Alright, please bear with me on this one, I'm talking about things I know nothing about again.
Recently, every time you turn on Spike TV, there is a commercial about being a father. Reminding the men of America to talk to their children, play with them, be there for them....basically, a commercial advertising the act of being a parent.
See, I'm not a parent, and I am definitely not a father.....but have we deteriorated so much as a society that we truly need a commercial like these?
I come from something of a "do it yourself" parenting style household--meaning that both of my biological parents were too busy either getting wasted or being as far away from home as possible--I was kinda in charge of myself from a reasonably young age. If these commercials had been around 20 or so years ago....Would it have made a difference in my life? Would I have had a more 'normal' childhood/adolescence? I doubt it very much.
But if these ads are working, and even just one kid's life is made better by them, then I support them wholeheartedly. As much as I find it rather depressing that we live in a nation that requires them.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Can I get a Hell Yes?
Ok, two posts in 10 minutes. Sorry.
I saw this on someones blog, and could NOT stop laughing. (I assume my late father is making good on his promise to save me a seat on the Trolley Car to hell--He's bringing the booze if I bring the smokes, E is in charge of the porn.) (Is is really weird that that was a running joke with me and dad? Not that hilarious now that he's dead. Anyway.)(If dad is making good on this promise, my laughter at this thing is basically getting my name embroidered on the seat next to his. Maybe an extra fan or something, as I assume we won't need blankets, as we are going to hell, after all.)
This is a poster found in San Fransisco, aimed towards gay men, who are the largest contributing population of recreational methamphetamine use (apparently) in that area. Apparently it is used prior to 'casual hook ups'. I am by no means an expert on this research, and I am not gay, a man, or a user of meth, so, well, there you have it.
But I do know funny.
This is funny.
Right?
At least you won't forget it. And that, my friends, is the goal of advertising, right?
I saw this on someones blog, and could NOT stop laughing. (I assume my late father is making good on his promise to save me a seat on the Trolley Car to hell--He's bringing the booze if I bring the smokes, E is in charge of the porn.) (Is is really weird that that was a running joke with me and dad? Not that hilarious now that he's dead. Anyway.)(If dad is making good on this promise, my laughter at this thing is basically getting my name embroidered on the seat next to his. Maybe an extra fan or something, as I assume we won't need blankets, as we are going to hell, after all.)
This is a poster found in San Fransisco, aimed towards gay men, who are the largest contributing population of recreational methamphetamine use (apparently) in that area. Apparently it is used prior to 'casual hook ups'. I am by no means an expert on this research, and I am not gay, a man, or a user of meth, so, well, there you have it.
But I do know funny.
This is funny.
Right?
At least you won't forget it. And that, my friends, is the goal of advertising, right?
Return!
Ok. So I have been hugely delinquent in my posting, but I was off on the WORST 'VACATION' EVER. (I'm thinking of trademarking that title, actually.)
Not all parts were bad. But the parts that were bad....well, they more than made up for the good parts.
I have started, and been working on, a post about our experience with the lovely hotel since my return from said hotel a week ago. Also, our trip to the ninth circle of hell, or the local auto mall(s). After about 2 paragraphs, I'm too irritated to continue.
(this means something. Irritation is usually my muse.)
I said something to a coworker today that I think is an accurate description of myself.
"I used to be painfully shy. Then I got pissed off and stayed that way."
And I sometimes wonder to myself why I have an ulcer and greying hair.
Anyway, all of that will be more fully explained later. For now....MEME!
(aside: The term "meme" makes me think {and laugh} about my old boss's children. to the four year old, a 'mimi' was a binkie, and to the 1 year old, it was a blankie. the baby would hold her blanket over her head like a ghost and wander around in circles saying to herself "mi-mi-mi-mi-mi........Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi......" while her sister would wander around looking for her stolen binkie. Hilarity! Maybe you had to be there.)
A
Always: Find something to smile about. Sometimes harder than others.
Average:Is relative?
Age:25.52. Yes, I did the math. Officially closer to 30 than 20. Always the baby, right?
B
Beer: Is a good thing
Birthday: 3/12
Boast: I am thinner now than when I moved here. Bitches!
C
Crush: I would totally do the pretty boy that plays the green arrow on Smallville. And then make fun of the butt chin he is sporting.
Car: Please don't go there.
Cry: I need to allow myself more time for crying.
D
Days: Often spent watching the food network in my jammies, drinking coffee and dreading the hour when work is happening.
Dream:To be content, secure, happy, and financially stable. In Tuscany/a boat on the Mediterranean.
Dare: to keep kids off drugs? to eat adventurously! I love me some new food!
Drug: other than the periodic bout of emotional self flagellation, nothing.
E
Eggs: Don't much care for the eggs. Custard, however, is fair fucking game.
Email: I love it. I check it a lot. Send me an email.
Envy: Lifetime students.
F
Flavors: Not in combination, mind, but....Bleu Cheese, Roasted brussel sprouts with bacon, dungeness crab and CURRY! (and diet dr.pepper cherry vanilla. Sweet, sweet heroin.)
Favorites: Really good books, kitty cats, good photos, strong coffee, good Cabernet....flannel sheets!
Flaws: I smoke. I bottle my anger. I pick at my fingernails. This list would be very, very long.
Finicky:Not really. Control freak about my little life, but not finicky. Does that make sense?
G
Grateful: I am grateful for my intelligence, my red hair, my friends, the fact that I have food/clothing/running water/roof over my head......
Gifts: I can knit. I can cook like a motherfucker. I'm rather witty, sometimes.
Gum: Gum is reserved for when I try to quit smoking, therefore, I don't chew it.
Gross: Any kind of moldering food. I CANNOT DEAL.
H
Hair: is dark red and to my shoulders? Super curly but I beat that shit into submission with the straightening iron daily. Oh, and for another post--I haven't shampooed my hair in three weeks. I'm using this new cleansing conditioner....and it works.
Height: I am taller than average, but would like to be taller.
Happiest: Nook, Book, flannel. There it is. The recipe for happy, my friends.
Hate: intolerance of any kind.
I
Ice Cream: skinny cow.
Instrument: Bass clarinet.
Idols: People who live life totally honestly and without embarrassment--totally for themselves.
Independence: Thank you.
J
Jewelry: the St.Christopher's medal and the silver ring don't come off. Earrings change daily, and are usually very dangly and silver.
Jail: NO.
Jammies: Dad's Snohomish Tribes Tshirt and the ultimate jammie pants from target.
K
Kids: I love other people's children if they aren't brats.
Karaoke: I hate Thursdays. Almost as much as happy hour.
Kicks: Driving with loud music on, preferably Daft Punk, Fear Factory, Deftones, In Flames,or Tricky, lately.
L
Love: The blessings in my life.
Life: Ice skating uphill, mostly.
Lost: Not always a bad thing.
M
Milk: Don't do a lot of milk either. Again, with the custard.
Miss: Innocence.
Movies: if I can stay awake, sure!
Memory: Terrible.
N
Nails: They're fake. Sorry.
No: A word I could use more often.
Name: Chuck Palahniuk used it in a novel because he thought "It's the most horrible name for a woman ever."
Never: forget to preheat the oven
O
Ordinary: Shoe size.
One: reason I like my job
Office: HAHAHAHAHA.
Only: so much patience
P
Pet Peeves: lateness
Primal urge: Cull the herd.
Personality: Strong.
Pain: Red heads have a higher tolerance for pain, did you know that?
Q
Quick: to laugh
Quirk: I will push my glasses up my nose when they aren't on my face, so I just poke myself in the bridge of my nose. Super attractive.
Qualms: people who act like F&B workers are in a lower caste than they.
Quest: To be the best me I can be. (So, so, so cliche. Sorry.)
R
Reason: I can be overly logical sometimes. Is that possible?
Reality TV: HATE.
Rage: Mine's named Carl. He lives inside me all the time.
Regret:I try not to.
S
Season: Autumn.
Shoes: Running shoes or flip flops.
Silly: am i tired? Then probably.
T
Tattoos: Indeed.
Time: Did you know you can get a lot done if you don't sleep or eat?
Ticklish: I will tear your arm off.
Taste: Saturated colors, mostly. Modern, clean.
Torment: High heeled shoes.
U
Undress: For bathing.
Unpredictable: Some things in my life are
Unfortunate: wardrobe choices on SO. MANY. PEOPLE. It's like the white trash olympics out there, people!
Unforgettable: Mostly bad stuff with some good stuff sprinkled on. Like the weddings this year, those were good.
V
Vegetables: I love them
Virgin: Islands? Records?
Vacation: Dirty, filthy word.
Voice: Not as attractive as I think it is in my head.
W
Worst Habit: Smoking, cutting myself down
Wish: To be totally satisfied in every way
Waste: I try not to. Really.
Wander: I should do this more.
X
X-Rated: Can be hilarious.
X-Rays: The last real one I had, I threatened to kill the nurse. She moved my foot in a way it DID NOT WANT TO GO--hell, after that, did we even need to see if it was broken?
X-marks the spot: I got nothing.
Y
Year born: What's next, my ssn?
Yes: to diet pepsi
Yellow: My old kitchen! With the stenciled hummingbirds! SO UGLY.
Yearn: To get the masters degree
Z
Zodiac: Pisces
Zealous: with my pours when bartending. Ssssh, don't tell.
Zzzz: Oh, yes, baby.
Not all parts were bad. But the parts that were bad....well, they more than made up for the good parts.
I have started, and been working on, a post about our experience with the lovely hotel since my return from said hotel a week ago. Also, our trip to the ninth circle of hell, or the local auto mall(s). After about 2 paragraphs, I'm too irritated to continue.
(this means something. Irritation is usually my muse.)
I said something to a coworker today that I think is an accurate description of myself.
"I used to be painfully shy. Then I got pissed off and stayed that way."
And I sometimes wonder to myself why I have an ulcer and greying hair.
Anyway, all of that will be more fully explained later. For now....MEME!
(aside: The term "meme" makes me think {and laugh} about my old boss's children. to the four year old, a 'mimi' was a binkie, and to the 1 year old, it was a blankie. the baby would hold her blanket over her head like a ghost and wander around in circles saying to herself "mi-mi-mi-mi-mi........Mi-mi-mi-mi-mi-mi......" while her sister would wander around looking for her stolen binkie. Hilarity! Maybe you had to be there.)
A
Always: Find something to smile about. Sometimes harder than others.
Average:Is relative?
Age:25.52. Yes, I did the math. Officially closer to 30 than 20. Always the baby, right?
B
Beer: Is a good thing
Birthday: 3/12
Boast: I am thinner now than when I moved here. Bitches!
C
Crush: I would totally do the pretty boy that plays the green arrow on Smallville. And then make fun of the butt chin he is sporting.
Car: Please don't go there.
Cry: I need to allow myself more time for crying.
D
Days: Often spent watching the food network in my jammies, drinking coffee and dreading the hour when work is happening.
Dream:To be content, secure, happy, and financially stable. In Tuscany/a boat on the Mediterranean.
Dare: to keep kids off drugs? to eat adventurously! I love me some new food!
Drug: other than the periodic bout of emotional self flagellation, nothing.
E
Eggs: Don't much care for the eggs. Custard, however, is fair fucking game.
Email: I love it. I check it a lot. Send me an email.
Envy: Lifetime students.
F
Flavors: Not in combination, mind, but....Bleu Cheese, Roasted brussel sprouts with bacon, dungeness crab and CURRY! (and diet dr.pepper cherry vanilla. Sweet, sweet heroin.)
Favorites: Really good books, kitty cats, good photos, strong coffee, good Cabernet....flannel sheets!
Flaws: I smoke. I bottle my anger. I pick at my fingernails. This list would be very, very long.
Finicky:Not really. Control freak about my little life, but not finicky. Does that make sense?
G
Grateful: I am grateful for my intelligence, my red hair, my friends, the fact that I have food/clothing/running water/roof over my head......
Gifts: I can knit. I can cook like a motherfucker. I'm rather witty, sometimes.
Gum: Gum is reserved for when I try to quit smoking, therefore, I don't chew it.
Gross: Any kind of moldering food. I CANNOT DEAL.
H
Hair: is dark red and to my shoulders? Super curly but I beat that shit into submission with the straightening iron daily. Oh, and for another post--I haven't shampooed my hair in three weeks. I'm using this new cleansing conditioner....and it works.
Height: I am taller than average, but would like to be taller.
Happiest: Nook, Book, flannel. There it is. The recipe for happy, my friends.
Hate: intolerance of any kind.
I
Ice Cream: skinny cow.
Instrument: Bass clarinet.
Idols: People who live life totally honestly and without embarrassment--totally for themselves.
Independence: Thank you.
J
Jewelry: the St.Christopher's medal and the silver ring don't come off. Earrings change daily, and are usually very dangly and silver.
Jail: NO.
Jammies: Dad's Snohomish Tribes Tshirt and the ultimate jammie pants from target.
K
Kids: I love other people's children if they aren't brats.
Karaoke: I hate Thursdays. Almost as much as happy hour.
Kicks: Driving with loud music on, preferably Daft Punk, Fear Factory, Deftones, In Flames,or Tricky, lately.
L
Love: The blessings in my life.
Life: Ice skating uphill, mostly.
Lost: Not always a bad thing.
M
Milk: Don't do a lot of milk either. Again, with the custard.
Miss: Innocence.
Movies: if I can stay awake, sure!
Memory: Terrible.
N
Nails: They're fake. Sorry.
No: A word I could use more often.
Name: Chuck Palahniuk used it in a novel because he thought "It's the most horrible name for a woman ever."
Never: forget to preheat the oven
O
Ordinary: Shoe size.
One: reason I like my job
Office: HAHAHAHAHA.
Only: so much patience
P
Pet Peeves: lateness
Primal urge: Cull the herd.
Personality: Strong.
Pain: Red heads have a higher tolerance for pain, did you know that?
Q
Quick: to laugh
Quirk: I will push my glasses up my nose when they aren't on my face, so I just poke myself in the bridge of my nose. Super attractive.
Qualms: people who act like F&B workers are in a lower caste than they.
Quest: To be the best me I can be. (So, so, so cliche. Sorry.)
R
Reason: I can be overly logical sometimes. Is that possible?
Reality TV: HATE.
Rage: Mine's named Carl. He lives inside me all the time.
Regret:I try not to.
S
Season: Autumn.
Shoes: Running shoes or flip flops.
Silly: am i tired? Then probably.
T
Tattoos: Indeed.
Time: Did you know you can get a lot done if you don't sleep or eat?
Ticklish: I will tear your arm off.
Taste: Saturated colors, mostly. Modern, clean.
Torment: High heeled shoes.
U
Undress: For bathing.
Unpredictable: Some things in my life are
Unfortunate: wardrobe choices on SO. MANY. PEOPLE. It's like the white trash olympics out there, people!
Unforgettable: Mostly bad stuff with some good stuff sprinkled on. Like the weddings this year, those were good.
V
Vegetables: I love them
Virgin: Islands? Records?
Vacation: Dirty, filthy word.
Voice: Not as attractive as I think it is in my head.
W
Worst Habit: Smoking, cutting myself down
Wish: To be totally satisfied in every way
Waste: I try not to. Really.
Wander: I should do this more.
X
X-Rated: Can be hilarious.
X-Rays: The last real one I had, I threatened to kill the nurse. She moved my foot in a way it DID NOT WANT TO GO--hell, after that, did we even need to see if it was broken?
X-marks the spot: I got nothing.
Y
Year born: What's next, my ssn?
Yes: to diet pepsi
Yellow: My old kitchen! With the stenciled hummingbirds! SO UGLY.
Yearn: To get the masters degree
Z
Zodiac: Pisces
Zealous: with my pours when bartending. Ssssh, don't tell.
Zzzz: Oh, yes, baby.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Blink
I'm not buying the car.
Please re-surge the good vibes. Thanks.
Apparently, when the girl listed the car as "totally clean and sound! Just a few bumps on the back bumper!" she was either a)lying or b)an idiot. I'm going with the second one.
I told her I wanted the car inspected to see if any major mechanical work needed to be done, and that I would pay for it. She agreed. We also signed an agreement stating that if there was any major work that needed to be done, we would adjust the sale of the car accordingly.
She calls me with the results of the inspection, and says....
"I'm not really mechanically inclined, so i don't really know what this stuff means, but the timing belt needs replacing, the valve gasket covers are leaking, the water pump needs to be redone, one of the blades on the cooling fan is broken, the serpentine belt needs to be replaced and the coolant flushed. Call me!"
So I do. In a panic. I, also not mechanically inclined, but not an idiot, understand that the aforementioned things equal 1)Serious money and 2)I'm not paying this much money for a car that needs that much work.
So I call her. I explain that this is bad. That I will not buy the car unless these things are fixed.
She tells me she will replace the timing belt (apparently the only thing with an exclamation point next to it on her notes) and that's it.
I tell her I'm sorry, but I cannot buy this car for that price and need to get all that work done.
She tells me she will split the repairs with me.
I tell her, NO, she won't.
She tells me she will come down $900 in price.
Nope.
She then proceeds to start crying. (She is using this money to go to china in like, a week. Who doesn't sell their car for trip money until a week before?)
She can't afford the repairs, and she can't afford to take less than $900 off the price.
Sorry.
I tell her I understand, and that I truly am sorry. I genuinely want this car, but it is not feasible.
THEN! She gets mad.
"I just really wish I had a head's up. If I had known this car needed to be in perfect condition for you to pay full price for it, I would have shown it to other people."
Silence.
"I'm just being honest.", she tells me.
"You do know that you advertised this car for being in perfect condition with all the maintenance records up to date, and all services needed had been performed, right?", I tell her. "You do know that isn't the truth, now, right?"
"I'm in a real pickle (she actually said pickle.) now, that's all."
I told her that I would still pay for the inspection, which in my mind is fair. She then took my mailing address and hung up on me.
No Jetta for me.
Oh well. Such is my life. Nothing can be easy. I guess it's off the the Auto Mall, (also known as "The Eighth Circle of Hell") to go shopping. Kill me.
T's sister is getting married this weekend. T's car is dead, dead, dead. Bye Bye Jeep, it's been good knowing you. Sigh.
I'm not going to California for my vacation. I'm going....somewhere we haven't decided on yet. Car shopping, probably.
I hate my job and all things involved with it. So there.
Consider yourselves updated!
Please re-surge the good vibes. Thanks.
Apparently, when the girl listed the car as "totally clean and sound! Just a few bumps on the back bumper!" she was either a)lying or b)an idiot. I'm going with the second one.
I told her I wanted the car inspected to see if any major mechanical work needed to be done, and that I would pay for it. She agreed. We also signed an agreement stating that if there was any major work that needed to be done, we would adjust the sale of the car accordingly.
She calls me with the results of the inspection, and says....
"I'm not really mechanically inclined, so i don't really know what this stuff means, but the timing belt needs replacing, the valve gasket covers are leaking, the water pump needs to be redone, one of the blades on the cooling fan is broken, the serpentine belt needs to be replaced and the coolant flushed. Call me!"
So I do. In a panic. I, also not mechanically inclined, but not an idiot, understand that the aforementioned things equal 1)Serious money and 2)I'm not paying this much money for a car that needs that much work.
So I call her. I explain that this is bad. That I will not buy the car unless these things are fixed.
She tells me she will replace the timing belt (apparently the only thing with an exclamation point next to it on her notes) and that's it.
I tell her I'm sorry, but I cannot buy this car for that price and need to get all that work done.
She tells me she will split the repairs with me.
I tell her, NO, she won't.
She tells me she will come down $900 in price.
Nope.
She then proceeds to start crying. (She is using this money to go to china in like, a week. Who doesn't sell their car for trip money until a week before?)
She can't afford the repairs, and she can't afford to take less than $900 off the price.
Sorry.
I tell her I understand, and that I truly am sorry. I genuinely want this car, but it is not feasible.
THEN! She gets mad.
"I just really wish I had a head's up. If I had known this car needed to be in perfect condition for you to pay full price for it, I would have shown it to other people."
Silence.
"I'm just being honest.", she tells me.
"You do know that you advertised this car for being in perfect condition with all the maintenance records up to date, and all services needed had been performed, right?", I tell her. "You do know that isn't the truth, now, right?"
"I'm in a real pickle (she actually said pickle.) now, that's all."
I told her that I would still pay for the inspection, which in my mind is fair. She then took my mailing address and hung up on me.
No Jetta for me.
Oh well. Such is my life. Nothing can be easy. I guess it's off the the Auto Mall, (also known as "The Eighth Circle of Hell") to go shopping. Kill me.
T's sister is getting married this weekend. T's car is dead, dead, dead. Bye Bye Jeep, it's been good knowing you. Sigh.
I'm not going to California for my vacation. I'm going....somewhere we haven't decided on yet. Car shopping, probably.
I hate my job and all things involved with it. So there.
Consider yourselves updated!
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Ta-Da!
Oh, so that thing I didn't want to jinx myself over?
never fear, my darlings, here it is.
As of today....My new car. (Your good-vibe-oozeage worked! Thanks, guys!)
Oh, and the best part? It's a TDI. 50 mpg.
I pick it up next weekend.
Start thinking of names!
never fear, my darlings, here it is.
As of today....My new car. (Your good-vibe-oozeage worked! Thanks, guys!)
Oh, and the best part? It's a TDI. 50 mpg.
I pick it up next weekend.
Start thinking of names!
50+what?
I really, really wish that the payroll office at my job was not filled with morons.
Really.
Again with the missing hours! Again with the missing paystubs! Again!
Sigh.
Its a long story.
Hey--everyone needs to cross their fingers and wish me luck on the endeavour I am taking tomorrow--I don't want to jinx myself, so I'm not mentioning it.....yet. But I really, really, really want it to work. REALLY. Totally fucking awesome.
So ooze me some positive vibes, peeps!
Really.
Again with the missing hours! Again with the missing paystubs! Again!
Sigh.
Its a long story.
Hey--everyone needs to cross their fingers and wish me luck on the endeavour I am taking tomorrow--I don't want to jinx myself, so I'm not mentioning it.....yet. But I really, really, really want it to work. REALLY. Totally fucking awesome.
So ooze me some positive vibes, peeps!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
The Unspoken Word
Some of you may know this.
A one-way-ticket to making me incredibly angry is to put words in my mouth, and then use them against me. Just putting words in my mouth will make me angry, actually. I am a very....outspoken person, usually, and won't mince my words--I say what I mean. Therefore, when someone takes those words, adds to them, and paints me as an asshole or attempts to 'guilt' me with them, well, it doesn't sit well.
Add in the fact that I finally have some time off without family, and I am fucking sick as hell with some tummy bug (damn you, tummy bug!) and your final result is....well, this post.
I have made it plain to both offending parties (Indeed. Two completely separate people, two completely separate instances, both yesterday, just what I need.) that this shit ain't gonna fly.....
And yet, it continues. The histrionics, the manipulation. Kill me.
One, of course, is my mother. surprise surprise!
Mom called me yesterday, and says to me, "I need to ask you something, and I know you're going to say no." (then why ask?)
"I need you to come here and help me pack and then drive to where you live." (approx 700 miles from where she is)
My response?
I burst into tears. I feel like SHIT--I'm sick, I'm tired, my fucking dad just fucking died, I have to do all this shit in regards to that, I didn't work for two weeks so I don't have any goddamn money, I have to work as much as I can because I'm taking a week off for T's sisters wedding, and the idea of going there and dealing with her (especially in a motor home. With three cats in it, as well as mom) just....well, I couldn't handle it.
Do you think hearing her daughter sob would be enough for her to say, "Oh, no, honey, don't do it. I understand, totally, that you have too much on your plate right now."
No.
She gets nasty, whilst I cry. "I'm not going to BEG!", "I know you don't want me there!", "Why can't you do this? I haven't seen you for so long!" and on, and on, and on, with the guilt.
I cried some more. Told her all of the aforementioned things. Told her that I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, that I would help her if I could, but I just can't right now.
Suddenly, her tone changes. Cold. (this is common when mom doesn't get her way.)
"I never get what I want! Never! How am I going to do this by myself?"
(Aside: There is no fucking way in hell that I would do this with her, even if I was healthy and all the other crap was going on. I went back there just over a year ago to help her pack because she was moving, and 'help' turned into T and I doing everything while she drank was was awful. She will just sit there and do nothing except get wasted and be abusive--and if I give her an inch she takes a mile. If I were to do this for her, she would want me to go back with her in the spring, go to Arizona with her after that, and of course, spend my own {nonexistent} money to get back. But I really don't want anything bad to happen to her.)
The crying continues, and she realizes that badgering is not making me mad, or change my mind, so she caves. She is kind again, and gets off the phone.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rings again. I answer.
"Oh. I was just going to leave a message."
Seriously? I was here 20 minutes ago, did you really thing I got my sick ass out of the house with no car in that little time?
I ask her what she needs.
"I want you to forget that we had that conversation. Forget that I even asked you. I am not going to be HOMELESS, so there's nothing for you to worry about."
Homeless? Who said anything about homeless? I ask.
"You!"
Wait.
Oh, nope, wasn't me, sorry.
"You did too!" (she does this a lot.)
Now, well, now we're fighting. I'm PISSED, now, that she is doing this. How dare she treat me like this? How dare she play down my fathers death and make it all about her? how dare she manipulate me now, or ever? Sure, I shouldn't have risen to the bait, but, well....I'm fallible.
I laid it out for her. Not that she listens, she just talks over the top of you.
"Mom, it's not all about you. I didn't say that you were going to be fucking homeless, and you know it. Stop making me out to be the bad guy--stop looking to me for someone to blame when you fail. You should have planned this out when you bought the fucking motor home. Stop taking the blame away from yourself in this being 'not your idea to ask me', its bullshit. You expect me to treat you like an adult when you continually act like a child, and yet you treat me like a piece of shit in return. I'm over it."
She yelled some, and I hung up.
This morning (I'M FUCKING SICK! HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL THIS WOMAN THAT I AM SICK, THEREFORE SLEEPING, THEREFORE DON'T FUCKING CALL ME BECAUSE THE PHONE WILL WAKE ME UP?), bright and early, (7am) she calls and leaves a ridiculous message on the answering machine, babbling, and then at the end she says (AND I QUOTE!)
"Forget that I asked you. I have lost too much, I won't lose my kid too."
How sad. She lost me long, long ago, and doesn't know it.
I asked her, once, a while ago, if she knew anything about me. My favorite food, color, what my most treasured possession was.
Nope. No idea. No idea what I want to do with my life, no idea about the ins-and outs of T's and My's relationship, whether or not we have a good relationship, what our plans are, what kind of car I want to drive...nothing. I don't think she cares.
Is that normal?
A one-way-ticket to making me incredibly angry is to put words in my mouth, and then use them against me. Just putting words in my mouth will make me angry, actually. I am a very....outspoken person, usually, and won't mince my words--I say what I mean. Therefore, when someone takes those words, adds to them, and paints me as an asshole or attempts to 'guilt' me with them, well, it doesn't sit well.
Add in the fact that I finally have some time off without family, and I am fucking sick as hell with some tummy bug (damn you, tummy bug!) and your final result is....well, this post.
I have made it plain to both offending parties (Indeed. Two completely separate people, two completely separate instances, both yesterday, just what I need.) that this shit ain't gonna fly.....
And yet, it continues. The histrionics, the manipulation. Kill me.
One, of course, is my mother. surprise surprise!
Mom called me yesterday, and says to me, "I need to ask you something, and I know you're going to say no." (then why ask?)
"I need you to come here and help me pack and then drive to where you live." (approx 700 miles from where she is)
My response?
I burst into tears. I feel like SHIT--I'm sick, I'm tired, my fucking dad just fucking died, I have to do all this shit in regards to that, I didn't work for two weeks so I don't have any goddamn money, I have to work as much as I can because I'm taking a week off for T's sisters wedding, and the idea of going there and dealing with her (especially in a motor home. With three cats in it, as well as mom) just....well, I couldn't handle it.
Do you think hearing her daughter sob would be enough for her to say, "Oh, no, honey, don't do it. I understand, totally, that you have too much on your plate right now."
No.
She gets nasty, whilst I cry. "I'm not going to BEG!", "I know you don't want me there!", "Why can't you do this? I haven't seen you for so long!" and on, and on, and on, with the guilt.
I cried some more. Told her all of the aforementioned things. Told her that I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, that I would help her if I could, but I just can't right now.
Suddenly, her tone changes. Cold. (this is common when mom doesn't get her way.)
"I never get what I want! Never! How am I going to do this by myself?"
(Aside: There is no fucking way in hell that I would do this with her, even if I was healthy and all the other crap was going on. I went back there just over a year ago to help her pack because she was moving, and 'help' turned into T and I doing everything while she drank was was awful. She will just sit there and do nothing except get wasted and be abusive--and if I give her an inch she takes a mile. If I were to do this for her, she would want me to go back with her in the spring, go to Arizona with her after that, and of course, spend my own {nonexistent} money to get back. But I really don't want anything bad to happen to her.)
The crying continues, and she realizes that badgering is not making me mad, or change my mind, so she caves. She is kind again, and gets off the phone.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rings again. I answer.
"Oh. I was just going to leave a message."
Seriously? I was here 20 minutes ago, did you really thing I got my sick ass out of the house with no car in that little time?
I ask her what she needs.
"I want you to forget that we had that conversation. Forget that I even asked you. I am not going to be HOMELESS, so there's nothing for you to worry about."
Homeless? Who said anything about homeless? I ask.
"You!"
Wait.
Oh, nope, wasn't me, sorry.
"You did too!" (she does this a lot.)
Now, well, now we're fighting. I'm PISSED, now, that she is doing this. How dare she treat me like this? How dare she play down my fathers death and make it all about her? how dare she manipulate me now, or ever? Sure, I shouldn't have risen to the bait, but, well....I'm fallible.
I laid it out for her. Not that she listens, she just talks over the top of you.
"Mom, it's not all about you. I didn't say that you were going to be fucking homeless, and you know it. Stop making me out to be the bad guy--stop looking to me for someone to blame when you fail. You should have planned this out when you bought the fucking motor home. Stop taking the blame away from yourself in this being 'not your idea to ask me', its bullshit. You expect me to treat you like an adult when you continually act like a child, and yet you treat me like a piece of shit in return. I'm over it."
She yelled some, and I hung up.
This morning (I'M FUCKING SICK! HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO TELL THIS WOMAN THAT I AM SICK, THEREFORE SLEEPING, THEREFORE DON'T FUCKING CALL ME BECAUSE THE PHONE WILL WAKE ME UP?), bright and early, (7am) she calls and leaves a ridiculous message on the answering machine, babbling, and then at the end she says (AND I QUOTE!)
"Forget that I asked you. I have lost too much, I won't lose my kid too."
How sad. She lost me long, long ago, and doesn't know it.
I asked her, once, a while ago, if she knew anything about me. My favorite food, color, what my most treasured possession was.
Nope. No idea. No idea what I want to do with my life, no idea about the ins-and outs of T's and My's relationship, whether or not we have a good relationship, what our plans are, what kind of car I want to drive...nothing. I don't think she cares.
Is that normal?
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