Spurred on by some recent events, but just in general, after being able to fly, of course, these are my chosen superpowers:
- When someone is driving below the speed limit, I could use my mind to make their car go faster, and consequently freak them out while easing my commute
- The ability to instantaneously turn fat and ugly (or perhaps just frumpy and plain) when doing things such as passing a construction site, walking past homeless people, or standing outside waiting for something near a roadway to avoid catcalls.
- Some way of projecting both my bank balance and my credit score to store clerks when I'm just browsing and they keep bothering me. Same thing for homeless people.
- Be able to give one single look that scares every single misbehaving child on the planet into becoming quiet and respectable
- Emit some sort of gross smell or irritating sound frequency that targets only ugly guys considering hitting on me, and it gets stronger the closer they get to me
- A force to physically get me to an exercise site and make me exercise
- Some sort of magical shower device that cleans my body and hair, but I don't have to take all the time to redo my hair and makeup
- If someone doesn't use their turn signal at a necessary time, their horn will blast for 30 seconds without being able to stop it
Monday, June 25, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
TIME AND SPACE
Yesterday I got myself out of my house to go on a hike through Griffith Park. Being outside makes me feel infinitely better, and I figured exercise couldn't hurt. That and it's free. I hike up the hill to the Griffith Observatory, which, for those that aren't familiar, is a planetarium overlooking LA that was built in the 30s and has lots of exhibits on space inside. It, too, is gloriously free, and the view is amazing, so I make it up there about once a month.
Walking around the exhibits, I start reading about the sun, types of stars, meteorites that had been found in the US, and other space things. I usually don't stay too long, since it's usually pretty crowded, but yesterday was different. I got a lot more engaged in the exhibits than normal. As you walk down this ramp to the lower level, there's a whole wall of star-shaped jewels, pins, earrings, and other shiny things that have obviously been collected over the years from lots and lots of people. The line of stars goes all the way down to the bottom of the ramp, which is a good half of the circular building, and it's to represent the big bang and the things that have occurred in the time since that.
It goes through probably 40 feet of sparkly stars before you even get to the creation of the Milky Way. Then, within a couple of feet, you have the sun, planets, and present day. That 40 feet represented BILLIONS of years before the earth even existed. And considering the earth is what, 4.6 billion (could look it up, but too lazy) years old, it kind of blows your mind. Then there's the amount of time earth existed before life of any kind came about, which is longer than life HAS been around. On the lower level, there's also a scale model of the solar system, showing each planet in relation to the others. Earth next to Jupiter is so insignificant. And then, in reality, Jupiter is insignificant compared to stars, which are insignificant compared to our galaxy, and so on out to other galaxies and space that we only guess what might exist.
I have been feeling relatively depressed for the past month due to lack of employment and other issues arising out of said unemployment, and suddenly to realize just how insignificant I was in the realm of space and time was almost a comfort. What happens in my life is as insignificant to the universe as what happens to one particular grain of sand (with which I may never come into contact) in my lifetime. The fact that the earth exists is fairly inconsequential to every other star and every other galaxy, so the fact that I even exist is not even worth mentioning in the grand scheme of the universe.
So how can something so insignificant have problems that seem so large? That was definitely a lesson in perspective. I'm just a conglomeration of particles with electrical impulses that to me turn into pain, suffering, happiness, and excitement...and we don't even really know what that means yet. The mind hasn't been completely figured out. Because I am nothing, my problems are nothing. One person being unemployed versus a giant star dying and sucking millions of planets and other stars into its implosion?
It may baffle some people that this thought relaxes me. That something I do wrong really affects nothing in the whole grand scheme of the universe. If I fail or if I succeed, I have changed nothing relating to anything of consequence in this ever-expanding universe. Even on earth, did the fact that one t-rex ate a particular small dinosaur do anything to affect history as we know it?
Some people turn to religion to feel comfort in times of hardship. It comforts them to think everything is "god's plan." I don't really find it comforting to think that some puppetmaster decided Johnny the hobo was destined to sleep under a bridge and get beaten to death by some crackheads. I'm comforted by science because not only is it simply fascinating that we exist, but how awe-inspiring something as large as the universe is, and how everything is just a piece of something else. I'm not aware of the life of a particular electron in my body, and I'm like that electron in the universe. Necessary for some reason, but still inconsequential to nearly everything.
Walking around the exhibits, I start reading about the sun, types of stars, meteorites that had been found in the US, and other space things. I usually don't stay too long, since it's usually pretty crowded, but yesterday was different. I got a lot more engaged in the exhibits than normal. As you walk down this ramp to the lower level, there's a whole wall of star-shaped jewels, pins, earrings, and other shiny things that have obviously been collected over the years from lots and lots of people. The line of stars goes all the way down to the bottom of the ramp, which is a good half of the circular building, and it's to represent the big bang and the things that have occurred in the time since that.
It goes through probably 40 feet of sparkly stars before you even get to the creation of the Milky Way. Then, within a couple of feet, you have the sun, planets, and present day. That 40 feet represented BILLIONS of years before the earth even existed. And considering the earth is what, 4.6 billion (could look it up, but too lazy) years old, it kind of blows your mind. Then there's the amount of time earth existed before life of any kind came about, which is longer than life HAS been around. On the lower level, there's also a scale model of the solar system, showing each planet in relation to the others. Earth next to Jupiter is so insignificant. And then, in reality, Jupiter is insignificant compared to stars, which are insignificant compared to our galaxy, and so on out to other galaxies and space that we only guess what might exist.
I have been feeling relatively depressed for the past month due to lack of employment and other issues arising out of said unemployment, and suddenly to realize just how insignificant I was in the realm of space and time was almost a comfort. What happens in my life is as insignificant to the universe as what happens to one particular grain of sand (with which I may never come into contact) in my lifetime. The fact that the earth exists is fairly inconsequential to every other star and every other galaxy, so the fact that I even exist is not even worth mentioning in the grand scheme of the universe.
So how can something so insignificant have problems that seem so large? That was definitely a lesson in perspective. I'm just a conglomeration of particles with electrical impulses that to me turn into pain, suffering, happiness, and excitement...and we don't even really know what that means yet. The mind hasn't been completely figured out. Because I am nothing, my problems are nothing. One person being unemployed versus a giant star dying and sucking millions of planets and other stars into its implosion?
It may baffle some people that this thought relaxes me. That something I do wrong really affects nothing in the whole grand scheme of the universe. If I fail or if I succeed, I have changed nothing relating to anything of consequence in this ever-expanding universe. Even on earth, did the fact that one t-rex ate a particular small dinosaur do anything to affect history as we know it?
Some people turn to religion to feel comfort in times of hardship. It comforts them to think everything is "god's plan." I don't really find it comforting to think that some puppetmaster decided Johnny the hobo was destined to sleep under a bridge and get beaten to death by some crackheads. I'm comforted by science because not only is it simply fascinating that we exist, but how awe-inspiring something as large as the universe is, and how everything is just a piece of something else. I'm not aware of the life of a particular electron in my body, and I'm like that electron in the universe. Necessary for some reason, but still inconsequential to nearly everything.
Friday, June 1, 2012
AN OPEN LETTER TO MY LIFE
Dear Life,
First off, I would like to thank you for the fact that I got into my master's program and that I got a nice chunk of scholarship money from USC. That was probably the best thing that's happened in my life since I moved to California.
While I appreciate the magnitude of awesome that was presented to me in the way of school, I don't think it's quite the caliber of luck (say, winning $10 million) that would justify YOU SHITTING ALL OVER ME for my remaining 80 days as a non-student. Seriously, I got the picture. Once is enough.
After my minor breakdown and extreme necessity of a trip to visit my parents, somehow you came through with airline points to get me a free flight, despite it leaving at 1:35am. I'll take what I can get, no complaints. The vacation was nice, and restful, and I was ready to face you head on when I returned home. I wasn't, however, ready for all the fun you had planned for me.
I'd only been en route from Columbia to LA for 8ish hours when I finally reached my car and was prepared to drive it home and crash in my somewhat uncomfortable but at least fully reclined bed, but I found you left me a surprise - every electrical device in my car was dead. No lights, no electric locks, no pushing the alarm button, no turning over of the ignition. At first this didn't seem like a huge problem, since it was my (WRONG) assumption that I knew at least one human being in this town with jumper cables. In fact, I do not.
Adding on to that fact, I also did not have roadside assistance coverage through Honda, through my insurance, or through AAA, which I had cancelled because $50 a month is not something I can be throwing around all willy nilly. 45 minutes later, I'm finally attempting to dial a towing service in hopes they can come jump my car, and right in front of me pulls up a man in a car, who GETS OUT JUMPER CABLES, and attaches them to another car 10 feet away from me. Life just threw me a bone!
With Archie's help (the retired gentleman who lived across the street, and was moving his car for street cleaning the next day), I was able to charge my car and get home. I breathe a sigh of relief and get home to bed. But you're not done, are you? Of course not.
The next morning I wake up and send emails to the two companies I'd been waiting on to get back to me about legal temp work that they said they had coming up. Within minutes, BOTH companies wrote back and said that they were either cancelled or severely cut back, and I wasn't going to be working anytime soon. FAN FUCKING TASTIC. I have $46 in cash, an empty gas tank, a $500 check to deposit, and two days off my meds to make me feel that much better. I stop at the pharmacy, spend the $40 on my prescriptions, get $6 in gas so I can make it to the bank, and go deposit my check, which is promptly sent to Honda to pay for my car payment I missed 2 weeks ago.
I'm feeling shit on again, so something makes me stop at the corner store and use $3 in quarters to buy 3 scratch off lotto tickets. In the magical moment I had there in that corner store, my first ticket gave me $20! The rest did nothing, but I was happy I was $17 up. Then I get home and find an email from a friend asking me to do a few hours of work for her company the next day since I'm painfully unemployed. I agree and begin to think things are turning around. HA. HAAAAAHAHA.
The next day, I make it to the office and begin doing the postage work I've been hired to do, and then I go to load my car with my finished boxes to take back to the post office - and to pick up more customs forms. In the process of loading my trunk, I thought it would be a good idea to set my keys down IN the trunk, and then shut it. I stand in awe for a second at the marvel that is me getting shat on for the eleventy billionth time in 48 hours, and walk down the street to ask the guys at the auto body shop for some help.
It turns out I drive the safest car on the planet, because with all the lock popping tools in the world these guys cannot unlock my car. It takes them 45 minutes and about 50 different strategies before they end up being able to pop my trunk, at which point I am so grateful/feel so bad that I give them the $20 bill I so gloriously won in the lottery the night before. This feels especially obnoxious since I gave them $20 (well-earned, but still) for 45 minutes, while I'm making $15 an hour.
When I finally load the car with the boxes, I have the pleasure of driving to the post office that is less than 1 mile away during some sort of manhunt with cops and police helicopters shutting off lanes of traffic. It only takes 20 minutes to go a mile. I'm so flustered at this point that I take the boxes inside, get them shipped, and walk out WITHOUT more customs forms - which are required for me to finish my job and actually get paid. Don't realize this til I get back, and once I do, I pretend I just want to take more boxes to the post office, turn right around, and get back in the 20 minute traffic jam because I'm a dumb piece of shit who can't remember to get a stack of forms when that is ONE OF TWO things I'm supposed to do on an errand.
I walk back in 40 minutes later and the boss asked me "Did you get shot?" referencing the shooter the police were chasing through the neighborhood. No, I replied, but it might have been easier if I had. In fact, I started thinking - had I gotten shot somewhere like the arm, I'd have a few days in the hospital, it wouldn't be a part of my body that would be especially painful to have disfigured (unlike my face, torso, or legs), and I'd get fucking disability so I could actually pay for my life until school starts. But of course, Life, you wouldn't let me get shot. That's too easy.
I'm actually scared to see what you'll come up with next. I'm hesitant to leave my house, in case my car gets towed, catches fire, dies on the freeway. I'd consider becoming an alcoholic or some sort of pill addict, but I'm too fucking poor. I can't even buy a whole tank of gas, let alone drugs.
So please. I know I've had a streak of luck this year, but good lord, it was only a couple of things. I don't need to be beaten down every single day to be grateful for it. It's kind of funny now, but a couple more days of this might send me to the mental hospital, or jail - depending on how I handle it. Let's just not push this too far, mmkay? That'd be great. Thanks.
Yours,
Assbucket
First off, I would like to thank you for the fact that I got into my master's program and that I got a nice chunk of scholarship money from USC. That was probably the best thing that's happened in my life since I moved to California.
While I appreciate the magnitude of awesome that was presented to me in the way of school, I don't think it's quite the caliber of luck (say, winning $10 million) that would justify YOU SHITTING ALL OVER ME for my remaining 80 days as a non-student. Seriously, I got the picture. Once is enough.
After my minor breakdown and extreme necessity of a trip to visit my parents, somehow you came through with airline points to get me a free flight, despite it leaving at 1:35am. I'll take what I can get, no complaints. The vacation was nice, and restful, and I was ready to face you head on when I returned home. I wasn't, however, ready for all the fun you had planned for me.
I'd only been en route from Columbia to LA for 8ish hours when I finally reached my car and was prepared to drive it home and crash in my somewhat uncomfortable but at least fully reclined bed, but I found you left me a surprise - every electrical device in my car was dead. No lights, no electric locks, no pushing the alarm button, no turning over of the ignition. At first this didn't seem like a huge problem, since it was my (WRONG) assumption that I knew at least one human being in this town with jumper cables. In fact, I do not.
Adding on to that fact, I also did not have roadside assistance coverage through Honda, through my insurance, or through AAA, which I had cancelled because $50 a month is not something I can be throwing around all willy nilly. 45 minutes later, I'm finally attempting to dial a towing service in hopes they can come jump my car, and right in front of me pulls up a man in a car, who GETS OUT JUMPER CABLES, and attaches them to another car 10 feet away from me. Life just threw me a bone!
With Archie's help (the retired gentleman who lived across the street, and was moving his car for street cleaning the next day), I was able to charge my car and get home. I breathe a sigh of relief and get home to bed. But you're not done, are you? Of course not.
The next morning I wake up and send emails to the two companies I'd been waiting on to get back to me about legal temp work that they said they had coming up. Within minutes, BOTH companies wrote back and said that they were either cancelled or severely cut back, and I wasn't going to be working anytime soon. FAN FUCKING TASTIC. I have $46 in cash, an empty gas tank, a $500 check to deposit, and two days off my meds to make me feel that much better. I stop at the pharmacy, spend the $40 on my prescriptions, get $6 in gas so I can make it to the bank, and go deposit my check, which is promptly sent to Honda to pay for my car payment I missed 2 weeks ago.
I'm feeling shit on again, so something makes me stop at the corner store and use $3 in quarters to buy 3 scratch off lotto tickets. In the magical moment I had there in that corner store, my first ticket gave me $20! The rest did nothing, but I was happy I was $17 up. Then I get home and find an email from a friend asking me to do a few hours of work for her company the next day since I'm painfully unemployed. I agree and begin to think things are turning around. HA. HAAAAAHAHA.
The next day, I make it to the office and begin doing the postage work I've been hired to do, and then I go to load my car with my finished boxes to take back to the post office - and to pick up more customs forms. In the process of loading my trunk, I thought it would be a good idea to set my keys down IN the trunk, and then shut it. I stand in awe for a second at the marvel that is me getting shat on for the eleventy billionth time in 48 hours, and walk down the street to ask the guys at the auto body shop for some help.
It turns out I drive the safest car on the planet, because with all the lock popping tools in the world these guys cannot unlock my car. It takes them 45 minutes and about 50 different strategies before they end up being able to pop my trunk, at which point I am so grateful/feel so bad that I give them the $20 bill I so gloriously won in the lottery the night before. This feels especially obnoxious since I gave them $20 (well-earned, but still) for 45 minutes, while I'm making $15 an hour.
When I finally load the car with the boxes, I have the pleasure of driving to the post office that is less than 1 mile away during some sort of manhunt with cops and police helicopters shutting off lanes of traffic. It only takes 20 minutes to go a mile. I'm so flustered at this point that I take the boxes inside, get them shipped, and walk out WITHOUT more customs forms - which are required for me to finish my job and actually get paid. Don't realize this til I get back, and once I do, I pretend I just want to take more boxes to the post office, turn right around, and get back in the 20 minute traffic jam because I'm a dumb piece of shit who can't remember to get a stack of forms when that is ONE OF TWO things I'm supposed to do on an errand.
I walk back in 40 minutes later and the boss asked me "Did you get shot?" referencing the shooter the police were chasing through the neighborhood. No, I replied, but it might have been easier if I had. In fact, I started thinking - had I gotten shot somewhere like the arm, I'd have a few days in the hospital, it wouldn't be a part of my body that would be especially painful to have disfigured (unlike my face, torso, or legs), and I'd get fucking disability so I could actually pay for my life until school starts. But of course, Life, you wouldn't let me get shot. That's too easy.
I'm actually scared to see what you'll come up with next. I'm hesitant to leave my house, in case my car gets towed, catches fire, dies on the freeway. I'd consider becoming an alcoholic or some sort of pill addict, but I'm too fucking poor. I can't even buy a whole tank of gas, let alone drugs.
So please. I know I've had a streak of luck this year, but good lord, it was only a couple of things. I don't need to be beaten down every single day to be grateful for it. It's kind of funny now, but a couple more days of this might send me to the mental hospital, or jail - depending on how I handle it. Let's just not push this too far, mmkay? That'd be great. Thanks.
Yours,
Assbucket
Monday, May 7, 2012
YOU'RE SINGLE BECAUSE YOU HIDE THE CRAZY
WELCOME BACK, READERS. My apologies for having taken so long to find another thing to blog about, but as they say, "good" things come to those who wait.
Back in September I had virtually given up on my online dating profile, but since it was free, I didn't bother to take it down. People would still message me, I'd check it out, see they were ugly, and delete it. Simple and not bothersome. One day, however, I got a very short message from a cute guy with a hilarious profile - "I think we could be best friends. No shit." I wrote back, and eventually it turned into a texting/phone conversation in the next few days. As much as I hate the phone, we hit it off immediately - no awkward pauses and we talked for 2 hours. Fast forward, and we go on a date. Then we go on another one.
Things progress well. He always responds to texts, invites me to do things, introduces me to his friends, asks to be introduced to mine, all that great stuff. Suddenly, one day he starts acting weird. While he still calls and wants to hang out, he won't kiss me. Things are different. Rightfully, I'm confused and worried. I feel that this warrants an explanation, and force him to give me one. He proceeds to tell me that not only do I have bad breath, I have it after I brush my teeth, after chewing gum, and gives me a run down of all the times he's noticed. Then he tells me he can't really be in a dating type relationship with someone he can't kiss, but he really likes me so we should be friends. I cry, but honestly, who wouldn't cry when a guy they like tells them they have bad breath? That's fucking embarrassing and horrifying.
I, in my idiocy, don't see this as a red flag. A) no guy has ever mentioned my breath before, excluding "morning breath," and b) I assumed this was a simple case of me going to the dentist and figuring out what was wrong. I hadn't been in 5 years. I specifically asked him "If I get this fixed, will you date me again?" He said "YES DEFINITELY." I don't put words in people's mouths, and I don't go around throwing money away, so I didn't make that up. I make an appointment with the dentist and find out that I need a "deep" cleansing that requires anesthetic, and while I thought I had dental insurance, I find out AFTER the procedure that it isn't valid because it was from my temp job which was on hiatus. So I end up spending approximately $1300 on dental procedures (which, while it IS crazy, I did in fact desperately need them because I hadn't been to a dentist in years).
Excitedly I call him up and say I went to the dentist and got a deep clean, and I should be good to go. We hang out that night, and guess what? He says it's STILL THERE. I'm fresh out of cash and have the cleanest teeth outside of dentures in a glass, so I'm perturbed. While he hasn't acknowledged that we're dating again, he begins to act like it, so I just go with it.
The fact that I don't know what's going on is making me absolutely insane, yet I try to calm the crazy and not let it out around him. I do a decent job, with a few rounds of tears (like 2, seriously.) because I am so fucking confused. ALL HIS FRIENDS think we're dating. He doesn't do anything to dispel that thought from my mind or theirs.
Overall, I find out some more red flags - he's madly in love with a girl from high school (he's 30) that he hasn't seen in years and never dated. He hates his dad because he was "never good enough" as a kid (self-esteem! yay!). He doesn't talk to his mom very often because she disapproves of him dumping his last girlfriend. His last girlfriend was a bipolar model. He can't handle that I'm on antidepressants because he doesn't understand the VAST difference between clinical depression and BI FUCKING POLAR. Me crying? Depression. Britney Spears shaving her head and going crazy on paparazzi? BIPOLAR. BIG DIFFERENCE. He wants "lots of kids" and I don't want any. Specifically, he said he won't change any diapers or anything like that, he'll just "come on the scene" when they're toddlers and teach them how to behave. OH GREAT, I have a kid I don't want and you won't even fucking help me with it. Great dad...probably a lot like yours.
Despite knowing that this could never really work out for those many reasons, I had put in a decent amount of time on this and was emotionally attached. He was the one strongly pushing for us to remain friends because he thought I was "awesome and fun." Fine. I tried the whole just friends thing. It was hard and made me crazy. After New Years we didn't see each other for weeks.
I saw him perhaps twice before my birthday party, which he actually showed up to and brought a gift that was an inside joke between us. Seems caring, right? Apparently not. He texts me one last time a few weeks later to ask if I could do lunch, which I couldn't because I actually had a job at that time. He begins to post things on facebook like "why do all women let me down?" Who does that? Angsty GIRLS. I don't even do that, I just bitch to my friends about it. Maybe people are "letting you down" because you're being a dick to them, confusing them with your signals, or just generally being weird and depressive?
Finally I get a text from him last week that asks if he can come by and get the dvd set and book he loaned me. I said sure, I'd be around the next couple of days because I didn't have a job right now. To that he replied "Everyone knows you live off your parents." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If anything could be further from the truth, it's that. That's my trigger. That's my "DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MAMMA THAT WAY" thing. I flipped out and gave him the REAL truth, told him the only money I ever get is when I'm super super desperate and my grandma gives me a tiny bit from her pension leftover from my grandpa. His reply? "You accept that??!" SO now I'm living off my parents and taking ADVANTAGE of my poor, unknowing grandmother. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I sent him a facebook message that said "your shit is outside my door in a Target bag. I'll be gone all day." He came by, picked it up, and within 2 days had defriended me on facebook. The PINNACLE of maturity.
Back in September I had virtually given up on my online dating profile, but since it was free, I didn't bother to take it down. People would still message me, I'd check it out, see they were ugly, and delete it. Simple and not bothersome. One day, however, I got a very short message from a cute guy with a hilarious profile - "I think we could be best friends. No shit." I wrote back, and eventually it turned into a texting/phone conversation in the next few days. As much as I hate the phone, we hit it off immediately - no awkward pauses and we talked for 2 hours. Fast forward, and we go on a date. Then we go on another one.
Things progress well. He always responds to texts, invites me to do things, introduces me to his friends, asks to be introduced to mine, all that great stuff. Suddenly, one day he starts acting weird. While he still calls and wants to hang out, he won't kiss me. Things are different. Rightfully, I'm confused and worried. I feel that this warrants an explanation, and force him to give me one. He proceeds to tell me that not only do I have bad breath, I have it after I brush my teeth, after chewing gum, and gives me a run down of all the times he's noticed. Then he tells me he can't really be in a dating type relationship with someone he can't kiss, but he really likes me so we should be friends. I cry, but honestly, who wouldn't cry when a guy they like tells them they have bad breath? That's fucking embarrassing and horrifying.
I, in my idiocy, don't see this as a red flag. A) no guy has ever mentioned my breath before, excluding "morning breath," and b) I assumed this was a simple case of me going to the dentist and figuring out what was wrong. I hadn't been in 5 years. I specifically asked him "If I get this fixed, will you date me again?" He said "YES DEFINITELY." I don't put words in people's mouths, and I don't go around throwing money away, so I didn't make that up. I make an appointment with the dentist and find out that I need a "deep" cleansing that requires anesthetic, and while I thought I had dental insurance, I find out AFTER the procedure that it isn't valid because it was from my temp job which was on hiatus. So I end up spending approximately $1300 on dental procedures (which, while it IS crazy, I did in fact desperately need them because I hadn't been to a dentist in years).
Excitedly I call him up and say I went to the dentist and got a deep clean, and I should be good to go. We hang out that night, and guess what? He says it's STILL THERE. I'm fresh out of cash and have the cleanest teeth outside of dentures in a glass, so I'm perturbed. While he hasn't acknowledged that we're dating again, he begins to act like it, so I just go with it.
The fact that I don't know what's going on is making me absolutely insane, yet I try to calm the crazy and not let it out around him. I do a decent job, with a few rounds of tears (like 2, seriously.) because I am so fucking confused. ALL HIS FRIENDS think we're dating. He doesn't do anything to dispel that thought from my mind or theirs.
Overall, I find out some more red flags - he's madly in love with a girl from high school (he's 30) that he hasn't seen in years and never dated. He hates his dad because he was "never good enough" as a kid (self-esteem! yay!). He doesn't talk to his mom very often because she disapproves of him dumping his last girlfriend. His last girlfriend was a bipolar model. He can't handle that I'm on antidepressants because he doesn't understand the VAST difference between clinical depression and BI FUCKING POLAR. Me crying? Depression. Britney Spears shaving her head and going crazy on paparazzi? BIPOLAR. BIG DIFFERENCE. He wants "lots of kids" and I don't want any. Specifically, he said he won't change any diapers or anything like that, he'll just "come on the scene" when they're toddlers and teach them how to behave. OH GREAT, I have a kid I don't want and you won't even fucking help me with it. Great dad...probably a lot like yours.
Despite knowing that this could never really work out for those many reasons, I had put in a decent amount of time on this and was emotionally attached. He was the one strongly pushing for us to remain friends because he thought I was "awesome and fun." Fine. I tried the whole just friends thing. It was hard and made me crazy. After New Years we didn't see each other for weeks.
I saw him perhaps twice before my birthday party, which he actually showed up to and brought a gift that was an inside joke between us. Seems caring, right? Apparently not. He texts me one last time a few weeks later to ask if I could do lunch, which I couldn't because I actually had a job at that time. He begins to post things on facebook like "why do all women let me down?" Who does that? Angsty GIRLS. I don't even do that, I just bitch to my friends about it. Maybe people are "letting you down" because you're being a dick to them, confusing them with your signals, or just generally being weird and depressive?
Finally I get a text from him last week that asks if he can come by and get the dvd set and book he loaned me. I said sure, I'd be around the next couple of days because I didn't have a job right now. To that he replied "Everyone knows you live off your parents." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If anything could be further from the truth, it's that. That's my trigger. That's my "DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MAMMA THAT WAY" thing. I flipped out and gave him the REAL truth, told him the only money I ever get is when I'm super super desperate and my grandma gives me a tiny bit from her pension leftover from my grandpa. His reply? "You accept that??!" SO now I'm living off my parents and taking ADVANTAGE of my poor, unknowing grandmother. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
I sent him a facebook message that said "your shit is outside my door in a Target bag. I'll be gone all day." He came by, picked it up, and within 2 days had defriended me on facebook. The PINNACLE of maturity.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
THIS IS WHY I'M OLD
So I haven't been dating recently (as one probably realized due to the complete and utter lack of posting), but I felt the old blog needed a humorous update. Since in 27 (now 26, ah!) days I will be turning 30, what I always determined in my mind would be the "adult" cutoff, I've decided to combine a list of 30 things that only people turning 30 in the last few years would understand.
1. I used to have a VCR where it popped out of the top, you inserted the tape, and you pushed it back down into the machine.
2. I had a portable child's record player complete with a set of Disney music records.
3. BoyzIIMen sang the slow songs at my middle school dances.
4. My idea of fun was playing Sega Genesis for hours on end with the sound off while listening to really old Mariah Carey tapes.
5. Most of my adolescence scrunchies were acceptable hair accessories.
6. I played games on computers at my dad's office that had one color (either green or orange), came on a 5inch floppy disc, and had to use a DOS prompt.
7. Once my mom and I had a conversation about why there were two German flags - one was "good Germany" and one was "bad Germany."
8. My first cassette tapes were Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson.
9. There are pictures of me playing in orange shag carpet as a baby.
10. They had cigarette dispensers (the ones with the knobs) at most restaurants when I was little.
11. My mom tried to teach me how to make a web page in 1994, but you had to use crazy code and I gave up. The only picture I managed to put up was the cover from Dumb and Dumber.
12. Schools didn't have metal detectors or cops or really any security at all.
13. When I was first introduced to Michael Jackson's music, he was still black.
14. My mom would crimp my hair in elementary school. This stopped when she burned me on the ear with the crimper.
15. Banana Republic sold t-shirts out of crates and had a broken down VW in the window.
16. Some of the stuff that Disneyland, Disneyworld, and Epcot have since torn down was still considered futuristic.
17. I couldn't get enough Reading Rainbow.
18. I had a birthday party at a roller skating rink and no one had rollerblades.
19. Mr. T did public service announcements.
20. It was a good day in school when they wheeled in the tv and let us watch 321 Contact, because apparently it was educational.
21. I read all the Babysitters Club books in order.
22. Slap bracelets and Pogs were banned at school, but I can't remember the reasons.
23. I still can sing the theme of Duck Tails.
24. I may or may not have done the Macarena at my 14th birthday.
25. It was cool to get a Hard Rock Cafe shirt wherever you went on vacation to prove you went there.
26. I started watching Saturday Night Live when George Bush I was in office, and got all my political news from it.
27. I thought it was stupid when they added the Florida Marlins and Colorado Rockies. And I still do.
28. I may or may not have gone to an XFiles convention when I was 13.
29. Clear Pepsi tasted weird but I drank it because it looked cool. I also loved the "Crystal Gravy" ad from SNL with Chris Farley.
30. I remember when Elmo joined Sesame Street.
1. I used to have a VCR where it popped out of the top, you inserted the tape, and you pushed it back down into the machine.
2. I had a portable child's record player complete with a set of Disney music records.
3. BoyzIIMen sang the slow songs at my middle school dances.
4. My idea of fun was playing Sega Genesis for hours on end with the sound off while listening to really old Mariah Carey tapes.
5. Most of my adolescence scrunchies were acceptable hair accessories.
6. I played games on computers at my dad's office that had one color (either green or orange), came on a 5inch floppy disc, and had to use a DOS prompt.
7. Once my mom and I had a conversation about why there were two German flags - one was "good Germany" and one was "bad Germany."
8. My first cassette tapes were Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson.
9. There are pictures of me playing in orange shag carpet as a baby.
10. They had cigarette dispensers (the ones with the knobs) at most restaurants when I was little.
11. My mom tried to teach me how to make a web page in 1994, but you had to use crazy code and I gave up. The only picture I managed to put up was the cover from Dumb and Dumber.
12. Schools didn't have metal detectors or cops or really any security at all.
13. When I was first introduced to Michael Jackson's music, he was still black.
14. My mom would crimp my hair in elementary school. This stopped when she burned me on the ear with the crimper.
15. Banana Republic sold t-shirts out of crates and had a broken down VW in the window.
16. Some of the stuff that Disneyland, Disneyworld, and Epcot have since torn down was still considered futuristic.
17. I couldn't get enough Reading Rainbow.
18. I had a birthday party at a roller skating rink and no one had rollerblades.
19. Mr. T did public service announcements.
20. It was a good day in school when they wheeled in the tv and let us watch 321 Contact, because apparently it was educational.
21. I read all the Babysitters Club books in order.
22. Slap bracelets and Pogs were banned at school, but I can't remember the reasons.
23. I still can sing the theme of Duck Tails.
24. I may or may not have done the Macarena at my 14th birthday.
25. It was cool to get a Hard Rock Cafe shirt wherever you went on vacation to prove you went there.
26. I started watching Saturday Night Live when George Bush I was in office, and got all my political news from it.
27. I thought it was stupid when they added the Florida Marlins and Colorado Rockies. And I still do.
28. I may or may not have gone to an XFiles convention when I was 13.
29. Clear Pepsi tasted weird but I drank it because it looked cool. I also loved the "Crystal Gravy" ad from SNL with Chris Farley.
30. I remember when Elmo joined Sesame Street.
Friday, December 16, 2011
ADVENTURES WITHOUT ARTIFICIAL HORMONES, PART ONE
I get crazy ideas when I read books, and I read a lot of books, so I'm probably filled with crazy ideas. Most recently, reading a book on the brain and how the unconscious and conscious mind work together, I learned that there is a significant difference when it comes to men being interested in women who are ovulating versus women on the pill. Seeing as I'm painfully single and am unlikely to participate in baby-making activities, I figured I'd give the whole "go off birth control and see what happens" thing a try.
I've been on birth control for 11 years. Coincidentally, I went on it at the same time I went on my crazy pills, which in some form or another I have also been on for 11 years. I have no concept of what my body would be like without all these foreign chemicals, and since I've tried to get off my crazy pills at other times and turned into a raging lunatic, I decided to start small and do the BC first.
Day 1: Nothing to see here, move along.
Day 4: Have period, don't vomit like I used to in high school. For that reason only, this day considered a win.
Day 7: Still feeling somewhat normal, noticing I'm losing weight in the stomach area and I have been slacking on exercise. Boobs have remained the same size. Another win.
Day 9: Craziness begins. Cry because I don't have a job. Cry at my parents because I feel bad asking for help. Cry at my parents because I feel bad making them worry. Cry at my roommate because I was already crying when she came home. Cry when the pharmacist gives me some pills for free because I have $12 to my name and can't afford the whole refill. Probably cry myself to sleep.
Day 10: Cried more. Napped a lot so things wouldn't make me cry. Made it to the gym, worked out for 30 minutes without crying. Small win. Watch Biggest Loser finale. Want to cry but successfully hold it in until I hear Christmas music on the radio driving home.
Day 11: Go to mailbox, find card from Grandma with check in it. Cry because I can finally not eat Starbucks. Cry because I love my grandma. Go deposit check, return home to FedEx envelope containing my $200 Amex gift card my parents sent so I could eat. Cry opening that, cry at my parents being so great, cry because I won't see them for Christmas. Successfully hang out all evening with humans and don't cry.
Day 12: Cry at home, decide to nap around noon. Wake up at 4:30. Count this as a win because I spent 4 hours not crying. Eat first meal of the day at Subway at 4:30. Come home and cry more. Cry at roommate again. Go to friend's house and she feeds me Indian food and lots of wine. Don't cry for the rest of the night. May have found solution in what I eat and drink.
Day 13: It's 3:10pm. Haven't cried yet. This is a big accomplishment. While walking around the lake giving myself props for not crying, I have a terrifying realization: Holy shit, I think I want babies. Ok, not a LOT. And not NOW. Walk home petrified as to what this realization means. Think of the quote from Family Guy that women only "cry and have babies." Want to cry realizing that this might just be true.
Eagerly awaiting the end of the craziness. I never turned into a crazy crying PMS-type when I wasn't on the pill, I never had symptoms of anything other than the one day of morning sickness each month which kept me out of my early classes. Does anyone want to tell me when this will end? I'm dehydrating myself through my tearducts. This can't be healthy.
I've been on birth control for 11 years. Coincidentally, I went on it at the same time I went on my crazy pills, which in some form or another I have also been on for 11 years. I have no concept of what my body would be like without all these foreign chemicals, and since I've tried to get off my crazy pills at other times and turned into a raging lunatic, I decided to start small and do the BC first.
Day 1: Nothing to see here, move along.
Day 4: Have period, don't vomit like I used to in high school. For that reason only, this day considered a win.
Day 7: Still feeling somewhat normal, noticing I'm losing weight in the stomach area and I have been slacking on exercise. Boobs have remained the same size. Another win.
Day 9: Craziness begins. Cry because I don't have a job. Cry at my parents because I feel bad asking for help. Cry at my parents because I feel bad making them worry. Cry at my roommate because I was already crying when she came home. Cry when the pharmacist gives me some pills for free because I have $12 to my name and can't afford the whole refill. Probably cry myself to sleep.
Day 10: Cried more. Napped a lot so things wouldn't make me cry. Made it to the gym, worked out for 30 minutes without crying. Small win. Watch Biggest Loser finale. Want to cry but successfully hold it in until I hear Christmas music on the radio driving home.
Day 11: Go to mailbox, find card from Grandma with check in it. Cry because I can finally not eat Starbucks. Cry because I love my grandma. Go deposit check, return home to FedEx envelope containing my $200 Amex gift card my parents sent so I could eat. Cry opening that, cry at my parents being so great, cry because I won't see them for Christmas. Successfully hang out all evening with humans and don't cry.
Day 12: Cry at home, decide to nap around noon. Wake up at 4:30. Count this as a win because I spent 4 hours not crying. Eat first meal of the day at Subway at 4:30. Come home and cry more. Cry at roommate again. Go to friend's house and she feeds me Indian food and lots of wine. Don't cry for the rest of the night. May have found solution in what I eat and drink.
Day 13: It's 3:10pm. Haven't cried yet. This is a big accomplishment. While walking around the lake giving myself props for not crying, I have a terrifying realization: Holy shit, I think I want babies. Ok, not a LOT. And not NOW. Walk home petrified as to what this realization means. Think of the quote from Family Guy that women only "cry and have babies." Want to cry realizing that this might just be true.
Eagerly awaiting the end of the craziness. I never turned into a crazy crying PMS-type when I wasn't on the pill, I never had symptoms of anything other than the one day of morning sickness each month which kept me out of my early classes. Does anyone want to tell me when this will end? I'm dehydrating myself through my tearducts. This can't be healthy.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
YOU'RE SINGLE BECAUSE YOU'RE FILTHY AND NEEDY
Step back in the dating time machine to one of the most mindblowing failures of a year, 2008.
Around Halloween, I began casually seeing a law school acquaintance who lived about 250 miles away from my current home of Austin. We'd hang out when I went to Dallas, he took me to some nice dinners, and I watched his band play at local clubs.
The last time we hung out, he invited me to his law firm Christmas party. I heard the words "law firm" and "Christmas party" and imagined a fancy hotel, dressing up, free-flowing liquor, plentiful delicious foodstuffs, and other young attorneys with whom to drink and party. I of course said yes, thinking it would be in Dallas. I was instantly corrected - it was going to be in Longview. Never heard of Longview? There's a reason.
I was less excited, but figured at least the local Holiday Inn and an open bar couldn't be that bad, I mean, they're lawyers - lawyers throw nice, expensive parties. And the whole firm was going to be there, so it had to be huge. I made plans to come to Dallas to have a goodbye dinner with friends, then head out to Longview with my date. I was moving to Missouri in one week, and wanted to have a last hurrah with my law school crew.
The next day, my date and I headed on the 2 hour drive from Dallas to Longview, basically a tiny town in northeast Texas. He mentioned he "cleaned up his whole place" for me, which I thought was a nice gesture, and was looking forward to the party. That would soon change.
I walk into his house, which is a duplex, and it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in MONTHS. Papers, dvds, dirty dishes, and random crap was strewn along the floor, on the couches, and completely covering the kitchen counter. Not only that, but there was a foul smell, like spoiled milk or something. Neither of us could figure out where it was coming from. He actually thought perhaps an animal had died somewhere, since he was really close to the woods. After 20 minutes of searching, we find the culprit - a cooler that hadn't been cleaned out and contained POUNDS UPON POUNDS OF GROUND BEEF...obviously rotting. His response?
"Oh, I guess I forgot to clean out my cooler when I went camping TWO WEEKS AGO."
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
I was horrified, and the smell didn't get better after he removed the cooler and meat from the room. I'm immediately wanting to go home, knowing that I have to come back to the house of death after the party, probably intoxicated, and have to smell that all night as I attempt drunken sleep.
I go take a shower, where I have to make do with one bar of soap as my shampoo, face wash, and body cleaner, since I mistakenly assumed he might have BASIC HYGENIC NECESSITIES at his home. I dressed, and he took forever. He changed his clothes 50 times, asking me very self-consciously if he looked alright, and which outfit I preferred. I didn't give a fuck, but apparently he wanted a really excited reaction so I pretended to be thrilled with a shirt and jacket combo.
We get in the car, and start driving. It didn't even occur to me to ask where the party was, but I soon found out I was not sticking with the theme of the evening. He pulled into what I can only say looked like a pasture, and we walked on the dirt road to a BARN and were greeted by a bunch of older people in western attire. I, however, was wearing a plaid skirt, cute sweater, and knee-high leather stilettos - NOT cowboy boots or western wear of any kind.
Turns out his law firm is small (20ish people), he's the YOUNGEST MEMBER, and everyone is madly in love with country music, dirt floors, and Bud Light. If I could create my own personal hell, it would be nearly identical to this "party." They have a country band, which makes me nearly deaf, and he's apparently been talking about me around the office. An older woman comes up to me as he's making a speech on the stage and says "Oh I bet you're so proud of him, I bet you're like 'That's ma baby!'" I vomit a little in my mouth and attempt a smile. Then she asks what we're going to do when I move to Missouri. Seriously, did this guy tell them my life story? If so, why didn't he say WE AREN'T EVEN DATING?? I just HAPPEN to have gone to dinner with him a few times over the course of MONTHS and agreed to be his date to this rodeo-gone-awry.
Not only is there no one my age to talk to (he has left me to my own devices while he socializes with random old men for over an hour), but even if there was I felt like I was at a political rally for GW Bush, the lonely liberal city girl surrounded by drunk rednecks with money. I was so miserable I thought about resorting to drinking myself stupid, but then couldn't fathom having to go home with this guy later in the night to his putrid-smelling home. I kept reasonably sober, and then I pulled the ultimate bitch move...I asked him to take me home.
I'm really not sure how I pulled it off, but I managed to tell him I was leaving without a big confrontation, and at 11:30pm I began the 2-lane road drive to Austin through the tiniest towns I've ever seen. I managed to get back to my apartment at 2:30am, fall into my bed, and relish the fact that the horror of a weekend was the last one I'd ever have to spend in Texas.
Around Halloween, I began casually seeing a law school acquaintance who lived about 250 miles away from my current home of Austin. We'd hang out when I went to Dallas, he took me to some nice dinners, and I watched his band play at local clubs.
The last time we hung out, he invited me to his law firm Christmas party. I heard the words "law firm" and "Christmas party" and imagined a fancy hotel, dressing up, free-flowing liquor, plentiful delicious foodstuffs, and other young attorneys with whom to drink and party. I of course said yes, thinking it would be in Dallas. I was instantly corrected - it was going to be in Longview. Never heard of Longview? There's a reason.
I was less excited, but figured at least the local Holiday Inn and an open bar couldn't be that bad, I mean, they're lawyers - lawyers throw nice, expensive parties. And the whole firm was going to be there, so it had to be huge. I made plans to come to Dallas to have a goodbye dinner with friends, then head out to Longview with my date. I was moving to Missouri in one week, and wanted to have a last hurrah with my law school crew.
The next day, my date and I headed on the 2 hour drive from Dallas to Longview, basically a tiny town in northeast Texas. He mentioned he "cleaned up his whole place" for me, which I thought was a nice gesture, and was looking forward to the party. That would soon change.
I walk into his house, which is a duplex, and it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in MONTHS. Papers, dvds, dirty dishes, and random crap was strewn along the floor, on the couches, and completely covering the kitchen counter. Not only that, but there was a foul smell, like spoiled milk or something. Neither of us could figure out where it was coming from. He actually thought perhaps an animal had died somewhere, since he was really close to the woods. After 20 minutes of searching, we find the culprit - a cooler that hadn't been cleaned out and contained POUNDS UPON POUNDS OF GROUND BEEF...obviously rotting. His response?
"Oh, I guess I forgot to clean out my cooler when I went camping TWO WEEKS AGO."
WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?
I was horrified, and the smell didn't get better after he removed the cooler and meat from the room. I'm immediately wanting to go home, knowing that I have to come back to the house of death after the party, probably intoxicated, and have to smell that all night as I attempt drunken sleep.
I go take a shower, where I have to make do with one bar of soap as my shampoo, face wash, and body cleaner, since I mistakenly assumed he might have BASIC HYGENIC NECESSITIES at his home. I dressed, and he took forever. He changed his clothes 50 times, asking me very self-consciously if he looked alright, and which outfit I preferred. I didn't give a fuck, but apparently he wanted a really excited reaction so I pretended to be thrilled with a shirt and jacket combo.
We get in the car, and start driving. It didn't even occur to me to ask where the party was, but I soon found out I was not sticking with the theme of the evening. He pulled into what I can only say looked like a pasture, and we walked on the dirt road to a BARN and were greeted by a bunch of older people in western attire. I, however, was wearing a plaid skirt, cute sweater, and knee-high leather stilettos - NOT cowboy boots or western wear of any kind.
Turns out his law firm is small (20ish people), he's the YOUNGEST MEMBER, and everyone is madly in love with country music, dirt floors, and Bud Light. If I could create my own personal hell, it would be nearly identical to this "party." They have a country band, which makes me nearly deaf, and he's apparently been talking about me around the office. An older woman comes up to me as he's making a speech on the stage and says "Oh I bet you're so proud of him, I bet you're like 'That's ma baby!'" I vomit a little in my mouth and attempt a smile. Then she asks what we're going to do when I move to Missouri. Seriously, did this guy tell them my life story? If so, why didn't he say WE AREN'T EVEN DATING?? I just HAPPEN to have gone to dinner with him a few times over the course of MONTHS and agreed to be his date to this rodeo-gone-awry.
Not only is there no one my age to talk to (he has left me to my own devices while he socializes with random old men for over an hour), but even if there was I felt like I was at a political rally for GW Bush, the lonely liberal city girl surrounded by drunk rednecks with money. I was so miserable I thought about resorting to drinking myself stupid, but then couldn't fathom having to go home with this guy later in the night to his putrid-smelling home. I kept reasonably sober, and then I pulled the ultimate bitch move...I asked him to take me home.
I'm really not sure how I pulled it off, but I managed to tell him I was leaving without a big confrontation, and at 11:30pm I began the 2-lane road drive to Austin through the tiniest towns I've ever seen. I managed to get back to my apartment at 2:30am, fall into my bed, and relish the fact that the horror of a weekend was the last one I'd ever have to spend in Texas.
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