I Hate Your Stupid Face

The mood:

It appears that I am having “one of those days.” One of those days that make me want to spit in the face of people that I deem useless. Do I logically understand that this feeling is tied to exhaustion and hormones? Yes. Do I care? No.

It all starts with me feeling like I have no time. When am I supposed to clean the house, do the laundry, cook, raise the children, write, and go to school when all I do is work? The house is getting social services bad and it smells funny, kind of like dog, fried chicken, dirt, and pee. Why can’t I have hairless animals who wear Swiffers on their paws? And why can’t they smell of Gain or cotton candy? Would that be too much to ask? “Yes,” you say? Well, I hate your stupid face for thinking that.

Another slight issue I am having is that I am stoned out of my mind. Not on any illegal narcotics, but on a sleep aide. I am Benadryl stoned. My head feels like it is tethered to my body by a string. That string feels like it is being held by a sticky-handed toddler who is clapping at the unicycles at a July 4th parade. I am trying to hold it together, but I am so out of it that at any second a penguin may walk up to me and offer me a Snickers bar.

I don’t even like Snickers bars, you stupid penguin!

Also, this penguin will be wearing a baseball hat. I do not know why. I just accept it to be true. I hate its stupid face.

The response to the mood:

Today is the kind of day that I need people to act their age. I need people to act like fucking grown-ups. It isn’t hard; I do it almost every day. I bitch about it, but I do it. The world is not there to cater to you. It doesn’t hold you against its bosom and tell you everything is fine. No, sadly the world just slaps us around and makes us feel worse. It is our responsibility to accept this and then rally to fix it. It is all we can do. We take a hit and then we get back up, again and again. Grown-ups accept this and move on.

Do what needs to be done and then move on.

I write this in the midst of some existential temper tantrum. My inner four-year-old has her fist clenched by her side and she is stomping her right foot. She isn’t getting her way and it has made her unpleasant. We all have an inner four-year-old that is id and rage, slamming doors and screaming in the recesses of our mind. I have to remind mine to stay quiet. I banish her to the dark places to hide out with the accountant that sometimes follows me, repeating those dreaded numbers: 17, 19, 25, 29, 36. I am an adult, and sometimes against everything I feel, I have to continue to act like one. I wish that other people would act the same way.

So, I leave this short blog on this note. Grow the fuck up and be nicer. I’ll try, and so should you.

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Vegas Baby

The streets will be crowded with people: tourists taking picture with their cell phones, women teetering in heels that are much too high, Hispanic men will stand on sidewalks flicking their porn cards to get our attention. It will smell of heat, body odor, decay, and desperation. I am going to Las Vegas and I couldn’t be more excited. Carvell and I are going on a kid less vacation with a few friends and I expect the trip to be nothing less than a hybrid  The Hangover and Very Bad Things. If a body does not get buried in the desert than the whole trip will be in vain.

I am ready to go. I started with my list making about a month ago.

Clothes:

Bottoms                                   Tops

Green chevron                         Madonna t-shirt

White chevron                         green t-shirt

Orange skirt                             blue t-shirt

I have planned my debauchery just as I planned my wardrobe.

Things I think I will drink:

Margarita

Amaretto sour

Daiquiri

Things that should happen in Vegas:

Tattoos

Gambling

I want to see a hooker (not sleep with just see)

Need to see those dancing fountains

Pretend that I am in Oceans 11 (only in my mind)

Decide if I am playing Brad Pitt or George Clooney

I need this trip to be fun. I need to laugh and feel carefree. Sometimes everything feels very heavy, and when that plane takes off I want to leave behind my feelings of melancholy in the contrails. In those trails will be the people who yell at me on the phone, the endless cases that I can’t work fast enough, and the classes I no longer give a damn about. In the contrails will be my lingering depression and desperation.

In Vegas we will laugh.

Three teachers, a musician, a scientist, a medical professional, and an enforcement worker will laugh at each other until we almost can’t take it.

This will be healing. This will be good.

Frustrated: A List

 Here is a list of things that currently frustrate me.

  1. The timing that some people have is questionable at best.
  2. Rape – the world is too damn rapey
  3. My house will never be clean again.
  4. I need at least three clones of myself, and science has not caught up with my needs.
  5. Laundry
  6. I don’t like the show Girls and I feel like I should
  7. Work
  8. An article I read where wealthy people are hiring disabled people to get through lines quicker at Disney World.
  9. OJ Simpson
  10. That giant rubber duck in Hong Kong.