Hold on, Let me Check my Facebook (Real Quick)

Ahhhhhh, yeeeessss....

It's the ass-crack of dawn, and you barely have your sleepy eyes open wide enough to locate your partner and whisper, good morning, but some how you do manage to muster up just enough strength to slowly roll over, grab your smart phone, slide the screen to unlock it, and immediately check your Facebook page. After all, you have to see if anyone has responded to your witty posts and comments from the night previous, right?

You finally manage to get your groggy butt up out of bed, pull on some clothes, and head to work. Throughout your work day, you're forced to read and respond to no less than 13,467 emails. You Tweet (or according to Kathy Griffin, 'Twat') a few mildly amusing quips or news stories on Twitter. You pin a funny BluntCard or two on Pinterest along with a few new and ingenious recipes. After you go home for the evening (if you're into writing like me), you might post a blog if you're feeling particularly saucy that night. And before heading to bed for the night, check your Facebook again. Does this sound familiar? If so, you're not alone.

When it comes to social networking, Facebook is the cat's pajamas. Facebook is a lot like Wal-mart. You really don't want to go, but every so often you just have to; if not for the merchandise then for the entertainment value alone. My mother whole-heartedly believes that Facebook is an evil ploy aided by our government to get naive people (such as myself and the rest of the world) to give out personal information with little or no effort on their part. And who knows, she could be right. People put everything about themselves on Facebook without so much as batting an eyelash.

I bet your ass that some of your so-called "friends" make posts on Facebook that absolutely hit a nerve, don't they? I have a few friends that I genuinely contemplate de-friending on a regular basis because of the dumb shit that they continue to post. And don't get me started on how often these people are posting stuff! There's usually an update, picture, check-in, and/or game played every 33-36 seconds. Oh, I see that you just checked in at the Gyno! Good for you! Good luck on your pap-smear! Hope everything turns out all right!

Facebook is also notorious for enabling inappropriate, stalk-like behavior by just about everyone. Want to see what your boyfriend from high school is up to? Check him out on Facebook. Feel the need to get in touch with an old fling from that crazy weekend get-away seven years ago? Look him up on Facebook. Is it killing you to see what your new boyfriends ex-girlfriend looks like? Well by all means, please go and see what she looks like on Facebook. Chances are, she'll have 150 back-to-back pictures of herself in the bathroom, posing full out duck face.

I'm not on Facebook now as much as I was, say a year or two ago. Anymore, I'm just on there to "check-in" at various places, and I can do that on Foursquare. I've deactivated my Facebook account multiple times because there are days that I just get tired of the egotistical horse manure that people put out there (maybe I'm just a bitch?). But after about a week or two of proudly living Facebook-free, I log back in and come back for more. I'm currently trying to get enough courage to deactivate it for good. Maybe if they made those fun little tokens like they do for people in AA - then maybe then it would encourage me to keep off and stay off. And just think of all of the extra time that I would have to do other things - like check my email!!

The Stench of Humanity

I have to wonder what the mental capacity must be with the world’s countless inhabitants. I’ve found that I either "see" people as either wildly amusing or jaw-droppingly dreadful. And before I go any further with this, I would like to clarify that I'm not talking about the people who have an occasional tongue slip and say something stupid (GOD knows that have I crammed my foot in my mouth A LOT), or even those irritating, highly opinionated people, because I'm irritating and highly opinionated. Actually, I admire the people who have a no-bullshit stance on life.

 

Like these people, if you want my honest opinion on a topic, I'll to give it to you, straight up. Call it a curse or call it a positive and/or redeeming quality, but it's the one quality that I’m actually proud to have: a no-bullshit persona. But now I'm getting off-topic. 

 

What I’m attempting to describe is so more that that. Unfortunately, there are people that, while the words are billowing from their mouths, I totally pull an Ally McBeal and begin to day-dream...I can't help but look at these poor people and think, how on earth have you managed to make it this far in life without either hurting yourself or getting your ass kicked, or both? Then the awe-factor sets in. People can be such buffoons! I must just have an extremely low tolerance for such a ridiculous level of douchebagery, which is why I could never be a lawyer.

There are various strains of idiot that have recently floated to the societal surface that I would like to tackle, head on. The first type is that the archetypal, haughty, self-promoting, pain in the ass, prima donna with an incredible ability to place him/her herself on the highest pedestal possible. For the purpose of this blog, I shall call this ridiculous individual, Perfect Polly. You've never heard Polly so much as whisper anything derogatory about herself. Come to think of it, you’ve probably never heard Polly tell a joke about herself. That teensy, tiny little joke might somehow paint her in a negative light and bruise her ginormous ego. Polly never can and never will do anything less than awesome – ever, because Polly is remarkable at everything in every possible way. We get it, Polly, you totes rock. 

As Polly is droning on and on AND ON about all of the wonderful things she has done with this and with that, I imagine myself leaning over and punching her right in her throat; but as soon as the image pops into my head, I realize what's REALLY going on here. Polly only acts this way because she lacks the self-esteem that she so desperately wants everyone to think she really has. So I pull my imaginary arm back, and settle down.

 

Now let's go on to the second type, which you might not spot quite as often as type number one, but unfortunately still very much exists in the world: Debbie Downer. Debbie is a rather usual breed of miserable pessimist. She's all too quick to point out the imperfections the very people who are unfortunate enough to be around her. Debbie will relentlessly bitch, cry, whimper, and moan about every element of everything, all of the time. Debbie even manages to find the negative in seemingly charming things like sunshine, daisies, and kittens. Sadly, Debbie will never, ever find peace in her meaningless life because she is just that wretched. Debbie doesn’t appreciate her life or the wonderful things that life has to offer, which really makes me crazy, when considering the countless people out there who are desperately fighting to save their own. Nothing will ever make Debbie happy and she will forever continue to go through life squeezing out what's left of the happiness around her, like a dirty, soggy dish rag.


Because normal people like you and I are somewhat benevolent individuals, I find myself in a desperate attempt find some sort of redeeming quality in Perfect Polly and Debbie Downer. I mean, there has to be something, right? But just as I’m giving myself the ole' benefit of a doubt pep-talk, I get smacked up-side the head with life's giant football, realizing that there will never be anything good about these people, because they're, well, ridiculous. At this point, all I can do is try to ignore people like this and hope that one day, my head doesn't inflate to the size of Polly's, or come to find everything around me as loathesome as Debbie.

 

I'm Sorry...

I'm Sorry.

These two teeny-tiny words are not said (or heard) as often as they should be. When I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and I don't have a problem admitting when I am. Buy many others obviously lack the ability.

Recently, I made the conscience decision to apologize to someone – a friend, of a friend, of a friend – who I had hurt a while back. Not to make excuses for my behavior in the past but mentally, I was in a pretty bad place in my life. I’m certainly not proud of the way that I behaved at that time, but I did learn a valuable life lesson from it. If only I would have just went with my gut and stayed away from a few bad seeds, things would have been a lot different. But I can't go back, so, here we are.

Anyway, I knew that I had offended this woman, because she had made it abundantly clear to anyone who would listen to her – my close friends included. She continued to trash-talk me behind my back on a regular basis and well after the incident occurred. So, two years later, I swallowed my pride (and my fourth Blue Moon), and decided to finally nip this thing in the bud, once and for all. I pulled her aside and I apologized for my wrong doings, and she seemed to take a liking to the fact that I was admitting fault, on my part. In fact, she accepted my apology, and told me that she appreciated the gesture.

I thought for a very brief moment, that she had finally viewed the situation from my perspective. Apparently not. In fact, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The next day, she acted as though nothing had happened and immediately went back to her trash-talking. Apparently now she's upset that "things were brought up from the past," and she's "totally humiliated" because of it. So my question is: weren't these things already brought up from the past when you decided to trash talk me to my friends, not even a month ago? It makes zero sense to me.

Regardless, of this, I’m not completely full of shit. When I tell someone that I’m sorry, for God’s sake, I genuinely mean that I’m sorry. And the truly sad part is that I'm not the only person that should have apologized. There was another person involved! But by all means, go back to kissing that person's ass, why don't you?

After a lengthy conversation with a pretty good friend of mine, we chalked it up to the she's-bat-shit-crazy-factor. The fact that this woman acted as though things were fine one minute, and then completely changed her tune only a few hours later, leads me to believe that this is definitely the case.

***

At this point sweetie, I've said my peace. If you don't accept that then trust me, I'm completely fine with it. But the next time you see me out - right after you've been talking shit for the hundredth time - I'm not going to be so nice. Take your meds.

People

Most people who know me will vouch that I'm a social butterfly. I like to be out and about whenever possible. And when you're flitting around as much as I am, you're bound to witness a whole lot of human interaction. 

Now, for the most part, I would like to think that people as a whole are kind, caring, and decent. I see the good things that people do for one another. One day I might witness a woman offering to help an elderly man across the street, another, I may see a man offering up directions to a woman who is obviously lost.

But there are also a lot of ugly people in the world, too. Hateful people. The kind of people that normal people (like you and I) don't really understand.

Hate - the kind of hate that chills you to your core - the stuff you see in the local news every single day. The troubled teen who kills his neighbor’s entire family; the withdrawn middle-aged man who tortures then kills teenage girls; the clinically depressed woman who drowns her own children in a bathtub. Obviously, these are the worst-case scenarios but unfortunately, we hear about these horrific circumstances way more often then the good ones.

When I think about all of these outrageous things that are constantly happening around us, I have to consider the less obvious ways that we are hateful to one another. Perhaps our incessant use of social media and the bombardment of never-ending technology has made us a little...cold. But have you ever stopped to think about the less extreme acts of hate? The stuff that you don't necessarily see on the news, but that happens right smack dab in front of you? I know you've witnessed at least one idiot screaming at the person behind the Customer Service desk while waiting to check-in at the airport, or while ordering an espresso at Starbucks. I've seen the malicious ways that people treat one another for no apparent reason. Maybe it's out of sheer frustration or maybe it's an ego thing. Or perhaps some people just have a false sense of entitlement - those who feel like the rest of the population owes them something – and it’s usually more that what the rest of us are getting.

There are days that I can picture that rude customer from earlier in the day going home later that night and plopping his/her butt on the couch, calling up a friend and spouting off something like:

It was so ridiculous that the airlines bumped my flight back a whole hour. I mean, seriously. You should have heard me. I really laid into the bitch at the desk, too. I wish you could have seen the look on her face. I made her look soooo stupid.

Now, I can say with absolute confidence that you just made yourself look ignorant. If you really want to get what you want, I would like to think that most people would recognize and understand that you have to be nice to the person that you're making such demands to. After all, they're the ones that are holding the cards to your fate at that moment in time. Sugar catches more flies than vinegar. When someone screams at me, it only makes me want to give them absolutely nothing: 

You want an apple, you say? Well guess what? You're an obnoxious, self-centered egotistical, nit-wit and you’re definitely getting an orange. Now, would you like me to schedule surgery so you can have that stick removed?

The next time you feel the urge to scream at someone who is simply trying to help you, try to remember one thing: you never know what the person that you're screaming at (like your misbehaved toddler) might be going through. Perhaps he/she has just lost a loved one - or has just been diagnosed with incurable cancer - or has maybe has just come back to work after suffering a massive heart attack (jeez, go easy on the poor guy or you might give him another!).

Don't get me wrong, I most certainly have my moments. There are days that it takes a great deal of strength to just step back, and just take a few breaths....Woosah. But I have also found that being nice doesn't require that much more of an effort than being rude or indifferent to someone you don't know.

Cell Phone Drivers: BEWARE!

Today I'm here to talk about cell phone usage. And I'm not talking about my Verizon data plan. I'm talking about the nine out of every ten drivers that I see on the road that are either talking on their cell phone or texting (or Tweeting...or Facebooking...or Pinteresting).


Now I'm all for multi-tasking. I can multi-task with the best of them. But leave that for the work force, shall we? When I'm attempting to merge into the passing lane because the jackass in front of me is driving 45 MPH in a 65 MPH, because he's talking on his cell phone, and then I spot ANOTHER ass clown that is texting in the lane that I'm trying to merge into - and not paying a bit of attention - I have a genuine problem with that. 


Just last week, a brand new sparkly silver BMW nearly ran straight into me, cutting me off at a red light at a three-way intersection downtown and gunning it at 70 MPH. And what do I see as I'm driving through the intersection and slamming on my newly-worked-on brakes? The SuperDouche himself, chatting away on his cell phone - with a cop sitting right there, watching the whole scenario unfold.

And while I do realize that you are THE most important person on the face of the planet, Mr. SuperDouche, I'm really not in the mood to die a painful fiery death today. And I really don't think that my family or my friends would be particularly thrilled at the thought of the police picking my severed body parts up from the pavement in the aftermath of a horrific car accident, simply because YOU couldn't stay off of your phone for a measly three seconds. But because you are sooooo important, I know that YOU just really don't care. Kudos, Mr. SuperDouche. Kudos.


Going forward, I think I'm going to BLAST my car horn at any driver who is on his/her cell phone while operating a vehicle. And I'm not talking about a quick "beep." Oh, no, I'm talking about an earth shattering, fully loaded fourty-seven second sounding of my horn that will make any unsuspecting cell-phone-talking driver nearly piss his britches; while making it perfectly clear to him - and everyone around him - that he too - is a SuperDouche.


They make hands-free devices for a reason!! Time to start using them!

Well, That's Just a Myth

Up until today, I have been relatively quiet when it comes to politics, and even more so when it comes to having any sort of discussion on the topic of religion.

However, I read an article online, written by Kari Huus (msnbc.com) in regards to an Atheist billboard that was scheduled to be erected in a heavily Jewish neighborhood of New York City, when at the last minute, the owner of the site backed out. The billboard apparently displayed the words:

You know it’s a myth…and you have a choice.

That fact that this Atheist group wishes to display their billboard for the entire world to live and breathe isn’t the offensive part. Catholic groups express their thoughts on a pretty regular basis when dealing with sensitive topics like abortion and birth control. And whether you like it or not, all people in this country have the right to their own opinion.

For those of you who think otherwise, the First Amendment of the Unites States Constitution states:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

It really isn’t up to me to judge a sect of people that chooses to - or not to - believe in a higher power. After reading the words on the billboard - which were displayed in English and Hebrew - I was most offended by the word, know. This little ten word sentence indicates that this group of people knows indefinitely - and beyond a shadow of a doubt - that religion, and God - is a myth. Any given person on trial in a United States courtroom isn’t given that much certainty!

I see so many people pointing the finger at religious groups for being offensive, ridiculous, overly conservative, and even crazed lunatics. But I already know that I have a choice, so please don’t patronize me by stating the obvious and then try to coerce me into thinking that I don’t.

I chose to believe, because without my faith, I would feel empty inside. My moral compass is founded on what I believe could happen to me after I pass. Call me traditional, call me religious, call me ignorant, call me what you want - but I have lost far too many loved ones to not believe that there is something truly magnificent for them (and me!) on the other side.

Happy Freakin' V-Day

Well, it's that time of year again. Valentine's Day. The season of love. And over-priced merchandise. And even though I'm in a happy and committed relationship now, this "holiday" still gives me a giant case of the ass.

Last year was tragic. My newly-wed brother asked me of all people to run and fetch his delightful little order of a dozen beautiful long-stemmed red roses along with a container of plump, hand-dipped chocolate covered strawberries and place them in their house so that when his newly-wed wife would come home later that day, she would find them sitting on their newly-wed coffee table.

How romantic!

Yes, my doofus little bother asked his older, lonely, and very single sister to run his Valentine's Day errands for him. SHIT!

I walked into Kroger and the place was like a Ringling Brothers production. The floral department was flooded with frantic desperate men, looking to spend their entire savings on marked-up flowers and candy. And of course, they were all shopping at the last possible minute. Typical. All I wanted to do was grab the lovely-dovey crap and get the hell out of there.

Well, that wasn't at all possible. I waited in line for what seemed like an eternity. By the time I finally made my way back to the deli to pick up the stupid strawberries, I was balling my eyes out, and was barely able to muster up the words: I have a pick-up order for Barno. The lady looked at me like I was a two-headed homeless girl begging for spare change. She finally found the order, I ran out of that horrid place as fast as I could, still weeping like an infant.

I never want to re-live that moment ever, ever again.

So, this Valentine’s Day, my heart goes out to anyone that has ever struggled to get through this ridiculously dumb day. Happy Freakin’ V-Day, people.

** But, I still love you, Kim E Sherwood! <3

 

The Art of Friendship

This one is is dedicated to my best friend, Karen.

I met Karen in the fifth grade at St. Susanna. She transferred in from another school like I had two years prior. We were both kind of the outcasts of our class, and I think that's why we got along as well as we did. I had transferred to St. Susanna in the midst of my third grade year, and it was pretty much a shit show from the word, go. Up until that point, I had attended a much smaller school in the middle of an even smaller country town, that still had nuns teaching and running the school (OMG). Transferring wasn't a pleasant transition for me. To make matters worse, I had a horrible stutter, so every time I so much as opened my mouth to speak in class, I would repeat the same words over and over and over again. At the time, it was so humiliating; it was such an gawky, awkward time in my life. Looking back at all of it, all I can do is laugh at the some of the things that went on then.

When Karen first arrived to class that fateful day in the fifth grade, we clicked instantly. We hung out in and out of school, never fought, and always had each other backs. Suddenly, all of the other crap that was happening around me really didn’t matter anymore - we had each other to lean on. Oddly enough, we both ended up at Mason after grade school (while all of our other classmates went off to private high schools) and I was just relieved to be attending the same high school as my friend.

In the middle of my high school high school career, right before my junior year, my parents broke the news to me that we would be moving again, which meant I would have to transfer schools again. Needless to say, I was devastated and extremely nervous about starting another new school.

Well, I survived (gasp!). In fact, my time at Williamsburg was pretty fantastic. Time went on, and naturally, the two of us eventually got caught up in our own busy lives. New people and new friends arrived, but Karen and I managed to remain close to one another. Even if we weren't constantly talking or hanging out as much as we did in the good ole' days, our friendship continued to grow over the course of the next fifteen years. We we continued to be there for each other; she was there for me during my tough times, and I was there for hers. Karen has helped me through some of my toughest days.

True friendship is realizing that even if you aren't able to talk to each other for a certain period of time, that a certain unspoken understanding remains; that beautiful security of knowing that you can simply pick up right where you left off - without any explanation or grudges - and laugh and carry on, as if no time had ever gone by. It must come with longevity. I am blessed to have such a fantastic person in my life; she really brings out the very best in me. Oh, and she really makes me laugh. Out loud.

Ode to the Haters

This one is for all the haters that we've all grown to love...

Like that stupid girl at the bar that keeps giving you the stink eye from across the room (ewwwww!!!). Or when you just find out that someone you know has just talked some serious smack about you behind your back. Both of these scenarios have happened to me, as I’m sure they have happened you at some point.

Let's start with scenario one:

About a year and a half ago, I was out at Pachinko's with some girlfriends for a birthday celebration and this girl that was sitting at the bar in front of where we were standing/drinking/talking/dancing was clearly pissed off that one of my girlfriends was talking to her "man friend". Now keep in mind, at first glance, this chick may have looked as though she was your typical grade a classless bimbo, but this one...this one was super special. This girl had a knack for finding just the right clothes for that pathetic wannabe bad girl look that she was trying so hard to achieve when she reached for those clothes earlier that evening, looked into her precious little mirror, and said to herself, "Yep...this is totally the look I'm going for." This girl reeked of desperation. She was rockin' a half-priced Charlotte Russe corset (about four sizes too small) accompanied with a sweet pair of knock off designer jeans (muffin top runneth over) and a very interesting blend of mandarin make-up that made Snooki look like an Albino. Yes, the only thing this chick spent any real money on was her buy-one, get-one DD botched boob job, which unfortunately, wasn't getting much support from her ensemble.

Now, normally, I try not to pay much attention to people like this.  The whole point of going out is to have a good time with friends; not to get caught up in all of the drama that certain people like to create in their heads when they're out drinking.

Like this girl.

Apparently, sparked with jealousy, the "fashionista" proceeded to whip out her turbo-sized can of Aqua Net hair spray (how the hell did that thing even fit in her purse?) and spray us directly in our faces, all while looking at the mirror behind the bar, watching and smirking and spraying some more. This went on for a full 45 seconds. After she was done, she nonchalantly placed the can on the bar, gave the mirror one last look, and obnoxiously grabbed her crooked boobs. Like this was a normal thing to do in the middle of a crowded bar. Really?

Now, I didn't say anything, knowing in my heart that if the dumb skank would have had any kind of personality whatsoever, her man friend wouldn't have needed to engage himself in conversation with my group. And I’m not really the type of girl to be blatantly confrontational with strangers. It’s just not my style. But I am the type of girl that may like to engage in occasional secret revenge. So, at some point, I contemplated snatching her beat up iPhone (that she kept leaving at the bar), quickly running to the bathroom to take pictures of my ass, upload them to her Facebook and Twitter accounts, and text them to all of her contacts, BUT I didn't - and I didn't have to. Karma came back to bite her in the ass because later I happily watched as she reached for her bar stool, which "slipped" out from underneath of her and tumbled to the ground with a hard SMACK. Ouch.

On to scenario two:

A few weekends ago, a friend called me to tell me that a woman that she met at a Christmas party was talking some pretty serious smack about me. What was truly odd was that I hung out with this person all of one time over a year and a half ago, so I didn't really know her at all. This woman knew things about my personal life that she had to have gone out of her way to seek out. Maybe she had me tailed by a private investigator? Perhaps she had my phone lines tapped? Anyway, if you really think about it, I should have been flattered. Here was this woman, after all of this time, spending her nights at Christmas parties, getting herself all riled up with what I was doing, and I hadn't even so much as batted an eyelash.

Anyway, my friend "kindly" put the woman back in her place, letting her know - point blank - that she didn't particularly care for the inappropriate things that were being said about me. I really do appreciate the fact that my friend stuck up for me, and I am extremely lucky to have such fantastic people in my life that have my back in times such as these.

Yes, there really is nothing quite like that feeling of just finding out that someone doesn't like you (*tear*). But one question still plays in my mind: why in the hell did this woman care about what I was doing now, after all of this time? Isn't it time to...I don't know...maybe move on...after a certain point? When it comes down to it, either you like me or you don't. And while I will admit that I tend to have a mouth on me and say whatever comes to mind, and yes, that has gotten me into quite a bit of trouble now and again, I'm not going to change for anyone. So if you're a hater, kindly get over it and go find something else to worry about.

>:-D