I stand on tip toe when using the can opener. I don’t know why. I have to assume my body has an innate sense on how this enhances my upper noodle strength and why the hell would I allow my brain to interfere?
Consider the relationship between intelligence and culpability. Am I the only one thinking no fair? No worries...there's always the insanity defense. Maybe smarter does mean guiltier. Maybe guiltier means crazier. I can't believe guiltier is a fucking word. Ridiculouser.
I once had a 4.0 report card where the teacher still couldn’t resist adding “not working up to her full potential.” and “needs to improve time management” in the comments section. Now there’s a mind fuck for a kid; don’t you think?
There‘s this unrelenting pressure in me. This rigid spine of right my muscles and soft tissue can’t escape. I’ve always had that. As long as I can remember anyway. It’s not just about “right” it’s about potential and debt. This longing for approval made bitter with the desire to be free of it has colored my entire life. I can’t seem to shake it or make it my own. You can’t abandon your bones but they can leave you a pile of mush.
February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Creepy Septic Problems
Jeremiah the septic guy is creepy. What? You would have guessed that? OoooooOOOOooooh *full body wriggle* You’re such the smarty-pants. Well I had no idea. I mean already I knew I wouldn’t like it. Strangers coming over and fixing things is uncomfortable. Answering the door is awkward. Yes, yes I realize I’m a decade’s supply of saved magazines away from being a shut in. fuck off.
He showed up in his van (LATE!) and called me. From my drive way. *eyes*
“Hey it’s Jeremiah the creepy septic dude,” okay so maybe he didn’t SAY that. Maybe I discerned it when I glanced out the window in the computer closet to observe him down below staring at me on his cell phone in his van calling me. “Yeah am I at the right house?”
Dude. You can see me. I can see you. Let’s not pretend.
“I’ll be right down.”
So I run down the stairs and I open the back (front) door to let him in …. and then I have to stand there for ten minutes while he chirps back and forth on his Nextel with someone…. Probably he was making sure someone would know where he was… since he didn’t. Finally he manages to wobble-roll his way out of the van and make his way over to me. He looks like a weeble. A super shiny bald weeble.
“Yeah so I don’t really know anything about this… I assume the management company told you what the problem is?” I mutter while avoiding prolonged creepy eye contact and take him down to the scary scary dark basement I haven’t cleaned out… oh I don’t know since never. There’s a giant mountain of laundry near the washing machine which is right by the downstairs sink which is where he wants to look of course. “I stopped doing laundry and dishes and stuff so it slowly drained but when we use water the sink fills up…” I manage to slide the mountain over all huffing and puffing like and he makes a bizarre humpty dumpty sort of noise like HE’S fucking doing it or just gets off watching girls try to slide mounds of laundry across basement floors. He‘s JUST. THAT. CREEPY.
He tells me to fill up the bathtub and then drain it. So I run upstairs and do that. Then he freaks because I did it. “I didn’t know you were going to drain it.. right then! We’ve got problems now!” Tool! Of course we have problems! That’s why you’re here!
Why is it that people hired to fix a problem always assume you’re making the problem up??? Doctors. Mechanics. Shrinks. All of ‘em.
So I get the hell out of his way and sorta say hey dude do what you need to do - you’re the creepy septic guy - not me. and I wander off to hide in the computer closet with Deon.
Then he finds us. *screaming and arm flapping* Creepy septic guy found creepy shut ins!
“I found the problem. You’ve gotta come see this.”
For the record. When a creepy septic guy says this you should say “no thanks!” but creepy shut ins are not that skilled in human interaction to know this. So we followed him outside to peer down into the septic tank. As if that wouldn’t always look like a problem to me. So I’m standing there looking down at…. Well I don’t even want to know what, wondering why we have to hold hands with the creepy septic guy while he does his job. Honestly I don’t give a flying fuck how the pipes work or where the shit goes. I just want to take a goddamn shower. So when we don’t give whatever response it was that he was hoping for he finally says….
“It’s full.”
“it’s new.”
“yes but it’s full.”
“But it’s new.”
He gestures at the nasty below. “But it’s FULL.”
“what are you saying creepy septic dude?”
“It’s full.”
“Well. I just rent here.”
"I called the management people.”
“Okay.” Deon and I slowly edged away from the creepy septic hole, the creepy septic guy and his creepy septic van while creepy septic guy went on and on about drain fields and flushing and creepy septic whatnot.
Luckily my landlord is also my neighbor and we were saved when he came over to see about the problem. He probably smelled the creepy all way over at his place. So we scuttled back into the house and let him deal with creepy septic guy who just wouldn't fucking leave. Even after the landlord ascertained the creep of the dude and told him he was going to use the company that put the septic tank in and not him.
Meanwhile… if they don’t fucking fix this soon I’m going to be creepy septic girl. *longs for shower*
February 10, 2010
He showed up in his van (LATE!) and called me. From my drive way. *eyes*
“Hey it’s Jeremiah the creepy septic dude,” okay so maybe he didn’t SAY that. Maybe I discerned it when I glanced out the window in the computer closet to observe him down below staring at me on his cell phone in his van calling me. “Yeah am I at the right house?”
Dude. You can see me. I can see you. Let’s not pretend.
“I’ll be right down.”
So I run down the stairs and I open the back (front) door to let him in …. and then I have to stand there for ten minutes while he chirps back and forth on his Nextel with someone…. Probably he was making sure someone would know where he was… since he didn’t. Finally he manages to wobble-roll his way out of the van and make his way over to me. He looks like a weeble. A super shiny bald weeble.
“Yeah so I don’t really know anything about this… I assume the management company told you what the problem is?” I mutter while avoiding prolonged creepy eye contact and take him down to the scary scary dark basement I haven’t cleaned out… oh I don’t know since never. There’s a giant mountain of laundry near the washing machine which is right by the downstairs sink which is where he wants to look of course. “I stopped doing laundry and dishes and stuff so it slowly drained but when we use water the sink fills up…” I manage to slide the mountain over all huffing and puffing like and he makes a bizarre humpty dumpty sort of noise like HE’S fucking doing it or just gets off watching girls try to slide mounds of laundry across basement floors. He‘s JUST. THAT. CREEPY.
He tells me to fill up the bathtub and then drain it. So I run upstairs and do that. Then he freaks because I did it. “I didn’t know you were going to drain it.. right then! We’ve got problems now!” Tool! Of course we have problems! That’s why you’re here!
Why is it that people hired to fix a problem always assume you’re making the problem up??? Doctors. Mechanics. Shrinks. All of ‘em.
So I get the hell out of his way and sorta say hey dude do what you need to do - you’re the creepy septic guy - not me. and I wander off to hide in the computer closet with Deon.
Then he finds us. *screaming and arm flapping* Creepy septic guy found creepy shut ins!
“I found the problem. You’ve gotta come see this.”
For the record. When a creepy septic guy says this you should say “no thanks!” but creepy shut ins are not that skilled in human interaction to know this. So we followed him outside to peer down into the septic tank. As if that wouldn’t always look like a problem to me. So I’m standing there looking down at…. Well I don’t even want to know what, wondering why we have to hold hands with the creepy septic guy while he does his job. Honestly I don’t give a flying fuck how the pipes work or where the shit goes. I just want to take a goddamn shower. So when we don’t give whatever response it was that he was hoping for he finally says….
“It’s full.”
“it’s new.”
“yes but it’s full.”
“But it’s new.”
He gestures at the nasty below. “But it’s FULL.”
“what are you saying creepy septic dude?”
“It’s full.”
“Well. I just rent here.”
"I called the management people.”
“Okay.” Deon and I slowly edged away from the creepy septic hole, the creepy septic guy and his creepy septic van while creepy septic guy went on and on about drain fields and flushing and creepy septic whatnot.
Luckily my landlord is also my neighbor and we were saved when he came over to see about the problem. He probably smelled the creepy all way over at his place. So we scuttled back into the house and let him deal with creepy septic guy who just wouldn't fucking leave. Even after the landlord ascertained the creep of the dude and told him he was going to use the company that put the septic tank in and not him.
Meanwhile… if they don’t fucking fix this soon I’m going to be creepy septic girl. *longs for shower*
February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Awesome!
We’re all doing it, this watering down of language through repetition and word misuse…. this seeming inability to hold more than a handful of adjectives in our brains at a time. We all have these word cycles… periods of time when everything and everyone is cool or maybe everything is like you know like something else and definitely I know people who have a shit ton of suck going on in their life. And when a word achieves it’s new Mad Lib, fill in any blank status we toss it back and forth to one another thinking we’re communicating something. It's ridiculous! None of us know what any of us is talking about most of the time! We don’t want to actually take the time and effort to express ourselves- but still- it deserves a noise, by god! That’s why most of the time the words that do this have a cave man quality satisfying sound to them. Like Fuck. Can’t get enough of THAT bam-wowy of an anything word, can we?!
And that’s another thing. We all keep making up words and feeling fucking clever about it. Granted, sometimes it is fucking clever but “bam-wowy?" That’s just stupid. It’s not like I just filled some missing word gap in the English language… like now we’re all going to rejoice that there’s finally a word to describe something never before put into words…. It just means I don’t fucking know the word that already exists and I’m too fucking lazy to go look one up. I mean seriously people… are we now celebrating the crap innovations brought about by laziness and ignorance? Don’t answer…. We might have to do something about it if we name it and I have a lot of online surveys to do, plus there’s my status to update on my five social networks.
I’ve noticed everything is awesome for me lately. You know, pronounced ouwsum. Of course, not really. My life is certainly NOT particularly awesome. That’s the funny part. Like the choice of word has to be AWESOME to contrast with the reality. It’s annoying. Not as annoying as my “dude” phase but at least then I could blame drug use. (awesome!) So I go through my day and everything is awesome. Does it even mean anything anymore? Am I really walking around in awe at the minutia of my daily life!?! Then again who says that windex isn’t awesome!?! I mean seriously…. It’s blue… I spray it on a surface, wipe the surface and HELLo0o0o0o0o0 shiny fresh scented sparkle splendor! That IS indeed awe inspiring if you stop and think about it. So in short… awesome is awesome and fuck you, you super cool varied vocabulary snobs. Like FUCK YOU in your awesome!
I guess what I’m saying is….. This is a sucky situation but I’m angry and resentful that doing something about it might mean effort on my part. So carry on!! Carry on…
And that’s another thing. We all keep making up words and feeling fucking clever about it. Granted, sometimes it is fucking clever but “bam-wowy?" That’s just stupid. It’s not like I just filled some missing word gap in the English language… like now we’re all going to rejoice that there’s finally a word to describe something never before put into words…. It just means I don’t fucking know the word that already exists and I’m too fucking lazy to go look one up. I mean seriously people… are we now celebrating the crap innovations brought about by laziness and ignorance? Don’t answer…. We might have to do something about it if we name it and I have a lot of online surveys to do, plus there’s my status to update on my five social networks.
I’ve noticed everything is awesome for me lately. You know, pronounced ouwsum. Of course, not really. My life is certainly NOT particularly awesome. That’s the funny part. Like the choice of word has to be AWESOME to contrast with the reality. It’s annoying. Not as annoying as my “dude” phase but at least then I could blame drug use. (awesome!) So I go through my day and everything is awesome. Does it even mean anything anymore? Am I really walking around in awe at the minutia of my daily life!?! Then again who says that windex isn’t awesome!?! I mean seriously…. It’s blue… I spray it on a surface, wipe the surface and HELLo0o0o0o0o0 shiny fresh scented sparkle splendor! That IS indeed awe inspiring if you stop and think about it. So in short… awesome is awesome and fuck you, you super cool varied vocabulary snobs. Like FUCK YOU in your awesome!
I guess what I’m saying is….. This is a sucky situation but I’m angry and resentful that doing something about it might mean effort on my part. So carry on!! Carry on…
Monday, February 1, 2010
F*ckin For Footwear
“Those are some awesome boots.” I told some guy standing and chatting with Lori and me.
“These boots?” We all stared down at his boots.
“Yeah. It looks like you could hike Mt. Hood right now.”
“Yours are a lot shinier.” We all looked at my boots. They are super shiny.
“Different boots for different moods. Tonight I wanted to feel like a super hero.”
“You don’t understand - she’s a shoe whore” Lori offered.
“I don’t think I’d say whore.” I interjected
“…..Actually those are probably her size.” Lori had the nerve to point out. “She wears a six.”
“What are you, my shoe pimp?!? And wait...you know my shoe size?” I asked incredulously “How can you tell?”
“The boots you’re wearing now are a little bit too big for you.”
“They really are!! I bought them at a costume shop. They only had small medium and large. Am I walking funny? Errr... funnier than usual?”
“No. I can just tell.”
“Do you really like my boots?” Some Guy asked
“Yeah. I wouldn’t just say that. They’re cool boots.”
*nodding all around from everyone*
“’Cause you can have them.”
“What?” I looked at his boots some more. Mostly so I wouldn’t have to look at him. They needed red laces.
“Well, not right NOW. But yeah… another time. They’re a six. They’re actually a little small for me.”
“Oh sure. Small for you. But still. That’s a six in mens and I’d be a four in mens. ‘Sides you’re wearing them and you’ll wanna wear them again.”
"It's because you think my feet are too small."
“Nope. Totally not what I’m thinking.”
February 1, 2010
“These boots?” We all stared down at his boots.
“Yeah. It looks like you could hike Mt. Hood right now.”
“Yours are a lot shinier.” We all looked at my boots. They are super shiny.
“Different boots for different moods. Tonight I wanted to feel like a super hero.”
“You don’t understand - she’s a shoe whore” Lori offered.
“I don’t think I’d say whore.” I interjected
“…..Actually those are probably her size.” Lori had the nerve to point out. “She wears a six.”
“What are you, my shoe pimp?!? And wait...you know my shoe size?” I asked incredulously “How can you tell?”
“The boots you’re wearing now are a little bit too big for you.”
“They really are!! I bought them at a costume shop. They only had small medium and large. Am I walking funny? Errr... funnier than usual?”
“No. I can just tell.”
“Do you really like my boots?” Some Guy asked
“Yeah. I wouldn’t just say that. They’re cool boots.”
*nodding all around from everyone*
“’Cause you can have them.”
“What?” I looked at his boots some more. Mostly so I wouldn’t have to look at him. They needed red laces.
“Well, not right NOW. But yeah… another time. They’re a six. They’re actually a little small for me.”
“Oh sure. Small for you. But still. That’s a six in mens and I’d be a four in mens. ‘Sides you’re wearing them and you’ll wanna wear them again.”
"It's because you think my feet are too small."
“Nope. Totally not what I’m thinking.”
February 1, 2010
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