Their needs aren’t being met.  They’re afraid of their whole world crashing down while someone else next door gets handed the world on a silver platter.  So what do they do?  They mobilize.  The cut and paste.  They hit send with a fervor.  And people start caving.  At first it was just Texas, which we all know is filled with scary right wing nut jobs.  But then school district after school district said, ‘ok parent, we’ll let you tell us how to do our job’.  And we are led to believe that because so many made the decision  not show a speech that it must be the right decision and our children have been spared this round of propaganda brain washing.

But we’re dumbasses.  Because this isn’t about a speech.  It’s not about forced lesson plans either (which technically aren’t even lesson plans but that’s beside the point).  It’s about angry people who are standing by waiting to pounce.  They are pouncing now and will continue to pounce every opportunity they get.  They will wear people down with their pouncing. 

And when they finally win, the losers will start to get angry.  Then the losers will start pouncing and it will just go on and on forever until I die. 

I want off this ride.

A few years ago my cousin got married.  It was such a bizarre situation.  She seemed to desperately want a perfect, traditional wedding and was a little demanding about things.  But at the same time she took almost no part in the planning of the wedding.  We’re not very close so it wasn’t a situation where I could easily talk some sense into her.

Her mother picked everything out, and she asked my sister to make her invitations for her.  I helped my sister make the invitations and they actually turned out pretty cool.  We attached the invitation to a darkish card stock with tiny metal fasteners so it looked sort of industrial but still elegant. (The invitations, while cool, matched absolutely nothing else in the wedding, but I guess that’s what happens when you have no theme and don’t even pick out your colors until right before the wedding). 

Anyway, I was looking around for something else and stumbled upon this conversation I had with my sister that I saved for some reason.  It’s a very typical conversation and it makes me smile a little.

 S:  what are you doing tomorrow?
T:  At which time?
S:  all day
T:  different things throughout
T:  whyfor?
S:  invitations
T:  Huh?
T:  Speak clearly woman
S:  angela’s wedding
T:  You want me to….what?
S:  HELP ME
T:  Pick them up, make them, what the f?????
S:  i want you to help me tomorrow put the invitations together
T:  was that so hard to say?
T:  are you taking off?
S:  f you
S:  you are a hoor
T:  And why are you doing them anyway?  Is she helping you?
S:  NO
T:  Thats fed up
S:  thats why i’m asking oyu
S:  slut
T:  I said ok.  But when?
S:  i dont know
T:  When is your party?
S:  6
S:  i am taking the day off
T:  Wait, you just want me to offer to do them all dont you?
S:  NO
T:  Thats what this is about
T:  can we do them early?
T:  How about we start tonight?
S:  yes
S:  sure
T:  Do you know what to do?
T:  Where the little tissues go and all that bs?
T:  dO YOU HAVE ADDRESSES?
S:  no
T:  oops
T:  Do you have a cool calligraphy pen or something?
T:  I have a blue sparkly pen, we can use that
S:  are you f-ing kidding me?
S:  i have nothing
S:  i am not crafty
T:  She’s crafty, she gets around
T:  shes crafty, shes always down
T:  Do you at least have addresses?
S:  no
T:  A guest list?
S:  they will have to do that
S:  i will ask A.
T:  So what are you exactly supposed to do and by exactly I mean every little thing
T:  ?
S:  i have to print them – jen’s sister gave me a really good idea to dress them up a little b/c they are just plain white
S:  so we have to do some glueing and poking holes and tying ribbons
T:  F you
S:  then we’ll stuff them and hand them off
T:  can you email it to me si I can see it?
T:  so
T:  That ribbon thing is so last decade
S:  email what? all i have is the words right now
S:  what suggestions do you have whore?
T:  Jesus H Christ
T:  Youre just printing it in word or something?
T:  ????
S:  yes
S:  c
S:  u
S:  n
S:  t
T:  What kind of paper? TYPING PAPER!!!!!!
S:  no – i am going to hollo’s soon to get some paper
S:  to glue it on
S:  i will print everything on that paper and bring everything else over
T  No.  STOP.
T:  Are you off today?
S:  no, tomorrow
T:  Does she have any input whatsoever in what she wants them to look like?
S:  nope
T:  Does she have envelopes yet?
S:  nothing
S:  nada
S:  yes
S:  white
T:  How big are they?
S:  greeting card size
T:  What?
S:  what
T:  Mother fer/
T:  I’m havign a nervous breakdown.
S:  me too
T:  Does she know THIS IS A WEDDING?
S:  nope
T:  How many invitations?
S:  5 x 7
S:  not sure
T:  Is there a return envelope going inside?  For RSVP?
S:  nope
S:  rsvp to aunt I’s house
T:  How many did they tell you to print?
S:  they didnt
T:  AAAARGHHHHHHHHHH
T:  Did she pick out colors yet?
S:  i’m thinking a 100 or so
S:  nope
S:  my dress is gold – however, marla doesnt have one yet, so it might change
S:  there is one left in the counrty and i dont know if it fits
T:  You have a dress?
S:  yes
T:  What happened to red?
S:  they changed it
T:  YOU HAVE TO PUT THE FING CHURCH ADDRESS IN THE INVITATION!!!!!!
S:  they found dresses that fit everyone but marla, there was one in chicago that they were sending i think to see if it fits
S:  i have the chuch address on the map
T:  AND THE HALL
S:  the invitations that i looked up didnt have the street address on them
T:  What color flowers?
S:  they dont know yet
S:  i made that invitation
T:  I have to go lay down
S:  angela only sent me the 1st couple lines, in word, i did everything else
S:  she didnt have the church or the hall on it
S:  nothing
S:  nada
S:  nope
S:  so should i go get some paper or what?
T:  OK OK, you did a very nice job.
T:  Dont do anything yet.
T:  I need to look online at invitations and come up with a plan.
T:  I will get back to you later today.
S:  hurry, because i have to print at work
T:  Is that ok?
T:  Why do you have to print at work?

S:  where else am i going to print?
T:  You dont have a printer at home?
S:  i dont have ink and its not as high quality as work
T:  OK.  Can you give me a few hours?
S:  plus i need time to go to brunswick if need be and make it back here and print
T:  One hour?
S:  sure
T:  ok

In class I get extremely bored.  So bored that I fill pages and pages with doodles, lists, notes to friends, and anything else I can think of that is unrelated to the subject.  If my teachers just gave me lots of work the whole class time, I would be fine.  But instead they’d rather let discussions happen.  I’m not quite sure why I’m paying lots of money to get lectured by my classmates, but as long as I get that degree I guess I don’t care too much. 

My classmates are not intelligent.  I don’t claim to Super Mensawoman or anything, but at least I keep my mouth shut.  The only thing worse than a dumbfuck is a dumbfuck who likes the sound of his or her own voice.  So I constantly hear or read things like this:

“They might not be privy to tell you”  (I think he meant ‘apt’ instead of ‘privy’)

“subtle” (with no silent ‘B’.  Seriously)

“Behooves” instead of “belittles”

“Poignant” instead of “pertinent”

“Simultaneously” instead of “interchangeably”

“uprage” (combination of uproar and outraged)

“dynamix” instead of “dymanic”

“libary”

“instrincic” instead of “intrinsic”

“white ethnic”

“imbredded”

“confucianistic”

There’s also repeated use of:

“things like that”

“piggybacking”

“bring it to the table”

“from your side of the table”

“long story short”  Four times in two paragraphs.  WTF do you need to say that you are making a long story short when what you mean is “oh I’m starting to ramble, let me get back to my point”?

And my teacher isn’t the most eloquent puppy in the pound.  She says “you know” more than a 16 yr old and she fades at the end of each sentence.  Every sentence she utters ends in …

One more year.  Almost done.  I can do it.

Top right leg, top left leg, bottom left leg, bottom right leg.

Yesterday I forgot bottom right.  It was a very uncomfortable day.

Just because of the last two words of my blog and the fact that I frequently drop F-bombs, does not mean that you will find what you are looking for here.  And here’s a little tip for you: police officers like to catch bad guys like you.  It’s illegal to look at what you want to look at.  Some of the sites you visit are actually created by those officers to catch you.  You’re gonna get busted, dude.  Your face will be splashed all over the papers.  Moms will look up your name on the sexual offender’s website and drive past your house at all hours of the day, harrassing you at home or out in public.  You don’t want that, do you?  So stop your dirty little searches and stop clicking on my blog thinking youre going to find any of that.

Thank you,

Horrid

So I took one of those online OCD tests and it said that it was more than likely that I have OCD, and that I should make an appointment with a professional immediately.  Immediately was bolded.

But I know I don’t have OCD for three reasons.

1.) It doesn’t interfere with my life.  Repeatedly checking to make sure I have my credit card in my wallet at the restaurant only takes a few seconds.

2.) No one notices or comments.  No one hears me counting, no one sees inside my brain, no one witnesses the picking or pulling. 

3.) If I really did have OCD, I woud have taken the test a dozen more times to make sure I got the correct result. 

So, tendencies; maybe.  Disorder; no.

But then I was in class yesterday and I was looking at the flipflopped foot of the person next to me.  All I could think about was licking her foot.  I have no desire to lick her foot.  Feet are possibly the least attractive body part.  And the rest of her isn’t my type anyway.  That still didn’t stop me from thinking about it though.  And anyway, as long as I know one person who is worse than me, I’m OK.  And I think I know two.  So that’s good.  Two is a good strong number.

But I guess that’s what happens when you sleep through half of  True Love.  My sleep schedule is out of whack now.  Normally I’m the vampire, staying up later and later each night and waking up later and later each morning.  But now I’m waking up at 5 or 6am.  It’s kind of nice, I like the few hours of peace before the rest of the world is wide awake.  But the downside is that my eyelids start getting heavy around 7pm. 

We went to dinner with the inlaws recently.  Chory pollo from my favorite little Mexican joint.  We came back to the house after and sat outside chit chatting.  It was getting late, but I kept my sunglasses on the whole time.  I’ve been looking for some old school mirrored aviator shades but haven’t found any yet.  I have to make do with my very dark lenses.  I like to stare at people without them knowing.  Apparently my 5 am wake up calls mean I also like to fall asleep behind my glasses in the middle of conversations.  I managed to stay upright as I drifted in and out of sleep while their voices droned on.

I only woke up when the conversation turned to me, and I was asked a question.  Luckily the FIL doesn’t really converse with me, even if he asks a direct question it’s only meant as a pause in his monologue.  I tiptoed around answering until I knew exactly what they were talking about (the old Dairy Queen where I used to work in HS) but by then it didn’t even matter because the monologue had picked right back up again.

FIL has three stories that he tells repeatedly every single time we are together.  OK, that’s an exaggeration.  He tells one of them every single time; the other two are usually only told every third or fourth visit.  They all revolve around the same person (his neighbor), they all follow the same theme (belittling the neighbor for his laziness/stupidity), and they all lack a vital component of storytelling (being of interest to the audience).

#1 (always told) Neighbor doesn’t understand the idea of a pump in a water pond, wonders aloud why the pond doesn’t overflow from the fountain.

#2 (occasionally told) Neighbor paints his basketball backboard but lazily only paints the front side.

#3 (occasionally told) Neighbor decides to paint his chain fence with a small pot of paint and tiny brush, until it’s pointed out that it will take him a long time and he will need more paint, at which point he gives up and goes back inside.

Previously we would hear one story here and there.  Lately, one story reminds him of the rest so we must suffer through all three in a row.  After hearing them so many times it’s become difficult to respond with the required laughs, sighs, or head shakes that he is fishing for.  Because of this he has begun to embellish-drawing out the look of puzzlement on neighbor’s face as he looks at the pond, elongating the conversation about the lack of enough paint, describing the can of paint in greater detail, laughing hysterically at the idiot neighbor.

I’ve found myself taking the neighbor’s side in my mind.  I recreate the encounters with a new spin, making the neighbor a bit of a trickster messing with FIL.  I envision the neighbor sitting around with his family, “…and he thought I was serious when I asked about the pond overflowing, isn’t that hilarious?!”  The stories are boring though, and there isn’t enough material to really get creative.

So mostly I just sit there, numbly waiting for it to be over.  There’s only one thing that stops me from butting in and cutting him off with a curt reminder that we’ve heard it before (which probably wouldn’t work anyway.  He’s a notorious serial punchline repeater).  The only redeeming value is watching his new wife squirm.  She is a know it all monopolizer, hijacking every conversation she can.  But she can’t hijack this one.  It’s not her story to tell.  She knows it word for word, she’s had to sit through it more times than I have, but she wasn’t there and can’t ever own it. 

So she sits and squirms, opening and closing her mouth like a carp, just waiting for the right pause to jump in and steer to more familiar ground.  Excepts sometimes she presses her lips together in such a way that I know it’s killing her to listen to the story yet again.  That expression makes it a little more bearable.  But only a little more bearable.  Not even enough to keep me from falling asleep in my chair.

The good news is, I probably don’t have to hear that story again for at least a month.

But it’s close to deja vu. What’s the name for it? That feeling you get when something reminds you of something completely different. Last night was kind of cool in the house. It’s hot outside but cold morning air got trapped inside and stuck around. I was able to snuggle under a blanket when I went to bed. The printer had been in use earlier and ran out of paper. The screen was still on, begging me to add more paper, and created an eerie blue light that filled the room. My neighbor was playing with one of his toys-maybe his four wheeler. Whatever it was, it made a lot of noise. So there I am, cuddling under a blanket, soft frosty light filling the room, and the sound of an engine outside my window. All I can think about is winter. It feels like a winter night where the snow is reflecting the moonlight and my neighbor is plowing his driveway noisily. Of course I know it’s not winter, but my brain keeps going back to winter, picking at the idea like a crusty scab. You know the ones that are only half healed, so if you pick it completely off it will start bleeding again, but your hand just keeps going back and picking, hoping that maybe this time it will be healed, except it isn’t and you end up peeling and bleeding within 15 minutes of your first pick? Or maybe you don’t know that feeling. Sometimes I forget that everyone doesn’t have a little OCD.
I like this disjointed idea, though. I like letting my brain slip just a little so that I almost start to believe it’s a snowy winter night. And I like the feeling when I realize again that it really isn’t winter, it’s just a cool almost summer night. So what is the name for that?

I can hear crickets tonight.  They sound happy and summery with the lights on, but I have a feeling the fuckers will drive me crazy once I try to fall asleep.  I can’t wait until it gets hotter and I can hibernate in my air conditioning.  Actually, that’s not true.  I hate the heat.  I hate being sticky or sweaty or covered in humid slime.  I hate every conversation starting with some asshole saying “when is it finally gonna warm up?”.  Here’s my response: hopefully never.  Why can’t it never go below 40 and never above 60 and why can’t there be a thunderstorm at least once a week? How miserably lame am I that I finally have a sliver of peace to sit down and type my words of wisdom and here I sit bitching about the weather?  Let’s bring the focus back to crickets.

Yesterday while transferring clothes from the washer into the dryer, I found a small whitish object in the bottom of the washer.  Upon closer inspection I noticed it was a human tooth.  I wasn’t really expecting to find a human tooth in my washer, but then again I wasn’t too surprised to find it there.