My Life in 12oz – B.Y.O.B.

“It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.”

I don’t like kids.

There, I said it.  And I mean it.  But I don’t say it to be mean. I was never that little girl who like babies or babysat for money.  I don’t come from a big, extended family either.

I’m a lot like my dog  – I’m just not used to kids.  To being around them – loud noises, harsh movements, stickiness, weird words, being chased by floppiness, hair pulling.

Ick.

I do try.  I have a couple of kids I’m comfortable around (and I mean that literally – maybe 2?) but even they I can’t be around for long periods of time.  The other children I’m forced to be around at family functions or a friend couldn’t find a babysitter etc, I’m civil around.  I talk to them, play with them, but I’m sure they can tell it’s forced – I’m not a good liar.  But in public situations, I’ll purposely make a wide berth around kids so that I’m not miserable.

Not everyone likes kids just like not everyone likes dogs.  And most certainly, not everyone loves your children just like you don’t like my dog.

I can’t wait to eat in one of those restaurants that ban children.  This sounds like *Heaven* to me.  Well, almost – I would love to bring my dog.  Just so you wouldn’t show up.

I’ve recently discovered that I have a fig tree.  This discovery comes upon living in this house for 3 months & I’m now convinced someone held a contest for a  re’tard to plan the landscaping.  For like, work experience or something.  Proof:

1. There are 42,000 more backyard sprinklers than they needed & we all know how much re’tards love water.  And this is AFTER they capped about 6 off already.
2. I have about 15 different types of trees in the back part.  It’s like some nursery donated them…and figured since it was a re’tard they wouldn’t notice they didn’t match?  I don’t know, but that in itself is certainly ‘special’.
3. This goes the same with vine & fern & bush…things.  I think that when they got a houseplant, they transplanted it back there.  But with reckless abandonment.  Classic re’tard actions.
4. I have 2 lemon trees and a nectarine.  What single family needs 2 lemon trees??  Lemon trees (for some reason, we had a lemon tree at our old house too) are easy to keep and produce a shitload of fruit.  There is NO reason to have two.  Random re’tard behavior.
5. Someone (read:the re’tard) thought it’d be a good idea to plant a fig tree in between glorious queen palms in the front yard (with other things that normally go with palm trees).  Fig trees look sorta like a maple tree, but in a more open-bush form.   This is the tree I discovered I had on Friday.  Previously, I thought it just a bush-tree that I wanted taken out.  Because – it’s not a palm-esthetic item!  Don’t you know palm trees look best without side-kicks??
6. I have 8 rose bushes (all different color) that are full & beautiful and bring me much joy.  I didn’t think that they would – they’re rather offensive looking things when they’re not bloomed.  But they were & are such easy keepers, it feels sacrilegious to murder them.  So, I shan’t.  We all also know that re’tards have one thing they’re brilliant at – this one’s must have been color.

Now.  Before anyone gets their ass-hairs tangled, let me remind you that we all have a little re’tard in us.  And mine, in this instance, is…wtf is a fig??  Why would someone plant one??  It’s not like most of us make our own fig newtons & shit, right??  I don’t even know how to eat a fucking fig newton!  I’m going to have to google that shit, fer reals, yo.

I did read that they don’t keep.  Apparently, at all.  I’d have to dice them up & freeze them or some crazy shit like that.  I’ll try one.  That’s what big girls do.  But I doubt I will like it.  That’s what pessimists do (bitch).  I’ll be sending them to work with Quicksilver, my mom, friends etc etc.

Why couldn’t it have been *any other* type of tree (at this point)?  Really, FIGS?

“My faith is whatever makes me feel good about being alive. If your religion doesn’t make you feel good to be alive, what the hell is the point of it?”
— Tom Robbins (Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates)

I’m bored.  It’s an easy thing for me to find myself wading in.  Sometimes, it’s a welcoming cool pool on a hot summer day and at others, a pit of quicksand pulling me under.  I don’t always know which one I am headed for until I’m already in it.

I have plenty of things to do – bathrooms need cleaning, patios need swept, furniture needs dusting, floors need sweeping, dog hairs need to be sucked up, I can go lay in the pool, read a book or text a friend.  But do you ever feel like doing…nothing?

And then if do actually do nothing, I end up feeling guilty because things could have been done – bathrooms, patios, furniture, the husband.  *sigh*

Today is one of those days.  My work is slow right now so I’m only going in for a few hours, and after a 45min drive home, the rest of the day is mine until Quicksilver comes home around 2:00.  Most women would be smart about their time and clean etc.  I hate cleaning.  *Humpf*

Today, I want to be a palm tree.  With my roots planted firmly in the warm sand, my willowy fronds blowing in the relaxing wind – my whole body sizzling in the sun with nothing to do but grow. (I’d hope that someone would leave me a cold beer at my trunk to enjoy too.)

Middle age is when your age starts to show around your middle.  ~Bob Hope

I have a brother who is a year younger than me.  When we were little and had to share a room, we’d play “Would You Rather” until we fell asleep…or had the other dry heaving & unable to answer.  You know, the game where “Would you rather lick a donkey’s dick or a cat’s asshole?”  <~~~That was a mild one.  We’d tune into Ruth Westheimer on the radio and listen to problem after problem and her answer after answer.  When a caller had a lame issue, we’d play our game.

I had a great childhood growing up, a great family.  My father was a tongue-in-cheek witty dad who always had us in stitches or gagging.  My mom was the one rolling her eyes at him & saying “Oh Jiiimmmm…” when she heard his words.  He constantly started food fights at the dinner table, put dead grasshoppers in my stew & had all his construction friends over cussing and talking shit about women.  I think by the time I was in junior high, I was pretty much unoffendable.

It was a great way to grow up, great foundation as an adult & being a woman.  My head is screwed on straight – no one is going to take advantage of me.   But I digress -

My brother and I have kicked around some adult children’s stories/poems.  They form easily, what with our background, and we toss them back & forth to amuse each other.  He’s just recently thought about taking them more seriously.  Just for the fuck of it (not going to make millions off of them, you know?).  I thought I’d share some here & there in this blog, so here’s one:

Poem For Your Mother

Your mother is the one that loves you
The one that says she cares.
Your mother is the one that hugs you
And swipes away your whisping hairs.

Your mother is the one that tucks you in at night
The one who soothes your darkened room fears.
Your mother is the one that smiles
And kisses away your tears.

Your mother is the one that tickles you
The one that plays those fun games.
Your mother is the one that makes it alright
And fixes all your pains.

Your mother is the one that smiles at me,
The one with who pours us a drink.
Your mother is the one that wears undergarments of lace
And the most wonderful shade of pink.

Your mother is the one that gives me that look
The one that is in control.
Your mother is the one that does what she has to
And gets herself to her goal.

Your mother is the one that is worth every penny
The one that comes highly recommended.
Your mother is the one that all the men want
And I’m sad to see our time has ended.

Your mother is the one that tidies herself up
The one who is willing and able.
Your mother is the one that puts on her heels
And takes the money off the table.

Your mother is the one that walks across my room
The one that opens the front door.
Your mother is the one that tickles my fancies
And is my all-time favorite whore.

~~copyright 2011 Twisted Bird House/Westcoast Weirdo

Original Post: Aug 13, 2010

Head pounding…maybe it’s my brain bashing on the inside of my skull trying to let someone (me, of course) know it wants out.  Like a wrongly accused asylum patient trapped in a room with no window.  Except, my brain does have windows.  If it were only smart enough to look through my eyes, it could see the whole world.  And make it its own. ~Me on a really bad day years ago

I am in a mood.  In a funk.  I’ve lost myself and am tired of leading the search party.  I want to give up, accept the situation as it is.  But that’s considered unhealthy.  We always have to strive to be a better self!  With that b.s. in mind, I asked my self about this belief and here is how the conversation went:

Me: Hello, Self.  How are you today?

Self: Fuck off.

Me: Niiiice.  Umm.  I’m going to ask you a few questions about being better.

Self: Fuck off.  What’s so great about being better?

Me: Exactly!  Right?  Why can’t we just be who we are?  What’s so bad about that?  Why do we have to feel bad about being content with ourselves?

Self: Fuck off.  Leave me alone.  Shouldn’t be too hard for you.

Me: What?  WTF, MFer?  What’s that supposed to mean?

Self: Fuck off!  You idiotic Pringle-Not-the-Original-Kind-Cuz-Those-Are-Good-But-the-Nasty-Pizza-Flavored-Ones.  You leave me alone, I leave you alone.  It’s how it works.  You gotta put in the time if you don’t want me to do the crime.

Me:  Uhhh, I don’t think that’s how it goes, but whatever.  Are you saying that if I ignore my self, then my self ignores me?  Why do I have to do all the work in this relationship??!!  You fuck off!!

Self: Fuck off.

And then my self left.  Fizzled away in the cloud colored, airy fingers of a smoker’s cough.  *SIGH*  I do understand what it said, but I’m not ready to put the effort in to remedy my situation.  I want my self to suffer a little more, I think.

Original Post: Oct 27, 2010

“You must pick your nose and eat your boogers because you have a snotty attitude!” – said a little girl sitting in McDonald’s to her older brother.

Now, I’m all for hot Vampires and Werewolves, hello. But there are people out in our world who seriously think they are one. I watched this documentary and…wtf? W.T.F.

Ok. My first fucking problem with these delusional people is an obvious one. Actually several:

• Were you born with those fangs or did you pay a dentist to shape them?
• Were you born with those freaky eyes or did you buy some contacts?
• Do your nails grow naturally pointy or did you file them?
• Shall I even touch basis on the ability to do all of the Vampire super-human things??

Are you fucking for real??!!! You should have heard these interviews. *rolls eyes* It’s one thing to be a fan & live that way, I get that. But to truly believe you ARE one? I have one last question: What the fuck happened in your life?!

Moving on…a Happy Meal is the perfect sized meal. Think about it – you can’t overeat and you’re not hungry anymore. And a cheeseburger Happy Meal only comes to $3.25!! I can pay for it with nickels & dimes found in my car

I can NOT stand that show Swamp People. I don’t like the whole hunting for profit thing & I find it very sad that they trap these alligators and then shoot them in the head. Just once I want to see the alligator chomp off an arm or something. I don’t even like it when Mr. Husband goes shark or squid fishing. I think it’s mean, mean, mean. But what I really can’t stand on that show is how they talk!   I need a fucking interpreter sitting next to me!  Pronunciate your words!!!

I bet I could understand them better if I was drunk.  I’ll have to try that next time.

Original Post: Oct 17, 2010

Original Post: Sept 19, 2010

You’re unhappy because you believe in such a thing as happy.

I’m annoyed by women today.  Irked.

Obviously, I know why, but you shall not because that’s what happens sometimes when you have a public blog.

Jealously is like that unwanted neighborhood cat who comes up to your porch hoping you’ll throw it some food.  The more you feed it, the more it comes around.  The friendlier it gets.  You pet it & stroke it.  You start looking forward to hearing its familiar purr.  Pretty soon you start letting it inside.  And all of a sudden you have a pet.  And you shall call it Fred.

I don’t like to be jealous.  I don’t know why I compare myself / my situation to other women’s.  And truth be told, I don’t know if I could do it.  My self-worth greatly hinges on my independence.  That I don’t need a man (or anyone) to survive.  I want one, but fuck that needing shit.

If I won the lotto, I’d take a vacation and then donate my time somewhere.  I need to feel responsible for something more than just me.  Maybe that stems from being bratless. Most women have nose-pickers to fill that bag, I suppose.

I also feel the need to nap.  That’s what I get for staying up until 2am like I was 24 again.  I can still drink the same, but as you age, sleep definitely is a required factor.  You can fool your mind, but not your body.

I’m going to CO this upcoming weekend.  For my best friend’s coming out of the hoo-hoo day.  Spending it in a LoDo hotel and going to Coyote Ugly.  Leaving Friday afternoon & coming home Sunday night.  It’s always a whirlwind trip because I can’t take off time from work.

Original Post: Sept 11, 2010

“There are three mental states that interest me, ” said Amanda, turning the lizard doorknob.  “These are one, amnesia; two, euphoria; three, ecstasy.”

She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small green bottle of water-lilly pollen. “Amnesia is not knowing who one is and desperately trying to find out.  Euphoria is not knowing who one is and not caring.  Ecstasy is knowing exactly who one is and still not caring.”

~Tim Robbins “Another Roadside Attraction”

I know what day it is. And it annoys me when people get caught up in the Why and the How and the Who. It doesn’t fucking matter, really, in the end. The FACT of the matter is that thousands of people died and several more thousands lost their lives…as they knew it.

But I’m not going down the same road as most everyone else today. I’m making my turn down off the road at a corner I saw a blade of grass wave itself over at me. And when you actually see a blade of grass motion for you, well, you gotta follow instructions. I mean, how many times do you see that?

So. Here I am by myself, the blade of grass long gone where I left it behind.

The Topic I see etched on the Tree is Infidelity.  I’m not going to go into the logistics of why the topic came up.  It has nothing to do with me personally but rather a person who I think is being a fucking idiot.  Let’s just say that I think when you enter an affair, you are acknowledging, realizing & accepting that you can get caught.  That it’s more than just a possibility, but rather more of a 50-50 chance.  And once YOU accept THAT, it’s as solid as a contract that you are WILLING to get caught over it.

Why would you still do it if you didn’t think the trade-off would be worth it?  Sometimes I feel like killing someone, but the thought of going to jail and becoming a tuna sandwich scares the shit out of me. So I control myself.  But if you are willing to do the time, then I don’t see why you wouldn’t do the crime.

There are LOTS of reasons why people cheat.  I don’t care.  I’m not looking for justifications.  I don’t care if people cheat – it has nothing to do with me and mine.  I won’t judge you, don’t judge people I know who are cheating as long as they acknowledge their own.  It’s the stupid fucking idiots that drive me nuts and got me vent out it.  This stupid girl.  I hope she does get caught – she’s that type of snatch.  Along the same lines of that stupid twat who keeps believing her older, married boyfriend will leave his wife.

Who believes that shit??  Why don’t people have self-confidence, self-worth & pride anymore?  Why do people let other people have power over them?  (Insert any type of power you’d like that seems fitting)

And I don’t believe for one second, that it has anything to do with someone being weak or strong.

But whatever, I need to go back to thank that blade of grass.  Proper manners and all, you know.

Original Post: Aug 20, 2010

“We are bits of stellar matter that got cold by accident, bits of star gone wrong” ~Sir Arthur Eddington