Archive for March, 2009
…is being able to think for yourself and being able to form your own opinions. I see far too many people who enjoy riding on bandwagons. Just because it’s in the news doesn’t make it true. Everyone is entitled to have their own opinions. From day-to-day work to mass media, I constantly see the negative effects of groupthink and I’m tired of it.
Grow a pair, people. Take a second to think about what exactly it is that you stand for, or stand against. Even if you don’t have a clear position on everything, that’s okay. I know I don’t. But don’t just hear something on the news and believe it. Don’t just listen to your supervisor and take that as truth. You’ll get screwed and, in the end, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.
I’m so tired of getting emails from family members who wrongly believe I’m devoutly religious or even Republican. I claim no political party because I don’t think one party accurately represents how I feel about everything. However, I’m tired of people assuming because they think one way that I think that same way. I have a fully functioning nervous system, complete with a brain, cerebellum and all. I can think for myself. I can form my own opinions. And to be honest – I don’t give a flying fuck if you agree with me or not. It is 100% your right to have your own thoughts. In fact, it’s not just your right. It’s your responsibility.
If people would spend half the time thinking that they spend on reading blogs and watching TV, I think the world would be a much smarter, more well-rounded place to live. Reason number 101 to not have babies? I think I just covered it.
Oh, and I think Superman might be the only person who actually can give a flying fuck…
Holy crap, blog spam is annoying as shit. I get a ton of it, but the last couple of days have been seriously ridiculous. My post titled My uterus = inhospitable to babies has been getting at least 20 spam comments a day over the last week. And not just any spam – p0rn spam. First, it was a bunch of solicitations to see female celebrities in the buff, but then they got more disturbing. Yesterday culminated in “granny p0rn” and today kicked off with “kiddie p0rn” – what the fuck?
Spam bots are ridiculous creations. But I gotta say – as annoying as it is to have to manually spam each comment, it does make opening my inbox that much more entertaining. Behold, the power of spam.
Yeah, I know it’s only Tuesday, but still. This week has been really, really bizarre. I guess technically things got weird on Saturday. Remember that whole pesky wedding thing I did a while back? And remember how Mr. T thought it was a great idea to flip a fucking house at the same time? Ahhh, memories.
Anyway, that house has been sitting on the market since before the wedding. Lots of viewings, no real offers. Fast forward to Saturday. The house gets an offer – $100 over list – and we’re all ecstatic. The offer is accepted, everyone is happy.
A few hours later, a dead body is discovered in the creek that runs through the park across the court from the house. No.fucking.way. Timing can be a real bitch. The upside (if there can be one)? The body was wrapped in a tarp, meaning it was dumped there, not murdered there. We’re hoping this doesn’t deter the buyers. Inspections are set for tomorrow, so I guess we’ll see after that.
Next? Last night, as I’m laying in the dark with a migraine, I’m watching the news at low volume to see if there is more info on the body. As soon as the body story wrapped, I was getting ready to kill the TV when I see “Breaking News: Double Shooting in Wellston.” I drive through Wellston every single day to get to work, so my interest was peaked. Sho nuff, two peeps were shot in the head at the intersection I turn at every morning and evening. Sweet. Another reason I just love my job.
This morning, as I’m shutting and locking my front door (a process that includes lots of baby talk as I tell my animals goodbye), a guy stops in front of my house and asks me for a dollar. Seriously??? IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE????? What the fuck?
I know I live in a less-than-wealthy area (hello, we’re not wealthy), but it’s a safe area. Maybe not my work route so much, but where my home and the flip are located are not high crime areas. It’s just…odd…to have so much go on in so short a time period, you know? It’s that whole “not me” thing – you hear of stuff happening all the time, but it never involves or affects you…when it happens close to you, it’s just freaky.
At least I have Pocket Edward with me to keep me safe. Hahaha. What’s that? It’s movie time? Okay.
This is actually really funny. My cat, the asshole, totally called me fat the other day.
I went to the fridge around 8:00 to see what kind of food we had. Hey, I was bored. That’s always a good reason to chow down in my book.
Kitty followed me to the fridge. When I opened the door, he bit my foot. I shook him off and continued my snack search. He bit my foot again. I closed the door. He looked at me and sat up. I opened the door again. He bit my foot and meowed. I closed the door again. He looked at me and sat up again. Open door, get bit. Close door, get an oddly “atta girl” look from a feline.
I said, “Asshole! Don’t call me fat! Fuckin’ cats.” And stalked away.
Then I went to bed without a snack.
Cats. The most effective diet on the market. Who knew?
What’s worse than having to get out of bed before 9 AM after sleeping in for two days? How about going to work and seeing a big dead dog in the parking lot across from your window? Yeah, definitely worse. It broke my heart. I was near tears and my coworkers were making jokes about it. Not funny, ass faces. Not even close. Who could do such a thing? It looked like it was hit and then moved, or maybe even dumped. How disgusting and horrid. The city was called and they picked it up, but the image is burned in my brain and it really affected me. I’m incredibly sad.
Then I started to feel odd. My heart started beating faster, I got warm and dizzy and felt like I couldn’t breathe. It’s been a while, but sure enough, I was having a panic attack. I threw up in my mouth a little, but managed to not yak all over the place. A couple of girls and I decided to get out of the building for a while and left for a slightly early lunch. We sat outside and enjoyed the weather while we ate, and I was feeling better. As soon as we got back, it came rushing back. I threw up half my lunch. I’m still feeling a little dizzy and a little off, but my heart has slowed down.
I don’t know what’s going on! I’ve lost my mojo, I don’t feel well and I can’t seem to do anything right. I had such a great weekend – I came home to a gorgeous bouquet of star gazer lilies on Friday (Mr. T got them for me for our 6 month wedding anniversary), then he went shopping with me on Saturday (his idea, even), we had dinner with great friends, and we took Tedders hiking on Sunday. He even made me a mini-bouquet to bring to work with me today. And my company’s owner is out of town all week, which automatically makes things easier. Then I saw the dog and had a panic attack. WTF?
I’m even sick of hearing myself bitch about stuff lately. I just feel so stuck. I’ve gained so much weight since the wedding (eating = coping in my world), and that just adds to how miserable of a person I am. I don’t want to go out because I feel sorry for Mr. T having to be seen with me. I feel like all my clothes look terrible on me, so I wear men’s tshirts to hide my body (which I know just makes me look frumpy, but I feel like my fat is covered at least). I feel like everyone is judging me for everything, including my work – which makes it impossible for me to get stuff done because I’m so worried that my writing sucks. Gah! This black hole of shame is eating me alive! Let me out!
I know I’m not the only one who goes through this, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else really writes about it. I’ve tried not to because it’s so depressing, but I have to. If I can’t write and get it out, I just feel worse about it. As a woman, I feel like, even if I wasn’t overweight, I would still hold myself to impossible standards. Why? Why is that???? I look at pictures from college, when I thought I was sooooo heavy, and I would give anything to look like that again. Why was I so convinced then that I was fat? And why the fuck does my weight have to dictate my self worth? I’m incredibly intelligent, but that means nothing because I cannot control the size of my ass. Why is this mentality okay? Not that I should think being obese is okay, because it’s unhealthy, but I shouldn’t feel inferior to someone with half the intellect because she also has half the waistline.
Where’s Stewart Smalley when you need him? Oh, right. Running for public office. Shoot me. Oh, well. At least I’m not this guy…
Warning: If you are easily offended, stop now.
In general, if you are easily offended, don’t read my blog.
In fact, perhaps before reading, you should read this again. It’s been a while.
The following rant has been years in the making. Yes, it’s about religion. And how I’ve gone REM on the pope’s ass and lost mine. It’s also about our government and what has now become a disgustingly blurred separation of church and state. The straw that broke this rantoppotomus’ back? My trip to Incredible Pizza last night with Ms. B. I don’t want my pizza served with a side of Jesus, thank you very much. And my salad is just fine without your croutons o’christ (Dane Cook’s bit on the Catholic church is spot on – anyone raised Catholic, whether they agree or not, can relate on some level to that bit). I came to play games and relieve some stress – leave church out of this. If I wanted to discuss Christian principles, I’d have invited a theology group to dinner. I certainly don’t need a slinky shaped like a cross (although the subsequent mental image of pushing Jesus down the stairs, which is essentially the statement made by a cross-shaped slinky, was as funny as it was wrong), and I don’t need a bat that says I play on God’s team. Oh, and the 90s called. They want their “WWJD?” keychains back. If you’re going to shove religion down my throat, please post that on the doors of your establishment in large, blinking letters so I can decide for myself if I want to endure that all night.
I was raised Catholic. I was a good kid. As hard as it is to believe now, if you had met me in 10th grade and said the word penis in front of me, I would have blushed, gotten flustered and embarassedly admitted that I had never even seen a picture of one, much less a real life one. (As I think 10th graders today still should, but clearly do not.) I went to PSR, and high school theology group (okay, only until 9th grade – we moved my 10th grade year and they didn’t make me find a new group). Sure, I have always had my own viewpoints on religion, and have always been insanely bored by Catholic ritual (and a little creeped out by all the chanting…you want to talk about a cult? HelLOOOO!), but I prayed. I talked religion with people when they brought it up (as in, expressed my viewpoint when asked – I’m not a bible thumper). When the guys in suits got off their bikes and asked if I had accepted Jesus and my Lord and Savior, I always said yes. In short, I was a believer.
I always just ran with the faith idea – you don’t need proof because that’s what faith is. Well, guess what? Just because I say I believe in unicorns doesn’t make unicorns real. That’s pretty much how I feel about the rest of the belief crap. I like to make fun of Scientology because it’s a religion born from a sci-fi book. Well, when I take a step back and reconsider, what is the Bible? Sure, we’re supposed to believe it’s a work of non-fiction, but it was originally written in a language that is now dead (and translated into a form of modern language that has now evolved, thus changing the meanings of many words), passed down for years, filtered through biased sources (*cough* the Vatican *cough*) and then spoon fed to everyone as the word of God. If we’ll believe a man can walk on water, talk to a burning bush and magically create fish, who are we to laugh at others who believe we are possessed by the meandering souls of immortal aliens? Some argue that Scientology was created as a scam to make money…yeah, you know why? Because religion = big bucks. Last time I checked, Jesus got pretty pissed when he found people trying to sell shit in his father’s house of worship…but now it’s okay to have billboards and television commercials promoting church, and to run ads on TVs IN the church that sit on either side of the altar and solicit donations to help the church grow into the biggest in the state? I thought church was about faith and hope and prayer, but now it’s just about money and greed. So, yeah, why not make up a new religion? It’s the new business plan.
Hypocrisy abounds in the world of religion. Not just in Christianity, but in all of them. And religion is extremely patriarchal. Women have no true value other than serving as devoted wives and mothers. So, I’m a sinner because I don’t want to be a mother? I don’t buy that. Suicide bombers die for their religion in the hopes of being greeted by 72 virgins in the afterlife (have you seen that episode of Family Guy? The virgins were all Trekkies and computer nerds - virgins, ha!), yet their wives aren’t allowed to show their ankles in public without being stoned. Each religion claims that you have to follow that exact doctrine to achieve salvation or eternal life. I went to a Unitarian church once. Had the sermon not been all about donating your tax return to the church, I might have gone back. Again, the religion as a business thing really chaps my ass. But I loved that they read from all the major holy books – the Bible, Torah, Qur’an, etc. – and the messages were all the same. If you shave away the politics, the personal gain, the business, you end up with the core – the golden rule, if you will – to treat others the way you would like them to treat you. You can’t tell me that, if I live a good life, help others, give back, but don’t go to church, when I die, I’m condemned. And yet, if I live an evil life, kill people, punt babies, beat kittens, embezzle money and ruin the lives of those around me, but I do go to church and ask for forgiveness when I die, I’ll live for eternity in the land of plenty. Really? That doesn’t add up.
Then you add in the science. I like science. It’s real. It’s factual. It’s tangible. It’s rational. Evolution is real. How can anyone look at the proof and deny it, yet provide no proof of any god and believe vehemently in it? Maybe if religion allowed science to work with it (which I believe it can – time was undefined during Genesis, so why couldn’t seven days and nights really have spanned ages? Just saying.), then I could more readily accept it, but religion is determined to fight science. Why is it so wrong to donate a woman’s eggs to science in the name of curing diseases and healing disabilities? Especially if it’s a woman like me – I am NOT going to use them. Why be wasteful? Stem cell research has the potential to help cure so many things, and if there are people willing to donate to the cause, they should be allowed to. No one tells me I can’t give my cat to a shelter because I don’t want it anymore – and that’s a real, living, feeling creature – so why can they tell me I can’t give my eggs?
I’m not an expert on any of this, nor do I wish to be, but I’m so tired of it all. I’m tired of hearing about people being pissed that their kids’ schools have removed prayer, but it’s okay for government to deny gay couples the legal right to wed because it’s morally objectionable (to who? Oh, yeah. To the people who were pissed about taking God off our money). RELIGION defines marriage as being between man and woman. The Constitution has no such definition, although amendments have been proposed to do just that. How is it okay that religion dictates what the law allows? It’s not okay. Religion should have absolutely no bearing on what our legislative body does.
It is repulsive to me that so much merit was placed on the religious affiliations of the candidates in the last election. I know many, many Christians who go to church but lead morally questionable lives. Just because you are a Christian, or a Jew, or a Muslim, or a Buddhist or a member of any religion does NOT mean you are a good person. It apparently DOES mean, however, that you have some consecrated right to judge those around you and tell everyone what they can and can’t do. Fuck that. I want no part of that. I want to live my life, enjoy my life, without carrying around the Catholic guilt. Just typing this makes me feel incredibly guilty.
I have no problem with people wanting to have something to believe in. Whatever that is, God, Allah, Jesus, Buddah, I don’t care. You have that right to choose. And I have the right to choose none of the above. With that comes the right to not be made uncomfortable for making that choice. I can be confused about religion and angry about it. You can think I’m ridiculous for putting so much thought into it. That’s the beauty of having rights, the beauty of why this country was founded. I value diversity. I actually really love learning about religions – they fascinate me. But that doesn’t mean I have to buy into any of them. People cry about how corrupt our government is, but have you ever stopped to consider how corrupt religion is as well? It’s inescapable. The bottom line is this – I try to be a good person. I believe I AM a good person. And that’s enough for me. Keep the rest of that crap away from me. If I want to hear it, I’ll go to church. You can keep your prophet pizza. I’m full.
And just in case you’re not offended yet…
The good ol’ blog was down for a couple days so I could transfer servers. It’s nice to finally own and control the domain name and hosting for my own blog.
Not that much exciting has been going on the last couple of days, but there were a few moments here and there when I wanted to post but couldn’t. Now I can’t remember for the life of me what I was going to write about…oh, well!
I have a question – have any of you eaten Activia? You know, the yogurt that supposedly fixes your digestive tract? I’ve been wanting to try it because I’m always at war with my poo schedule, but a coworker of mine told me that, when she ate it, it caused…undesireable super pooping powers. Not explosive diarrhea per se, but she did spend the majority of a wedding reception in line for the loo. I’d like to fix my plumping without medication, so I’m hoping other people have used it with positive results.
In other news, I punched my deodorant this morning and now have a clump of it stuck in my wedding ring. I can’t get it out.
I have to go write headlines now. I’m not feeling very creative today, so that should be fairly uninteresting.
Okay, not until tomorrow, but still. It’s weird to say. I just never thought about us aging, you know? Same goes for my parents. My stepdad is now 50 and my mom is just a teensy bit older, so it’s so odd to me to say my parents are in their 50s. They need to stop aging. It’s freaking me out.
But anyway. The party on Saturday was a huge success. Mom, I love you dearly, but why do you insist on inviting your friends to parties for your kids? Jules doesn’t like most of those people, so she wasn’t thrilled to see them, but she got over it and ended up having a blast.
It started with us showing up with Edward, giving her flowers and telling her Edward was coming to dinner. She almost wouldn’t leave the house. I had to give in and tell her he would just join us for ice cream. She bought it and walked to the car. Then we tried to blindfold her and tell her we were going somewhere special for dinner. She freaked out. I mean, she almost went back inside. We convinced her that only family would be there but we planned the whole thing so she’d be surprised. She eventually let us put on the blindfold and we headed to the house.
We walked her in and she figured out where we were – turns out, she could see straight down and recognized the steps. We took off the blindfold and everyone yelled surprise…and she almost cried. Not out of happiness, but out of discomfort. I felt bad, but she got over it and went to hang out with her friends. Of course, the evil S&M showed up (Mom couldn’t very well invite one uncle and not the other, so he couldn’t invite S without M…unfortunately). Apparently, M had been to rehab shortly after my wedding (where she spent the reception passed out in my uncle’s truck), but it didn’t stick. She was drunk as that kangaroo in Australia that broke into garage fridges and drank the beer. She was high, too, but only on weed this time. Perhaps part of rehab worked because she was far less twitchy than normal, leading me to think that she has kicked the meth habit. At least for now. She’s a stupid whore, so I’m sure she’ll start back up.
Aside from a few lowlights like that, the evening was a blast. You can see the pics of the goodies I baked at that other blog, and I completely blanked on taking pictures once we got in the house and the party was in full swing. Dang. But Jules was glad we had Edward in the car so her friends could take pictures with him. I stood him behind her while she opened gifts and the pics from that are hilarious.
The one thing I learned was that a few of my mom’s friends are a total blast to play games with – like Apples to Apples and Catch Phrase. I can’t wait to have another game night and play these – we were laughing our asses off all night. The highlights:
- SherBear, who is 54, was up to give clues on Catch Phrase. She saw her phrase and immediately said, “Can I say buttfuck?” We were rolling. She was laughing so hard she could only give a few more clues, like “catcher” and “up the butt.” When the time was up, I (being on the other team) yelled, “Sodomy!” She said I was close and added, “From the Bible.” I said “Sodom and Gomorrah!” And I was right. So wrong. Buttfuck + bible = right anwer.
- During Apples to Apples, someone laid down a green card that said, “Intelligent.” We all laid down red cards with words we thought exemplified Intelligent (you know, ’cause that’s how the game works). Someone laid down Hellen Keller and the green card person chose that answer. My sister said, “Yay! That was mine!” And so I said, in my best Special Ed voice, “Yaaaaaaay!” Everyone went silent. I thought, well, maybe no one got it. Maybe it’s too soon? Naw. Then everyone busted up laughing. We were crying. When my mom came in, we reenacted it, but it was definitely a “had to be there” moment. Still funny enough to write about, though.
- My sister, who was on SherBear’s team, had a phrase during Catch Phrase that included the word “Blow.” She couldn’t think of a good clue, so she puckered her lips and blew. SherBear immediately yelled, “Blow! Blow job!” She was wrong. On many levels.
- Again during Catch Phrase, I got “Netherlands.” So my clue was, “The name of where Michael Jackson lives, except the real country!” One teammate looked confused but then said, “Neverland?” I replied, “Yeah, but now make it real.” He says, “Netherlands?” Jackpot. We won that round.
- During Apples to Apples, the word “Horrifying” was played. I finally got to lay down the card that said “My high school prom.” Doesn’t matter which – in hindsight, both were awful. I’m just glad D finally accepted that he is gay. I could tell he was overcompensating by the sheer amount of tongue he used when we made out in his friend’s back seat on the way home from a Ben Folds Five concert. And as far as J goes, well, they call it a Cavequeer for a reason…
All in all, the night was a blast. If anyone wants to get together for a game night that includes Apples to Apples and Catch Phrase, I’m in. I’ll bring the video camera. And Edward. Hehe.
What’s that, Edward? You miss me and want me to come visit you at Julie’s? It’s okay, we have a date on the 21st. Don’t be jealous, Mr. T. He’s just cardboard. Rice cakes taste like cardboard.
It’s okay. Don’t be so surprised. I’m married. Sorry, you just waited too long. I loved you in your Harry Potter days, but you were just too slow to realize.
I went to the Galleria and bought a little something for my sister’s surprise party. Here are a few hints:
- It’s made of cardboard
- It’s life-size
- It’s Twilight-related.
- It’s a boy!
Yep, Edward Cullen/RPatz is chillin’ in my backseat right now, waiting for me. I know you’re jealous.
So, here’s the plan. Jules has NO clue about the party on Saturday. Mom and I are going to show up at her front steps and I’m going to put the Edward cutout in front of me, with flowers in his cardboard hand. When she opens the door, I’ll be standing behind it, making Edward talk. I’ll tell her she has a date and needs to get ready and then we’ll kidnap her, blindfold her (cuz otherwise she’ll see where we’re going and figure it all out) and make her sit in the backseat with Edward. Just because that makes me laugh every time I think about it.
We’re just having the party at Mom’s house since Jules isn’t a big drinker or partier. She’s more comfortable at home, so we’re having a bunch of people show up there and we’ll bring her in. I’m baking lots of goodies and, aside from that, I have no clue what to plan. There will be about 20 people there at most, so it’ll be low key, but what should we plan? I have music to play, so that’s not a problem, but I don’t plan parties. What kind of entertainment should we arrange? I was thinking of putting together a little charades game that had a lot of Twilight-related stuff in it, but also other topics since not everyone has read the books or seen the movie. Plus, I think charades is always a hoot, but I’m also a huge dork. Oh, I was also planning a “pin the kiss on Edward” game so the cutout will be worth the money. Teehee.
What else am I missing? Thoughts? Ideas? Please? Anyone? Bueller…Bueller…
Bad timing, I know. I should just be thankful to be employed at all. I try to be thankful. I try so hard I get migraines from the effort. I love my coworkers. If I met any one of the people I work with outside these walls, I’m sure we’d be great friends. In fact, I really do consider some of them to be real life, social friends.
But I just can’t handle being confused and frustrated every single day. I’m so tired. I’m tired of going in circles for hours, only to come to a conclusion that is rendered irrelevant the next morning. I’m tired of going days without much work, only to find out that had information been provided sooner, we could be working on two campaigns that now have to be completed within the next two months. I’m tired of being incredibly angry all the time. I’m tired of misaligned priorities, doing the work of other people, seeing constant mistakes being made in front of the client, feeling like I’m fighting the same battles every single day…I’m just tired.
No one said working for a start up would be easy. Then again, no one told me I had a choice in the matter. I need the paycheck. Some days, I enjoy the work. Every single day, though, I wake up with a pit of dread in my stomach, a feeling that no matter how hard I try, today won’t be any better than the others. Unfortunately, I am usually right.
I’ve tried to change my path, but in this job market, it’s hard to say “Hey, look. I know my resume says I have a creative background, but I swear I’m good at marketing management” and expect to be taken seriously. I have my MBA, I know what I’m doing and I’m intelligent and willing to learn the things I don’t know. If someone would just give me a chance, I know it would pay off. I work hard, I learn insanely fast, I’m passionate and I bring baked goods to work – what’s not to love?
I hate sounding like a brat, because I know I really just need to suck it up and be grateful I’m even employed. Especially after watching 20 coworkers get laid off and then being told I now work for a new company that wasn’t even supposed to exist until four months ago. It took a lot of guts to start the company, and I respect that. The bottom line is, I shouldn’t spend the majority of my life fighting battles in the name of someone else’s company. If I’m going to put this much effort into something, it should be something I really care about, not advertising cable, phone and internet or telling lies on behalf of car people. But no one said life is fair, and my story isn’t so different from anyone else’s, so I’ll go back to sucking it up and being miserable and liking it.
If I just had $100,000…