Wednesday, July 23, 2008

I love Goodwill

After watching Mamma Mia, I saw a t-shirt hanging at the register of my local Goodwill.

"If you talk during the movie, I hate you. "

It wasn't my size and I did not buy it, but I adored it all the same. Then I thought about if I made a t-shirt for every occasion I hated something and felt the world needed to know.

1. If you are unkind on a regular basis for no reason, I hate you.
2. If you don't tip your server because you are ignorant and cheap, I hate you.
3. If you yap on your cell phone while driving and do not use your turn signals, I hate you.
4. If you do not neuter or spay your pets, I hate you.
5. If you do not have a sense of humor, I pity you.

As for the movie, meh. I love Meryl Streep though, and she still looks so amazing.

Friday, July 18, 2008

RIP Buster

GEM called me this morning. His dog Buster had been sick last week and just died. I am not sure what caused it, he was only a little over a year old and the other 3 dogs are fine.

This sucks. I lost my kitty after 17 years in January, and I am still devastated when I think about it. Not to make this about me though. What I am getting at is that I know how bad GEM is hurting and I hate that I can't do anything to make him feel better. I called him back and left a message saying I was sorry and all, but there is not a single thing that will make it hurt any less and I hate to see the people I care about in any pain.

GEM is battling his sister in a lawsuit over the estate of their father and aunt, has not been in a steady relationship for several years, works in a prison, which is depressing as all hell, but still manages to send cards and gifts to friends and family on every holiday on the calendar. Not everybody "gets" him, but those who do are very lucky to have him in their lives. Some people think he is gruff, but he is such a softie. His horses are basically lawn ornaments, since he just enjoys having them and does not ride them. And his dogs provide much needed company, and scare off raccons and other critters from the chickens. Buster is going to be missed.

Unfortunately, GEM firmly believes that bad things happen threes. 2 months ago, Busters sister Lucy, who lived with GEMS mothers, was hit by a car and died, in front of GEMs mothers. I hope that the bad things stop happening at two, because GEM doesn't need another loss.

I love you GEM, I miss you, and I would do anything to make this better if I could.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Today is a bad day

Today just isn't good. And if I even hear a single verse of that song that says "cause you had a bad day..." I will puke.

I got up early, with good intentions, and I am just not getting anything done. I went out, planning on seeing a movie, that was listed on the theaters website, and when I got there, it is no longer playing. So I went back home, feeling grumpy all over, low on cash, and slightly desparate. Not desparate enough to go trolling for a 'date' on Craigslist, but still...

I am beginning to think that this is not just situational depression, it may be worse. I told my previous doctor and therapist both that depression is like a road runner cartoon, and I am the coyote. I keep running around and then by the time I realize how bad things are, I am way between the cliffs, with a loooong drop below. I hate this, and I resent it and I am angry all over that I can't seem to get better, meds or not. And no, inpatient therapy is not an option. I tried that for a week once upon a time and all I got out of it was a large bill and the loss of my job.

There is more to the story about my family, for a much later date, but depression apparently was encoded in the family DNA about 16 generations ago or more. But we don't talk about It. I know from a cousin, that my grandmother tried to kill her pregnant self by stepping in front of a subway train, but some good samaritan saved her, thus allowing the spawning of my mother, the original Bad Seed. In my family, we don't wait for post partum depression. No, this is an area we excel in, so why wait? And better yet, why not just keep breeding more people with depression and not discuss it or treat it?

A little more on the fam - apparently my mother had hip surgery some time last week. She will be 70 this year, and has also had a heart attack and other health issues. I have not been in contact with her in 12 years. Thats not just me, mind you, she doesn't call or write to me either. I have not spoken to my father in 8 years. They are still married, but I could call my father at his work number and avoid her if needed. Anyway, I am hoping that the hip replacement went well. Not so much because I care about her health, safety, and or comfort, but if something serious happens (death, coma, stroke, etc.) I may be summoned, and I? Am just.not.ready. to deal with the family right now. Out of the three brothers and a sister that I have, I only keep in touch with my middle brother, and dealing with the rest of them en masse is more than I can deal with not only now, but possibly forever. And given mommie dearests health (and dads too - diabetes, prostate cancer), and their age - both will be 70 this year, it seems unlikely that we can continue down the miserable path of dysfunction very much longer.

So today is a bad day and I am angry about the following things, in no particular order:
1. That I am depressed.
2. Again.
3. That I spent the first 20 years of my life feeling like crap and not knowing why.
4. That even when I realized there was a name for this, knowledge didn't fix anything.
5. That I have spent the equivalent of a hefty down payment on a home over the past 12 years trying to medicate and therapize (is that a word?) myself to normal levels. Seriously, at times I spent $500 a month on antidepressant meds.
6. That there is so much more I am feeling and I can't deal with it enough to even keep typing. What I really want to do is go take a fucking nap, but if I go lay down, I won't sleep unless I take the sleeeping meds, and if I do that, I will probably sleep for 14 hours and then feel bad about it.
7. That I have lived here for over a whole year and haven't made a single friend here. I am horribly lonely, and that isn't helping things.
8. I think the MariaMobile needs some sort of brake work, and I can't afford it, but then again, you can't afford not to have brakes either. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

What's wrong with his mouth, and why is it brown?

I adore my friend GEM. He and I totally get each other and have the same wickedly warped sense of humor. GEM has 4 dogs. Wednesday, while we were talking on the phone, they came tearing inside his house. One of them, Buster, paused at the door, near GEM, then bolted inside, and scampered around the corner, clearly trying to avoid notice. Not so fast, little guy. GEM noticed and asked the now infamous question above. GEMs dogs are small, sleek, black and white terriers. Busters mouth was now fluffy and brown. Because it was full of squirrel. Still warm and twitchy, but dead, squirrel. Ew.

GEM has a small creek running through his little farm. He wanted to send the squirrel down the river so to speak. To his freaky neighbors house. A little back info on the neighbor.

1. They are some strange cult of some sort.
2. They have a large handmade billboard in their yard with some Bible quote on it.
3. They have 3 or 4 teen boy children, who are only allowed outside to do chores.
4. Said children are surprisingly normal considering they are homeschooled, and by that I mean they are taught limited ideas from the bible, by their HS dropout mom, and given liberal viewings of Little House On The Prairie.
5. 2 summers ago, one of their horses died, of mysterious causes. The horse was dragged out of the barn by the whole famile, and covered in sheeting. Then it sat for 4 days until they had it hauled away.

All in all, GEM doesn't really care for the neighbors, although the boys have helped him clear some pasture with him. I suggested that he make a small sign of a 3x5 card saying "Repent Sinners" tie it on the rodent, and fling it on the neighbors porch. It is a very good thing that the two of us can cackle together over evil ideas, and not actually do them, yes?

I have known GEM for 8 years now, and I am so happy to count him as a friend. His actual initials do spell out GEM, which is amusing to me, because he has more jewelry than he knows what to do with. His house is like a pirates treasure trove with jewelry boxes everywhere. He is very generous, and my collection of "real" jewelry has increased significantly since I met him. I am looking forward to buying him a special piece of jewelry for our 10 year anniversary of being best friends, but the man already owns more jewelry than King Tut. And people say women are hard to shop for.

GEM does not have a computer or know how to access the internet. I love being able to find an out of print book he has been combing thrift shops for, in a matter of seconds, on Amazon, and sending it to him. I feel like the Wizard of Oz. It seems amazing that I can find things, but really anyone could do it. I asked GEM why he didn't have a computer, because surely he would love it and become hooked on it. He replied that that is exactly the reason he has never done crack either.

Monday, July 7, 2008

I hate the DMV

Remember when you were a kid, in kindergarden, and you would willingly smile for the school photographer, and loved picture day? The school photogs in my school always used to call us all something, like Princess, or Strawberry Shortcake, or something else. We would all giggle and compare names we had been called.

Welp, then you grow up. You may or may not realize you do or do not photograph well. And you are not so quick to grin at anybody with a camera, least of all the DMV. Texas is the most primitive state for driving. In Pennsylvania, for instance, all of the testing and pictures are done on a computer. The BMV there was clean, and still slow, but efficiently slow, if you know what I mean. Then I moved to Indiana. Tests there are given on a xerox of a xerox of a xeroxed xerox. Little circles to fill in on a number two pencil, and graded by people with possibly an 8th grade education who enjoy lording their position over you. But at least the pictures are computerized, and you can look before it is finalized.

Not so in Texas.

Last week, I decided it was high time to transfer my license and car registration. I showered the night before and even slept with rollers in my hair so I could have a perfect glam look. I figure if I have to carry the license for 6 years, it may as well look as hott as possible. I got up the next morning and did a full makeup job, even putting the slightly sparkly white eye shadow in the corners of my eyes so they would look bright and cheerful in the picture. I wore a simple black low cut shirt and felt pretty good about the whole thing. Until I got to the DMV.

The wait time was not all that bad, considering. I got there, took a number, then saw a notice that they do not accept credit or debit cards. But they do accept checks and cash. And I had neither. On a quick aside, why would the DMV not take credit or debit cards? Wouldn't there be less risk of bounced checks and all that mess? Anyway, we left and drove to an ATM. When I got back, I still had just enough time to fill out the evil forms. When my number was called, the fevil (think about "fugly", and you get fevil) woman took my drivers license, social sec. card and birth certificate and whisked them away without explanation to have them checked by her supervisor. They apparently passed muster and she returned with them. Then she snottily explained that they would be ok, since the names matched. Well duh. I am not and have not ever been married. So the name on all three documents is exatly the same. Because this is a military oriented town, she had assumed that I had moved here to marry some GI, and had a maiden name issue. Had she checked them first, I would not have had to gothrough that moment of big brother panic.

Then she asked if I had a car to register. I said yes and she informed me, with no small amount of glee, that I would have to register my car first before getting my license. Primitive Texas Part Two. The DMV does not handle car registrations. That is in a separate building. Because thats logical and convenient. That wouldn't have been a problem, expect the whole reason I was going to get my license first was because I had no idea where I had put my cars title. So I went home and decided an afternoon at the lake would make me feel better. In the hunt for sunscreen (SPF 1000 for the lovely and pasty Glow White here) I found the title, on the shelf near the door so I wouldn't forget it...

I went to another branch of the tax assessors office, far away from the DMV with their evil employees and paid dearly to register my car. Keep in mind that I drive an ancient 18 year old Camry. Yeah, it's old. But, I have not had car payments in 10 years, it has slightly less than 130,000 miles, and oh yes, gets 30 miles to the gallon bitches. I love the MariaMobile. $172.30 to register my car. Plus inspection. $40 dollars alone was for the freaking sticker! Indiana does not require windshield stickers, only plate stickers, and annual registration there was less than $60. Considering this is the oil state, I expected my $40 sticker to come with an ounce of black gold, but no such luck. Some days I seriously hate the government.

So anyway, now that my car is registered, on Monday I am going to make another go at getting my license. I will re-do the hair, fab makeup and cleavage baring top. I will go to the DMV, wait in line, fill out paperwork, and get my picture taken. Then, I will get a piece of paper stating my license ison the way. 7-10 business days later, I will actually get the license. No picture ID inbetween, which means I will have to prepurchase the booze to erase the DMV memories. And I am betting that the DMV person deliberately trying to catch me with my eyes half closed will not call me an endearing name like Princess.

Thursday, July 3, 2008

And so I'm back. Without a trace.

I may be a little depressed. I think it is all situational, so I am just keeping an eye on things and not actively seeking to do anything about it. I am not oversleeping, as I am prone to do when really depressed, and I am keeping tabs on other thoughts and behaviors, and I think I can ride this out.

I keep thinking of things I could blog about, but I don't. So now I will. Totally random thoughts.

1. Is there anyone out there who is actually still buying premium gas? Seriously, regular is $4, who can afford the $4.50 and up stuff?

2. Why do the biggest most horrible spiders come into MY house? The worlds largest spider, and no I am not exaggerating, was killed in my kitchen mere hours ago. I am still creeped out. It was like a rogue extra from "Arachnophobia" had taken up residence here. I do have a bug phobia - diagnosed by a licensed professional - but I am not kidding when I tell you the fucker was 3 inches long. That was just the body. Good news, the spider was sprayed with (bad news) insect killer, and slithered to the floor. Then it got squooshed with a shoe. Not one of mine. Good news. The the shoe was placed on a chair. Bad news.

See the thing about phobias is, they are, by definition, not rational. I think it is perfectly rational for both the shoe and the chair that touched the shoe that touched the spider to be thrown out or Freecycled. Owner of the said shoe disagrees, and may have mumbled something about "ridiculous" while leaving the scene of the spidercide.

This is not the first or last time this is going to happen. A long time ago, when I lived in PA, there was a megalegger on the wall. Thats a centipede for those of you not in the know. I was very brave and smashed it with a cardboard box. I remember swinging at it, eyes closed, and yelping. So then the bug was dead, but the corpse remained on the wall. I had to ask a friend to come over to remove it. Friend arrived, cleaned bug bits off the wall with proffered paper towels, and placed the towels and bug bits into a trash bag. Friend then washed hands, per my frantic instructions, and then reached for the paper towels, picking the roll up by the center. I told him that he would now need to take the paper towels with him or throw them out, because his hands, that touched the paper towels that touched the dead megalegger, had now touched my roll of towels, and they were now tainted. I can see how this might seem extreme. I really can. But bugs and all things bug related horrify me. Remember those old screen savers, the ones where different bugs would crawl across the screen? Yeah. I couldn't handle those.

3. Why do little children instinctively kick my chairs? And why do their parents do nothing?

Number three is slightly less bad than number 2, and I will explain. Last February, I flew to Florida for a nice relaxing vacation. 1st flight, from Indy to Tennessee, I get seated in front of a 3 year old monster named Shayla, and her stupefying ineffective mother, name unknown. Every other word out of SI Moms mouth was Shayla. As in "Shayla, sit." "Shayla, let's be good now." "Shayla, look out the windows." "Shayla, do you want some juice?" Shayla Shayla Shayla. We hadn't even taken off yet and I knew this wasn't going to be good. Minutes into the flight and precious Shayla is kicking my chair. SI Mom noticed, and started with a litany of Shaylas. Included were requests for her to be good for mommy, remember how we promised to behave now, if you behave you get a toy.

OK, so I don't have children, but I know this much. If you have a child and you ask them a question, you are giving them the opportunity to disagree. So don't be surprised when they do. So when you ask your precious darling Shayla wouldn't she like to take a nap now, and she says no, it seems ridiculous to try and force the kid to sleep against her stated will.

Anyway, I told my seatmate that if the kid behind me kicked my seat again, I was going to tell her the truth about Santa Claus. Luckily Shaylas father overheard me, and maybe I purposely said it louder than necessary, but dad stepped in and gave the child something to occupy her rotten self for the rest of the flight.

So today, I went to see Hancock. Not going to spoil it for anyone, but I would save your money for a netflix rental of it when it comes out. Halfway through the movie, there is kicking and thumping on my chair. I let it go the first 10 minutes or so, which is breaking all bounds of my patience. Then I said that the brat behind me better quit kicking my chair. Kicking stops for 5 minutes, then is resumed. This is in a brand new theater, with big aisles, and plenty of room. Plus, it is a child behind me, so it isn't just a long legged individual fighting to get comfortable.

So I turned around and faced the little dick in training. I gave it the death stare and said "would you please stop kicking my chair" in a semi threatening voice. The evil seed looked at me sullenly, and full of resentment. The kid was seated with other children, no responsible adult in sight, the dick in training was maybe 8 or 9. The kicking was only occasional after that, but there was snorting and giggling involved. And then I did a bad thing.

After the movie let out, everyone rushed into the hallway. Damian (I am guessing at the name) was alone, near the wall. I walked by, on my way to the ladies room, and I brushed into him (the person I was with said I hip checked him. Whatever). I looked at him, made eye contact and offered a breezy "Sorry!" and kept on walking. And I got another vicious stare in return. Yeah, he was a child, but a rotten one, so I don't feel bad. And also? Where were the parents? They were seated in another section of the theater (same movie) and they were all together after I got out of the restroom. My first guess would be that the kid is so miserable that his own parents didn't even want to acknowledge him in public.

I fully realize that I clearly do not have the patience to raise a child(ren) of my own anytime soon. When a 32 year old gets into a virtual pissing war with a 8 year old, that doesn't bode well for either one. And I suppose any responsible, good parent reading this may be offended. But you know what? If this little future dicks parents had been doing a better job, or hey, maybe not letting the child sit unattended, none of this would have happened. And next time, I am sitting in the very last row at the movies.

I am a total fan of Liam Kyle Sullivan. And if you haven't seen the newest Kelly video "Booty Call", I suggest you head on over to YouTube and check it out, betch.