One thing I have realized of late, is that quantity is not better than quantity. Looking back, I probably should have realized that soon after losing my virginity; but that is yet another blog...another time. Today, I am referring to my number of friends.
I have never had a lot of friends-ever. Even as a young child, my mother would receive phone calls from my teachers telling her that I was basically, socially backwards. By kindergarten, a child usually picks out a buddy and pairs off. Not me. No, my problems with commitment apparently started at the tender age of 5. Although, seriously, I was not "socially backwards," as those stupid bitches would say; I prefer to think that I was "socially advanced." I was smart enough to know that some where a long the lines some little bitch was going not share her new Barbie with me or give me the white baby-doll and I would need to trade-in and trade-up to a friend who had something better to offer, like bubble gum. I lived through my teens and into my 20s that way-skipping from friend to friend, click to click without any desire to be one of their "card-carrying," members.
Getting to the point, I have finally settled down and can count my friends on one hand. The ones that I can truly count on and some of you actually read my blog! I feel confident that if you went to kindergarten with me that you would have said how cool it was that my mom fucked up and got me a Smurf costume instead of Smurphette. You would have shared the white baby-doll and given me a piece of gum; and for you few, I am truly thankful.
FYI...if you feel that you are not one of the few, I will be posting an application for membership. I have one spot available, but I pretty much just need a DD.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
So, I was on my commute to the office to what, now, has become nothing short of a mini-Detroit, and suddenly something from the past that my mind suppressed comes to me. It was prompted by seeing the same sign that I had seen that day of the traumatic incident. I recall wanting to blog about it right away, but it was too painful. It made me feel dirty and it was all the I could do to keep from passing out or getting ill.
It is one of those things that you hear about, but think, "that will never happen to me." Well, it happend. My sixth sense told me to not go in, but the gift bags are so ridiculously cheap that I could not resist--looking back, I should have never walked into the Dollar Tree. What I would see next, would rival www.peopleofwalmart.com.
The creatures were all shapes, colors and sizes, but mostly came in extra-large, black, and size-two of them could not walk side by side down the aisle side by side. They were mainly dressed in very tight t-shirts--although in their defense...a sheet would have been tight, so this was probably more appropriate for the Dollar Tree Department/Grocery/Card Shop/plus whatever the hell else you can think of under a dollar-Store. It was not just their appearance...they spoke a different language. One of the creatures yelled at their offspring, "taneesha-use getta yoazz hair nah!" WTF? I was scared. I was in a land where I proved to be an outsider.
I hurried to the check-out, after picking up my gift bags, only to find that the line was all the way down one aisle 1/2 way to the back of the store. I could tell the creatures were angry, I heard one of them say, "diz-ez-da-waz-deez-crackerz-do." I could make out "crackers," but I could only guess why he was angry...maybe they ran out of crackers, or something like that. Minutes later, a group of white creatures appeared. Their speech was broken, but I was able to understand them. Originally from KY, I had seen similar creatures at my family reunion. The mother creature lit up a cig--the line was long and her need for carbon-monoxide was very strong. Actually, had she not been smoking Marlboro Reds, I probably would have tried to bum one to deal with her obnoxious offsprings, Dale and Bobby Jean. I felt faint. I blacked out and woke up in my car with no gift bags.
I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders by finally writing about this. I could not leave Madeira for 2 months and was forced to shop at their overly, we are screwing you on gift bag, prices. Dealing with Culture Shock Disorder is very real and painful mental disease. Please, if you or you suspect a friend are suffering get help immediately-remember that you are not alone.
It is one of those things that you hear about, but think, "that will never happen to me." Well, it happend. My sixth sense told me to not go in, but the gift bags are so ridiculously cheap that I could not resist--looking back, I should have never walked into the Dollar Tree. What I would see next, would rival www.peopleofwalmart.com.
The creatures were all shapes, colors and sizes, but mostly came in extra-large, black, and size-two of them could not walk side by side down the aisle side by side. They were mainly dressed in very tight t-shirts--although in their defense...a sheet would have been tight, so this was probably more appropriate for the Dollar Tree Department/Grocery/Card Shop/plus whatever the hell else you can think of under a dollar-Store. It was not just their appearance...they spoke a different language. One of the creatures yelled at their offspring, "taneesha-use getta yoazz hair nah!" WTF? I was scared. I was in a land where I proved to be an outsider.
I hurried to the check-out, after picking up my gift bags, only to find that the line was all the way down one aisle 1/2 way to the back of the store. I could tell the creatures were angry, I heard one of them say, "diz-ez-da-waz-deez-crackerz-do." I could make out "crackers," but I could only guess why he was angry...maybe they ran out of crackers, or something like that. Minutes later, a group of white creatures appeared. Their speech was broken, but I was able to understand them. Originally from KY, I had seen similar creatures at my family reunion. The mother creature lit up a cig--the line was long and her need for carbon-monoxide was very strong. Actually, had she not been smoking Marlboro Reds, I probably would have tried to bum one to deal with her obnoxious offsprings, Dale and Bobby Jean. I felt faint. I blacked out and woke up in my car with no gift bags.
I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders by finally writing about this. I could not leave Madeira for 2 months and was forced to shop at their overly, we are screwing you on gift bag, prices. Dealing with Culture Shock Disorder is very real and painful mental disease. Please, if you or you suspect a friend are suffering get help immediately-remember that you are not alone.
Friday, October 1, 2010
If things had been different...
You know, one of the things that first popped in my mind this morning when I walked around the corner of the building is not that fact that some random small statured-tiny dancer, does not like me; but the fact that my friend, Bear did not stick up for me. Did not stop and say, "Excuse me, are you referencing me?." After the men responded, "No, the girl walking towards us." That was her chance. She would blow another, later-chance, that is. It could have played out so differently!
I walked around the corner this morning to see my friend, Bear. She walked by two men, who work on the 11th floor in between the time they spend smoking a pack of cigarettes, everyday. I saw her glance back at that men, she is quite the attention whore. Suddenly, she begins to spin around, she leaped in the air and with a jump-kick, she takes both men down at the knees. I run to help her, not knowing what has transpired. We run to another and embrace, "Heather, I say, are you ok?"
"Hazel," she says, "those men that I just passed. They said they don't like you!" My eyes began to weld up with tears, I have never had an enemy. I think the feeling was similar to what Bear feels when she remembers how pathetic she was to lose her virginity to one of those freaks that were in the band in jr. high. The ones that play dungeons and dragons; but the tears, the tears were because I knew, that my friend, she stuck up for me.
If this is how it had played out, I could say, "yeah, that's my friend and she will kick your ass."
I walked around the corner this morning to see my friend, Bear. She walked by two men, who work on the 11th floor in between the time they spend smoking a pack of cigarettes, everyday. I saw her glance back at that men, she is quite the attention whore. Suddenly, she begins to spin around, she leaped in the air and with a jump-kick, she takes both men down at the knees. I run to help her, not knowing what has transpired. We run to another and embrace, "Heather, I say, are you ok?"
"Hazel," she says, "those men that I just passed. They said they don't like you!" My eyes began to weld up with tears, I have never had an enemy. I think the feeling was similar to what Bear feels when she remembers how pathetic she was to lose her virginity to one of those freaks that were in the band in jr. high. The ones that play dungeons and dragons; but the tears, the tears were because I knew, that my friend, she stuck up for me.
If this is how it had played out, I could say, "yeah, that's my friend and she will kick your ass."
Thursday, September 30, 2010
How are you? Part 2
I did not actually forget to walk when I came around the corner, this morning. There was no warning for what would happen next. I keep replaying it in my head. As I turned the corner I saw Bear coming my direction still a bit away. I gave her my signature beauty-pageant wave and she waved back, clumisly and over-excited, like a somewhat mentally challenged girl watching Sesame Street. It was one of those moments that you feel both the embarrassment for knowing the gimp, but then the glory of being the person who is nice to the gimp. Anyway, what happend next literally came out of the darkest of thunder clouds. Bear, looked at me with her eyes crossed, as usual; I try not to not make it an awkward moment for both of us and look at her forward and then it came...
"Wow, you have some enemies!" I was like WTF?!?!? She must be kidding. She is clearly jealous...let it go; but after I asked her 37th time, I realized that she was not lying, nor could she have drummed this up in that small area of her brain that is still funtioning at full capacity. She continued to tell me that the taller man, who I know works on the 11th floor (and he is NOT my friend), said to a man of small stature, "Here comes the girl you don't like!" Bear turned around, because she hears this a lot; she is not very popular. This is what validates her experience, because Bear did turn and look at the men after waving to me and the men were looking right at me.
I have to admit to being puzzled. How could someone NOT like me when they have not spoken to me?!? It is like someone NOT liking me after they talk to me-it just does not happen. Later in the afternoon, Bear and I board the elevator and who should appear?! The man who gave the heads up to the little bastard that does not like me. It was obvious to him that Bear ratted him out, she glanced at him and looked back at me. I looked at him and said "How are you...."
"Wow, you have some enemies!" I was like WTF?!?!? She must be kidding. She is clearly jealous...let it go; but after I asked her 37th time, I realized that she was not lying, nor could she have drummed this up in that small area of her brain that is still funtioning at full capacity. She continued to tell me that the taller man, who I know works on the 11th floor (and he is NOT my friend), said to a man of small stature, "Here comes the girl you don't like!" Bear turned around, because she hears this a lot; she is not very popular. This is what validates her experience, because Bear did turn and look at the men after waving to me and the men were looking right at me.
I have to admit to being puzzled. How could someone NOT like me when they have not spoken to me?!? It is like someone NOT liking me after they talk to me-it just does not happen. Later in the afternoon, Bear and I board the elevator and who should appear?! The man who gave the heads up to the little bastard that does not like me. It was obvious to him that Bear ratted him out, she glanced at him and looked back at me. I looked at him and said "How are you...."
Monday, September 27, 2010
"How are you?"
So, Saturday I have to stop by Walgreen's with Mad-girl to buy an over-priced Crayola Glow Board for her friend's b-day party. At the check out, I ask the clerk how she was. She literally responded, "Terrible." I was taken aback and said "Okkkk...uh, so dealing with the public may not be your best option." It is her job to make me feel delighted to be at Walgreen's, not awkward. Apparently, she is not intelligent enough to know that being greeted by a stranger with "How are you?" demands a "I'm well, thank you; how are you?" I was offended, because she did not even return the greeting and if she had I would not have said, "Well, I was hungover most of Saturday, because I got blasted on Friday night and now I am f-ing pissed off that Collin is working and that I have to attend an insanely loud and crazy birthday party with over 20 five and six year-olds, that I had only RSVP'd to because I knew that I could send Collin. I have a shit-ton of laundry to do and my cat, just got ran over on Friday and is being stored in the freezer at Madeira Veterinarian for about $35 a day thanks to my sweet, animal-loving neighbor who could not bear to see my already dead cat sit in the heat until I got home. Other, than that, I am ok."
I have a lot of experience in food service and retail. My initial career in the hospitality industry began in my teens. I am going to guess that out of over 100 resumes, that McDonald's was most impressed with mine. Oh, and strangely enough, my chemistry teacher's wife was the office manager! We would grow to become great horse buddies, and then I would date him, eventually; but that is a whole other post, in itself. Anyway, through dealing with the public, I would grow into a compassionate, caring, and polite person. Even on the worst days, I would have never responded to "How are you?" with "Terrible."
I have a lot of experience in food service and retail. My initial career in the hospitality industry began in my teens. I am going to guess that out of over 100 resumes, that McDonald's was most impressed with mine. Oh, and strangely enough, my chemistry teacher's wife was the office manager! We would grow to become great horse buddies, and then I would date him, eventually; but that is a whole other post, in itself. Anyway, through dealing with the public, I would grow into a compassionate, caring, and polite person. Even on the worst days, I would have never responded to "How are you?" with "Terrible."
Friday, September 24, 2010
Blink...not the crappy band.
Something is amiss today. Every morning that I turn the corner on the block of the building and forget how to walk; I know I am in store for something. Two weeks ago, I forgot how to walk and later that day, I fell and suffered mass trauma to my ass.
The above was written right before noon. At 12:46pm I saw on caller ID a missed call from my neighbor at 12:06pm. I called her knowing that it was not good. Our cat, George W, was killed and was left lying in the middle of the road. The neighborhood kids found him. My sweet neighbor picked him up and took him to our vet.
I think that we all have a 6th sense, if we really pay attention to detail, that is. In a blink of an eye, your brain takes in so much information, it is insane. That gut feeling...it is really in the brain. I can size up any new employee in a heartbeat or anyone for that matter. I can pick up their personality after a couple conversations in spite of what is on the outside. Take my friend Heather, I knew that she was a bitch from the get go. She practically had it wrapped around her like a sash in a pageant and when she mentioned that she had been in the Army, I pretty much knew that she was a bad-ass and would throw away one of my gloves after a small spat.
Thankfully, I do not have to turn the corner on the block, tomorrow. Happy Friday.
The above was written right before noon. At 12:46pm I saw on caller ID a missed call from my neighbor at 12:06pm. I called her knowing that it was not good. Our cat, George W, was killed and was left lying in the middle of the road. The neighborhood kids found him. My sweet neighbor picked him up and took him to our vet.
I think that we all have a 6th sense, if we really pay attention to detail, that is. In a blink of an eye, your brain takes in so much information, it is insane. That gut feeling...it is really in the brain. I can size up any new employee in a heartbeat or anyone for that matter. I can pick up their personality after a couple conversations in spite of what is on the outside. Take my friend Heather, I knew that she was a bitch from the get go. She practically had it wrapped around her like a sash in a pageant and when she mentioned that she had been in the Army, I pretty much knew that she was a bad-ass and would throw away one of my gloves after a small spat.
Thankfully, I do not have to turn the corner on the block, tomorrow. Happy Friday.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Cadillac Escalade-Chevolet-whatever Ranch
So, over the weekend I had the misfortune of visiting a place called Cadillac Ranch. I work downtown...rarely is an additional commute welcomed, this was one. I thought of at least 5 reasons why I needed to cancel on said "friend." FFS, though, if I get sick for the 10th time in 2 weeks, suspicions may fly that I am lying. Which, by the way, technically, I am not. I am certifiably mentally ill-I have an out no matter what, but I hate to pull the trump card unless entirely necessary.
Cincinnati is interesting. Voted in one survey as one of the "Best Cities for Singles," it has also won one of the top 10 spots in the superlative, "Most Depressing." Puzzled before by the articles that I read, Cadillac Ranch has made it all too clear. Disturbingly clear. I saw the many socially-challenged singles mingle, the mommas, the babies' daddies, their five or so spawns, and the trashed "you can so bang me at 2am," chics riding a mechanical bull. They fulfilled the best of the single life and I, the depression. I searched desperately for any type of normalcy. I requested a wine list. The bartender offered me "we have white and we have red."
Cadillac-f*&k-me-running-Ranch has qualified me as one of the many in the "depressive" superlative.
Thank you, Cadillac Ranch! I have never been voted cool in anything: I feel so awesome!!!
Cincinnati is interesting. Voted in one survey as one of the "Best Cities for Singles," it has also won one of the top 10 spots in the superlative, "Most Depressing." Puzzled before by the articles that I read, Cadillac Ranch has made it all too clear. Disturbingly clear. I saw the many socially-challenged singles mingle, the mommas, the babies' daddies, their five or so spawns, and the trashed "you can so bang me at 2am," chics riding a mechanical bull. They fulfilled the best of the single life and I, the depression. I searched desperately for any type of normalcy. I requested a wine list. The bartender offered me "we have white and we have red."
Cadillac-f*&k-me-running-Ranch has qualified me as one of the many in the "depressive" superlative.
Thank you, Cadillac Ranch! I have never been voted cool in anything: I feel so awesome!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)