October 27, 2011
A couple of days ago I had the best day I have had in so long I can’t really remember. It was awesome!
No, I didn’t win the lottery or Publisher’s Clearing House. I didn’t get a free trip to the Bahamas. I didn’t get anything….except to feel fantastic, incredible, happy, healthy, normal. For me normal is the highest height I can aspire to. It’s the highest feeling I’ve had since I got FUBAR’d. (Thank you Arnold Chiari Malformation and MS….you suck a big green weenie)
It started when I woke up at 4:30 am. Very unusual for me lately. Normally I would hit the snooze about seven times and sleep until almost 5:30 am. But I felt really awake and so I rolled with it. I got up and fixed homemade biscuits and sausage for everyone for breakfast. After I got everyone off to school and work, I sat down to read for a few minutes. When I looked up again I decided that feeling normal ROCKS and so I would use that time to do something constructive. I proceeded to clean up my paper avalanche around the computer.
When I die it is going to be from being suffocated by a large pile of paper that I couldn’t think well enough to decide what to do with.
So I put the FAT principle into motion and divided everything into three piles: File, Act, Toss. That eliminated about 90% of the paper. Then I filed the F pile and that left me with the Act pile. So far so good. Then I tossed 3 years worth of old files and dug down to the current page of my desk calendar. That right there is more than I’ve done in months and months.
After I was done, I could actually get to my computer without climbing any paper mountains and without a native guide. I was happy. I then went grocery shopping with Rocky and Pony. When we got back I put away groceries, loaded the dishwasher, did some laundry, and fixed dinner.
Sounds like a small fraction of anyone’s normal day, doesn’t it? Yeah, I know. But for me it was like a life orgasm. I got to spend a day being sorta like I used to be. You know, like a real person. Like a human being that can get up in the morning and look around and say…..I need to do this and this and this…..and not mean ONLY this and this and this but mean in addition to my normal stuff.
What I can usually do is get up in the morning and look around and say to myself….how in the name of God will I ever be able to catch up with all this stuff? Then I get really optimistic and say to myself….just pick a couple of things to do and don’t worry about the rest. Then I look around and there is just SO MUCH that I haven’t done that I can’t decide what needs doing most. Which makes me feel like a total slug and worthless in the extreme. Then I get to feeling bad about myself and it ends up where I spend most of every day trying to keep from cutting my own throat for being such a worthless excuse for a human being.
Because I can’t lift my hands over my head because it messes up my neck and I get headaches and vertigo, and I can’t bend down because it makes me dizzy, and I can’t stand up straight for long because it makes my knees go numb, and I can’t and I can’t and I can’t and I can’t……..! My entire life is the things I can’t. Sometimes I just go ahead and do it anyway. Then I spend days where I can’t think good, I can’t walk good, I can’t talk good, my head hurts, my neck hurts and that damn screaming tinnitus will not leave me alone. I don’t understand what people are saying to me, and I don’t get what they want and I don’t know how to say that I don’t get it. I am terrified of becoming stuck in that state one day.
But the other day……I had a GOOD day! I live off of those like they are food.
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Crazy, Daily Life, Guilty, Health, life, Random, Self awareness, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Whining | Tagged: Arnold Chiari Malformation, Chiari, Chiari Malformation, good day, health, housework, MS, Multiple Sclerosis, suicide |
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Posted by thought4food
January 8, 2008
Question……….
If real life was like the movies, and everyone had their own background music, what would play every time you walked into a room?
Mine differs depending on my mood. But in general it’s the theme music from the Three Stooges. Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk!
My kids say it’s that Whump Whump sound from Jaws when I call them by all three names.
My Dearest Husband says he hears Dobie Grey singing Drift Away every time I walk into a room. I think he says this just because I really love that song and he really loves me. *sigh* I heart him. I really do. Plus he has a really bodacious tushie!
So, back to the question. If real life was like the movies and everyone had their own background music, what would play every time you walked into a room?
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Blog, Blogroll, Random, Self awareness, Self realization, Thoughts | Tagged: Background Music, dobie grey, jaws, mood, Music, Three Stooges, tushie |
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Posted by thought4food
October 4, 2007
Life is perception. How we perceive an event is our reality of it. One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. What you perceive as meaningless, someone else might perceive as the most meaningful thing in their life. Pay attention to how those important to you perceive the events in your lives. It counts.
Inaction is an action all by itself. It indicates indifference on a massive scale.
Why in the hell would anyone in this country with even ONE functioning brain cell think that Hillary Clinton would make a good president? This is a woman whose self esteem is so low that she stayed with a man who cheated on her in front of the entire world on more than one occasion. This can only mean one thing: He will pay in front of the entire world, and he will pay big! So, let’s put her in the White House????? Is she planning on giving her VP a BJ on TV during a State of the Nation Address? (Do you think I used enough acronyms in that sentence?) Women who stick around after being treated that way have one thing in mind: revenge. If Bill is smart (I know, I know, but it’s only a figure of speech) he would do something searingly outrageous and destroy her chances. It might save his life. And speaking as a woman myself, I can tell you this: Hillary remembers every one of you who have screwed her over. You might not even be aware that you did. *see paragraph one* And you will not get away unscathed either. Kenneth Star, I’m especially talking to YOU! She will smile for the cameras while she is listening in her earpiece to them tell her that the “package” has been deposited. That will be you in the East River wearing a pair of cement overshoes, going to sleep with the fishes. But only after she has caused them to make you scream like a girl. Think about it guys. Women are by far more vicious than men will ever be. And we never forget a slight. We certainly never forgive one. Putting Hillary Clinton in the White House is like dressing up Brittney Spears and putting HER in the White House. Sounds good, don’t it?
I wonder if the people that Blackwater were hired to guard and protect in Iraq want them gone? I haven’t heard anyone ask them. I haven’t heard any of them say. I would love to hear the answer to those questions. I also wonder who it was that Blackwater had with them at the time of the last big incident that caused all this hooohaaa. I hate magicians because I feel like misdirection is inherently dishonest. So this last big deal over Blackwater makes me wonder who was there and why all the fingers are pointing in so many different directions, but no one is saying who was with them.
Why are children always at their most obnoxious when my head hurts?#$%^&*
What parents say and what kids hear are two completely different things. example: Me-“Hi Honey, how was your day?”
Them-“Why R U gettin all up in my KoolAid?” That wasn’t a good exchange at all was it? We had no exchange of information, no exchange of pleasantries at all. That’s because what they hear is not what we said.
Me-how was your day translation: What did you do that was wrong or that I’m going to get a call from your school about before the day is through?
No wonder the response is so vehement! I have no solution for this distortion as yet, however I am working on it and as soon as I perfect the formula, I will put it on a paid programming commercial at 4:45am and you too can have it for 6 easy payments of JUST $19.95 plus shipping and handling!
When we were kids our dad used to wake us up every morning and whip us before he went to work. He did this because he knew that before he got home that night we would have done something to deserve it. He was right. I’m thinking about reviving that old tradition. Either that, or take up drinking. I’m not really sure which way I’m going to go yet. I’m leaning towards the whipping, but I’m not sure I could stand all that whining and crying. But after the first time or two, I’d probably cowboy up and stop doing that. On the other hand, drinking would be so much less work for me. *sigh* decisions, decisions
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Posted by thought4food
September 28, 2007
Don’t say yes if you mean no, then get all pissed off later.
If you have something to say, say it.
If you have nothing to say, say nothing.
If your significant other asks you a question, answer them as honestly as you can. Do NOT expect them to read your mind. That’s just stupid and unfair. If they could read your mind, they would have already got the Pick 6 number and you’d be filthy rich and boppin the pool boy/girl. Give them some information they can use. Play fair.
Keep in mind that it is not being mean if you hang up on someone who has called YOU. Especially if you don’t know them.
When someone calls you and starts asking questions, your automatic response should NOT be to answer, but to start asking questions of your own.
example: Riiiiiiing. Hello.
Is Mr. Whoozit in?
No, may I take a message?
Who am I speaking to?
That’s not really your business. Who am I speaking to?
This is Mr. Soanso from Suchandsuch. Do you have a number where Mr. Whoozit can be reached in an emergency?
IS this an emergency? If you’ll give me your number I’ll get in touch with Mr. Whoozit and give it to him and I’m sure if it’s an emergency he’ll be sure to get back in touch with you as soon as humanly possible.
*SIGH* Nevermind, I’ll just try back later. CLICK!!!!
Seriously, it is NOT someone else’s place to be asking you questions on your phone and it is not rude, mean, or socially unacceptable to refuse to answer them.
Listen to your instincts. Human beings are still alive today because of them.
Pay attention. To Everything.
Be careful what you say. You can’t unring a bell, and you can’t unsay an unkind word or undo the hurt it causes.
Care.
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Blog, Blogging, Blogroll, Crack house humor, Daily Life, Divorce, Family, Friends, Friendship, Help, Home, life, Random, Rights, Self, Self awareness, Self realization, Thoughts, True Story, Uncategorized | Tagged: phone, rude, socially acceptable, stupid, telephone |
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Posted by thought4food
September 28, 2007
Our oldest daughter came home yesterday. It’s been three years since I’ve laid eyes on her. My heart has seen her twenty-four/seven but my eyes have hungered for her non-stop. Going long periods of time between physically seeing her is normal. She is a natural born gypsy. She comes by that honestly.
I never seem to be prepared for just how overwhelmingly happy I am to see her. I kept poking her on the arm. She kept looking at me. Finally, the last time I did it she said, “Believe I’m really here yet?” There seems to be a Birdie shaped hole in my being when she isn’t with me that immediately fills up when she comes home.
It’s like that with all my family and to a lesser degree with my friends. I’m like a puzzle. I’m this huge picture. I know what it is, I know what it looks like. But I’m only really complete and the whole big picture when everyone is together. I almost had it this Labor Day.
Labor Day marked the one year anniversary since the house burned down. All in all things have progressed fairly splendidly since then. We moved into what seems to us to be the perfect house in which to finish raising the kids, finish growing old, hobble around awhile, become a burden to said kids, make them change our diapers just like we did theirs, and eventually be remanded to an old folks home, there to linger and molder away, forgotten and neglected while the aforementioned kids are happily enjoying the life of Riley back at the old homestead. So we decided it was time to conduct a good ol fashioned throw-down.
The icing on the cake was that my mom (you remember her, I am now the proud owner of her hands) and my brothers and my sister(in law) and my niece(my GOD I love that kid) all came up from good ol FLA to attend! AND My Dearest Husband’s Grandma came from 250 miles away along with his mom. Most of our closest friends were able to attend. The few that weren’t were in our thoughts. Our new neighbors were here. We had just the best time ever! The best count we could get was approximately 47 people. Not bad.
The kids all played and didn’t fuss and fight. The grownups all played and didn’t fuss and fight. Even I was nice! (I think) It lasted from around noon until way, way late. Actually it lasted until way early the next day. We had two chefs that cooked on the grill for us. OMG They ruled! My Dearest Husband’s Aunt and Cousin brought some kick ass goodies. We cooked. I say “we” as if I actually helped any! LOL I didn’t! Don’t let me fool you. I was absolutely NO help of any kind at all. My help consisted of staying out of the way and trying not to talk too much. Because by the day of the party I had been off my meds for a fair amount of days ( another story for another time) and I was having major difficulties even saying words. Mostly I just wandered around aimlessly. But at least I wasn’t destructive. That in itself was helpful.
The bros and the hubbie knocked out a couple horse shoe pits and everyone threw some shoes. Down here in Carolina you ain’t had a party if you haven’t threw the shoes. After everyone left, my little brother, Pony, got out my guitar and he and my older brother, Pork Chop, and I sat out on the front porch and sang all the old songs while the dogs lay around under our feet. Pork Chop said it was like being in Mayberry.
The puzzle was mostly put together that day. Only a few missing pieces. It was good to have everyone here. It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to do that.
Big party, lots of people, food, beer, family, friends, no bloodshed = success.
*sigh* (insert big sappy grin) I love reunions.
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Posted by thought4food
September 22, 2007
Okay, that’s it for the sappy emotion.
I’ve moved. I’m now living in a house on top of a hill. It’s harder than I thought it would be, this not being a slob and all. When you have a nice house you sorta feel like you should keep it nice. My own expectations are exhausting me.
But it’s all bright and white and neat and shit. And it’s out in the open and the sun shines on me all the time. Except when the sun doesn’t shine on me. Then it’s only partly light. Or else it’s dark. That happens at some point every day. Go figger. Still, it’s very……(I’m searching for an appropriate word here)…..happifying! That’s a word, right?
I’ve started walking in the mornings after I put Miss Bella and His Highness the Buddha on the bus for school. *giggle* School. I love school. Anyway, I’ve been trying to get some exercise. It seems to be working pretty well. If you don’t count the fact that for the past 3 or 4 days I haven’t really been able to walk. My hip ballooned up and my jaw on the same side did the same thing. I had a tooth cut out there recently. Seriously, you’ve missed a lot. But I seem to be um, infected. EW! I KNOW! It’s all gross sounding to me too.
I’m thinking that I might just be allergic to all that healthy crap. Honest. See, I wasn’t brought up that way. We were brought up to be filthy dirty little heathens! That’s right, Mom! I’m tellin all the family secrets right here! We didn’t use hand sanitizer! We drank sodas ALL THE TIME! We ate the fat on our meat! OH YES WE DID! We ate bacon OFTEN! I SMOKE! We drank! And…..you might want to sit down for this one….sometimes we still do! We used copious amounts of salt on our food. We played in dirt. We played with our friends when they had colds. We did not know our physicians and their office personnel on a first name basis because we went so often. As a matter of fact, we went to the doctor’s office so seldom, that a visit there frightened us to bits! Uh huh that’s right.
I had my first X-ray when I was 14 years old! And I was so terrified that I thought I would puke! I have had many broken bones that were not set. I have had broken bones that I never went to the doctor for at all. We ate burgers from Louie’s! We followed the 5 second rule. We drank from water fountains, not water bottles. Sometimes we drank from water hoses too. If our ice cream fell out of the cone, we picked it up, scraped off whatever trash we could see, and plopped that bad boy back on the cone and ate away! No sense wasting the perfectly good part of a cone over a little bit of trash! Sheesh!
We ate food handled by people who never wore gloves except in the winter when it was really really cold. But never when they were touching our food. We sometimes faked washing our hands before we ate. We walked barefoot from the first snow until the first thaw. And truth be told, if it wasn’t for caffeine and nicotine I would be in a coma.
But until I started trying to be more “healthy” I was in fact healthy as the proverbial horse. The healthier I tried to live, the unhealthier I became.
I developed……….(insert doomsday music here) MS. My theory is this. As I started to live a more healthy lifestyle, my hyped up immune system had less and less legitimate work to do. Being an honest hard working system, it couldn’t bring itself to just lay around and do nothing. So it decided to attack something, anything. Knowing me like it did, it had a meeting and came to the conclusion that it would attack the most useless part of me……my brain. (wink) So it rolled on up in there and went to work.
But, being MY immune system, it couldn’t just attack like normal. Oh no! It had to do it in a bizarre fashion. So it went for my cognitive centers. My memory centers and pathways. Smart-ass immune system. On the other hand, it sometimes goes after me in the normal ways too.
As a result of all this I have decided to go back to my unhealthy ways. I’m back to eating the fat on my meat. I’m gonna go barefoot in the summer until it’s just too darn cold to do it anymore. I’m drinking water out of the faucet and if I’m in the yard I’m drinking it out of the hose. Maybe I won’t eat the ice cream off the ground though. I mean, I am almost 50, after all.
Do you see what happens when I’m away too long? I babble. I start on one topic and end on something not even remotely related. But I have this really cool built in excuse. I have drain bamage. Yeah baby! That’s what I’m talkin bout! *sigh* Unfortunately, everyone I know, knows better. *giggle* Oh well, it was a nice try.
But it’s good to be back. I’ll fill you in on what you missed later. Not allof it. Don’t be so nosey! Sheesh!
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Posted by thought4food
June 8, 2007
Teenagers ………….. *sigh* …………….. nuf said.
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Posted by thought4food
June 6, 2007
Buddha came wandering in the room Sunday evening about 7:00 pm with the news that he had been throwing up all day and his legs were cramping and his stomach hurt. You may think that the fact that I was so far behind on this information means that I don’t pay attention. Let me disabuse you of this notion.
First of all, Buddha is secretive in his personal habits in the extreme. He got this way when he was living at home. I’m not sure exactly what survival instinct led him to that particular behavior, but you will almost never catch him doing anything in the way of personal habits at all. He does do all those things like brush his teeth, take a bath, use the toilet, etc. He just does it all on the sly.
Second, his sister is the twin of the Tasmanian Devil. Being in her proximity is like being inside of a tornado that consists of blond hair and tiny bits of paper and chap stick and fingernail polish and puppies and shards of glass and blue eyes and bug juice and questions and clothes and makeup and arguments and chewing gum and an incessant stream of words and movement. It’s hard to see past her sometimes.
Also, on the weekend, His Highness The Buddha, does not like to be disturbed when he is resting. So I leave him to his own resources to decompress and do as he pleases unless I hear screaming or see blood pooling underneath his bedroom door. Flames, smoke, the sound of breaking glass……these will also capture my attention.
So, he tells me that he had been throwing up since morning. *sigh* I figure he’s dehydrated. I give him water with a few grains of salt. It all comes up immediately. I smell a trip to the ER coming up. I pack up the Tasmanian Devil, a few waiting room supplies, and Buddha. Off we go to the ER for a quick IV of fluids to re-hydrate him and then we’ll be home and that will be that.
Not so much.
After about a gallon of drawn blood, about three gallons of IV fluids drained into him, a multitude of tests, and a CAT scan, we find out that he has appendicitis. Wow. Into the hospital he is admitted. The surgeon will be there in the morning to talk about what we will do.
(insert ominous music here) The surgeon comes in and tells Buddha that he must have the appendix out. The instant Buddha realizes what the means he says, “Cut me?!! OH NO! I’m outta here!” It’s everything we can do to keep him in the bed. We talk and cajole and do everything but chase him down the hall and tie him to the bed. By this time his belly is hurting him considerably. We convince him that having the surgery will make his belly feel better and he finally agrees. Whew!
It all happens quite quickly. He’s in surgery in a matter of minutes. They tell us he’ll be back in an hour and a half, be in the room. When they bring him back up, he’s awake. I ask how he’s feeling. He rares up on the bed and yells, “THEY CUT ME AND IT HURTS!!” We kinda forgot in all the excitement to tell him that the surgery was going to hurt pretty bad right at first. Our bad. *grimace*
Once he was in bed and settled and the morphine set in, he informed me that people who were in the hospital get presents. He would accept a video game, thank you. Then whenever anyone called or came by, he would dutifully inform them of the same thing complete with his order. I figure that he’s already calculated what his appendix was worth.
By the time he’s fully recovered, I’m going to have to watch out on eBay because he’ll be trying to sell his kidney for a Volkswagen. A cornea for the downpayment on his college tuition. 😦 *sigh*
He’s home and feeling fine. He disappeared from the couch about two hours after we got him home. My Dearest Husband went looking for him, he wasn’t in the house. Bella said he was up the drive. Um…….up the drive??? Yeah, she says, riding his bike. We walk out on the porch and sure enough, he comes slowly riding back down the driveway. Just over twenty-four hours after his surgery. We’re standing there with our bottom jaws resting on the tops of our shoes, staring at him. He says, “What?”
Kids, ya gotta love em.
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Posted by thought4food
May 18, 2007
I used to sing. I was pretty good at it. My ex played guitar with several bands and we were together for 10 years before he ever heard me sing. I never sang in front of people in those days, so I really did sing like nobody was listening because …..nobody was. I think it’s fair to say he was pretty much stunned when he heard it the first time.
It was on a tape player. (Can you say “LONG TIME AGO?????) I had been messing around with a new song I had heard and I forgot to erase it. He heard it by accident. He asked who in the hell that was. I said it was me. He didn’t believe me for one second because as far as he knew I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Eventually he got me drunk enough to sing in front of him and prove it was me.
Back in the day we always had music. Everything was accompanied by music. People coming over to hang out always brought guitars, amps, harmonicas and whatever other instruments they had and we jammed. We went to other people’s houses and played. It was alright. And, back in the day, we had beer. I’ll be kind to my momma and leave it at that. So, we started gettin me all drunked up and I started to sing with them.
They came to the conclusion that I sounded like a cross between Stevie Nicks and Bonnie Raitt. With a slight quiver. That was pure terror. There was not enough alcohol invented to take that away. But they gave me songs and booze and I sang. Then one evening out in someone’s barn a sneaky varmint turned on a hidden tape recorder and taped me singing. A few weeks later we were at another guys house hanging out and playing. When I started to sing a song he jumped up and hollered, “You’re the girl on the tape!” I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.
You have to remember that: 1. I was drunk. 2. I didn’t know about the tape.
So he played it and sure enough it was me. Have you ever heard yourself on tape? I really can’t stand it. I don’t mind hearing myself through my own ears inside of my head, but I hate hearing it from outside in. I almost spit up. But they all seemed to love it. So they hatch this plot. The guy who managed the local newspaper at the time was having a Christmas party at his house and had asked the guy who’s house we were at to get together a band and play at it.
Now I’m really thinking I shouldn’t have had those last couple of beers. They want me to sing. In front of people. A bunch of people. Maybe I’ll rethink that beer thing and just have a few more. Cuz those guys are really excited and happy and wanting this to happen. And deep inside of my alcohol induced haze I’m kinda thinkin this might be kinda cool, too. If I can keep from spitting up, that is.
So we practice. We practice a lot. We practice and we practice and I sing and I sing. I’m well on my way to becoming a raging alcoholic. Because there is no way on God’s green earth that I can sing in front of anyone without it. I’ve only been singing in front of my ex for about 3 or 4 months at this time. But it feels good to have people telling me that I can do something well. And everytime we practice more and more people show up to watch us. It’s all really new and exciting.
So, the fateful evening comes. Let me set the stage for you.
This was about 25 years ago. I was young and hot as a two dollar pistol. Long wavy chestnut brown hair, slender, an ass that looked like two puppies fighting under a blanket when I walked. They get me there and we’re in the back room. It’s almost time to go out. The plan is to keep me in the back of the group until it’s time for me to sing. That way I can get used to the atmosphere and I won’t be so nervous. They brought me a bottle of gin. All the quicker to schnocker you with, my dear. And I knocked that baby back as fast as I could.
Then we went out to the stage. It gets a little hazy around here. There were many people, pretty lights, music, clinking, talking, and then they brought me to the front and set me on a stool and started playing my music. I think I had my eyes closed because I was ok at first. I just started to sing and I was having fun for the first few lines. Then I noticed that it was very quiet in that place. I opened my eyes. Everyone was standing there with their drinks in their hands and they were all looking at me! I immediately stopped singing. I thought I had messed up really bad. I turned around and looked at the guys in the band. They said, “Keep singing, they love it!!”
I turned around and looked at all those faces again and they were nodding their heads yes! Holy Crap! The band started playing again and so I started singing again. They sang with me and they clapped and sometimes they just stood there and listened to me. It was probably the most incredible thing ever. I sang every song we practiced. Somewhere along the line I forget the rest of what happened. It all just sort of melts into one big good ol time.
We played alot of other places and I got to sing alot of other times. It was always a big surprise to me. And it always felt really great. But that first time will always be my favorite. I don’t do that anymore. But, once upon a time, long long ago………
I used to sing.
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Posted by thought4food
May 15, 2007
I have recently been subjected to , and by extension subjected a dear friend to, Tacky Behavior On The Part Of People Who Should Know Better. Now, I have been around this kind of trashy behavior all my life and I’m tired of putting up with it.
In my younger more feisty days I would have put the gloves on and gone hunting down the offending trashites, looking for some much deserved justice out of their persons in some shape or manor, preferably involving bruising. However, as I am older and slightly calmer now, I will wait for a bit, let things settle down , and find the right time for the information to come out.
You see, I myself take part of the blame for this trailer-park tinged behavior. I accepted an invitation from a secondhand person to an event. And since my radar isn’t in proper working order anymore, I completely missed the significance of that little faux pas. However, knowing the inviter like I do, I had to believe that it was ok to accept, as he has always been one of the most considerate and honorable men I know. Therefore, when I was asked to invite a friend, I had no qualms about inviting a very, very good friend who is tenderhearted and a LOT of fun to be around. We would go together, meet the rest of the group, and have a rip roarin good time at a few slightly raunchy places, thereby having stories to tell the grand-kids later that would make them blush and look at us in new and exciting ways! It would all be good.
NOT! We were excluded from the beginning. It was rude to the point of ruthlessness. It would have been kinder to have just told us after dinner that we wouldn’t be included in the rest of the festivities planned for the evening and so thank you for coming to the dinner and we’ll see you at the wedding. Instead we were to follow the other two cars to a hotel and join them in a room that had been reserved. We were out of the car and following them across the parking lot when they hit the door. As we got to the door maybe ten feet behind them, we found it remarkable that the fifty feet across the lobby was entirely empty of the approximately 10 women who had just entered in front of us. They were very swift of feet! We also found that the door required a key card to open and we didn’t have one. So we proceeded around to the front and inquired at the front desk as to whether they had a room in either of the names we knew. She informed us that she couldn’t help us. Not that there were no rooms in that name, but that she couldn’t help us.
We spent a good fifteen minutes walking through the ground floor hall trying to see if we could hear a bunch of white trash bitches honking off behind any of the doors, but no such luck. So, now having to admit that we had been deliberately ditched by this marvelous bunch of common hos, we have a few hours to kill. We are both nearly speechless. I mean seriously, how many times after you get out of the sixth grade do you honestly have to consider things like this happening to you?
So we found a couple of ways to spend our time and then went home. It was kinda sad. It was even more sad the next day when again I saw two of the girls in the group and watched as they caught sight of me, turned to each other and began to giggle and laugh uproariously with each other.
It makes me wonder about the kind of people who think that hurting people for sport is a good thing. I wonder what kind of things they tell themselves to make it ok to hurt someone’s feelings just for fun. I wonder what they say inside of themselves when they are choosing the next person to cause pain to, is there some certain trait that they are looking for? Or is it just the next unfortunate person who comes into their sight? I don’t understand how one goes about telling themselves that they have soooo many people just waiting in line to be their lifelong friend, that they can afford to callously toss good people aside like garbage and laugh about it.
Like I said at the beginning of this whole thing, I’ve been around this kind of common, trashy, unraised, behavior all my life. I’ve seen it a million times. It comes from not being raised right in the beginning, then being too lazy to make sure that you choose to act right when it’s your turn to call the shots. It’s just easier to roll on back to those less than humane beginnings .
I have accepted my part in the hurt caused to my friend. I have apologized to her several times. If my brain was in proper working order my red flags would have been dancing the macarena at me over that invitation and I would have known better than to accept. I was trying to help celebrate a new beginning for friends. My friend was only there because I asked her to come with me. It was my disability that caused her pain and for my part in that I am deeply sorry and ashamed.
Now let’s add to the entertainment by adding that the main person at the previous event managed to top off the event the following evening by hurting the feelings of an eight year old girl by popping off at the mouth to her at the end of a very long evening when said eight year old girl went to tell her that she was leaving.
I am no longer surprised by the stupidity of people or the incredibly stupid things they do to hurt people for no good reason. I see it and I feel it all the time. It just makes me terribly, terribly sad. I hope that they accomplished whatever it was they were planning to do by excluding us, and I hope it was worth the cost.
Because (to quote myself) I’ve managed to live my entire life without them in it, and I’ll manage quite well to live the rest of it without them in it as well, and never really notice the difference at all.
My friend is owed a huge apology. A heartfelt apology. I hope she gets one.
As for me, I am neither owed an apology, nor will I accept one. I am done.
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