and she was wearing boots!!) a black frilly blouse with a large, oversized pearl statement necklace.
Now, our “executive assistant” is 6’1, weighs about 350 lbs and dresses like….well like she doesn’t have any professional clothing to wear to work. Did I mention one of her arms, chest, back and both calves are tattooed? No? Well, she has a full tattoo sleeve on one arm, and a huge Frankenstein tat on her back. Anyway her wardrobe consists of an entire closet full of leggings and various, inappropriate tops. She also wears ballet style shoes, probably because she can’t walk in anything else or grinds the heels into flats by lunchtime.
So, since I’ve never worn leggings to work it didn’t bother me, but someone from the 3rd floor literally yelled out “Okay, who messed up us being able to wear leggings….UGH!!!” I found it funny because no one else wears leggings much either, at least not that I can remember. I just found this funny since someone voiced their dismay about not being able to wear leggings any longer.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I hope everyone had a peaceful and fulfilling Thanksgiving holiday. And that your day wasn’t full of chaos, turmoil or family strife as sometimes is the case. This year, oddly enough my mother was on her best behavior. Which is saying a lot as her “best” behavior is usually when she says something insulting without trying to insult. For example, I did all the cooking this year, and I made pumpkin cheesecake instead of pies. After dinner we had dessert and she asked for a piece of pumpkin cheesecake. I served her a plate with a cup of coffee, she took one bite and said “Oh, this is delicious, really it is. Mmm, it could use a bit more pumpkin pie spice thought.” I couldn’t wait for my parents to go home. Anyway onto…..
RANDOM THOUGHTS!!!!! (insert echo sound here).
More Independent Disney Princesses’
On Friday I was sitting around scrolling through the Disney+ channel and I began to watch the movie Brave. I think Merida is probably the most underrated Disney Princess ever! She’s amazing, she’s independent, strong, brave (hello?) stubborn and knows what she wants. So why haven’t we seen more of her?!?! Is it because she’s too independent? Come on Disney, get your shit together and get Merida her own show!!!
It’s a Novel Idea…..I think.
Last week before the holiday I was at Target, and I love walking through the book section because I’m always looking for new books to read, and I came across this!!! Its a novel called The Huntress.
But wait, theres more! (insert cheese late night advertisement here) I also found, tada…..Maggie Dove, which is also a novel.
But more importantly, it’s a novel named after another fellow blogger, Romcomdojo who writes, has wit and is hilariously amusing, her name? MAGGIE DOVE! Hey Maggs, I think we should sue, get some royalties or something, after all their using our names, let me know. I wasn’t Google stalking you, I was just curious to see if there were any more books with names of bloggers, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Catsgiving Gravy Coma
Have you ever seen a cat in a gravy coma? No? Well let me introduce you to Charles Bruiser O’Houlihan, Kat Fight Klub champion of the El Paso eastside. I made him some homemade gravy to mix into his wet food on “Catsgiving” and he went to town for dinner. This is the picture of him afterwards, in his bed, in a gravy cat coma.
Personal Idiosyncrasies That Annoy
Why does it bother me so much that Baby Kermit clears her throat all day long? I’ve been using my headphones to keep out the background noise. Mind you, I have an office across the main office where Baby Kermit is situated. But, I can still hear her, all fucking day long, and what’s worse is I feel bad for JP, because his office is right next to hers. Oh, did I forget to mention that she’s annoyingly sweet, like overly friendly, as if she’s trying too hard to make friends. She’s reminds me of the character of Patty Simcox from Grease, and I’m Rizzo, just ready to rain on her happiness parade.
Like when Kenickie lifted her dress over her head at the big dance. I feel like doing that every single fucking day I’m at work….ugh.
I Really Have No Words…..
We have a lot of work, my office is unbelievably busy and it has been for over a month and a half. The worst part about all of this is, I have to read and sometimes re-write proposal narratives for faculty that are so horrifically worded, I’ve had to take a break and walk outside to do the silent yell. You know, when you want to yell out loud but you can’t so you mimic that Van Gogh painting “The Scream” and stand in the stairwell with your mouth open silent screaming thinking to yourself “How, who in the fuck can these faculty members be so stupid?!?!?!”
I read over a proposal a couple of weeks ago and came across the word (are you ready for this?) truthiness.
It’s technically not a word, and according to Google it is, but as a research admin, it’s NOT a word we can use in a formal grant proposal. So I will challenge Google and say that the word bestesest is a word (so stop redlining me you spell check motherfucker!). So when I told the faculty member I was going to revise the proposal he actually had the nerve to ask why. That’s when I think I felt my very first chest pain of my entire life.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Thanksgiving is this week and for some it’s a stressful time and for others it’s a chance to see family and friends one normally doesn’t see. For me, it’s just the day we get to eat tons of turkey, stuffing and everything else that I have to cook. My mom stopped cooking for Thanksgiving about eight years ago, because her and my dad don’t eat much and they began to come over to my house for that day. Since then it’s been my responsibility to do Thanksgiving.
I will be cooking, baking and making all the perpetration needed for Thursday, and I’m trying to have a positive outlook on all of this. So I decided to list things I’m thankful for so here I go.
I’m thankful for my boys, they are why I’m still alive and sane (partly) and the reason I’m not in jail waiting to be prosecuted for co-workercide. On my cell phone I have them labeled as Ice, Grizz and Panda Bears from the show We Bare Bears. They all have similar personalities that correspond with those characters.
I’m thankful for my job, because this is absolutely THE BEST job I’ve ever had! In spite of having to work with Female Sheldon and now Baby Kermit. The mentoring I’ve received from my supervisor and director have surpassed any other job I’ve had in a university setting.
I’m thankful for all my blogger friends! When I began my blog in October of 2018, I thought it was only to follow direction/suggestion from my therapist to put what I’d written out there, into the blogosphere as well therapy. But since I’ve found a very supportive group who doesn’t judge and supports without making me feel that I did something wrong, stupid or morally questionable. So thanks to all of you, for such wonderful feedback and of course your comedic relief.
I’m thankful for my “real life friends” which are only four, but when you have great friends you don’t need a whole posse of people to know they have your back. So thank you to Deb, Veronica, Virginia and Ninfa y’all are the best! No, Veronica isn’t in my head she’s one of my BFF’s IRL and not only when I look in the mirror. It just so happened that we met when we both worked in what was the worst department at UTEP and we both survived that idiot director and tyrannical managers. I’ll have to write about that time it’s both horrifying and hilarious. Imagine a director who was 58 years old and still thought she was in her 30’s wearing leather pants and animal print tops to work. A manager whose hair wouldn’t grow, suspiciously never move and we all thought it could be a wig, but were never able to figure it out. And she dressed like a man, all the time. Another manager who thought she was so educated and sophisticated than the rest of us, she would look down her nose at the rest of the staff. Until the Huntress brought her down to earth that is.
I’m thankful for my snarky Cat Charlie “Bruiser” O’Houlihan, as much as he’s a pain in the ass (well he’s a cat, right) he still seems to know when I’ve had a bad day. He comes and sits by me and just purrs away. I really didn’t notice this until my son told me he was sensing my emotions and Charlie was trying to comfort me. Of course when I begin to feel better he looks up at me, rolls his eyes and goes to sleep on his giant pillow.
Two Racing Mustangs and NO COPS
Yesterday as I was driving home from work I was on I-10 nearing the exit to go home and I noticed two Ford Mustang GT’s, one black and one silver. They were standard transmission as I could hear them when they passed my on the freeway as….THEY WERE RACING DOWN THE DAMNED FREEWAY IN AFTERNOON TRAFFIC!!!! All I could think was MOTHERFUCKERS, what if they caused an accident? What if they both crashed into each other? As the silver one passed me the windows were open and an idiot kid had his cell phone out and was recording the race. I literally yelled out “Where are the fucking cops when you need them?!?!?”
Work Thanksgiving Luncheon
Our institution had this luncheon for all the employees last Friday, it’s a yearly thing and all the administration is asked to volunteer to serve their staff. The department administrator for my previous department passed by me twice, she was serving lemonade and iced tea. Then she looked straight at me, and said “Oh my god, you’ve lost so much weight! I almost didn’t recognize you! I can see it in your face, you look so good! What did you do?” Because this was the equivalent to having your mother clean your face in public with her own spit, I calmly sat there eating my turkey and replied. “I changed departments, that’s what happened” and of course JP was sitting right next to me and he’s like the little brother I never had and he laughed. Then asked “Well how overweight were you?” and I said 202 lbs. He said he was going to hang onto that little jewel of embarrassment and I said “Don’t make me angry, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” But JP is a good egg, he’s one of a handful of people I work with that keeps me sane.
I Have Fat Calves
I can’t find boots to fit me to save my life. I don’t have calves I have fucking cows at the bottom of my legs and it’s frustrating. As much as I love to wear boots in winter, I have a hard time because I can’t find any I like that actually fit me. I have small ankles and fat calves, do you know how frustrating that shit is? So, I’ve decided to start the “Fat Calve Club” and we’ll figure out how we can overcome this affliction together.
I Like Kale
And I eat it a lot. It came about because of the keto diet my doctor put me on back in March of 2018. To me it takes on the flavor of whatever you cook with it, so it doesn’t have an adverse taste as some might think. Especially in Soupa Tuscana, I make my own version of the one from Olive Garden at home and it’s delish. What I won’t eat is cilantro, because that’s just nasty shit.
I Listen to Opera
I do especially when I’m really stressed out, my favorite operas are Lakme and La Boheme. And if any of my coworkers hear opera coming from my office they tend to back away slowly because that’s an indicator that someone has pissed me off.
Pumpkin Pie Is Redundant
Every year for Thanksgiving my mom made like five pumpkin pies, and I don’t even like pumpkin pie. Even during our employee luncheon I gave it away to Leslie one of my coworkers in trade for her cranberry sauce. Yes, we acted like elementary school kids trading food we didn’t like with each other. So last year I found a recipe for pumpkin cheesecake, and it was absolutely delish!!! Because it has a caramel sauce drizzled over it, and well, its cheesecake!
So there you have it, everything I’m thankful for and random thoughts from the Huntress. I want to take this opportunity to wish everyone a very Happy Thanksgiving!! Eat, drink and be merry or eat, drink and pass out of tryptophan and carb laced food!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I have these memories, that come at random times or maybe when a smell or sound triggers them. Sometimes they are so fleeting that I question whether they happened at all, or maybe they are just bubbling to the surface. I do recognize many of these memories that I had long forgotten. I distinctly remember my aunt Nellie’s wedding,
I was the maid of honor that carried the train of her dress, I remember the reception in Mexico at her in-laws house, amidst high sand hills. I remember her wedding cake, it was white with a glittery white frosting, yellow flowers and studded with edible silver pearls. I stood, watched, and waited for a piece as they cut through the three tier cake.
I remember the smell of my paternal grandfather’s kitchen, his old fashioned coffee pot percolating away on the stove. Clay pots slowly simmering with beans that had onions and jalapenos “for flavor” he used to say.
I remember him dressed in his Sunday best, and the Stetson hat he wore to church, his cologne, and his gentle hand holding mine as I looked up at him. I remember walking into what seemed like a huge church, the old wooden floors creaking under my red patent leather shoes. The smell of burning alter candles, glowing in red glass urns trimmed with gold.
Looking up at the plaster ceiling, painted in pastel colors, angles drawn holding trumpets and gold incense burners in their hands. The deep set stain glass windows letting in the Sunday morning sun as if to say “It will always be warm in here for you.”
I also have what I call memories of things that might have not actually happened. The movie Urban Cowboy for example, the scene where Pam takes Bud to her high-rise apartment in downtown Houston. I swear I’ve been there before, that I’ve seen the First International Bank from that view or somewhere close.
The lights, the background seem so familiar to me but I have never lived in Houston. I also have some vague memories of when Bud is driving down a road in front of a refinery, I feel as though I’ve been there too, but again I’ve never lived in Houston and have only visited and only for a couple of days. I don’t recall visiting any of those places.
I also remember my maternal grandfather’s house during Christmas, every year he always bought a fresh tree. I remember the smell of pine and candy canes, the large bulb Christmas lights that hung heavily around the tree along with silver tinsel as well as the huge living room window.
The fake snow in a can that he’s buy to spray around the windows to make it “look” like it had snowed, it never snowed in El Paso. Brightly colored wrapped presents just sitting under the tree begging to be opened by me and all the cousins. I also remember spending the night there too, sleeping on an old fold away bed draped in heavy blankets. Then being woken up in the middle of the night to go with my grandfather for his shift as a ditch rider, he helped managed the water flow for the El Paso County Water Improvement District. He kept an eye on how the water was distributed from the canals to the farms around Fabens, Clint and Lee Moore.
When he’d work the second shift from 11pm to 7am, sometimes the one or two of cousins and I would go along with him. I remember riding in his work truck, the Spanish music coming out softly from the truck radio over the glow of the light from the dashboard. His thermos of coffee, hot and inviting, sometimes he’d let the grand-kids take a sip, or he’d bring along soda’s in bottles, mainly Mexican sodas. The smell of freshly made burritos in his lunch box that he’d share with us. He knew we wouldn’t make it to morning, so we’d fall asleep in his truck under an old Army blanket he kept just in case we went along for the ride during the winter. But he always took us home right before he went to go turn in his truck and clock out, it was against regulations to have anyone else in the truck that wasn’t an employee. Funny how so many things were against regulations but no one said anything about it. I remember my grandfather driving alongside another ditch rider, asking how everything was, and the other driver asking “You’re babysitting tonight Manuel?” and my grandfather said “It’s not babysitting when it’s family” the other ditch rider laughing and the two driving in opposite directions.
I also remember the Christmas when I got Scarlet fever, how hot I felt in my pink flannel night gown, the cough I got was loud and painful. That I couldn’t sleep because my head hurt and the cough wouldn’t let me. I remember the red splotches on my face, and how my mom tried to get me to eat but I couldn’t because all I did was throw it up within minutes. How I woke up on Christmas morning that year and didn’t even feel like opening the presents. I remember my annoying baby brother making so much noise on his giant plastic car he got because we didn’t have carpet in our house yet. It was tile and those large black tires made rumbling noises as I tried to sleep while my dad, uncles and grandfathers tried to watch football on our counsel television set.
I distinctly remember the horrible taste of the cough syrup my mom made me take, and the white cotton hand towels that were dowsed in rubbing alcohol to try and break the fever. I do however remember a cough medicine that I did like the taste of…
Call me crazy but it didn’t taste god awful like all the rest of the cough syrups I had to take. I remember I was sick until way past Christmas and that my presents remained unopened under the tree for a week afterwards.
I also have a memory of distinctly walking down a hallway of a house I don’t recognize, I mean it’s a house here in El Paso, and I swear I’ve never been in it. But when I was dating Lestat it was for sale and although the bastard would have never bought me a house I was curious about it. We saw they had an open house when it went up for sale, and I walked in, and quickly made my way upstairs. Lestat followed and it was like I knew where everything was, I even found hidden panels in the door way to the master bedroom. The shelves inside the heavy wooden panels were all full of dust and had some old newspapers inside, from the early 1900’s.
The realtor asked me if my family had previously owned the house and I said no. Because of course they hadn’t, then Lestat asked me how I knew where the master bedroom was and how I found those panels. I said I didn’t know. But I remember being in that house, or was it a dream? It couldn’t have been because after all these years I still have the realtor’s business card, so how did I know?
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Is not something I say too often, other than at work I mean, because that comes out of my mouth every single day to faculty members who don’t get what my job is and how I’m here to help them not fuck up their proposals. But in my private life, I don’t say it often when I have to explain to someone who asks me if I’m married and then find I’ve been divorced for twenty years and haven’t remarried.
Last week my office was extremely busy, I stayed late almost all week, leaving the office about six-thirty or so and getting home mentally exhausted to where I didn’t even run or eat dinner. But on Thursday we had a sort of “meet and greet” with other departments so we (and they) could get to know what it is we do and why and vice versa. The turnout was a lot more than first expected, but then again advertise there will be “refreshments” and the entire university will show up to freeload a catered affair. So we had to mingle and introduce ourselves to faculty and staff members we’d only dealt with over the phone, not really knowing each other than by our voice.
Our Vice President, my director, supervisor, JP, Baby Kermit and Thing 1 were all doing this awkward social dance, pretending to be nice (okay I was the only one pretending) and introducing ourselves, generating small talk before our VP was to speak to the crowd to make some small announcements regarding changes of operating procedures on how we would work on grant proposals. This little work shindig was after work so there was alcohol (thank god) which consisted of red and white wine only, appetizers and small individual dessert options. As I made my way around the room I encountered a faculty member that I’d dealt with on many occasions but never knew him face to face. We’d emailed each other back and forth regarding his proposals, he’d call me to ask questions and such. But neither he nor I knew what we looked like. So when I introduced myself, he looked surprised, and he’s a professor okay so he has no social skills. I realize not all professors/faculty members are like that, but in my experience I’ve realized that a lot of them don’t, I’ve worked in higher education for almost eighteen years. We shook hands and while holding my glass of chardonnay he kept on shaking my hand while he said “Well, wow I’m surprised” and I responded with “About what?”
He said “Don’t get me wrong, I just imagined you being a much older woman, say fifty or so with thick glasses, overweight in frumpy librarian garb.” He laughed as though he thought I found this funny, which I did but that’s another story. I didn’t laugh or show any emotion as his response was clearly from someone who had so social filter or knows how to take social cues. Standing right beside him was our head of fire safety, I’m going to call him Kevin. Kevin knew this faculty member who I’ll call Professor Dumbass (PD for short). Kevin is a handsome man, former fire department chief of instruction and now works for the university. Kevin was making all kinds of gestures for PD to change the subject or just plain shut the hell up, I could see it and he was really trying not to make it obvious.
But PD kept on, and on about how he thought I looked a certain way, and how I sounded much older on the phone. I could have said the same thing about how I thought he was younger, and sounded so much dumber in person than on the phone. But I was just going to stand there and let this idiot dig himself into the quicksand that is the Huntress’ bad side. Kevin on the other hand could see the expression or lack of expression on my face. He was doing his damnest to try and deflect the conversation to something else. But PD wouldn’t give, then PD continued to talk about how young and surprisingly attractive he thought I was (yes he actually said that) which kind of pisssed me off. All the while still holding and shaking my hand.
I finally pulled my hand out of his and said “It was nice to meet you Professor Dumbass, but I have to go and mingle some more” and tried to walk away. Now remember I said “tried” to walk away, and then he decided to say “Wait, um so are you still going to help me with my upcoming submission to that private foundation I emailed you about?” I told him I didn’t get to choose which faculty member I work with, we are assigned the proposals based on our specialty. Unfortunately I’m the one that deals with private foundation submissions but I didn’t need PD to know that.
As I walked away he followed me, as did Kevin and then PD asked me “Will you and your husband be coming to the Christmas gathering that Medical Education is having in December?” A stupid, roundabout way of asking if I was married I think, and I told him I didn’t have a husband and that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be going to that event. Then Kevin sighed out loud and said “PD let’s go over and talk to Dr. Torres.” But did PD listen, no he didn’t, I saw the frustration on Kevin’s face and he mouthed “I’m so sorry.” I just nodded to let him know it was okay, and PD continued with “How are you NOT married? I mean, I thought women like you all had husbands.” Kevin hung his head as to say, just stick your foot in your mouth a bit further so you can choke on it you idiot. I said I was divorced, and the PD asked how long of course I should have walked away, I really should have but I didn’t.
I thought, why not let’s try and make this asshole understand that he shouldn’t be so stupid and ask questions like those he’s asking me. So I turned and said “Women like me? What do you mean by that PD?” He looked surprised, and said “Well I’m just saying….” And then I interjected with “You’d better choose your next words very carefully because our HR rep is only a few feet away, do you get where I’m going with this?” Obviously he didn’t, but then I walked away and told PD not to follow me, I kind of said it really loud and in an angry tone. Which low and behold he was actually shocked at and even got somewhat angry. Kevin came up to me a while later after he’d escorted PD out of the event and apologized for PD. I didn’t know they were actually friends outside of work, not just at work.
Kevin kept saying he was sorry and I told him not to worry about it, it wasn’t his fault that his friend acted like that or that he was a complete and total douche bag. Kevin laughed and tried to explain his friend isn’t very social especially around women. I told him it was very obvious, we both laughed and then Kevin (who is married) asked me if I was really divorced. I said yes, that I’ve been divorced twenty years this November. He said he was sorry and I said not to be, that the divorce was probably the best thing to happen to me. I explained that if I had stayed married, I wouldn’t have gotten to go to college and get both my degrees, or raise my boys to be good, decent, responsible adults. Or learn the lessons I had to in order become the person I am now. He raised the wine glass he was holding and said “Lets toast to your divorce and the evolution of the woman that you’ve become” I was surprised and a little verklept as I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
I raised my glass to his, clinking them and then another professor walked up and said “So….what are we toasting?” And Kevin said “To divorce” and I laughed and the professor looked confused. Before Kevin could explain, our VP began his speech (thank God) and I gave him a wink, he winked back and I walked to go and stand next to my coworkers. Now before that day all I knew of Kevin was that he’s our universities Fire Chief, but now I know he’s a compassionate man with a stupid friend who turned a potentially bad situation around and saved his very stupid friend from being stabbed in the parking lot. As well as saving me from explaining why I’m fifty years old, divorced and haven’t been remarried at my age. Because really, why do I have to explain that shit to anyone?
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
This weekend I was binge watching reruns of No Reservations and The Layover, shows that Anthony Bourdain use to host. I was tired of all the scary movies and thrillers and decided I’d watch something different. I loved Anthony Bourdain, he had a sort of “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks” kind of attitude and in the back of my mind he was my ideal man. In any case I was watching an episode of his from the Layover and he said something that got me thinking. He was talking about how English food really isn’t English anymore because of all the cultural influences that have come about due to all the immigrants that have settled in England. He mentioned that the national dish is chicken tikka masala.
Now I don’t know if that’s true but, what got me thinking is how Mexican am I since I’m not from Mexico? Everyone that lives on the border has to think about this at one point in their lives or another. In another episode he was in Cologne Germany talking to a woman who was born in Cologne but whose parents were Turkish immigrants. She mentioned that she was born German, but growing up with Turkish born parents she felt more Turkish as a child than German. Because she was exposed to nothing but Turkish ideals, language, food and traditions at home, then when she went off to university she said she was exposed to everything German. Anthony Bourdain asked her how she felt about herself now, as an adult. She answered that she’s German with Turkish ancestry and that’s because, as she explained, now she’s old enough to glean all the positive aspects from both cultures.
So I began to contemplate this myself, exactly how Mexican am I, if I wasn’t born in Mexico? Well that’s easy, I’m not Mexican because I’m an American of Mexican decent, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know of my Mexican heritage or deny it either. But it wasn’t always that way because growing up all I ever heard of Mexican’s was that they were lazy, didn’t want to do anything but come to America and take advantage of our benefits and such. Yes, you heard that right, I grew up hearing this and guess from whom? My very own parents who were first generation Mexican-Americans. Now, as I think back I’m ashamed and angry at my parents’ very close-minded and backward, not to mention prejudice way of thinking. As I got older I began to find that my mom’s parents didn’t speak Spanish to her as a child. They told her that she had to speak English only, because this was America and she had to speak the way American’s did. My mom and dad both told me that as kids going to school their teachers would reprimand them if they spoke Spanish in school, going as far as hitting them on the knuckles with a ruler if students spoke Spanish to each other even at lunch or on the playground.
I slowly began to realize how their prejudicial thinking was born, but as adults they perpetuated this thinking and tried to pass it on to their children. I thought a lot like my parents as a young adult too, but as I began to educate myself about why certain misconceptions came about. I realized that a lot of what they thought was true, wasn’t true at all. I explained to my father one day that Mexican’s weren’t lazy, that they were the sole reason produce farmers were made successful. That Cesar Chavez saw the injustice of how Mexican immigrants were being treated by the produce farmers in California and decided he was going to stand up for their rights. Because, as I told him, just because they weren’t born here they were human and had civil rights too.
My dad admired John Wayne (don’t ask me why) and though his film The Alamo was one of the greatest films ever. That is until I began college and learned that everything I knew of history was wrong, completely wrong. I told my dad how history painted those that defended the Alamo against all these angry “savage” Mexican’s was wrong. He asked me how (he was kind of angry because what did I know? I was only a woman and he was an all knowing man, this was part of his Mexican machismo). I asked my dad what he knew of the battle of the Alamo and all he could say was that Davy Crockett and James Bowie fought to keep the Alamo from being taken from the Mexican’s. I asked “Is that ALL you know?” and he looked at me confused, and said “Is there anything else?” I was to say the least blown away at how movies made up almost all the misinformed education my parents received. I told him that those savage Mexican’s didn’t believe in slavery and that those defenders of the Alamo wanted to make Texas a slave republic/state, and the Mexican government had outlawed slavery in 1829. The Mexican government discouraged settlers coming to Texas from bringing slaves with them because slavery was seen as barbaric, imagine that?
I told my dad that the battle of the Alamo wasn’t about defending (what was legally theirs by the way) the Alamo against savage Mexican’s drunk on power to control or for independence, but because they didn’t want to allow slavery to come to Texas. My dad sat at the dining room table with his cup of coffee in hand, a look of bewilderment on his face and said “Pues, I didn’t know.” From that day on, he never watched the John Wayne movie The Alamo again, he told one of my uncles that he thought that movie was wrong, that the facts didn’t add up.
I see a great deal of cultural misinformation that went on and is still perpetuated in my parent’s generation and now I know why. They were brought up thinking that they were born American’s therefore they should shun their cultural and historical roots, no speaking Spanish, no celebrating where their parent’s came from, no identifying with their Mexican heritage. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are very proud American’s. My maternal grandfather served in World War II, and stood for the National Anthem every time it played. But my parent’s tried to somehow keep themselves and their children from learning their own heritage by denying it. When one becomes an adult, we begin to think for ourselves, find our own answers and figure out what is fact and what is fiction.
For years I would tell people that I was a fifth or sixth generation American, denying my heritage and now I realize that I was being groomed to do so, by the very people who should have known better. After I began to go to college and realize that my parent’s perception of where exactly we came from was wrong, I began to start to research where my parents came from. Or should I say where their parents came from. My mom’s parents indeed were born here in the United States, but my dad’s parents were not, my paternal grandmother was born in Mexico but was of Mennonite/German/Irish decent. My Granny as we called her, also liked to dress up as Santa Clause for her grandchildren and adapted American traditions with those of her childhood.
Which explains why she was so light skinned, and my paternal grandfather was born in Chihuahua Mexico, and is of Mesoamerican/Mexican (Raramuri) Indian decent and he was very dark skinned. He was also of German/Visigoth decent, how that came about I have no idea.
So how do I identify? Well growing up in El Paso, being exposed to all the Chicano/Latino historical changes and I identify with being a Latina of Mexican decent or a Chicana, which some would say is a derogatory description of the Mexican heritage. But I disagree, because people identify Chicanismo as being cholos who drive low riders and are uneducated gang-bangers who wear flannel shirts (way before the grunge era came about may I add) and bandannas, are mechanics and cholas having tons of kids. Being tattooed, beer drinking, pot smoking drug addicts. But there is so much more to the history of the Chicano/Latino culture than what one sees on t.v or hears about.
And yes, there are some of these stereotypes that are true, but not all of them are. Yes, I am first and foremost an American because I was born here, In San Bernardino California. I was raised in El Paso on the border with Mexico and grew up with a lot of the traditions that my parents tried so hard to suppress, only learning them from friends and their families or older generations of family. Accepting them as part of my cultural heritage and beginning to realize that acceptance why we need to take into account when we hear of all the immigrants coming here looking for a better life.
Also acceptance of where one comes from is important because as the saying goes, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. It’s taken a while for my parents to come to terms with their familial history and why they should be proud of it instead of shunning it. Although prejudice and ignorance comes to light every so often but I’m all too happy to set them straight and remind them they need to stop their one-way thinking. So I guess if I had to answer the question that Anthony Bourdain asked, I’d say I’m a deep, complex American of Mexican, German, Irish decent that doesn’t identify or hold to only one cultural background. I am an American of different cultures and proud of that fact!
Sure, I joke about carrying a shank in my purse or that I will stick a pencil in Baby Kermit’s neck to shut her up. Or that I will defend my child cubs if you mess with them, and I can get as ghetto/barrio on anyone’s ass if they do me or my family wrong. But that’s not a heritage/cultural thing, that’s purely a Huntress thing!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Let me start by saying that today, I’m in an unbelievably bad mood, and there’s no telling why. It began when I got to work, as I walked in somehow I felt a kind of negativity enveloping me. Go figure, I should either go with it or try to “be nice.” But I think I’m going to go with it……..it feels like a four cup of coffee morning.
Now that I’ve written about the new annoying coworker, I have a ton of new material to write about regarding annoying Baby Kermit and her child like mentality and way of talking. So here’s another revelation that this person is a couple of cans short of a six pack.
Our entire office decided it would be “fun” to have a Halloween door decorating contest, by group. And by this I mean my department has to collectively decorate one door in a decided theme. So since I’m not at all crafty in the least, I mean that I just recently discovered hem tape thanks to my buddy over at mydangblog so I wouldn’t have to hand sew anything anymore. Being seasonally “crafty” and not crafty like plotting someones demise because that I can do. Just not decoration kind of crafty.
We all had a luncheon last week and tossed around some ideas about what the door theme should be and we all decided on Movie Theme Monsters. We are also going to tie that into some of our job duties. Of course my big mouth chose Jaws, and how each and every faculty member just tears to shreds the budgets we work on. So we all chose our movie monsters and what does annoying Baby Kermit do? She picks………..La Muerte, death by compliance! She sent this out by email and I responded with “How is this tied into our movie theme? Is there a movie about La Muerte that I didn’t hear about?”
The backlash quickly began, I got emails from my other coworkers saying that it’s okay that she’s new and that there is a movie with that name (in Spanish) and that it ties into the theme. Okay I may be in a bad mood today I mean more than usual and I didn’t take too kindly to my existing coworkers defending the newby (the corrupt newby that is, remember she jumped ship from that sinking, federally investigated place before the feds actually began their investigation?) Yes I’m in an extremely bad mood this morning, I felt it as soon as I walked in the door. And now Thing 1 has chosen Ursula from the Little Mermaid, I’m like is this a movie monster theme door decoration or a childlike play on monsters?!?! But I digress….ugh.
Because it’s my supervisors birthday and the person that picked her name to decorate her office door and pass around the birthday card forgot….AGAIN! I have a stash of birthday cards and door decorations in my desk. Yes I’m OCD that way, so since I’m here at about 5 mins to seven every day I decorated my supervisors door and left the birthday card on the persons desk, you know the one who forgot to do all this shit. Then immediately I thought to myself, why the fuck did I do this? I shouldn’t have, that way my part time coworker “Thing 1” would feel stupid for forgetting and maybe she’d finally do what she was supposed to.
But my supervisor is awesome, she doesn’t deserve to be forgotten on her birthday so I left the decorations up. But I did put a sticky note inside the card directed at Thing 1 saying….”Next year if you forget about the person you chose for the b-day celebration I’m not covering for you. You need to put it in your Outlook to remind you, REMEMBER THAT!” She came into my office after she’d gotten everyone else to sign the card and began to babble, that she was sorry and that she did really forget and blah, blah, blah. I was sipping my coffee and looking at her over my coffee cup with that, “you’re so stupid and I know you know it” look.
Baby Kermit’s voice is so unbearably annoying that I now have to use my Beat earbuds just to drown out her fucking voice because I can hear her all the way across the hall with my door closed!!! I do this also because my director’s office is four doors down from mine and Baby Kermit is always in there….I mean ALWAYS! I know I sound like a complete and total killjoy and that I’m intolerant of my new coworker. But I can’t shake this feeling that she was hired on purpose to avoid going through that investigation that’s currently looming over her previous place of employment. Let’s just say it’s a gut feeling. I need to close my door, have another couple cups of coffee and listen to some Christopher Cross, maybe some “Sailing” might help me chill out right now.
On the other hand some Hole, Celebrity Skin might do the trick. Yep meh bitch Courtney has got my back!
“I’m all I want to be, a walking study in demonology…….yeah!”
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
A couple of months ago I wrote a post about finally getting to buy my own house. Well, as the slow and tedious process of the home buying began to unfold it slowly and surely turned to pure and utter shit! Yep y’all heard that right not only am I not getting a house, but the debacle that led to it has pissed me off beyond belief. It all began when I contacted the awesome realtor I had that went out of her way to find me the perfect home for my budget and me as an individual.
She had Mr. Fat Ass (I’ll explain this name in a bit) from one of the mortgage companies she uses to contact me, he took my information and he quickly evaluated my financials and told my realtor Laura that I was good to go, and he told her what my price range was. She also let him know that I only had about $1100 for a down payment and he said he could get me into the down payment assistance program, he said it was no problem. So she and I hit the road running looking for a house in the range of $125K.
Now to some people that doesn’t sound like much, but $125K in El Paso can buy you a whole lot of house, the one I had chosen was almost 1600sq feet, and that’s a hell of a lot bigger than the rental I live in now. Not to mention that the kitchen isn’t just a sink and fridge, like the house I live in, ugh it’s so frustrating cooking in that piss ant kitchen!
Okay I’m getting of track here, anyway we looked and looked and then I found it, the gem in the dirt, the crystal skull in the kingdom, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! We quickly signed a contract, I took half my paycheck to put down $650 earnest money and off I was thinking I would soon have the keys to my very own home!
The buyer accepted a low ball offer of $116K because we negotiated in a conversion to refrigerated air from the swamp cooler the house currently had. I was to say the least, a happy camper. Until that is the mortgage dude stopped calling me, answering my calls, emails and my realtors repeated calls as well. Since he had told the both of us we were “good to go” we didn’t really worry all that much. I had to pay for the appraisal, which cost me another $350 and the inspection was going to cost $380. I thought that’s okay since my realtor said she’d pay for the inspection and I could pay her back when I got my next check. What realtor does that? She’s amazing I’m telling you. I asked her if I should give the property manager that handles the rental house I live in for the owner my notice to vacate. She said to do it, so I did and I was elated because for the last five years it’s been a nightmare living in that house.
Things need to be fixed that never get fixed because when I put in a request, the property management company had to notify the owner if she “approves” of the repairs. And the bitch never does! She’s a penny pinching, motherfucking tight-fisted whore! Sorry, just stating the truth here. I’ve lived in that house going on thirteen years, and around year six we got a bad hail storm. Her insurance sent out an inspector to evaluate the roof and she got a big fat check, but did the bitch replace the roof? No, no she fucking didn’t, it began to leak, severely over the dining area. When I complained to the management company they told me that they had already told her. I wrote them a nice long letter, with a copy of my lease and tenants’ rights from the State of Texas to tell them they, as well as the landlord were in violation of their very own lease.
The very next day she (the landlord) shows up with her sister and her brother in law to “fix” the leak on the roof. Did I mention that she and her sister are cheap ass Filipinos? No? Okay I mentioned it, the sister climbs into the attic to find the leak and they do a half assed job putting roofing tar where they “think” the leak is.
Ugh okay I’m getting off track here, I’ll get back to the story of my cheap ass landlord later. So I gave notice to vacate, I began packing up my things in boxes which are now sitting in my garage in place where my car should be. Then I get an email from Mr. Fat Ass, saying that I didn’t qualify for the FHA loan he was working on because of my student load debt. BUT that I do qualify for a conventional loan because they take into consideration what I pay on a monthly basis NOT the entire amount I owe, which is a lot.
So he goes to work to get me into a conventional mortgage. So me and my realtor keep working on everything else, then he emails me another week later saying I need to bring up my credit score a bit more. I ask why, he said so that I can qualify for the down payment assistance program. I’m like whoa, whoa, whoa you said I did qualify, he said I would if I pay off the only credit card I have.
At the time I had a balance of $745 on my card, but he said if I could pay that amount off he could do a re-score. At this time all my liquid funds were tied up in the earnest money, the pending repayment of the inspection to my realtor and paying for the movers. So what did the Huntress do? For the second time in my life I had a clear title on my precious car, so I went to go and hock my beautiful Ford Fusion to pay down the goddamned credit card. Because this mortgage dude knew what he was doing right? So I borrowed against my car, paid off the balance on my credit card and I waited.
Only now I was feeling a bit uneasy about Mr. Fat Ass Mortgage Guy, after four days I get a text from my realtor to call her ASAP. I was at work and when I saw the text I had a sinking feeling that this was not going to go well. I closed the door to my office and called her, and she said right away that it wasn’t good news. She began to tell me that after the re-score my credit score didn’t go up enough for me to qualify for the down payment assistance program, but it was enough to get a conventional mortgage. So in essence now I had no down payment, my car was in title loan pawnshop hell, I had given notice to vacate my rental house, and I owed my realtor $380 for the inspection of the property.
She said if I could come up with the 3.5% down payment on my own we could move forward, which is about $4200 not including another $650 earnest money, $380 inspection and $350 for the appraisal! I literally broke down telling her how in the fuck was I supposed to do that when the $1100 I had gone in with was up in smoke and that Fat Ass had said I was “good to go!” She said she was going to call him about everything but wanted to tell me what had happened. After I got off the phone I had to contemplate my next move, to let the landlord’s management company know that I wasn’t going to leave after all. Which would be a nightmare in itself because the snarky bitch who runs the place is one of those “I told you so” kind of people.
I emailed her and she promptly responded with “we will ALLOW you to stay” and I’m like what do you mean allow me?!?! I’ve paid over $97K in rent and you are going to ALLOW me to stay?!?
I got a call from my realtor and I told her what the management company had said and she offered me one of her rental homes on a month to month, at a reasonable rental amount so I could put together my down payment. I appreciated her offer but I didn’t have money for the deposit or the moving expenses so I had to stay in the house I was in. Then I got an email an hour and a half later, it was from my realtor saying that the owner of the property I had a contract with was not going to be releasing the earnest money. So, I was out more than the $1100 I had initially put into this entire process.
A couple of days later I get another email from Laura, she copied me on the email to the director of the mortgage company telling him what had transpired and that she would no longer be using their company because of the careless way Mr. Fat Ass mortgage guy had handled my home purchase. The director said he would refund me the earnest money and that he was truly sorry about what she and I had gone through. That was on August 22nd and I still don’t have my earnest money back, and I’m not holding my breath either.
I got onto their website and Google and did the worst review of this half assed mortgage company I could possibly write! I let them have it and I went into detail about what had happened to me and how I would warn anyone and everyone NOT to use them. This too was in August, yesterday my Google review had over 54 comments and after which I got into the mortgage company website and Mr. Fat Ass is no longer on the website as a mortgage consultant/expert. By the way the name Mr. Fat Ass is because when I saw the picture of the mortgage dude he looked like a Hispanic version of Chris Farley, okay bigger.
As of today I’m still living in that crappy rental house and I recently discovered I have to have periodontal work done that has already cost me $1550, which should have gone to my down payment fund. I am so fucking angry at how this entire situation went down, but with that said lesson learned. I’ve had this post written since it all happened back in August, but I was too angry and too embarrassed by what I had been though to post it. After my therapist Terri talked to me she said I should because it’s like letting go of the situation and moving on. So here I am, and here is my home purchase debacle for everyone to read.
I’m going to channel my inner Sophie Patrillo, so here I go……
Picture it, a random state university somewhere in Texas. It’s 7:05am and I’m the only one in the office, I’m sitting quietly reading blogs that I follow since technically I don’t start work until 7:30am. I’m letting my cappuccino (that I made myself) cool a bit because it’s hawt AF. I’m enjoying the quiet of the office, no one here but me and the two ghosts that reside here.
All of a sudden, from the hallway I hear stirrings of some sort, I wonder and dismiss whatever it was and go back to reading River’s blog about how beautiful Maine is in the fall (sooooo jelly right now that I’m not in Maine). Then I hear it again, only this time………..IT TALKS!!!!
It says, in a creepy Kermit the Frog voice “can you please open my office door? I don’t have a key yet and I’m here extra early to set up my stuff.” It’s the new “coworker” they hired to replace Female Sheldon. I’m not one bit exaggerating when I say she sounds like a female version of Kermit the Frog. Now I told myself on my 50th birthday a couple of weeks ago that I was going to really try and be nice, and I mean nice in general because I can come off as somewhat of a bitch (so I’ve been told).
So I look up at Kermit and without saying a word, I leave my office and walk across the hallway to open the main office then her office door. She has boxes and boxes of crap and I wondered how she was going to fit all that crap into a tiny little office. She’s getting Female Sheldon’s original office before they moved her up to the 3rd floor near the labs. Female Kermit has been here for two weeks already, yep two weeks and she’s just now settling in. Not only does she have the voice of a Muppet, she’s an older lady (yes older than I am) who worked at my old university in the same office as my director. HHmmm? Does that seem kind of fishy or what?
AND she got hired just as one of my friends from the other university sent me an article from the local newspaper about how the Feds are investigating the office of sponsored projects (where Female Kermit previously worked at before she got hired here) at the other university for mismanagement of grant funds. Now boys and girls, that shit isn’t anything to laugh at, when the federal government pulls an audit/investigation for mismanagement of federal funding that’s some serious shit. Especially when a distinguished alumni (NASA astronaut) brought that grant to the university.
When our office was told that they had hired someone to replace FS, we were all like, okay that’s cool, fast but cool. Then they told us who it was and where she was coming from JP and myself were like WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK!?!?! That’s because I had forwarded to JP the article that I had received from my friend that works at the other university a week before we were told who they had hired. You see, there are only four people in that office and when our director told us about their “strategic” hire, she also mentioned that this person had turned in (and I quote) “Over 214 federal proposals” last year. Now, as a research administrator it’s nearly impossible to turn in THAT many federal proposals and not fuck up at least a half dozen. Especially if you’re working on them all alone.
You see where I’m going with this y’all? So I’m wondering if this bitch jumped ship before the feds began asking questions about her involvement in the mismanagement of those grant funds. And whether or not my director knew about this and threw her the lifesaver from our ship to pull her aboard? This is highly suspect and JP (only other sane coworker) and I have been questioning this hire since we found out.
Here is the reporters Facebook post on the same story that was printed in the local paper, read and judge for yourselves. That only adds to my perception of Female Kermit, as soon as I met her she rubbed me the wrong way. Her high pitched baby Kermit voice, she’s so overly nice it’s nauseating, and she sits in her office clearing her goddamned throat all day I can hear it from across the hall! She sounds like she digging for clams, and JP’s office is right next to hers. He instant messages me with his constant aggravation about her “bodily” noises.
She really does sound like a child, her mentality is that of a child despite being a grown married woman with grown kids, FML. She has a nervous laugh so she’s laughing all the fucking time! We had a luncheon last week and as we sat eating and talking she was clearing her throat the entire time. JP had to text me to calm down before I said anything, everyone else was acting normal, like they didn’t hear it. I was so annoyed by the time I came back to my office I had to go outside and sit under the trees in the garden to calm the fuck down.
So, in short our office hired another annoying coworker who is coming from a department in another state university that might or might not be involved in mishandling of federal funds, who talks like baby Kermit, clears her throat to the point I want to strangle her, and because of all this I can hardly stand to look or talk to her! Yes I might sound petty, and I never thought I’d say this but I actually miss Female Sheldon! Ugh, kill me now!
I wonder if there are any universities in Maine that are hiring Research Administrators?
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
Last night I went out, yes you heard that right I went out on a Monday night (what is the world coming to?). My boys and I went to Tinseltown theaters to go and see Metallica’s S&M2 concert with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. Now I’m more of a Megadeth fan and I thought to myself, I’m really tired today and do I want to go and sit through two and a half hours of headbanging, thrasher metal?
Yes, yes I do, because although Dave Mustaine left Metallica in the early 1980’s I was extremely impressed with this concert. I can’t begin to describe just how awesome this experience was and this was on film AFTER the original concert had taken place. And what’s even more surprising is that the San Francisco Symphony made Metallica’s music SO MUCH BETTER than it originally is! (sorry Dave).
I’m not exaggerating when I say that the kettle drums, the French horns, and the CELLOS…..I’m like who puts cellos and French horns in a metal concert?!? Metallica that’s who! It added a….oh how do you say, je ne sais quoi to the entire performance. Oh I also have to mention the orchestras conductor, Edwin Outwater. He conducted the orchestra with such fluidity and grace, but of course the orchestra itself was the bomb! They performance only enhanced Metallica’s musical talent by like a thousand! Oh one more word on Mr. Outwater, he’s a cutie patootie, there I said it! Not what you’d think an orchestra conductor to look like, totes out of the norm.
But wait there’s more (insert cheesy sales pitch here) all of this amazing performance was only the sundae underneath. The cherry on top was a wonderful, spectacular tribute to Cliff Burton, their first bassist who died in 1986 at the age of 24 in a bus accident while on tour for their Master of Puppets tour in Sweden.
Scott Pingel, the Symphony’s principal bass player played an electric instrument (a cello looking thing) and produced a haunting rendition of Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth). Then when Lars Ulrich joined in BAM! It became the most perfect tribute to a former band member I’ve ever heard, I was on the verge of tears! And as mentioned this isn’t even my favorite band but it was enough to move me to stand along with all the others in the theater and start banging my head. Which by the way my three boys were mortified by, but meh, I think I’ve earned embarrassing them now since they are all grown men and because I just turned 50 so I’m with the attitude that I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK about embarrassing y’all in public!
Here is the Scott Pingel/Lars Ulrich tribute to Cliff Burton, just spectacular!
So, if you have a chance to go and see this rock concert movie, do it you won’t be sorry!
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I’ve had a couple of ideas in my head about things I should write about. Of course I haven’t following through with developing these ideas as I seem to be stuck at the moment. But I did have an idea about a story about a person who becomes friends with online bloggers, that turns dark and somewhat tragic. So what I have written so far is below, let me know what you think.
I’ve written a few characters based on some of my blogger buddies, see if you can figure out who they are….lol. This is getting to be very interesting indeed!
Blogger Murder Mystery…..
Sebastian nervously emailed both Denise and Hailey, it was three twenty-four in the afternoon but he was in Australia and they were both in the U.S. He didn’t want to call but felt as though he had no choice, he picked up his cell and dialed Hailey’s number. He could hear the clicking, connecting sound on his phone, then silence.
It rang once, then twice and then he heard Hailey pick up on the other end.
“This better be good Sebastian it’s four in the morning” Hailey said angry and sleepy on the other end.
Sebastian didn’t listen, he just blurted out “Hailey it’s the wife, it’s the wife! She’s been emailing Christine all this time, she’s going to hurt her! I don’t know how but you and Denise need to warn Christine!”
Hailey’s sleep was completely gone when she heard Sebastian yell out in his frantic voice.
Hailey said “Are you sure? I mean this isn’t a mix up right Sebastian? You’re absolutely……”
Sebastian interrupted “No it’s not a mix up, I tracked the IP address from her email, which yes, I hacked…. but I found out it’s the wife!”
“I’ll call Denise, but keep tracking her, she must use her phone to log onto her blog right? So I’ll let you know if we can’t get a hold of Christine” Hailey said as she tried not to panic her friend further.
Sebastian reluctantly agreed to keep tracking the wife and said “Okay, I’ve sent Christine an email and a text but, she hasn’t responded.”
“Okay just keep an eye on her, you’re our only hope to track her movements” Hailey told Sebastian
They friends hung up and Hailey’s husband turned from the wall and said “Is everything okay?”
Hailey kissed him on the forehead and said “Yes go back to sleep.” And her husband turned back onto his pillow and did just that.
Hailey grabbed her laptop and her phone and quietly went downstairs to avoid waking her husband again. She turned on the lamp on her desk and logged onto her blog account. As she did so she dialed Denise’s number hoping that she’d answer even if she was angry at Hailey for waking her up. She heard the rings come and go and frantically said out loud “Oh come on Denise, pick up, pick up!”
“Hello?” Denise said after the fourth ring groggy and somewhat disoriented.
“Oh thank God, Denise its Hailey. Sebastian just called me” Hailey said frantically out of breath.
“All the way from Australia?” Denise replied in disbelief.
Hailey rolled her eyes and said “Yes, that’s beside the point. He said it’s the wife, the wife is the one that’s been stalking Christine!”
“I fucking new it! I knew it!” Denise yelled into the phone.
“We both did, but Sebastian was able to find out it was her from the IP address on her blog” Hailey told Denise as she was typing in her password to her blog.
Denise said “I’m getting up, although you know it takes me a while. But I’m going to call Christine and see if I can get a hold of her.”
Hailey anxious told Denise she’d try to email her or contact Christine via her blog. All at once all three bloggers were trying to get in touch with their friend to warn her. To tell her she’s in danger.
Meanwhile in another state far from her friends, Christine grabbed her keys she looked in the mirror by her front door, her eyes were swollen from crying the night before. She wiped the stray hairs from her forehead and got her water bottle to head to the gym as she did every other morning. Her routine to go run, workout and rid herself of the stress from the day before. She opened her front door and walked outside closing it behind her, it was still dark and she could see the morning light trying to make its way over the horizon. Just as she was going to press the key to unlock her car, a shadow emerged from the side of her house, all Christine could see was the shiny barrel of a gun pointed straight at her.
Hailey kept trying to call and email Christine, she knew her morning routines and was hoping that just today she’d stayed home. Denise was also trying in vain, she dialed Christine’s number over and over and it kept ringing and ringing with no answer.
Christine saw the shadow slowly emerge, the overhead light from her garage door finally allowing her to see who it was that was invading her space, pointing that gun right at her heart. The hand on the gun moved and finally a short, overweight woman came out into plain view from the shadows. She was wearing dark grey workout clothes, black New Balance running shoes and her hair was tied up into a sloppy ponytail. Christine scanned her street to see if she could see any cars that normally aren’t there. At that very moment she saw a white SUV, a Chevy Tahoe parked on the street directly across from the intersection.
“You are such a bitch! You’ve made me a complete laughing stock!” said the shadowy voice.
Christine sighed out loud, not knowing whether or not the gun was actually loaded since she knew who was behind it.
“I’ve made you a laughing stock? I think we all know you did that completely on your own Carmen” Christine said as she put her keys in her jacket pocket.
“Don’t fucking move! I’m warning you!” said Carmen, Danny’s wife.
Christine put her hands out in front of her and replied “Or what? What do you plan to do? Hmm? Are you going to shoot me right here in my driveway where all my neighbors can see, because four of them have surveillance systems and they can show the police who’s been on my property if anything happens to me.” Christine said hoping the bluff would work.
Carmen looked around nervously as she held the gun with her right hand which began to shake. Christine knew that the bluff, at least for now was making Carmen think twice.
“Shut up, they can’t see anything you fucking home wrecking bitch!” Carmen yelled out.
“Oh I wouldn’t get too loud if I were you, you might wake one of my neighbors up and they’ll come to see what all the rackets about and see you standing there with a gun pointed at me and call the cops.” Christine said almost trying not to laugh.
Carmen began to walk slowly towards Christine and said “You think all of this is so funny, you think you’re so smart, but you have no idea all the damage you’ve caused.”
Christine saw that Carmen seemed distracted and thought to herself maybe this is the moment to take advantage of and take the gun away from her.
Carmen continued “You’ve ruined my marriage, you’ve ruined my career…..you’ve…..”
Christine interrupted “Hold on one minute, how exactly did I ruin YOUR career Carmen? If that’s indeed the case I had nothing to do with it. You’ve managed to ruin everything in your life, including your marriage all by yourself because you’re a selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed bitch!”
Christine yelled out hoping one of her neighbors might come to see what all the noise was about. She looked around to see if any of the lights in any of the houses around her had turned on.
Carmen began to get more and more nervous, she tried to steady the grip on the gun, and she too looked around to see if anyone might see them, her confidence visibly shaken……
So this is what I have so far, I mean I have more written longhand but, the idea came to me as I responded to some blog posts. Did y’all figure out which blogger belonged to which character? I’ll let you think about it some more 🙂
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I’ve been told that my poems are a bit on the dark side. I’ve never really thought about them that way, only to say that creativity comes from deep rooted emotions. Whether it’s writing a novel, poetry or painting. I wrote this two years ago, when Lestat’s was still in my life. I haven’t really gone back to any of my poetry since then and even I was taken back at how dark some of these are. But all of it came from the same place, and now that I’ve moved on I can share them, as part of my “art” or writing so to speak. And speaking of art, one of my favorite artists EVER, George Yepes.
The first two images are from a series of painting by Mr. Yepes an awesome Hispanic/Latin/Mexican-American artist who paints images about the Mexican culture. I personally own a print of my featured image it’s called “Adelita” and it hangs in my bedroom, feeling somehow I can relate to her in a lot of ways. Well without the guns I mean, but you never know…..
I know many of my blogger buddies out there have had this happen to them at least once, and some of you more than that. This is what I’m suffering through right now, even for blog posts, I’m resorting to posting poems I wrote years ago as “filler” for my blog. I hate this, I hate feeling like this, as if I’m obligated to write something. Writing for me, for the most part has always been cathartic, it’s been a healing process ever since I realized I could write with ease. I was in the fourth grade and I entered a poetry writing contest. My English teacher told me I was good, and she encouraged me to keep writing. So I did, writing for me has always come naturally or so I thought.
Putting pen to paper (yes I still writing longhand) has never been something I’ve ever struggled with, just like with those who math (yuck) or statistics (double yuck) comes with ease. I use to help a couple my friends write when we were all in school because they struggled with writing, and I couldn’t understand why. Why was it hard for my two friends to write the simplest thing? I’m talking about basic college English courses, assignments that didn’t entail anything rigorous or demanding. I was at a loss, but then I figured out that one of them was just plain lazy AF, and the other being from Mexico struggled to translate a lot of the “technical” writing in English. So the lazy AF friend I told I couldn’t help anymore, the other I helped as much as I could. But even with doing my own homework and helping out a friend I was never at a loss for creativity in writing a report, an email, a handwritten letter or postcard (remember those?).
But now, I find myself stuck in the quicksand called writers block, I’ve been editing/rewriting the book I began years earlier, that later became blog posts about Lestat. The book is a lot longer than the 26 blog posts about him, I’ve improved on some things or at least I think I have. But even after reading a book suggested by a very wise fellow blogger friend, Wendy Megget called The Right To Write by Julia Cameron, I have had trouble in the last month or do. Julia says we all have the right to write what we feel, and gives exercises to help hone those skills as well, such as morning pages. She suggests sitting down every morning and writing in long hand three pages of whatever pops in your head. At first I was so happy and willing and sometimes I went beyond my three pages. But now, I sit in front of my journal and stare at a blank page, this has gone on for two and a half weeks already.
I’m at a loss, I’m frustrated, I’m angry and I’m tired of trying to figure out why I’m going through this. I have two and a half weeks of blank morning pages, I’m struggling to finish my Co-Worker Road Trip Nightmare Part III, and even work is laborious right now.
I was reviewing a grant proposal from a notoriously bad writer/faculty member who thinks that it’s okay to use words like “dat” instead of “that” or “da” instead of “the” in his professional writing, no I’m not joking. I couldn’t even rewrite his stupid proposal for lack of any type of writing creativity, and that scares me because that is not me. Then of course the obsessive-compulsive, over thinking side of me begins to think, do I have early onset Alzheimer’s? So I tell one of my boys who works for the same university I do, and instead of reassuring me he says “It could be ma, you never know.” Agggghhhhhh! That is NOT what I wanted to hear, in any case this is what’s going on with me and why I haven’t posted to my post like I normally do, it’s frustrating as fuck not to mention emotionally drained at trying to figure out why I feel this way.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
Soon after we settled into our rooms at the hotel, the “gang” wanted to go out to dinner. I was in no mood to eat a late dinner then wake up early to go to a training I knew was going to bore the hell out of me. Needless to say, it was mandatory, so off we went, like Lenard Nemoy in search of a sit down restaurant to eat at. We left our hotel around 8:45pm because Thing 1 was still being a pain in the ass and Thing 3 was talking on the phone to her ungrateful daughter who suggested that she should have left her debit card at home. Again I found myself sitting in the van waiting on other people to get moving. We drove around but every place seemed packed for a Monday and we wound up on 9th street at a Whataburger. Which was fine with me because I just wanted to eat and go back to the hotel to go to sleep.
We all ordered and sat in a booth and table next to each other and I ate as I listened to the rest of the Things talk about their lives, what they do on their off time, their spouses etc. I on the other hand ate my chicken strips with extra country gravy on the side and listened. Then Thing 4, who is a very nice girl who works with us and has a baby boy at home asked me how old my boys were. I answered as I took a sip from my Dr. Pepper and then Thing 1 said loudly (and I do mean LOUD) “Oh my gawd, you have three grown boys? I never knew that, I didn’t even know you had kids. Are you married, divorced or living in sin? Ha, ha, ha.” and she said. I could feel the fire of exhaustion burning inside me and as everyone else laughed I said “Oh I’m living in sin, yeah that’s how I prefer to live. That way it’s not a shock to anyone when you tell everybody you’re getting a divorce because you’re married to someone with no social skills, or when you superglue a coworkers desk drawers shut.” Suddenly the laughter stopped and I got a text from JP and said “I’m sorry you had to go through that, she’s not a bad person she’s just the nervous type” then I thought he’s the third person to tell me that, I mean what does that even mean, the nervous type? That would explain her uncontrollable blinking, ugh.
We all finished eating making small talk and finally left Whataburger to make our way back to our hotel. I was to say the least tired, as everyone exited the van I pushing past everyone to make it to the elevator and up to my room. I didn’t even turn around to look where the rest of the Thing Gang was, as the elevator doors opened I walked in and pushed the button and then hoped I wouldn’t get stuck in the elevator with Thing 1 & 2.
The next day I made our way onto campus to the class room where the software people were to meet us and the 61 other university employees. I was one of the first people there, imagine that and that was because I asked the hotel shuttle to drive me onto campus because we were supposed to in the classroom by 7:50am. As people started to file in, late as always the software people began to ask why everyone wasn’t on time. One of them looked at me and I said “I am not my brother’s keeper, or my coworkers either” and she, a sarcastic much older Gwen Stefani wannabe rolled her eyes at me just as the Thing gang walked in.
Tuesday was hard because I was tired, even though I had a room all to myself and slept like a baby, I felt as though I hadn’t slept enough. It must have been the long, tedious, mind-numbing, homicidal inducing drive to Lubbock that made me feel that tired. I needed time to rest and recoup…..
But finally at about 8:45am (yes 45 mins after we were should have started our training) we began, laptops out and poised for learning. But of course that’s when we heard that we’d be here through the weekend and leave the Following Monday, because of course no one planned this fucking trip out well. After the first day’s training we were told during a break that we would be having “team building” after work during dinner, I think I said out loud “you’ve got to fucking be kidding me?” I thought I said in my head but I suppose I didn’t because everyone just looked at me, angry and I said “That look right there, that’s how I’ve felt since we left El Paso.” All I wanted to do was go back to my room and have a bit of alcohol, watch t.v and fall asleep. I dread team building exercises especially when you have to pretend to be a caring coworker. Look, I love my job but having to spend an entire week with my coworkers could drive anyone to harbor murderous thoughts. I wasn’t happy about spending time with all of these people after work as well.
But no, someone’s big idea of team-building was to have dinner at a place called Pecan Grill and have a co-worker mixer because there were 61 of us attending this godforsaken training and we should “mix” with our counterparts from other campuses. This was already a nightmare and it was only the first day. I know I sound disgruntled and yes, yes I was but going to the coworker mixer was probably the best part of the trip.
There I met a woman named Carol, she was from another campus and we hit it off perfectly, we both sat at the table and laughed while we tried to forget what a nightmare this entire week was turning out to be. Her attitude about spending this much time with her coworkers was exactly how I felt.
We began to talk about how spending the weekend in Lubbock might not have been the best idea and soon the others at our table were talking about the same thing. That’s when I said we should just train through the weekend and leave Monday, everyone agreed. Our coworker revolution had begun.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
True to my word, I’m kicking off my inaugural Champagne Thursday today. I think I deserve a cocktail or four. Technically it’s not champagne its “Spumante” but it’s got bubbles and that’s good enough for me.
What? I saw someone raise their hand about the coloring book? So I have a friend who is a counselor (not Terri, she’s my therapist) and we had dinner last week and she said she had a gift for me. She presented me with this adult coloring book called Calm The Fuck Down, she said when she saw it she knew instantly it was for me. Hmmm makes me wonder? I had told her about my coworker road trip and all of it’s anxiety driven misadventures and she bought me this, along with the set of color pencils. I’ve already started on this and it’s right up my alley, also because she’s a counselor and all she said coloring is a form of therapy to help ease anxiety and stress. I must say it works, but the champagne helps too.
Do I look happy? Because I feel happy……or maybe it’s the champagne buzz. And for all of those wondering, no, I’m not celebrating Champagne Thursday at work…….OR AM I???
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
So, I made it back from my work trip from hell, I say hell because it wasn’t hot per say but it was hell in the sense that I don’t socialize with people from work for a reason. I will work with them because I get paid to, I don’t do it voluntarily. So our trip started late because apparently all eight of my coworkers don’t know what “By 7:15am sharp” means. We didn’t leave El Paso County until about 12:30 or so, which is very late. We should have been in Lubbock by 1:30pm but nooooo, people had to stop at Starbucks (which is a half block from our University parking lot) and everyone got down to go get their coffee and pastries. Did I call it or did I call it?
This little excursion took 45 ENTIRE minutes, I stayed behind in the van because I brought some iced coffee with me in a large thermos and enjoyed it cold…..in the van……watching the lemmings getting down, tripping over themselves to get to the front door……it was very exciting *dramatic eyeroll*
Usually I get down and hurry them up, or hurry anyone up that’s keeping us from getting on the road to our destination. But I thought, nah let them enjoy themselves because I will annoy them for sure either on the road or when we get there. Play well little children, play well…..
When they finally all filed out of the Starbucks the overly cheery bitch said “Oh I forgot my laptop, can we go back to the office real quick please?” I was watching her from where I sat in the last seat of the van wanting so bad to have the magic mind voodoo that Darth Vader has and make her head explode. This way we wouldn’t be able to go to Lubbock because there would be coworker brain splattered all over the front seat, the one that was driving us and our director who badly planned this entire clusterfuck to begin with.
But, no such luck, because our director said “Oh sure no problem” and I sighed real loud and mumbled “Are you serious right now?!” I got that surprised look from everyone and I just stared back and said (with attitude) “What?!?!” That’s when I noticed that no one ever really looks me in the eye, they look towards me but not directly in the eye……I felt empowered.
So we went back to campus to get Thing 1’s laptop which she left locked in her desk after being repeatedly told to take it home and NOT leave it at work. After I complained (loudly apparently) Thing 1 said “Oh I don’t have to go back for it, we can leave I can share with someone” and my boss said “No you need it for the training, you need to be careful, next time make sure you have it with you. Mentally I said “Thank you, ya dumb bitch” it was to say the least a waste of time and brain cells (on her part). We go back to campus and she gets down to go inside our building, after about fifteen minutes Thing 2 (our director) says “I wonder what’s going on, why is she taking so long?”
I sigh loudly again……JP (the only other sane coworker I have) looks at me and laughs and volunteers to go and see if he can find Thing 1. As he steps off the van Thing 1 comes running towards us and says “Oh sorry, I was on the phone with my mom, she couldn’t find her meds.” I think that time, my eye roll actually made noise. So I looked at her and said “You took a phone call, in the office, when you have your cell?!” Thing 1 just stares with that deer in the headlights then nothing *cricket, cricket, cricket* I finally say (loudly) “Thing, get in the van we’re already late as it is, chop, chop!”
Thing 1 jumps as she clutches her laptop, my supervisor sends me a text (yeah that wasn’t obvious whatsoever) to maybe let up on Thing 1 because she’s the nervous type.
My supervisor text: Lol, I know your annoyed and you should be we all are. But maybe take it easy on Thing 1, you know she’s the nervous type.
Me text: Ugh okay, but if she says or does something stupid I’m going to strangle her.
My supervisor: Haha fair enough
Right at that moment, Thing 1 says “Oh you’re going to kill me but, I left my keys on my desk”
My supervisor: Don’t you even…..
So for a second time we went back to campus……so Thing 1 could get her fucking keys, after another 45 mins of wasting time we finally hit open road. And by that I mean US 54 headed east and I was crossing my fingers hoping no one would want, need to crave anything until we got past Carlsbad or Hobbs, because I was slowly but surely becoming homicidal. After we passed Chaparral New Mexico, Thing 3 (a coworker who is more on the quiet side but has annoying habits like popping her gum as loudly as possible) said she needed to use the bathroom. I said out loud (again) “We literally just left the city limits and you have to use the restroom?” She turned around and gave me a wicked stare, and I looked at her right back and said “I can do this all day” and she turned right back around. I thought to myself, bitch must have the bladder the size of a peppercorn because when we went back to campus for Thing 1’s laptop she got off to use the bathroom! That was not even 20 minutes ago…..
We stopped at the truck stop off of the Texas/New Mexico state line, everyone got off because apparently all the other Things needed to stretch their legs, and they were feeling “crampy.” They had no idea what crampy was, and we were only 21 miles from campus. That’s when my supervisor came over to say “Maybe you should take a nap, it seems that you’re a bit grumpy or need a rest?” I told her “Nope, I’m fine I just guzzled an entire half gallon of iced coffee” she laughed albeit nervously. She put her hand on my shoulder and walked me away from the van. She told me “Look, no one wants to drive to Lubbock with coworkers, but please try not to intimidate anyone on this trip, but try and sympathize” I looked at her and then my gaze went past her left shoulder at everyone walking back to our van smiling and presumably enjoying the coworker road trip from hell. I told her I’d try, but only if I got to have a hotel room by myself, she laughed and said she might be able to make that happen.
We finally got to Lubbock after bouncing around Texas to New Mexico and back into Texas again, and five stops for coffee and food. When we got to the Hyatt Place hotel on MacDavis Lane and Thing 1 asking who Mac Davis was (she’s older than I am by like a decade and the bitch doesn’t know who Mac Davis is, I could have strangled her for the sixth time that day).
My supervisor held true to her promise and got me my own hotel room. That’s probably because nobody wanted to room with me and I was totally okay with that. Which meant I got a suite with a king bed and mini bar, okay not really a mini-bar only some White Claw flavored seltzer I brought in my “big” bag, all I needed was ice and *BAM* instant mini-bar and relaxation!
Technically we, as state employees shouldn’t have alcohol on official work trips, but I had a feeling one or most of the Things on our coworker road trip would piss me off and get on my nerves. I was a Girl Scout when I was in grade school and we were taught to always be prepared for unexpected situations……like potential coworkercide.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I have found that there are certain things that annoy or amuse me, sometimes I laugh and other times I wonder how long I’d last in prison…….
In any case I’m still trying to sort through my co-worker road trip blog posts, because right now it’s one giant post and I need to edit a bit more to make it at least four. But I had started this post on the trip there.
I had intended to post it on the Tuesday after we arrived in Lubbock but to no avail. The training and work was busy, and I was getting sick as y’all know. So I will post this first until I can get my notes organized and well planned to let you guys know how my trip went.
Below are a few things that have either annoyed me or made me laugh or both.
I don’t like getting Astrology crap in my email inbox, because even though I don’t believe in astrology or anything of the sort, I still get these daily readings. I mean what is Mercury retrograde mean anyway? To me it just means Mercury is moving in the wrong direction! Anyway I read them just for fun, and everything they’ve said thus far about my “astrological life” has been WRONG! Totally, so I hate getting these things in my inbox, I don’t know what stupid link or website I inadvertently clicked on that now I have Adrian from Astrology Answers telling me what my life is going to be if I only “allow it to happen” and pay him $10 a pop for my free astrological reading. So I’ve unsubscribed to a subscription I didn’t subscribe to in the first place. Done, and thanks for nothing Adrian, nothing you’ve told me about my life has been true!
I hate “traffic-assholes” and assholes using the passing lane to drive the speed limit, it’s annoying. I’m like do you all NOT know that it’s called the “passing lane” for a reason? Huh? Yeah I’m talking to you in your fucking 2014 red Toyota Corolla Sport driving 55 in the passing lane thinking you’re going below the speed limit and holding up all kinds of traffic behind you, you smug bitch. Step on it and move over why don’t you?!?
Oh or people who drive sports cars and are stuck on the passing lane going below the speed limit. If you’ve got a goddamned Camaro, Mustang or BMW, put the pedal to the metal and pass then move over assholes! Don’t hold up traffic because you think the motorcycle cop stopped and pointing his radar gun on the overpass of McRae and I-10 is going to stop you for going faster in the PASSING LANE! It’s the PASSING LANE so pass and move over. You have a fucking sports car, use it for something other than over compensating for whatever you’re lacking and move it the fuck over so the rest of us can get to work on time!
Oversized trucks, most of them are funny and sometimes they’re annoying because they make annoying noises. Yep I said it even though I live in Texas and it’s a common sight. I’m pretty sure that all the guys (because it’s mostly men, no I’m not man bashing here) that drive these trucks that are lifted, 4×4’d, chromed out, two gas tank hauling, noisy tire making, overhead night light carrying, mega-sized trailer hitch, truck bed covering, front winch displaying pricks are over compensating for “something.”
Because if you have to put chrome letters that spell out “Size Matters” on the tailgate of your truck, then I feel so bad for your wife or girlfriend. Reminds me of my ex-hubs…..yeah I said it.
I also don’t take too kindly of people with said “Truckzillas” that they think just because they have a huge truck *cough*overcompensating*cough* thinking they are entitled to many things. Such as parking spots…….take a look at this super asshole below……
Now this prick works where I do, and every morning that asshole thinks he’s parking in one parking space but he’s actually taking up two, one for his truck and almost half of the other for the goddamned hitch on the bumper of his stupid truck! As you can see if he’d move forward a tad, he’d leave the parking space behind him with enough room for another car. But nooooo he has to park Truckzilla this way to prove a point! The point being that he has to own a truck like this because looks alone won’t do it. Okay I said I try not to judge and for the most part I don’t, but when your inconsiderate AND an asshole, my judgement wrath will not be quenched! This truck belongs to a faculty member here and he’s an older tall, lanky, awkward nerdy guy with no manners or social skills who has to drive around an expensive truck to find a mate. I say mate because the dude looks like Beaker from the Muppet’s
Another thing that annoys me are people who STOP on freeway on ramps, I mean really what the literal fuck are you doing stopping on a freeway on ramp!?!?! You look to see if there is oncoming traffic and either slowly creep onto the freeway (which will annoy me too) or speed up and smoothly make your way onto the freeway with all the other traffic. But for Christ’s sake and all that is good and holy DO NOT STOP ON THE GODDAMNED ON RAMP waiting for traffic to pass you by and holding up all the traffic behind you!! That’s a surefire way of getting rear-ended and not in a good way! If you stop on the on ramp your driver’s license should be taken away. But I will add that here in El Paso, fuckers will see you driving onto the freeway from the on-ramp and they WILL SPEED UP to keep you from getting in front of them. So I speed up too, I’ve exchanged the middle finger with several other motorist who do this……
Something else that’s more comedic than anything (this time it’s women) is wearing boots in the middle of summer. What is wrong with you? No it’s not a fashion statement if you go home and take of your boots off to stank up your entire house with the odor of sweaty feet thats fine. But your not impressing anyone wearing any type or style of boots in the middle of an 103 El Paso summer. Especially Ugs or cowboy boots with cutoff jean shorts. I don’t care if your only 19 and think you can pull it off, you can’t. The only one that could possibly pull it off is Daisy Duke, Catherine Bach not Jessica Simpson, just thought I’d clear that up. But if your NOT 19 you have no business wearing cowboy boots with shorts or a dress in the middle of summer….
I kept trying to take a picture but she kept turning around and looking at me and the entire line waiting behind her. I think she sensed she might be getting mocked….she was right. The lady behind me was trying to laugh quietly but to no avail.
So I think maybe Veruca Salt was onto something being so bitchy. Maybe her dad had a huge oversized truck, or she got tired of people driving in the passing lane at the speed limit or people stopping on the onramp to get onto the freeway!
Or watching people wear winter clothes in the middle of a hot, unbearable summer, it’s uncomfortable just to see them dressed that way. But who am I to judge? I binge watched Billions (my new favorite series) this weekend and now I have the Wendy Rhodes attitude towards life which is “Get your head on straight, get your shit together and don’t piss me off.”
So I wonder what Vecuca Salt was thinking trying to get Willy Wonka to give her that Everlasting Gobstopper……I wish I had an Everlasting Gobstopper……for Truckzilla.
I’d Stop his Gob from parking the way he does that’s for damned sure.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
As some of you know I was out for work the last week, only to come back and conduct a training on this freaking cloud based system that we only learned to fully use in the span of six days. Two of those days were on Saturday and Sunday because our leaders/directors/supervisors decided it would be “fun” to plan this excursion for a week and two day OVER A WEEKEND!
But I digress, not only did I almost commit co-workercide (yes it’s a word, I just made it up, okay I made it up last week), I was bored to death in most of the training days, I caught a cold, got drunk on NyQuil on Tuesday night and initiated a co-worker walk out. Okay somewhat of a co-worker walkout, it was more of a, “let’s talk about NOT staying in Lubbock over the weekend doing nothing, getting this training over with by Monday, we’ll train over the weekend so we can go home, discussion.”
As part of our team-building we had to sit through dinner with colleagues from other campuses, which I was more than happy to do since Thing 1 (coworker) was stomping on my last nerve, I’ll write on why later. I got to meet what I’m going to call my doppelganger, she was sarcastic, grumpy, tired of being there AND we both liked the fact that there was an open bar paid for by our “place of work”, okay don’t tell anybody…sshhhhh.
Anyway so we, everyone at my table (there were 10 of us), got to talking and decided we’d bring up the fact that we’d be open to training on Saturday and Sunday instead of wasting the weekend and complete our training early so we could leave either Sunday night or Monday morning. Then other colleagues from another table heard us and before you know it, we had all the others thinking the same thing. Alcohol works wonders I’m telling you, especially when taking by a group of people determined to undermine authority.
So by Wednesday morning our collaborated takeover was in the early stages of presentation when the representative for the software company asked if any of us had any questions. I raised my hand at the same time my doppelganger raiser hers, and the rep asked us what we’d like to say. We both stood up and presented our idea, which was met with a rousing, smiling reception by all the other 60 people in our training room. The three software company reps looked at each other and said that they hadn’t planned to conduct any training over the weekend. So my doppelganger mentioned that a lot of us couldn’t back home and come back on Monday. I believe my group from El Paso had driven the farthest but I could be wrong. In any case my director who, has her right arm in a sling after shoulder surgery, mentioned that it would be a good idea to consider this change in our schedule.
After all, those consultant were getting paid for the training, it’s not like they were doing it for free. So after our first break from the boredom that was this entire week of software training, when we went back to convene the software reps told us that they’d considered our suggestion and if we were all in agreement (all 61 of us) they would train us on Saturday and Sunday. And yes, I have plenty of blog material, and I do mean plenty of it. I just need to sort it out and write it, because the drive over there was a nightmare!!!
But before I get ahead of myself, during my entire work trip I didn’t have a lot of time to read let alone comment on all the blogs I follow. I did comment on a couple but, I couldn’t get to all of them, not even at night because as I commandeered my own hotel room (thank God) I was getting sick and taking meds and was totally and completely tired most of the time. So blogger friends, I’m sorry to have let my routine of reading and commenting on your blogs go for an entire week. Especially since reading Nowhere Tribunes post on Bad Blogging Behavior, which you can read here.
I started to read it and then thought, I’m a bad follower for not reading my weekly followed blog posts, but in my defense I really was busy with work, training, plotting with my co-worker doppelganger to break free from the tyranny that was software training and………..ahem, I’m getting off subject here. In any case, I hope everyone had a great week and I will catch up on my blog reading, somehow, sometime……
I intend on having Champagne Thursday’s every week from now on, to keep myself in blog reading condition. I’m doing it for all of your sakes…..so……your welcome!
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
Today, I find myself on a trip to Lubbock Texas to the home Campus of our University. I won’t say which university, but if I said Lubbock y’all will figure it out, lol. I was told we’d be flying there because there are nine of us that have to go for an entire week and a half of training on a new cloud based proposal software system that our department spend thousands upon thousands of dollars to acquire. In any case back to the “I thought we were going to fly there” part of this story, well it turns out we were but, apparently there are no direct flights from El Paso to Lubbock, none, not one! So, in order to dispatch with the whole we have to fly around the entire state of Texas just to get to our destination, those wonderful people who are in charge with our travel decided to rent us an 18 passenger van so we could (hold onto your knickers kids) DRIVE to Lubbock!
Yes, you heard that right, I’m in a large white van in our parking lot right this minute on my department issued laptop, waiting for everyone else that was supposed to be here by 7:15 this morning (including our fearful leader) so we could hit the road no later than 8am. I am, at the moment the only one on board in this huge van, but I commandeered the last seat in this van because I do not feel like being all Chatty Kathy with the other eight coworkers that will arrive (eventually) while we’re on the road for five and a half hours to our destination. Oh dear lawd, why, why me? Why do I have to be punished in this cruel, cruel way?!? The ride alone will be torture, because someone at some point will suggest we play road games.
Not like the types of road games I’d be okay with like, let’s see how long you can stay silent, the first one to talk loses. Or, I’m going to fall asleep and see how long I can sleep without waking up by myself. My coworkers are a type of chipper that is okay for the office, but pure fucking hell when we’re not in a professional environment. We’ll stop for breakfast/coffee before we leave and that too is a nightmare, because no one will ever order their coffee without contemplating what type of coffee they will get or the pastry that they will choose to go with said coffee. The only positive thing about this coworker road trip is that Female Sheldon is long gone and I won’t ever have to deal with her invading my space in the van and listen to her “talk.” Because she never just talked, she had no volume or filter, and if she’d be going on this trip, my eardrums would have burst by the time we got to Lubbock. Or have to see her dead shark eyes just stare at me while I slept because she had the bad habit of just staring straight at you, no emotion, no facial expression no nothing. Oh I’m so glad she’s gone, really, y’all have no idea!
But I digress…….it’s 8:05am and I’m still the only one here (on time) and sitting in the van with my luggage and laptop waiting on all the other eight slackers to get their prissy asses here so we can get this coworker circus on the road. I surmise that when we leave, we won’t get past the city limits when someone is going to want us to stop so they can have a bathroom break, ugh kill me now! I feel about as frustrated as Brad Pitt did regarding Leo DeCaprio in Once Upon a Time In Hollywood (yes I saw it this weekend, so worth it) right now. I’m reading the email sent by our director on what time we “all” should be here, you know to make sure I wasn’t the one that misread the instructions about the time. Nope it says “No later than 7:15” and the bitch (our director) is not here yet!!
But another coworker just got here and she said as I sat in the van, “Oh you’re here early, ha, ha, ha, you’re working? Wow talk about dedication” as she stares at me on my laptop and trying to make her way to the back seat with me, lucky for me I have my huge work bag and purse next to me, not moving my stuff so she could sit. She just stared at me and I told her that it said 7:15 in our email and the bitch still argues with me. “No, it said 8am” and pull up the email and show her (kind of annoyed) because she’s one of those that doesn’t read emails or email strings from the bottom to the current information. That’s such a pet peeve of mine, but anyway she sees the email and says “Oh, I saw it said be here at 8……ha, ha, ha….”
I give her the stare from hell and go back to writing my post. She finally got the hint and sat in the first seat behind the driver’s side. She’s unbelievably cheerful, even more than most and it gets on my nerves. I’m waiting for one of my other coworkers to get here, see me in the back of the van and make the same stupid comment he always does…..”Oh so I see you’re isolating yourself from the rest of us (fake laughs wildly), you know being antisocial is bad for you.”
Well, all the other slackers have finally begun to arrive so I’m going to sign off now, and will probably post updates when I have a chance. But since I’m going to be gone for an entire week and a half………….I will probably not be in the greatest of moods. So keep the torch going blogger friends, hope and pray that I don’t get taken to jail for smothering my hotel roommate in the middle of the night…….
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
In the recent light of the mass shootings here in El Paso and Dayton, the very core of beliefs I once held has been shaken, so much so that I’ve begun to rethink a lot of things that I’d held onto since I was a kid. The one obvious thing was, my parents were prejudice, not racist but they let their prejudice cloud whatever since of right or wrong they might have had. They would always comment that Mexican’s were low class that they came to this country to take advantage of the “system” and take jobs from American’s. As a kid growing up on the border I knew, we all knew that our small town was predominantly Hispanic/Latino/Mexican. With one Cuban and two Puerto Rican neighbors peppered about our sleepy little town. These were my own parents saying these things, and I grew up constantly questioning their way of thinking. When I got married my in-laws were from Mexico, and at least my MIL’s side of the family perpetuated a lot of the stereotypes I grew up hearing from my parents. But not all of them, and I learned to adapt to my own thinking and ideals. So after I became an adult I began to question and correct my parents on what they believed and to actually scold them because they were, after all of Mexican decent and I found it terribly hypocritical and I was having none of that, especially because I didn’t want my boys to hear my parents demean their roots and heritage.
We also happened to be in Texas, where conservative thinking and holding on strong to every word of the U.S Constitution and the Bill of Rights was, well held onto with great pride and constantly misquoted and misinterpreted. Specifically the Second Amendment, the right to keep and bear arms. My dad had hunting rifles, at least four of them of different sizes and calibers, all placed above our fireplace displayed with pride. My grandfathers, both of them had rifles, and my maternal grandfather, who served in WWII and was a very proud American, had three hand guns and took his grand-kids (all nine of them) out to the desert to learn how to shoot those guns.
My maternal grandfather was the one who taught me and my cousin’s gun safety and how to handle a gun/rifle and none of us though anything was wrong with this. Since becoming an adult I’d never thought about getting a gun or any weapon for safety because I felt safe in the Sun City because we are, at least 97% of us, of Hispanic/Latin/Mexican origin. I am a fourth generation American, my boys are second on their dad’s side and fifth on my side. But feeling safe was somehow taken for granted, until August 3, 2019. As I watched this heinous act unfold only four miles from where I live, I like so many others in our city felt helpless.
Then the aftermath of it all hit all of us, especially those of us of Mexican decent, like a preverbal ton of bricks…..we were being hunted. This came to light after the murderer’s so called “manifesto” was found online. He drove all the way from a Dallas suburb to our town, to hunt and kill “Mexicans” on purpose! So, I’m going to set aside the political correctness and proper language now, because this Huntress is FUCKING PISSED!!
The impact of what happened was nothing short of shocking, for all of us who live here in El Paso. Especially when we found out who this person was, where he was from and why he did what he did. People have tried to rationalize this and give this young, stupid and apparently easily influenced 21 year old asshole the benefit of the doubt. Someone that probably didn’t have any familial structure to teach him right from wrong, and was left to his own devices while his parents tried to find themselves or figure out what to do after divorce all the while ignoring the little bastard.
But this is after all, only speculation as we all try to come up with reasons as to why he choose El Paso to commit this crime which seemed to be motivated by white supremacist and Neo-Nazi rhetoric. And this is only one of my theories, because my boys were also put through the emotional whirlwind that is divorce and none of them are out with warped ideals and taking up shooting practice on the human race. Because I made it a point, despite their father being out of their lives, after the divorce to show them right from wrong, to make sure they knew I loved them and I never ignored their needs and learned to look for warning signs of emotional turmoil. Which let’s face it wasn’t easy because I was working full time and going to school full time, but I made sure to let them know above anything else, they were my priority, ALWAYS!
Since this mass murder occurred my city has been on edge, everything everyone does is a careful and calculated thought process. This happened only weeks before several school districts were scheduled to return to school. All of the Walmart’s and Target’s in El Paso have El Paso Police Department uniformed officers at every entrance/exit at the moment, which makes one a bit uneasy and safe at the same time. This should not be commonplace, we should be able to walk into any store and feel safe. Memorial services have been taking place since the shooting happened, it’s so unbelievably sad, I don’t think a day’s gone by that I haven’t cried. As news about the killer comes to light a lot of us have realized that sadness has turned to anger and outrage.
His manifesto is supposedly (I say supposedly because it hasn’t been released to the public) a long-winded rant about how Mexican’s were taking over Texas and he was afraid of their liberal views and also worried about how these people would slowly but surely turn Texas from a Red State to a Blue one. He also mentioned how he was afraid of Mexican’s or anyone of Hispanic/Latin background were taking over “his” country and choking out his European heritage. Now, let me get this straight a twenty-one year old asshole, still wet behind the ears is going to tell ME about how he’s worried that HIS country is being taken over by OTHER cultures?! OH HELL TO THE FUCKING NO!!!
First of all, let me put this out there y’all, the United States of America is a melting pot of all cultures, races, ethnicity’s and it is NOT pure breed WHITE! No one is pure breed white, and assholes like him actually believes this! First of all let me address his thinking of “his” country, OUR country had people here before the Europeans even set foot on this big ol’ rock we call America. It had indigenous peoples, Native American’s, really…… that’s why we call them NATIVE AMERICANS because they were here first you white supremacist asshole pricks!
Texas wasn’t even a state in the US until 1845, it belonged to Mexico, so the saying “We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us” is true in every sense. Don’t even get me started on the Alamo, really you don’t want to go there with me……
Also constantly hearing “Go back to your country or where you came from” pisses me the hell off even more. I’ve been told that twice in my lifetime, once as a child and once as an adult. The adult version yelled back “I am where I come from bitch, come closer so we can discuss this, no? I thought so!” This was here, in El Paso in my community where we are a cultural mosaic. This woman was white, but I’m sure she wasn’t pure breed.
When I hear Lenny Kravitz’ song American Woman, I don’t think of a whitewashed version of a female. I picture a very diverse group of women who have roots in many different countries.
Here in El Paso, we speak Spanglish, code switching is the clinical term for it, we always have and we always will. Now some Latinos are being condemned for speaking Spanish as far away as Hawaii! We are being language shamed because others feel entitled to share their ignorant and misplaced opinion about how we should speak. To those of you who do all I have to say is this, it’s not our fault we are multicultural and you are stuck in your one dimensional life with your one dimensional language, go fuck yourselves! If you think that only English should be spoken, then you’re in the wrong country people, get a clue or better yet get an education to learn another language OTHER than English!
During the horrible years of slavery, slaves were brought to the US and sold and they intermingled with Native American’s as well as many other cultures, especially Hispanic/Latin/Mexican’s this is where the words Mestizo and Mulato come from. The fact that we have so many different cultures in us it makes us richer as a people, we have learned so much from each other there is no excuse for any of us to single out one race or culture for extermination, NO EXCUSE.
We as American’s have so many different cultures/race/heritage running through our veins it’s impossible to narrow down where and whom we come from. So the fact that these white nationalist “believe” they have a pure blood pedigree is fucking stupid not to mention naive. Also for them to think there are “pure breed” people out there, yeah right, keep lying to yourselves if it makes you feel better. We’re all mutts, we don’t belong to just one people and to think this way, well it makes me question their intelligence. Let’s turn now to the turn of the 20th century and the influx of immigration from Europe shall we? Thousands upon thousands of Irish, Italian, Greek, Hungarian, Slovaks, Russian, Polish, German, Chinese, Japanese, Indian and countless others were coming to the United States because they were fleeing religious, racial and political persecution, civil war or poverty. And all of them, and I do mean all of them suffered one type of prejudice or another because of where they came from or who they were. They were thought of as expendable and they took jobs doing things that others would never do. The Chinese helped build the railroad, the Mexican’s helped with crops and agriculture, I could go on and on.
So tell me again white nationalists asshole pricks how you are pure breed and only have Aryan blood in you? Because even your idol, Adolf Hitler was half Jewish remember that, no? Oh right because you only believe what you want to believe, got it……ignorant motherfuckers. Even when the Unites States was a colony of the British Empire, those Brits back then weren’t pure breed either, nope they had all kinds of different blood running through their bodies.
This is just a drop in the bucket of emotions that I’m feeling right now, what happened here was a senseless crime. Where do people like this stupid kid get off thinking that he can control the lives of others? Oh right, that white supremacist thinking that is perpetuated by the so-called president of this country. Yes I’m getting political, when one doesn’t condemn acts like these and stays silent, idiots like white nationalist think it’s okay because the president doesn’t really say anything. Because let’s face it, the mofo can’t really talk to begin with, so it only perpetuates hate and intolerance. The only thing I’m glad about is this, I live in Texas and we are a capital punishment state and have always thought that the punishment should fit the crime. And we are a hard state to get away from capital punishment, many have criticized Texas for this. Hell even Thelma and Louise didn’t want to come to Texas for any mischief due to how criminals are handled here.
It was reported last week that this murderer was being held in isolation here at the El Paso county jail. I thought to myself, why don’t they just put in general population? Oh right, because he’d be dead by the end of the day being locked up with a bunch of angry Mexican’s. Even inmates in the jail have been reported to say they’d like a shot at him, and I’m all for it believe me. No, I don’t have any compassion for someone who’s killed twenty-two of this towns great citizens, not one ounce of compassion. If I had my way, after trial, conviction and sentencing I’d have him be killed exactly how he murdered those twenty-two people. I’d rent out a grocery store somewhere that was about to go out of business. Pay generously for the use of the fully stocked building, lock it up nice and tight, made sure there was no way of escape, let him loose in the store, turn off the lights and have him hunted like the goddamned dog he is! No I don’t care that he’s someone son, brother, cousin or nephew he’s a fucking cold heartless ignorant killer and deserves to die that way!
Have a bunch of snipers hunt him down until he’s dead, that’s my kind of Texas justice, and no it doesn’t make it right. But I’m pissed as hell right now, because there are people dead that shouldn’t be and even though I only knew one of them and only casually (she went to school with my youngest and died shielding her infant son from gunfire and her husband died as well) it shouldn’t have happened! Which brings me to gun control, again I live in Texas where the right to bear arms is taken seriously. Red flag laws will only work if they are put into place and even then, they may not be enough. We are one of the countries in the entire world with the weakest gun laws on the planet. Before what happened on August 3rd I firmly believed in the right to carry your gun, license to carry classes have sky rocketed in the last week and a half here. Two out of three of my sons are going to enroll and I thought about joining them. But what will that fix really? There were at least four people inside the Walmart that day that were licensed to carry and not one of them had their weapon with them, two of them were soldiers from Ft. Bliss.
But the sale of automatic weapons is absolutely and totally absurd, but let me clarify, handguns, rifles and shotguns are vastly different than automatic firearms.
Most people that own firearms are in the category of handguns, rifles and shotguns, it is rare that the average citizen owns a fully automatic AK-47. But that doesn’t mean one can’t go out on and buy one if we wanted to, just like the little prick sitting in the El Paso County jail did. Gun laws for the protection of people against others with questionable intelligence and/or mental capacity need to be put in place. Or a ban automatic weapons all together, no private citizen should be able to own a military style assault firearm! If you don’t feel safe with a Smith & Wesson or Ruger then your intentions are not to protect you or your family or your property and are more nefarious in my opinion. Yes people will disagree with me because I’m not including ALL firearms. But this is what I strongly believe, you have your opinions and I have mine.
On a side note (a bit Bridget Jones-ish, as always) as I was researching the types of guns for this post during lunch, campus police showed up in my office to inquire that our firewall had detected someone on campus was “Googling” firearms. And here I thought our firewall didn’t work…..so I spent half an hour talking to the Sergeant (whom I know and is a friend of mine) why I was doing so. He sat here in my office and expressed his sadness and anger over what happened as well. It was a sort of cathartic for both of us. As he left he got up and hugged me and began to walk out of my office. As he did he was silent and when he got to my door he turned around and said “Oh yeah before I forget, knock it off with scaring the IT guys will you? I don’t want to have to walk you out in handcuffs because people think your buying guns while at work.” I smiled and told him sure thing and reassured him it was only research, he smiled and left. I need to have a serious talk with those skittish IT dudes, I swear!
This will be my last post about the tragedy that befell my city on August 3, 2019, writing about what happened has helped. Many people in my office have sought counseling because again, just because we didn’t know anyone who was killed personally, the stigma that we are now a culture/race of people who is being targeted because of who we are and where our roots come from is unnerving to say the least.
But let me be crystal clear about one thing, I am first and foremost an American, I was born in the United States, I have lived here my entire life, so have my boys, my parents, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I am an AMERICAN no matter what my linage, and I am proud of this fact, this is MY country and no one, absolutely NO ONE can take that away from me.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I’ve been nominated for the Real Neat Blog Award! A great big ol’ thank you to Deb over at Being Aunt Debbie!
The Rules of this Award are:
Put the award logo on your blog.
Answer the 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
Thank the person who nominated you and add a link to their blog.
Nominate any number of people linking to their blogs and let them know you nominated them by commenting on their blogs.
Come up with 7 questions for the people you nominated.
The Questions I will Answer:
If you could be any animal for a day, which would you choose? I would be a Lycan, no it’s not an animal, well its part animal its part wolf. And yes this is my answer. I would be a werewolf for one day, uh night, yeah I’d be a werewolf for one entire night……watch out people!
What is your favorite cuisine? I’m going to have to go with rustic Italian, like Cacio e Pepe, that is so simple but sooooo delicious and very easy to make.
What is your biggest passion? Chocolate….enough said.
If money were no object, where would you live, and why? I’d live in Michigan, GO BLUE!
If aliens exist, what do you think they look like? They do exist, look into the windows of the White House.
What is your favorite thing to shop for? Clothes….oh wait, shoes, no wait, purses, no jewelry…..
Do you believe in reincarnation? No, I believe that once we die our souls leave our bodies and they go wherever the Lord wants them to go. I’m thinking I’m going to need a lot of sunscreen, tequila and Margarita mix for when my soul leaves my body. But I’ll be in good company, lol.
If you could make one wish, to help someone else out, what would it be?
What little known fact would you tell people about yourself?
If you could meet any historical figure, who would it be?
Kindle or actual book, and why?
If you had a soul-superhero, who would it be?
Tea and Crumpets or Chocolate Cake and Budweiser?
Led Zepplin or The Who?
And that’s it, because Aunt Deb and I have the same followers and we follow the same bloggers, lmao! So she’s nominated a lot of people and I have too in prior awards but hey, we’re all award winners if you ask me!
So blog on people, blog on!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!
That’s what everyone says, this kind of thing, this type of violence won’t ever happen in my town. This type of thing only happens in big cities, New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Austin, but not in my town, not in El Paso.
Today has to go down as one of the saddest days in El Paso’s history, today we, our city, our community was affected by a mass shooting. Today, El Paso, one of the safest cities in all of the United States, fell victim to a lone gunman, who’s motives are not yet known.
Today, El Paso is a lot sadder, less brighter, less exuberant because today, we, all of us were affected by one person shooting at random. Today my hometown is a national tragedy, plastered on worldwide news outlets and social media. Today, my hometown was scarred by the actions of one individual who didn’t know those he killed and injured. El Paso may not be as cosmopolitain as New York, it may not be as cutting edge as Los Angeles, it may not be the hub of innovation, but there is one thing my hometown is, and that is resilient.
We are an amalgam of many cultures, races, nationalities and personalities, we are El Paso. Today, someone, who isn’t even from here, tried to tear us apart. Today, someone took lives that didn’t belong to them, tried to strike terror into people going about their day. Innocent people, innocent El Pasoans were a target for one individual who’s actions for a couple of minutes robbed this world of souls that might have changed our world, your world for the better.
Today El Paso will struggle, tomorrow we will try to make sense of this tragic, horrible thing. Tomorrow we will mourn those lost, comfort those that were hurt in order for them to recover, and thank God for all those first responders who ran in, when everyone else ran out. Tomorrow we will face the harsh reality of what happened one hot August morning in 2019 in my town.
My hometown will not fall, we will fix what needs fixing, will heal the way only El Pasoans have in the past, and will in the future. We will move forward with the the scar of what happened today, in my town. We will face tomorrow with the strength and courage that only El Paso and all of its people can. Tomorrow El Paso will begin to find it’s way back to where it once was, it’s people, our community, our city will still shine even through the darkness of tragedy.
Sometimes love is a goddamned train wreck, at least for some of us, the few walking wounded, the zombies of defunct love. The euphoria one feels when you first fall in love fades into a thunderstorm of softball size hail pelting you from all sides. The train wreck type of love feels like getting stuck in quicksand or a tar pit of emotion. You struggle to understand how something that should feel good has you trapped, and the more you struggle to break free, the more you sink into its dark, happiness sucking, emotion destroying abyss.
Its called train wreck love because it feels like your standing on the track wanting to feel good all the while you can see the freight train barreling down towards you, horn blaring, light flashing and diesel engine roaring until its too late. In the end, you’re standing on there alone while that humongous train is on its side, derailed smoking and on fire, train cars spilling their contents all over the sides of the tracks, just like your heart. Your left physically unscathed but emotionally you feel like that diesel engine, no longer humming, wondering what the hell just happened to get you where you are now, unable to function and dying from the wounds.
We’re left alone in your very own vacuum of solace to wonder, think, contemplate, and finally come to the conclusion that it might be that you are destine to be the type that will only have train wreck love. For most, love is a sunshiny feeling, they are full of joy, newness, goddamned cotton candy clouds following them around for the rest of their lives. They know nothing of what train wreck love is like, for the few who have felt this way it is mostly when we, are in love alone. When we love those that will not love us back and until we can finally step off the track and let that train pass, we will never break away.
A couple of days ago a “guy” friend of mine that reads my blog but doesn’t blog himself, gave me some ideas for some future blog posts. He sat in front of me as we had lunch together and after he gave me his thoughts on my I’m Stressed blog post, he said this….
“You know I love your blog, your hilarious and you have a way with words but, maybe you could tone down the man-bashing”
*Gasp*……What the literal fuck, I thought to myself.
I pondered his reply for a bit as I ate my lunch across from him as he ate the biggest, juiciest apple in all of appledom. His crunchy-bitey consumption made my contemplation just a tad difficult. But then I thought, wait a cotton-pickin’ minute here, I don’t bash “men”, I bash ONE man in particular, okay two if you count my idiot ex-hubs. But man-bash in general, no siree, I’m a lover of men (DO NOT take that out of context y’all, you know who you are!)
Before I told him to desist on his huge Granny Smith, crunchy-bitey noisy pre-lunch apple (who eats an apple BEFORE they eat their lunch?) I thought, I am not a man-basher, and I don’t man-bash, man-hate, manslaughter (unless its justified) any man, and here’s proof. I’ve gotten to know a lot of the male bloggers since I began my blog a little over a year ago. I have nothing but respect and admiration for them. My friend mentioned that my male blogger friends don’t count, but of course they do I said, and here’s proof why, they’ve given me a new, higher respect for men in general, they have officially re-educated and rehabilitated me to a new Huntress with their positive reinforcement and kindness.
Simon from Beyond the Infinite – He’s a techy, sciency, lover of sci-fi and we’ve had fun getting to know each other’s blogs, I comment on his, he comments on mine (sometimes, lol). He’s from England, and we’ve had that America/England, who’s better, bigger, more sophisticated, what’s better English food or American food (I know who’s right here, lol) conversation/argument. But I’ve never, ever man-bashed him, his blog or even his choices about anything. He has opinions, and I respect them because he’s never done anything to offend or hurt me in anyway. He is one of my very first male blogger friends.
Bryan Fagan at A Crack In The Pavement – Our very first interaction was about muscle car porn, yep you heard that right. And believe it or not, so many would have, could have taken that conversation out of context. But Bryan was ever the gentleman and has been ever since. Okay the car porn was about a 1960’s something red Corvette with white leather interior. We’ve been blog buddies ever since, and he too has always been supportive of me and other bloggers in their writing.
Paul at The Captain’s Speech – What can I say about Paul? Other than his writing talent is in a league of its own, how he manages to have entire conversations by himself, I mean that IS talent! Or he might actually have a twin we know nothing about but I’ll let him tell us in due time. He’s a Bachelorette watcher/commentator and has taught us all to clean windows and adapt to the new Twitters (as my mom would say). He’s a font of information and he has not once, NOT ONCE uttered a curse word in his blog. Well, not that I’ve found and believe me I’ve looked really, really hard!
Christopher at Freethinkers Anonymous – He was also one of the very first blogger friends I came across when I began writing. He has what I’d always thought was my dream job, he works in a library! He’s posted about art, his hometown of Nashville and all the goings-on thereof. He’s also posted about rejection (writing rejections) in THE most comical way possible. He has an outlook on life that is precious, and he’s always been nothing but supportive of my blog and posts. He once offered to rent me a black Trans-Am so I could pull a Smokey and the Bandit drive to work, he mentioned that if he could he would and that’s enough for me.
Tom at Tom Being Tom – Tom’s love of golden retrievers is priceless, his ability to explain what’s going on in his life will almost always make you stop and think about life itself. He was brutally honest in his recent birthday post about all the challenges he was faced with facing financial ups and downs, which I know all too well. But he’s always had words of wisdom to share and yet he’s another man-blogger (hey I should trademark that) that has always been supportive of my blog along with so many others.
Evil at Evil Squirrels Nest – Lover of all things squirrely and crittery (yes that’s a word, I just made up) who’s views on everyday happenings bring a sarcastic smile to my face and sometimes wonder why someone has not invented mental Clorox because, well let’s just say sometimes one needs mental Clorox! But in spite of his hate of squirrel haters, humidity and rain, he’s a great blogger friend. Also he’s a pretty awesome graphic artist as well.
John at Nowhere Tribune – His tales of armadillo tattoos and rampant teacakes will have you laughing, crying and scratching your head. A fellow Texan and a lover of nature, vacation mishapper, the Clark Griswold if you will of family vacations (that’s a compliment by the way!) He’s been another man-blogger that has remained true to Texan nature, a gentleman always…..that probably carries a gun but that’s okay, I respect that.
There are so many more of you I couldn’t possibly include everyone, but I thank you just as much! I have a couple of male friends in my life, two of whom read my blog and one who knew of Lestat, and all of my male blogger friends whom I respect and admire. So, I’m not a man-basher, I don’t man-bash men in general. I bash those men that have given me a reason to bash them, and only them in particular, whereas their stupidity, incompetence, mental instability and everything else they did to get me to the selective man-bashing I do. I love men (again GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER, you know who you are!) and even with my online dating debacles I wasn’t bashing all men, I was bashing some dates and their bad behavior.
Hey, it’s not my fault if they made bad first impressions, I know I’ve made a bad impression on men, especially when they see you making that bad impression on the hood of their Ford F-150 with a baseball bat or sledge hammer, but hey that guy deserved it.
I have met a few good men, and they are kind, hard working decent men, who take care of themselves and their families. I have known a few single dads who have worked two jobs to support their kids, who will always, ALWAYS prefer to spend the weekend with their kids instead of going out partying. I’ve known of some dads who have full custody of their kids and work tirelessly to make sure they are clothed, fed, sheltered and most of all, LOVED! I’ve also known some men who are generous, loving, giving and selfless when it comes to their wives, girlfriends, sisters and moms.
So, I don’t man bash, unless someone, some man, does something stupid, to me or one of my friends that is plain mean, selfish, or self serving without thinking of the consequences or how he will hurt another human being. A great big thank you to all my male-blogger friends and your continuous support, encouragement and respect.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!
It’s been ten months since I last saw, talked to or had any sort of communication with Lestat the emotional vampire. I consider this a huge milestone in my life because since I dropped his ass like a hot potato so many good and positive things have happened that even I’m having a hard time processing. I found much inspiration from Tom over at Tom Being Tom and his post Happy Birthday Tom, you can read it here. His post was about his fifty-first his birthday and how he himself was amazed at all the things he’d accomplished by the time this birthday rolled around. He went on to compare his younger Tom self to his fifty-one year old self, which triggered me to stop and contemplate that maybe that would be a good idea. Thanks Tom for the inspiration!
My journey began twenty years ago in November of 1999, I was twenty-nine years old, newly divorced, new single mom, unemployed driving around a SUV I couldn’t possibly afford, with my new ex-husband bitching and complaining he wanted my/his Ford Expedition back because he wasn’t going to pay for it if I was going to keep it. Fair enough asshole, come and get it, and he did only to give it to his second wife (whom he married literally eight months AFTER our divorce was final and she crashed and totaled it, but meh, he wanted it back right? Talk about a man that couldn’t be by himself, when he came to pick up the SUV I saw a newly inked tattoo on his forearm that read….”Born to Be Free” which made me laugh. Then it made me laugh even harder when I found out he’d married only eight months after our divorce, as Bugs Bunny would say…”What a Maroon!”
I had to borrow my mom’s car to go job hunting, and soon found a job that didn’t pay nearly enough to support me and my kids. But I had to take it, and take it I did. During all of this I met a wonderful man whom I believed was the “great love of my life” and his name was Lestat. He was accomplished, business savvy, he was a contractor and well established within the contracting community in El Paso.
He was romantic, charming, loving (so I thought) and I saw myself spending the rest of my life with him. But as the forty-nine year old me looks back at the twenty-nine year old me, I see so many things that weren’t clear then. The twenty year journey of struggle and heartbreak had one common theme and that was Lestat. Nothing and I do mean nothing went right when I was still with him, I struggled financially, and I tried several times to buy a house that ended badly. I lived with my parents which was a disaster, and I continued to struggle financially and emotionally. Then my two oldest boys decided they wanted to go back to live with their dad, and that was devastating for me, I was dragging my heart behind me on the ground.
But I had to try to understand that they were mostly doing it so they could remain at their school with their friends, to keep some sort of normalcy in the disaster that was their parents divorce. The least I could do was try to make their lives as easy as possible. So I marched on trying to make sense of the chaotic life that was following me. At twenty-nine, I was lost financially, emotionally, mentally and even physically as well. My knee began to hurt, my hair began to fall out, I began having stomach issues which I thought might be my gall bladder, but it turned out to be a small ulcer.
As I turned thirty-three things seemed to be getting better, I was hired at UTEP, I got my very first car as a single adult, although I still lived with my parents. I helped them out as best I could, but living with my mom was a nightmare in itself. Living with a narcist mother is hard, especially when you pay rent and she still demands to know everything you do, where you go and who you’re with, her excuse was “I’m your mother and I DESERVE to know what you’re doing because you live under my roof!” One day after a heated argument I told her “Wrong mother, I pay rent, and I’m thirty-three I don’t have to tell you shit!” then as a last resort she called me a bad mother, boy that was definitely the pot calling the kettle black.
But I persevered with Lestat still in my life wreaking havoc with his selfish demands and his indecision about getting his overdue divorce. Last night as I lay awake at 2:47am because of all the things that were going through my mind, worrying, stressing and contemplating every little thing in my life. I realized that for ten entire months nothing but positive things have happened to me since Lestat’s exorcism from my life. At twenty-nine I was still naive, too trusting and too in love with this man to see what I should have. At forty-nine I’ve become aware of so many things that it’s actually surprising to me, and sometimes I think to myself, why didn’t I see this before? The answer? Lestat was a bad influence and I had rose colored beer goggles on, and because of him I’ve gone through some very life altering things. At twenty-nine I wasn’t financially responsible enough to keep up with my bills. I went from paying off one car to getting a newer, nicer car which only added to my financial instability. I lived in apartments and rental homes that at times I couldn’t afford, I spent way too much on things I didn’t need. I tried in vain to get Lestat to see that I was responsible enough for him to marry (yep you heard that right) that I was good enough for him, that I could be the person he wanted me to be.
At forty-nine I realize that the twenty-nine year old me was so stupid to put this much faith, love and devotion into a man who now I know doesn’t deserve what I had to give. A man who I spent so much time trying to prove that I was good enough to marry, when in reality he was the one that wasn’t/isn’t good enough for me.
From twenty-nine to forty-two I was blinded by what I thought was love and went through so many financial disasters, one vehicle repossession, one bankruptcy and a hell of a lot of money lost due to my irresponsible fiscal nature. From twenty-nine until now I’ve had that one, white knuckling, bank draining bankruptcy, six jobs, two degrees, rebuild my credit which was a slow and tedious process, I raised three boys and one cat with attitude. I’ve finally gotten to the point where I’m realizing that I’m accomplishing what I want.
Since Lestat’s expulsion from my life……..
I’ve paid off my debts, I’ve gotten my Master’s degree, I have a free and clear title to my car, I have an additional retirement account, I have one credit card and………… (can you believe it?) I bought a house y’all!!!! I bought my very first house, on my own, with no one’s help! I did it all alone and of course with the help of my awesome realtor, she’s helped a lot. I should have done this a long time ago, I should have gotten this accomplished in my thirties, but for me all those years of struggle and emotional chaos was a time I needed to learn that there isn’t anything that Lestat could give me, that I haven’t been able to get for myself. That was a lesson I NEEDED to learn the way it played out and I’m glad I got here the way I did. But this is where I’m stressing, I have one month to get myself packed and out of the rental home I’ve been in for twelve years, yes twelve years!
I calculated how much money I’ve thrown away in rent, and it’s come to $111,600!! Can you believe that? The stress continues as I gave my intent to vacate to the property management company yesterday and they told me that I’m still responsible for the rest of what remains on my lease, which is six months. So, now I’m stressing about that, I have to pay for the appraisal, I have to pay for movers to move my entire house to the new house which thank God is only seven blocks away from the rental house I live in now. I have to pack and clean my house because the property management company wants to show the house as soon as possible to try to re-rent it. Which means I have to find a cat sitter for Charlie Bruiser O’Houlihan because they don’t know I have a cat. Luckily my oldest son’s girlfriend said she’d be happy to take Charles with her to her house for about two weeks so we can get all this straighten out.
I’m stressing so much that it’s keeping up at night and adding to this, work is so unbelievably busy and I’m going to need to ask for vacation for when I move. I’m stressing out because I’m worried about my snarky cat adjusting to the new house, I’m worried about fixing everything I’m responsible for at the rental house, I’m worried that my new neighbors will have all night keggers during the summer, I’m worried that I won’t get my security deposit back from the property management company, I’m worried that I need to buy a refrigerator for the new house because it doesn’t have one, I’m worried I’ll be stuck with six months of rent that I couldn’t possibly afford because I’ve broken my lease on this rental home, I’m worried I won’t have enough money to pay for movers.
So, yes the Huntress is stressing out a bit right now. I just want August to get here so I can close on my house, move and get settled so that whatever comes my way I can take on without the stress of moving, getting re-settled and having that stupid six month of potential rent looming over me like a goddamned giant 8 ball waiting to hit me when I least expect it!
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch you back!
I have a very dear, dear friend by the name of Veronica, no she is not residing in my head as other friends have asked when I mention her. She is a real flesh and blood friend I made when I worked at the other university, she’s a sweet, wonderful person and I love her to death. But because of her sweet nature she tends to be a bit naïve regarding that personality gauge that we all have hidden deep within in us. You know the one, this is what tells us when someone is bullshitting us, or that gut feeling that we get on first impressions on meeting someone you don’t like. She seems to have that part of her internal mechanism broken, which let’s face it, some men and women do. I’ve also tried to tell her that it’s okay to get angry if someone pisses you off, and of course if they do it over and over again.
She was working in a building downtown, in the exact same building where the State Department had their local office. She told me one day that one of the “agents” was talking to her because it seemed that they’d get to work around the same time and take the elevator together. After being bombarded by him asking her out day after day, finally three months after she said yes. I told her that there’s nothing with taking a chance every now and then, but if you felt uneasy for any reason she should probably skip on the date (something I wouldn’t be able to gauge because I hadn’t met the guy yet). She said that he seemed nice and the only problem she said, was that he was younger than her. I told her she needed to give this guy a chance, that he might be a good guy. She also said he wasn’t the most attractive guy she’d met, but I also told her that looks were only skin deep and what mattered was what was inside, and if he treated her good, that’s all that mattered.
I spoke too soon, after six months of dating she said her house and car were being vandalized, she assumed it was by an ex-almost boyfriend, someone she said she’s been asked out by, by told him they should only be friends. Her car’s tires were being slashed at work, at home and when she was at the movies. Then one night while her and her new boyfriend were at her house after a night out celebrating her birthday, her garage door was egged, and her bathroom widow broken. She said her boyfriend, whom I’ll call Humpy Hump (because the motherfucker looks exactly like Humpty Hump from Digital Underground) ran out of the house in his underwear, barefoot after whomever it was that had just broken her bathroom window!
From that night on, her stalker was getting to her, emotionally, mentally and even physically because she was getting sick from all of this. She began to get notes in her mailbox from her new boyfriends ex, notes telling her that she was an old hag, how he went back to her after he spent the night with her. How Humpty loved her and not my friend and that my friend should stick to men her own age.
My poor friend was now a fixture at the neighborhood police station, filing report after report on, whom she thought was her ex wanna be boyfriend. They took copies of the notes and a detective went by her house to talk to her with her “supportive” boyfriend at her side. Then at the end of December, she said her “State Department” boyfriend bought her a new iPhone. She said he was happy, and that she was surprised at the way he supported her throughout her stalker incidents and such. One night she asked me over for dinner, and as we talked about her ordeal she was showing me the notes that had been left in her mailbox. Some were written in crayon, some in pen and all saying the same thing, that she was too old for Humpty, how she should find a man her age and all that shit. As I looked at one of the notes, something popped into my head and I said to her if she’d ever considered that it might be Humpty.
She looked at me, eyes wide open, blinking in nervousness (she does that sometimes) and said “Why would you think it would be Humpty?” I said to her, I just I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t explain, maybe you need to let the police department know. She laughed and dismissed what I had said and we continued to have dinner and wine and have a great time. A few weeks later she called me in an emotional state, she told me that Humpty had broken into her old iPhone and saw messages from male friends and accused her of being a whore, a slut and of her of cheating on him. I asked her how he got ahold of her old phone. She said that when he bought her the new one, she left her hold one in his car, and that’s when she suspected he did it. I was intrigued, and asked her how the fuck he was able to break into her old phone? Then it hit me, this motherfucking ugly ass bitch works for the State Department! She said he was telling her she needed to go and tell the wives of these friends of hers that she was a whore, and having affairs with them. Practically bullying her into admitting she was cheating on him when she wasn’t.
She told me that she sent texts to these friends of hers to please text her to say that they were only friends, that they had not been having an affair. She did this with four of them, all the while I’m thinking I would have told Humpty to go fuck himself, I didn’t need to prove a fucking thing to him, if he couldn’t tell by the texts that they were only friends he had serious trust issues! Of course that’s how I think, remember my friend’s bullshit meter is broken so she was unable to try and see Humpty for who he really was. She said he made her life after that for the past couple of week’s sheer hell.
I told her she didn’t have to take his shit that she just needed to ignore him, block is ass and let him drown in his own self-induced misery. She told me she had to change the password to her alarm system, and the security cameras that she installed because of her after all of this going on with Humpty, he knew all of them. Which cost her a pretty penny, but she said she felt safer after they were installed. I told her it was kind of suspicious that none of the security cameras at work caught this person slashing her tires, or her cameras didn’t catch all those notes being put into her mailbox. She shrugged it off and we let go of the subject, even though it bothered the fuck out of me.
Weeks passed and the New Year came around and in February we got together again for dinner. She began to tell me how she sent her brother, who is law enforcement in Florida the notes that were left in her mailbox along with cards that Humpty would give her. She said her brother pointed out that several of the notes and Humpty’s cards had the same letters being drawn the same way, in particular the “i’s.” She showed me the letters and cards and low and behold they were the fucking same! She said she asked her brother to look at them after I had mentioned it to her first, he told her that she should press charges against him for vandalism. I agreed, and she stayed quiet, and said to me she felt stupid because she trusted him. All this time it was Humpty, slashing her tires, breaking her windows and egging her garage door. He must have gotten a friend to break her window when he was there that night, the fucking bastard!
Just as we were eating dinner, she gets a call and it’s him! I asked her for her phone, reluctantly she handed it over and I answered, he said hello and so did I and then heard him go into a tirade of accusations. The outter me was furious at listening him call my dear friend all kinds of horrible names. The inner, calm cool and calculating me decided to cut his balls off right then and there.
I cleared my throat and this is what I said:
Me: Hey Humpty, you need to stay away from my friend, she’s going to change her number soon but until then, you need to keep your stupid needy dramatic ass away from her. Also, you work for the State Department right?
Humpty: Uh, what’s that got to do with anything?
Me: It has everything to do with it! You used government property, specifically the software they use to jailbreak cell phones to access my friends iPhone and her texts. AND you did so without a warrant or asking her permission. So, that means you could lose your job for misuse of position and government resources for personal gain you asshole dickwad!
Humpty: *cricket, cricket, cricket*
Me: I thought so, and where do you get off accusing her of all of this shit anyway you bastard?!
Humpty: Who the fuck are you? This isn’t any of your business!
Me: I’m your fucking worst nightmare dick, and I know where you work and who your supervisor is. You think you’re the only one with resources? Fuck no! I have friends in law enforcement too you self-absorbed prick and guess what, they also told me you’re not even an agent of the State Department, YOU’RE A GODDAMNED FILE CLERK!!! So, let me repeat myself, you WILL leave my friend alone, and you’d better get ready because she just might press charges for vandalism and make you pay for the two sets of tires, her broken windows, the cleanup of her garage door AND reimburse her for her entire security system!
Me: I fucking thought so asshole!
My friend was sitting in front of me in total silence, her eyes were welling up in tears as I yelled into her cell phone at this asshole prick who was gaslighting her! He was making her believe that she was being stalked by someone else and making her question her decisions, her self-worth and her fucking sanity.
Veronica started laughing and said “Wow friend, I wish I was like you. I wish I could have said all that to him, you’re my hero. By the way, how do you know he’s not a State Department agent?” I told her I had called the local office and asked for Special Agent Humpty Hump, and the receptionist told me that they only had a file clerk with that name, he wasn’t a special agent. She laughed out loud and said she’s wished that she had thought of that. But as she took this all in with a bit of humor, I thought to myself, why hadn’t she bothered to ask this prick to prove who he was, where he worked and what he did? I reassured her and told her she wasn’t thinking straight because she still had feelings for this Humpy Hump looking asshole. She asked me afterwards what I meant by gaslighting, and I explained to her that it’s a tactic used by narcissist to make you feel crazy about things your gut is warning you about. They do it so they have complete control over you and use it to their advantage, make you second guess yourself and question your sanity when you damned well your fucking sane!
She soon changed her number and is talking to an attorney about pressing charges against him although I’m not sure how far she’ll get since she waited so long. As far as I know Humpty has never contact my friend again. I suppose to a certain extent, it bothers me that my friend isn’t as careful about who she decides to trust. Or maybe it could be that it bothers me that she was so easily fooled by an asshole that wouldn’t have been able to pull that on me or a women who weren’t as insecure as my friend. She felt that because this prick was a lot younger than her, she didn’t deserve to date him or whatever thoughts were going through her head to cloud her judgement or gut instincts to be able to see him for who he really was, an insecure, self-serving prick with severe trust issues.
And that he took them out on my very trusting and somewhat naive friend. I found out much later how naive she really is, over dinner one night she told me that he has bought her a really expensive engagement ring (that she’d never seen) and she was actually thinking of paying him for it, because apparently he has posted on Facebook that he was out $4500 for an engagement ring he’d bought an unfaithful girlfriend. I was drinking out of my glass of wine and nearly choked when I heard those words come out of her mouth! Those stupid, trusting totally idiotic words! I asked her if she’d seen the ring, if he’d showed it to her, if she’d actually tried it on?
She said no, and I yelled at her asking why in the fuck would she pay him $4500 for a goddamned ring she’s never seen?! I said once again, that she’s allowing him to gaslight her through social media! I could see the realization of the entire situation glaze over her eyes, her face went hard and she sat there across from me holding her wine glass and she said “You know what? Your right, what was I thinking?” I told her that she’d better not ever communicate with Humpty again, but that she didn’t have to listen to me, but she did need to fix and refine her bullshit meter of hers to be able to sense these types of personalities.
I told Terri my therapist about this incident and asked her if she thought my personality was too strong for some of my friends. Before she answered me she asked me if I had actually said and done everything I told Humpty on the phone.
This surprised me a bit and I asked her “Why would you think I’d make something like this up? Are you thinking I have psychological egoism?” Terri looked at me and said “I’m somewhat impressed that you know what that means, your one of the most intelligent patients I’ve had. And you don’t have any of those traits, I was only asking because it’s not everyone that will stalk a stalker, if you know what I mean?” I told Terri I wasn’t stalking Humpty, I simply wanted to find out a little more about him that my friend may have ignored because of her emotional ties to him.
I mentioned that I can’t make shit like that up, those are the perils of being the Huntress, it falls into my lap like snow, situations, people, things like what my friend went through always make me question everyone and everything. I told her that I think it’s the after effects of being with Lestat for twenty years of my life. Terri smiled and began to write in her file and we went on with that week’s session.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
This isn’t so much a post about another weird coworker, but more about a weird coworker that’s leaving. Yes boys and girls you heard that right, there is a coworker that’s leaving and I, for one, couldn’t be happier! If you haven’t guessed by now, this coworker that’s leaving is none other than………….(wait for it)………..FEMALE SHEDLON!!!! Yes, the Huntress’ prayers have been answered, and Female Sheldon is leaving, going to another university here in Texas! Lord gawd help those in her new department! As for me, I’m ecstatic, I mean if you couldn’t already tell?
On Monday I was working on yet another budget and as I’m caught up in reading this proposal, I look up and Female Sheldon is standing in front of my desk. She caught me off guard, like she always has even though she’d been told to stay away from me, but has she listened? Nope! Remember Monday was the day from wrong sandwich, humid hair, Clockwork Orange makeup, sun shade fighting hell.
She’d even been moved to the second floor in an office surrounded by chemical and biological labs, but she’s constantly down here. Loitering like a scalper trying to sell you tickets to a Van Halen concert back in 1984.
I looked up at her and before I say anything, she says in her robotic, emotionless voice “I just wanted to tell you that I’m leaving.” I said “Okay, well bye” and I look back down to get back to the tedious reading I have ahead of me and she continues to stand there. I look up at her again and ask “Um do you need something?” She said “No I just wanted to let you know I was leaving” and I repeated “Yeah, I know….bye.” She’s staring ahead towards the wall not once looking at me and turns to leave my office. I thought to myself, well that was weird why would she tell me that she’s leaving, like I give a fuck if she was leaving for the day. Boy was I in for a shock.
A half an hour later I get a calendar invite for Female Sheldon’s Birthday and Farewell lunch, and before I accepted I did a double take. I was trying to process the word “farewell” and it seemed even though I was still in the midst of doing this, I smiled, got up to close the door to my office and literally jumped up and down like a kid who had just been told I got tickets to a Van Halen concert in 1984!! Then a knock on my office door, it was my supervisor, she asked to come in and of course I said yes. She came in and said “Female Sheldon came to tell you she’d given her notice, right?” I nodded yes, apparently with too big a smile on my face and my supervisor laughed at me and said “Okay, please try to contain your enthusiasm.” I told her I’d try, but I wasn’t going to pretend that I wasn’t happy about it.
She nodded and laughed then left my office, I was like holy fucking shit, I’m finally rid of Female Sheldon, me, the Leonard Hofstadter of this office, finally rid of this annoyingly, self-proclaimed know it all we call Female Sheldon!
Okay so you all know her name really isn’t Female Sheldon, but if anyone’s seen the Big Bang Theory y’all know how fucking annoying Sheldon Cooper is with his arrogant, self-absorbed, self-serving and supposedly Autistic type of personality. Sheldon Cooper was the epitome of selfishness, because he’d proclaimed he was the smartest of the group of so called friends that choose to hang around with him. Well that was pretty much how Female Sheldon acted, a mild superiority complex that seemed to make everyone else uneasy but would piss me off because, no she didn’t know everything like she thought she did. She knew her job very well, I’ll give her that but she lacks social skills that make it awkward for everyone else in the office to deal with. Her stupid loud annoying voice, her no filter expressions, her unbelievably annoying habit of picking at her skin during staff meetings, so much so she’d have huge red welts by the time we were done.
One time she even made herself bleed, from a horrible, I’m assuming pimple on her left shoulder, yes, she made herself bleed! Her intolerable vegetarianism (okay don’t get me wrong, not all vegetarians are like her) but that only added to my annoyance. Our pot lucks, birthday lunches, holiday celebrations were all planned around what Female Sheldon could or couldn’t eat! Our department budget manager, whom I’ve named JP, and myself were so fed up with having to plan everything around “her” lifestyle we go out twice a month, just him and I to have a huge steak lunch at the local Cattle Barons out of fucking spite. So when I heard she was leaving, I was so happy, happy and overtaken with emotion that it practically erased the horrible Monday I had, with bad hair, horrible makeup, grilled chicken sandwich and torn hosiery!
WooHoo!!! Female Sheldon is leaving and I can’t fucking wait, well I mean I have to wait until the end of July but hell, I’ve worked with her for a year and a half so I think I can wait another two and a half weeks, right? No more robotic, monotone voice, no more dead shark eyes staring straight past you, no more “Oh my gawd, they put Flamin’ Hot Funions in the Vending Machine!!” echoing from the hallway.
No more tofu “meatloaf” no more vegetable broth based soups, no more “mock” chili, omg mock chili that’s sacrilegious here in Texas, really! There are NO BEANS in Texas chili, but her “mock” chili was all beans!
No more Instant Pot vegetable foods brought by her to our communal pot lucks or birthday celebrations. JP and I are so excited we can’t contain ourselves, and just to celebrate we’ll be going to lunch at Cattle Barons to have our selves some STEAK in Female Sheldon’s honor!
I suppose that Female Sheldon is more like Amy Farrah Fowler, because they are both annoyingly, socially stupid self-serving characters, and Female Sheldon actually “looks” more like Amy from the Big Bang Theory, but her personality is more like Sheldon Cooper. And I, for almost a year and a half played the Leonard Hofstadter to her Female Sheldon-esqe stupidity, only with more balls, less of an affinity for comic books, less toleration of verbal diarrhea from Female Sheldon and I can actually tolerate dairy products.
I’m so unbelievably happy I can hardly contain myself, no really I’m that fucking happy, I”m going to skip up and down the hallway!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!
Today is Monday and I had gotten up as I do every other Monday to get ready to go to work. I take a shower, primp, quaff my hair and made sure I had everything I needed to tackle another day of work. Fate however had different plans for me today….ahh fate that fickle bitch that has a sarcastically devilish sense of humor. I got out of the shower and put on my makeup as I usually do, but today the humidity is at an unbelievable percentage for HellPaso. It took an entire forty-five minutes for my hair just to dry! As I turned around, looked into the mirror I realized I looked like Alex DeLarge from a Clockwork Orange.
Mascara wet, runny raccoon eyes that would NOT come off no matter how hard I tried to get that off! End result, I had to wash my face and start all over again.
Because of the makeup debacle I only styled my hair from the front and make a bun from the rest of it, I never use my hair up, never. So as I finally left the house, dressed, my handbag in one hand, work bag in the other, keys and my cup of coffee, the coffee fell out of my hand as I tried to lock my front door. Spilling coffee all over the outfit I had picked for today, so I went back in to change and rushed to make it to work on time. As I got to work I chose my usual parking space which is right next to the building.
Then the sunshades for my car decided to fight me on opening up. It’s those round ones that have in inner wire to hold them open and you twist to make them small. As I fought with these sunshades form hell, I yelled out loud “You will you just…..FUCK! Work with me here!” That’s when the security guard walked up to me and asked if I needed help, smirking at me as I struggled with the stupid shades, my hair already “un-buned” and loose, sweating like a goddamned pig because of this 80% humidity.
I nicely told the guard I was fine, and he walked away talking into his radio, no doubt telling all the other guards and police officers that some crazy chick was fighting with her sunshades in her car.
I walked into the office, and tried to tip-toe so that my director wouldn’t hear me because she talks a lot. About everything except work, her mom, her grandkids, her kids, her church, her car you name it she’ll find a subject to bore the fucking daylights out of you. But today, I wasn’t in the mood, I grabbed the key to unlock the office and then heard her say “Huntress is that you?” and I sighed out loud saying “fuck” and she responded with “what did you say?”
I walked over to talk to her and I said I was only cussing at my work bag because I had dropped it. For the next forty-five minutes she talked about how she’s spent the entire weekend taking care of her grandkids because her daughter in law is in the hospital.
The huntress inside me was yelling at the top of my lungs “OH GOD JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY SO I CAN GO TO MY OFFICE AND PRETEND TO WORK!!!” I swear I felt like passing out the way I did last Monday of food poisoning. That’s when she looked at me and said “Are you okay, you don’t look so good” and I told myself, yeah bitch thanks for stating the obvious…..I got up and came to my office, covered in sweat trying hard not to throw up in my trash can.
I sat down, turned on my computer, sweating profusely wanting to take a pillow and suffocate my director so no one else had to endure yet another story about her fucking private life. Then my other coworker came in, said good morning and began to clear her throat. It’s been going on for over three hours, throat clearing like the bitch is digging for fucking clams!
Then I get a faculty member that doesn’t know the difference between percentage effort and hourly pay. She comes down to my office (unannounced) and asks me right as she walks in “Are you Filipino?” I turn around as if she could possibly be talking to someone else and I look at her and ask “Are you talking to me?” She said “Yes….Filipino?” And I said “No I’m not Filipino, why do you ask?”
She said “You look like your Filipino, so sorry, so sorry.” It must be that half of my hair is hanging off the side of my head, wet with sweat, mascara running yet again, and the battle scars from the sunshade from hell, and my patience running thin. I must look like some Filipino sweatshop girl working fourteen hours at fifty cents an hour. Yes it’s a stereotype, but as Jo Koy (ironically a Filipino standup comic, who’s brilliant) says stereotypes are funny because their true. He also says that Filipinos and Mexican’s have a lot in common, especially looks and last names (scratches head trying to figure out wtf?) maybe that’s why she kept asking me, who knows.
I sat in my office trying to explain to this faculty member how percentage effort works, and after an hour she left my office and she still didn’t understand what I was telling her. I told her I’d do her budget for her asking her to just send me the numbers so I can do this without every other word out of her mouth “You sure you’re not Filipino?” I just wanted her to shut up and leave so I could go to my car and yell at the top of my lungs and punch the steering wheel until I felt better. My lunch hour came around and I decided to leave since I have been craving a Whopper from Burger King. I drove the block and a half to get to the restaurant placed my order, paid and left.
Now I’m the type of person who always checks their order before I pull away from the drive-thru, but today I thought okay this bitch fate has already taken enough punches at me today, I’m good. NOPE, I get to work and unpack my lunch and realize it’s a goddamned grilled chicken sandwich! Someone out there is eating my fucking Whopper with jalapenos and bacon and I’m stuck with a godforsaken grilled chicken sandwich!!!
I literally threw my hands on my desk and grabbed my book, phone and sunglasses to go outside to read. As I walk past the rose bush that sits right outside the entrance to the building, my hose gets stuck on it, tearing it and leaving a huge run from my knee to my ankle. Then some happy-go-lucky dude is sitting out on the lawn on his phone but has his phone on speaker playing “You’ve Got a Friend” from James Taylor.
I hate James Taylor! No really I hate James Taylor and all of his songs, I’m not one for sappy friendship songs and shit. Give me a loud, eardrum busting version of Celebrity Skin by Hole or any song by Halestorm any day and I’m happy as fuck.
But today, today I need for this day to quickly be over so I can go home and work out on my rowing machine because I have a lot of frustration going on, and then after maybe a bloody Mary. I’m not talking about the drink, I’m talking about my neighbor Mary and her asshole husband Gary, because they’ve decided to put a jumping balloon in their front yard. Yes, in their front yard for their grandkids who are on summer vacation, screaming and jumping until all hours of the night. I feel like walking straight up to her and yell “This isn’t the fucking ghetto, get your Cinderella jumping balloon out of your front yard and put in in your back yard so you and only you can enjoy the sheer happiness that are your snotty, rude grandkids!” and then punch her straight in the face!
Until next time, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
The challenge, Imagination Plantation, was originally created by Nova, the amazing author of Nova’s Namaste 365 Online.
It took me a while to get to this but I hadn’t forgotten, so here it is…….
4 Simple Rules:
Write a short paragraph about what’s happening in this image.
Create a pingback to this image.
Tag three bloggers.
Reuse this same image. Let’s see how many stories can come from the same one.
As he stepped back from the window, he couldn’t quite see everything that was going on, this was frustrating for him. Yet all of the chaos was only stirring his creativity to finally finish his project.
“What are you doing standing there? We’re going to be late, hurry up!” Shouted his wife from the doorway, combing out the curls from her long brown hair.
“I’m going, I’m going I just have to get this part just right or it will ruin the entire thing” he responded while his wife rolled her eyes and walked back into the bathroom.
All the while he was trying not to upset her as he knew this was an important day for her. She was being recognized for her charitable work and was being given an award.
“Will you hurry please, I don’t want you and that, that thing you’re working on to make us late, you can continue to work on it when we get back, ugh!” her muffled voice yelled at him.
He sighed and put down his instruments and turned to the mirror to finish tying his tie. He looked at his project from the reflection in the mirror as he straighten out his shirt collar, and smoothed out his tie then he saw it, the one thing it was missing. He rushed towards the window and then looked back at his canvas and picked up his brush and began to furiously spread the colors of yellow ochre and burnt umber.
“Oh god! Today of all days, can you just let that thing be!” his wife yelled from the studio door, dressed in a black floor length gown, her hair beautifully quaffed on her head and holding her favorite black beaded purse.
“I’m done, I’m done. Look come and see, now it’s perfect!” he said, eyes gleaming, voice filled with enthusiasm. She walked over and looked at the canvas he’d been working on for almost a year. She stared at it then she looked back at him, then back at the canvas and said.
“James, that looks nothing like what you see outside this window, it’s overcrowded and, and well chaotic!”
He looked back at her and said “exactly!”
She rolled her eyes again, grabbed him by his hand and looked down at hers only to realized she had paint on it from his brush. He smiled at her and she reluctantly smiled back. They walked out of the room leaving the canvas behind right next to the studio window. As they walked down the stairs she asked him, “What are you going to call it?”
“I think I’ll call it, A Day in the Life of Chaos. What do you think?”
I’m just someone that writes, there is a difference I think. Writing has always come easy to me, I’ve never struggled to find words or ideas. In elementary, high school and college, I’ve never struggled to write whatsoever, math on the other hand, ugh. I also happen to have hypegraphia, which according to Psychology Today is “the all-consuming desire to write.” Which also includes the need to read, re-read, edit and edit again everything one has written. It’s also linked to mental illnesses like schizophrenia and bi-polar disorders, but more on the side of eplilepsy (thanks to all the fates out there, ya bitches).
But my therapist, who is a psychiatrist tested me when she diagnosed my hypegraphia, which I didn’t know I had, I just thought I like to write, a lot. She said my tendency is purely to write on a creative basis, an outlet of emotional turmoil. I don’t normally tell people or reveal this about myself, it’s just not something one talks about during your team building exercises at work. I work with physician’s, a lot of them psychiatrists, so I keep this to myself for the most part. Hypegraphia tends to be triggered by emotional or tragic events as well, I have so many emotionally charged events that have happened in my life, it would be hard to pinpoint when and where this all started.
Luckily my job provides a temporary relief from this, I have to write a lot in order to communicate with faculty, sponsors and of course coworkers. I also have to write constantly for the faculty to correct their horrendous writing, which most of the times needs to be written from scratch and re-write a lot of their proposals from the information they give me.
I’m not a medical doctor by any means, and as for physician’s a lot of them aren’t great writers either as far as I can tell. A lot of them don’t know how to write and many times use the wrong words which sound alike, in the wrong context. For example pear and pair, I mean come on, wtf? Or stair and stare, I know the difference how in the hell don’t these people, they went to medical school for god sake!
Either way, writing for work does help alleviate this incessant need to write, just one of the reasons I began a blog at the urging of Terri my therapist. I have so many journals, composition and spiral notebooks of different ideas about a book I want to eventually write. But I don’t consider myself a writer, and here is why. A writer, a real writer would know what to write and continuously develop that idea until its exactly where they want it.
I have different ideas and have begun so many “novels” then another idea comes into my head and I start another set of notes and thus I’ve been leaving behind story after story because of my writer’s ADD. No, I don’t actually have ADD but this is the only explanation I have to justify why I can’t finish any of the stories I’ve begun.
Except for one, the main reason I began my blog, the story of Lestat the Emotional Vampire. That story I wrote from beginning to end. I spent twenty years of my life with him and everything I wrote that happened in my blog posts, really did happen. Although I left out a lot of content because I didn’t think my followers would want to know that much about the fact that I was in a relationship with a married man for almost half my life. That is why I think it was so easy to write about my experiences with him, because it was “my” story. And now I’ve been encouraged by several friends, both blogger and longtime friends, to follow through and expand, develop and finish this one particular story. But I’m not sure how to do this, ideas come and go, but I suppose I need to finally set my mind and develop the damned thing to finally have some closure and leave this story on the pages instead of in the back of my mind.
I found very good advice and encouragement from two articles I read last week, both spectacular in their own ways. One by WendyMegget and her great and insightful post The Love of Writing where she explains how writers write from another place other than inside themselves, give her blog a visit, she’s brilliant! The other was a re-blog from Laura Beth at Hot Shot Headlines about another blogger, Didi Oviatt’s grandmother Doris, who just published her very first novel at the very young age of 80-something! If this isn’t inspiring I don’t know what is. This gives me the incentive to develop a couple of the stories I’ve begun and then, doubt sets in.
Will I be a good writer? Will people actually want to read what I write? These are only a few of the questions that run through my head while I’m at work and writing blog posts instead of reading what is probably the second worst grant proposal I’ve had the misfortune to work on. All the while my VP has brought in chocolate croissants (from a local French bakery) to watch the U.S play France in the Women’s World Cup. In my mind I’m shouting “No thanks boss I’m trying very, very hard to stay on my keto diet, but thank you for the temptation while I white knuckle it through today with all the carb filled celebratory food, ya insensitive bastards!”
But here at work when I write or should I say re-write the language has to remain neutral, scientific and positive for sponsors to consider funding the project. The explanations are sugar coated with scientific jargon and always needs to make the faculty member look and sound like they know what they’re doing. When I know damned well they can’t write for shit.
Following rules to re-write someone else’s bad writing are pretty much set when you do what I do for a living. Writing for myself or developing an idea into a book, I wonder can one use creative liberties to describe the ideas in their head? Should I follow the inspiration those posts I read help me go home this weekend and find the composition books with the story of Lestat? Go through each one and find what I left out on my blog posts and see if I can develop this story further?
Because God knows I’ve been at the other end of someone telling and re-telling the same story over and over and rolling my eyes wishing they’d shut the fuck up, all the while trying so hard not to stab them in the neck with a pencil!
Will people think the same thing about my exodus with Lestat? Will I bore or entertain? Will it be worth developing further? I’m not a writer, I’m a person who’s written about life experiences both serious and comical. Should I try really hard to control my “writers” ADD to try and finish the story that began twenty-some odd years ago?
On a side note, I asked my cat Charlie “Bruiser” O’Houlihan (his cat fight club name) who is wise and philosophical, about being a writer and this is the answer he gave me……..
Yeah, he can be an ass sometimes, but I still love his furry butt.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!
I want to thank my good friend Aunt Debbie for nominating me for this award.
Visit her blog, she’s a potty mouth like me, she’s hilariously funny and serious all at the same time!
If you want to share this award please follow the rules below.
Thank the nominator, and publish a post on your blog about receiving the Blogger Recognition Award. Make sure to provide a link to the nominator’s blog in your post.
Give a brief story of how your blog started.
Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.
Nominate 10-15 other bloggers for this award, and inform them of their nomination.
My blog started in June of last year, 2018 at the urging of my wonderful therapist who said it would be a creative outlet for my emotional upheaval and writing. I never really thought I’d go a whole year with an actual blog. I didn’t think that anyone would be remotely interested in reading what I had to write. And yet here I am one year later, still blogging, making friends and finding encouragement from other blogs along the way.
My advice to new bloggers: Read other blogs, get the feel for what’s out there, follow those that interest you and always, always read posts from those you do follow and post some encouraging and creative comments. Also, write about yourself whether or not you’re sure others will like what you wrote, your blog will develop as you begin to write more and more.
I’m going to nominate two bloggers for this award, I don’t know too many other bloggers who already haven’t been nominated or received this award, so that makes this a bit harder for me.
My nominations are:
The Nowhere Tribune -A fellow Texan who’s adventures of armadillo tattoos, alcohol, rattlesnakes and Teacakes will make you laugh, wonder and above all think whether or not he’s writing from home or an asylum!
BecauseFoodIsWhatIDo – Krysta, head cook, chief bottlewasher, food lover and writer. She is also a fellow Texan who posts about food from around the region where she and her family resides, Fort Davis Texas. She’s a home cook who experiments with recipes and ingredients and she makes them all look so easy and delish! Visit her blog and I promise, you’ll be pleasantly surprised!
As we’ve gotten older we tend to forget a lot about our childhood or adolescence, especially if ones high school experiences were far from pleasant. I, for one had a hard time with math and science all around. I blame this on one particular math teacher in the third grade because he was just a prick and couldn’t take the time to tutor or not make fun of those of us who really needed his attention. But I’m convinced that this teacher didn’t care about his students, he was more concerned about his crappy 1976 Chevy Camaro than wanting to help the students that he knew were struggling in his class, there were only two of us that needed his help. Come to think of it, the asshole looked a lot like Jeff Lynne from ELO (Electric Light Orchestra) Like this…
Only he wasn’t nearly as charismatic or successful. He actually showed up to Parent/Teacher night plastered off his ass and couldn’t even talk to our parents. One of my friend’s moms said he smelled of pure alcohol. He’s the idiot teacher who asked me during career day what I’d wanted to do when I grew up. I said I wanted to be an interior decorator and the asshole responded with, “Not in El Paso you’re not.” Class act that Mr. Asshole Camaro Guy, class act!
It seemed that everyone else was grasping what he was teaching but not I or the other unfortunate soul who would come to me for help, what does that say? I did however do well in the rest of my classes, especially English, writing, history all the subjects I loved to learn about. In elementary school I got many awards for writing, English, essays and such, that seemed to come naturally to me.
I and several other students struggling with math slipped through the hands of every math teacher from the third grade all the way up to my freshman year in high school, failing math along the way because by this time I had it in my head I hated math. I wanted nothing to do with it and if I ignored it, it would go away. That is until I met my ninth grade biology teacher, Mr. Lopez. I loved biology, and loved going to his class but then one day I got in trouble for getting stuck on the roof of our high school gym (hey, there was a ladder, I was curious, someone came along while me and some friends were on the roof, they took the ladder and we missed our afternoon classes) anyway I wound up in detention.
Mr. Lopez must have done something wrong as well for him to wind up being the detention teacher that particular day, but that’s just an assumption. He made us take out any homework and said we had to do it during the hour we had to remain in school jail. I think I moaned out loud and didn’t want to do my math homework and he looked at me, then with his finger motioned for me to go up to the front of the class. As I did he said “Bring your homework Ms. Huntress” and I rolled my eyes and went back for my tattered backpack. He pulled up a chair next to his desk and whispered as I sat down and loudly put my things on the floor “What’s wrong with you? If you do your homework you wont have to do it home.” I knew he was right, but since it was math, I just wanted to forget about it.
He then said in a very fatherly voice “Don’t roll your eyes at me missy, tell me why you don’t want to do your homework?” So I told him, he looked at me and said what all other math teachers before him had said “It’s only math, it’s not that hard.” My frustration was at its breaking point and I said “No, you’re wrong, it is hard and no one wants to show me so it won’t be hard anymore, I hate math it sucks!” He looked stunned, and then told me to follow him out into the hallway and as I did he said loudly to the other delinquents in detention “I’m going to be just outside so no funny business, I can hear everything!” He closed the door to the classroom and said to me “Why are you having a hard time with math? If you don’t ask for help you won’t get it” and I responded with “I have asked for help, then I go for tutoring and the teachers make fun of me and tell me even their two year old kids are able to understand this.” Which was true one other math teacher said her two year old could do what I couldn’t. I had never wanted to punch a teacher in the face as bad as I did that day.
I was on the verge of tears and he must have sensed this and he said “Okay, let’s go back in and we’ll see what I can do to help you.” Not only was Mr. Lopez a great teacher, he was compassionate and understanding. But also a hard-ass if you got on his bad side, I saw that first hand when he was a chaperone on a class field trip. He didn’t stand for mischief and everyone knew it. As we sat back down I took out my math homework and he asked me “So how do you manage to do your homework at home?” I looked at him straight in the eye and said “I cheat” and his eyes got wide and then a smile came over his face as he looked down at my math book. “Well, at least your honest” and then he looked at my homework ditto and took out his pencil.
He quickly found out I didn’t know anything about algebra and even less about calculus. The hour of detention came to an end and as I gathered my things he said out loud “Oh wait a minute Ms. Huntress, I have to talk to you” everyone else snickered and hissed and one of my friends said “Oooohhh you’re in trouble now!” I gave him the middle finger as he walked passed me and Mr. Lopez closed the door to his classroom. He said to me “You need to go back and re-learn your math so you can get a hold of algebra and calculus” I almost wanted to cry because that meant I needed to learn my multiplication tables because that’s where it all started. I was embarrassed to admit that I was that far gone, I didn’t know my multiplication table at the age of fifteen, I mean I knew the fives, twos, tens and elevens, those are the easiest to learn, who doesn’t right? I figured I had nothing to lose so I cried and told him about why I hated math and how I was ignored by all those asshole math teachers when I asked for help. He hugged me (which now a days can be totally misinterpreted by idiots) and said he’d help me.
He said he’d stay another half hour if I could too in order to begin my tutoring, reluctantly I said yes. I say reluctantly because I would have rather been at home watching reruns of Gillian’s Island, Brady Bunch and the Partridge Family waiting for dinner. So he began from the very beginning, and I stayed to be tutored for almost four months, three days a week. Which was torture for a fifteen year old who had softball and track practice. Don’t ask me how I stayed on those teams failing math all those years, its nothing short of a miracle. In fact that’s mainly why I tried out for basketball, because I figured I could get away with it there too. I quit soon after I made the team, because our basketball coach was my eighth grade math teacher and he was an asshole. I loathed him because in basketball practice he’d yell at all of us but when it came to me he’d say things like “Come on now, get your act together this is basketball not math it should be easy for you!” then he’d laugh.
I let Mr. Lopez know about this and he gave a loud sigh and said “I’m not going to comment on Coach Dickwad and his behavior”, no he didn’t use the name Dickwad, I added it to protect the identity of Coach Dickwad even though he’s dead (yep dead as a fucking door-nail, sorry, not sorry) and I refuse to mention anyone by name who didn’t positively influence me. So from there I knew Mr. Lopez was going to help me, as we said back in the day, “for reals.” For four long, agonizing months I stayed and he taught me math from where I had left off in the third grade all the way up to my freshman math course. It wasn’t easy, in fact it was downright hard to learn math from seven years back all because no one had bothered to slow down and make sure all of their students understood every aspect of what they were teaching.
Mr. Lopez helped me through one of the toughest academic times I’ve ever encountered during adolescence. I learned what I could to get me through my math classes with his help and I appreciated that he stayed to tutor me after school because I knew he had a family and lived about twenty-three miles from our little town in the “big” city. It also didn’t hurt that he was extremely good looking, an older distinguished gentleman with timeless old Hollywood film start features. He looked like a young James Garner when he was on the t.v. series Maverick. So he was a dream to look at, well at least for me he was. As I made my way from freshman to sophomore I was forever thankful to Mr. Lopez my biology teacher who took time out to teach me the math basics so I’d be able to catch up academically.
During the middle of my sophomore year I got pregnant and left school to move nine miles away to where my future ex-husband lived and started school there. I don’t know how long Mr. Lopez remained at San Elizario High School, or when he retired or if he’s still around. All I know is, Mr. Gilbert Lopez helped a student in need when she needed it the most. And although I still hate math to this day, it helped that I got though the horror of high school math because of him.
Until next time y’all, remember chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I was sitting back a couple of weeks ago watching some news coverage about the 75th anniversary of D-Day, and how many of the WWII survivors are now becoming extinct, I use the word extinct because they are a rare breed that history has given to us and also a font of information and first-hand accounts of what they went through. I for one, wish I could have talked to my grandfather about his experience during his enrollment in the Army as he made his way through Europe during WWII. He was a proud American who during the Vietnam war era told several of my aunts “If the Army would let me, I’d still go and fight, but they say I’m too old.”
His intentions might have been in the right place but I’m pretty sure he was still in the WWII mindset when he said that he’d go and fight in Vietnam if the Army would have let him. If I were old enough to have let him know I would have explained to him that those were two very different types of wars and that he would have been not only shocked and dismayed at how the fighting had changed from the very mechanical type of fighting he faced in WWII to the very chemically weaponized war he would have fought in Vietnam. But anyway I’m getting off course here, as I watched the many interviews of those veterans from the D-Day experience I was saddened to know that we have less and less of those vets to give us those historical accounts. Then my sadness turned to rage when a reporter was stopping people on the street, mainly millennial’s and asking them if they knew what D-Day was. Out of the eleven people asked, nine of them, all millennial’s didn’t know what D-Day was!!!
Okay before I start getting comments or messages about how not all millennial’s are uneducated or ignorant, I just want to say that it’s true, not all people of the millennial generation are this way. But according to the Center of the American Experiment, two-thirds of millennial’s can’t identify what Auschwitz is and twenty four percent have never heard of the Holocaust, you can read about it here. They’ve NEVER hear of the Holocaust!!! What is this saying about a generation that is hell bent on “improving” our future when they can’t even identify with our past?!
D-Day was a combat attack and is best known for the Normandy landings by the allied forces fighting against the Germans WWII, which happened on June 6, 1944. I was more angry than shocked, I couldn’t believe this shit, the pure unadulterated shit that was coming out of these young idiots’ mouths!! My kids, all three of my boys are millennial’s and they know about D-Day, and you know why? Because I told them about it and they were taught about American history in high school. Even my youngest, who graduated high school in 2013 knows about D-Day, what WWII was about and how the U.S was forcefully pulled into this war. This is unacceptable, in my eyes this is a part of U.S and world history that needs to be taught, in every section and type of education. All the way from elementary, high school and college levels.
This isn’t China, we are not banning or redacting our own history to keep it from American citizens. We don’t need to erase crucial historical events that might keep us from reliving these types of catastrophes, we are not a dictatorship that needs to go to the extreme like China has, in order to keep events like the 1989 Tienanmen Square Massacre from their history.
They don’t want any citizen of theirs to realize that they can radicalize and fight for freedoms they don’t know they have, if they just delete historical happenings and deny that they ever occurred, out of sight out of mind. So much so they have internet, media and informational cleansing police that keep an eye out for anyone that types in the title “Tienanmen Square” or “1989 Tienanmen Square massacre” or what is probably the biggest symbol of pro-democracy of that era, Tank Man.
The one man in a white shirt who stood in front of the military tank brigade, holding two shopping bags in defiance, that was on its way to go and literally murder hundreds of Chinese students who were protesting for a democratic China. We, as the United States of America are NOT China, Russia or any other communist or dictatorship country that we need to ignore the very important subject of world history and the events that shaped us as a nation or that shaped our world to what it has evolved into.
Everyone needs to know what D-Day was about, why WWII happened and the consequences that developed because of it. I was so angry at the ignorant youth on my television screen and their lack of knowledge of what they were being asked that I literally threw my sweet potato fries at the screen. Which, in retrospect was a stupid thing to do and that my son got mad because it’s his television, but it’s my house so I trump his t.v. ownership. Anyway, I couldn’t believe it, we are allowing American and world historical events be eradicated by ignorance of new and “improved” generations (sarcasm I’m not really thinking it’s an improvement) of Americans all because they aren’t being taught the important history they need to learn, THEY NEED TO LEARN!!
For instance, the Tienanmen Square incident coincides with the fall of the Berlin wall, all which happened in November of the very same year. In 1989 the Hungarian government began to dismantle the electrified fence they had along its borders with Austria. All of this going on and younger generations probably don’t know about this either. I learned more about everything I’m talking about in my sophomore year in college. I am grateful to my world history professor and his ability to make events like this interesting, as much as they were horrific he said “History is cyclical, and the saying ‘those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it’ is true, so we need to make sure events like this are taught to every generation” and I totally believe that.
You can’t erase history, you just can’t, somewhere, somehow, there are people who know what happened in our country and around the world. This is why I’m opposed to taking down statues of Confederate so-called “hero’s.” Not because they were wrong, not because what they did was unspeakable, or what consequences their direct actions did to people and/or places, what happened in our country’s history during the Civil War was less than civil. It was dehumanizing and that’s putting it mildly. Things like that need to stay up in order to remind us, as a nation what NOT to do again, it needs to enrage, it needs to emotionalize but most of all it needs to remind us of what happened! It’s to keep our history alive whether it’s good or bad, we can’t just teach the history that is aesthetically or mentally pleasing because we don’t want to offend. We need to keep our history intact so that we don’t repeat it and make the same mistakes all over again. If younger generations don’t learn about this, they will be the ones to make those mistakes and God knows what will happen then.
So this is one of the main things that pissed off the Huntress this past couple of weeks, that and the fact that I had to clean up the television screen from a bit of grease from somewhat healthy sweet potato waffle fries. I must say it’s still bothering me because my grandfather fought in WWII and he would have been appalled by the lack of education and more so at the abundance of ignorance in the last couple of generations that know nothing about what he and his fellow soldiers did to ensure their safety and freedom!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!
In the summer of 1984 there were a lot of strangers wandering around my little hometown of San Elizario Texas, and when I say strangers I mean just that. My hometown was so small, back then, everyone knew everyone else. So when we saw someone we didn’t recognize it was a big deal, let alone a lot of people we didn’t recognize. We were that type of quintessential small American hometown where everybody’s parents knew everyone else’s kids. So things like “I know your dad, do you want me to tell him you