Anger Management
7 July 2010
It has been brought to my attention that I have some anger issues. Well, to that I will say, "you have no fucking idea!!!" Anger Management was once called "Behavioral Modification Therapy." Go ahead, ask me how I know that...
I'm certain it is funny as hell to see a five foot tall, petite framed woman go all ape-shit. Although, some have told me that I'm absolutely frightening. I have, in the past, been known to throw things (have owned about a hundred phones), hit the heavy bag with bare knuckles and split the skin, have threatened more than a few would-be paramours to my sister within an inch of their lives, have scrapped a time or two (well, more than that actually), and more than a few doors have met their demise as I passed through. What can I say? The energy has to go somewhere, better OUT than IN.
During heated arguments, I have often had to express my temper, and have been told that I look insane and out of control. Ironically, it's those moments when I am executing exacting control. Temper is a really funny aspect of humanity. If you've ever seen the movie, "Anger Management" Jack Nicholson's character talks about explosive temper and implosive temper. Most of my childhood I had implosive temper. And, in my adult life, as an eternal "nice girl" I deal with that same implosion. Things truly anger me, frustrate me, and I must keep all those negative feelings at bay. In my personal life, I've learned to let that anger have voice and freedom, a bit. So, to those people, they'll see me throw things, punch the heavy bag, skip rope at mach speed: explosive expression of anger. The thing is, if you have NOT spent time in anger management therapy, you would have no clue that this sort of expression is actually healthy.
Let me elaborate a bit. First of all, if you think you've never felt the same kind of wrath that could prompt a person to punch a heavy bag bare-knuckled as hard as they possibly could, then I would call you a liar. Anger is anger, and everyone feels it. If you don't recognize when you're angry, or how angry you are, then you might be one of those implosive people, just waiting for the catalyst that sends you atop the bell tower. All humans feel anger, and just because someone is genteel and congenial, doesn't mean they are in control of their temper. In fact, if you have close contacts whom you have NEVER seen angry, be afraid, be very afraid.
During my time with anger management, I've learned that it is critical to let the energy out. Since I have kids, and a lot of them, I can't just tear up the place like a polar bear. I can not hit people, or scream or look psychotic. That's where the heavy bag, jump rope and the incredibly loud music come in. Those outlets let the majority of the rage out, without me doing damage elsewhere. And, through my blog and my stories, I'm able to let the rage that I experience in my professional life go. It may LOOK insane and out of control, but the exact opposite is true. I am doing exactly what I've trained myself to do, so that I never do the things I did when I was younger.
For example, once, when I was in musical theater, I had a director who was a real asshat. He threw a script at me, once, and the plastic cover sliced open my ankle, about a three inch long slice. I don't really remember anything after looking down at my ankle and seeing the blood pooling. What happened, as revealed to me later on, was that I jumped off the stage and proceeded to chase this incredibly fat man for two blocks until he fell down with a heart attack. I pounced on him and proceeded to ground-and-pound him until the police pulled my thrashing body off of him. I was "detained" and didn't really come back to normal until after I was in a holding cell. In the end, he dropped charges because I was a minor and he had assaulted me first, which was a felony while mine was only a misdemeanor as I didn't know he was having a heart attack. I didn't snap like that just because he cut my ankle. It had been years of dealing with this man, and watching him do shady things: stealing money from the drama department; groping the other girls; giving parts to the sexy girls who couldn't sing, dance or act; yelling and screaming; constantly changing choreography and acting like we were the screwups; calling people shitty names; calling ME 'shortshit'; and a whole host of other things that slowly ate away at my sanity. Yes, I snapped. But it wasn't like there wasn't a reason.
Another event happened when I was about 16. My sister was out on a date, and I was asked to go check up on her. I headed to the pier where they were and stood some distance away. I wanted to make sure they couldn't see me, cause I knew how embarrassing it would be. So, I watched for a bit, things seemed normal, so I started walking back to my car. My sis is older than me by about 2 years. As I neared the end of the pier, I heard her scream. I ran back toward them and he had the strap to her purse wrapped around her arms and she was bent over the bench they had been sitting on. I ran faster than I should have been able to run, but in the flight, I blacked out. What happened next was this,.. apparently, as I approached, I punched him, kicked his shocked ass sideways, and then dragged him to the edge of the pier, hoisted him up and tossed him off the pier into the water. Then I got arrested. It's funny now. Because I stopped him from getting what he wanted. But, he was over 18 and my sis was not. So, he also dropped the charges but I was given another round of BMT, also known as Anger Management.
In the end, I have been through anger management about six times now. Eventually, the material does seep into even the thickest of skulls. So when I rant and rave and look like a lunatic, be calm and peaceful, because you are in NO danger. I'm actually really good at letting go of the anger, without permanently damaging anything, or anyone. Well, NOW I am. People who live with volatile temper aren't necessarily out of control, or psychotic. And people who are always calm and peaceful and never express negative feelings are not necessarily healthy, calm or sane at all. Anger is nothing more than your body and soul telling your mind that something is truly fucked up and must be addressed immediately. People who ignore or repress that, are at some point in the future, going to express all of it in one final moment of stupidity. I'm just spreading my stupidity out.......
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Experience Project 16
Gouging My F_CKING Eyeballs Out
5 July 2010
Have you ever looked at something, and wished to God that you hadn't??? Have you ever been curious, only to be rewarded in the worst possible way??? You know what, folks??? The saying is true,... where there's smoke, THERE'S A FUCKING FIRE!!!!!
Don't poke the sleeping dragons. I'm not talking about the ones out there,.... no, no, no, no, no. I'm talking about the sleeping dragons that live inside your mind. I've got a few of them. And, tonight, whilst bored to tears at work, I poked one of them. I poked the green dragon. And the green dragon woke up, rose into the air, and breathed fire all over my scorched heart. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. Sorry to those of you who are sensitive to cursing,... probably, you shouldn't read MY blog. I can use the F-Bomb as a verb,noun, adverb, adjective, and a complete sentence. It's probably my favorite word. Right now,... I will use it as the expletive that it is: FFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK! *screamed out loud, at the top of my lungs, over a cliff with an oceanic view at midnight to a flock of fucking seagulls*
Sometimes, I get on here at EP and I think, "wow, wonder what my friends are all doing?" I poke around and check it all out, read stories, comment here or there. Sometimes I wander to the Q&A, answer a few Q's. I don't generally stalk anyone, but, sometimes, I do. If you all loved me, you'd tell me to stop it. I mean, seriously!!! Maybe I SHOULD delete this account and just walk away. Cause then I wouldn't be tempted to check on people, and see everyone having a bare assed naked sexy time. I wouldn't read whistfully wishing I was invited to the party. I wouldn't feel like the second runner up to Kagan, who doesn't even look like a woman!!! Fuck me! Holy Crap Batman.
It's this God-damned "fuck-off" vibe I radiate. Sure, I make friends, but, beyond that??? Hell no. Someone close to me asked me a few days ago, if I got hit on all the time at bars. Well, no. I have never been one to get hit on. And, probably never will be. I AM that girl at the bar, making fun of you. I'm that girl at the bar wearing tight jeans and ass-kicking-military boots. I'm that girl at the bar making snide comments at the frilly, gussied up, make-up clones who are WAAAAAYYYY over-dancing and trying to be sexy in clothing that doesn't fit. Ok, I get it,.. apparently, I'm a bitch. Wish I wasn't, but clearly that's the case.
What am I supposed to do here? Start gesturing sexy remarks to the folks in my circle? Start sending sexy gifts around, listing myself as "private"..... (oooooo, wonder what the roses mean!!!???). My single friends ask me all the time to hit a bar with them. I always say no. For one thing, I need to be with my kids. For another thing, what's the point, really? I was gone for a bit, recently and had decided to stay here on EP cause I love the site. Still do. Just, wow,... holy rusted metal through my heart, Batman. This moment brought to you by pre-fortieth birthday panic attack and green dragon sightings. Angryface has left the building.
5 July 2010
Have you ever looked at something, and wished to God that you hadn't??? Have you ever been curious, only to be rewarded in the worst possible way??? You know what, folks??? The saying is true,... where there's smoke, THERE'S A FUCKING FIRE!!!!!
Don't poke the sleeping dragons. I'm not talking about the ones out there,.... no, no, no, no, no. I'm talking about the sleeping dragons that live inside your mind. I've got a few of them. And, tonight, whilst bored to tears at work, I poked one of them. I poked the green dragon. And the green dragon woke up, rose into the air, and breathed fire all over my scorched heart. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. Sorry to those of you who are sensitive to cursing,... probably, you shouldn't read MY blog. I can use the F-Bomb as a verb,noun, adverb, adjective, and a complete sentence. It's probably my favorite word. Right now,... I will use it as the expletive that it is: FFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK! *screamed out loud, at the top of my lungs, over a cliff with an oceanic view at midnight to a flock of fucking seagulls*
Sometimes, I get on here at EP and I think, "wow, wonder what my friends are all doing?" I poke around and check it all out, read stories, comment here or there. Sometimes I wander to the Q&A, answer a few Q's. I don't generally stalk anyone, but, sometimes, I do. If you all loved me, you'd tell me to stop it. I mean, seriously!!! Maybe I SHOULD delete this account and just walk away. Cause then I wouldn't be tempted to check on people, and see everyone having a bare assed naked sexy time. I wouldn't read whistfully wishing I was invited to the party. I wouldn't feel like the second runner up to Kagan, who doesn't even look like a woman!!! Fuck me! Holy Crap Batman.
It's this God-damned "fuck-off" vibe I radiate. Sure, I make friends, but, beyond that??? Hell no. Someone close to me asked me a few days ago, if I got hit on all the time at bars. Well, no. I have never been one to get hit on. And, probably never will be. I AM that girl at the bar, making fun of you. I'm that girl at the bar wearing tight jeans and ass-kicking-military boots. I'm that girl at the bar making snide comments at the frilly, gussied up, make-up clones who are WAAAAAYYYY over-dancing and trying to be sexy in clothing that doesn't fit. Ok, I get it,.. apparently, I'm a bitch. Wish I wasn't, but clearly that's the case.
What am I supposed to do here? Start gesturing sexy remarks to the folks in my circle? Start sending sexy gifts around, listing myself as "private"..... (oooooo, wonder what the roses mean!!!???). My single friends ask me all the time to hit a bar with them. I always say no. For one thing, I need to be with my kids. For another thing, what's the point, really? I was gone for a bit, recently and had decided to stay here on EP cause I love the site. Still do. Just, wow,... holy rusted metal through my heart, Batman. This moment brought to you by pre-fortieth birthday panic attack and green dragon sightings. Angryface has left the building.
Experience Project 15
Always Makes Me Cry
4 July 2010
4 July 2010
Happy 4th of July to all my fellow Americans!!!
My entire life, I have always cried whenever I hear Taps, and especially during "Echo Taps" which is when two buglers play a measure off. Along with Taps, the Marine's Hymn gets me bawling as well. Though, when it's played at normal tempo, I get tears welling up. The one that tears out my heart is when they play it at quarter time... OMG,.. bring on the water works. There have been a few military based movies that have used this slower, much more painful rendition of the hymn at the closing credits. I usually have to turn it off before it gets there, cause I won't make it through without bawling like a little baby.
When I left for boot camp (eight thousand years ago) I was really scared I wouldn't graduate. Amazingly, I did graduate, though much later than I should have thanks to a raging bout of chicken pox!!! I remember hearing the Hymn during graduation ceremony. It was everything I could do to choke back the tears and not let my Drill Instructors see that I was crying. I just felt so fricken proud, not only that I'd made it, but also that I was joining the ranks of some unbelievable and incredibly honorable people.
Now, when I hear the Star Spangled Banner, I get verklempt as well. Just proud of our nation, despite the flaws. People are still flocking here, striving to land on American soil. And when I went to Ellis Island a few years back, and Statue of Liberty Island,.. teary eyed again. This truly is a great nation, filled with so many people and cultures. You can't hate America, because we are part and piece of the whole wide world. No matter what country or people or culture, we have a little bit of that here. And, most of us respect cultural differences!!! Most of us love the melting pot, and love the diversity. At least, I do. Probably why I am verklempt in the first place.
Experience Project 14
Lont Time Been Gone
4 July 2010
Have you ever needed a place to express yourself and found that such a place didn't exist? That's what this blog is for me,.. a private space to vent my frustrations, talk about things and just generally be 'myself'. I love EP. I love this space. I love that I can rant about any psychotic thing. Not many read my stuff, and even fewer comment. I can just, write whatever comes to mind and let the thoughts go freely.
What began as a place for self-exploration and expression has been used against me. You know, it really sucks, having your privacy violated and the sanctum sanctorium not so sanctum-like. I really need this space because in my real life, I'm miss Nice Girl. I don't say anything cross to anyone, never confront people. I always just walk away, and try really hard to get everyone to get along. It sucks ass. Seriously. Sometimes, I just want to yell, "YEAH!!! Well FUCK YYYYOOOOOUUUUUUU!!!!!" But I don't. I never do. I smile, angrily, and take it.
What happened was simple. If you know someone's username here, you can google the username and add 'experienceproject' to it and you'll end up on their profile. From there, you can read everything in their profile without even having an account. And, furthermore, you can read anything they've written on other whiteboards, stories, comments, etc. And that's what happened to me. My private venting chamber was exposed to the very people I was trying to avoid. Sometimes, you need the outlet. Everyone needs it. I read the stories in "I Live In A Sexless Marriage" and I know, I can't make anyone's life better. But it feels so awesome to reach out to someone else who is hurting and say, "yeah, I get you,..I understand." And in the "Married but lonely" group, I feel so connected to their pain. I want to reach out to them and say, "Hey,.. you aren't alone, there are millions of people who feel like you do, and we need to stand up together and feel less lonely."
I want to be able to complain about my life and not have some self-aggrandizing person throw my own feelings back in my face. I want to have my feelings validated. I want to BE validated. And yet, now I feel naked and exposed. Why? The point of EP is the opposite of stupid Facebook and MySpace. Its about being the real you, and having connections based on who you are without all the crap. We're supposed to be able to get naked here, and just let all out cellulite and funky bits hang out. We're supposed to be getting honest and discussing things we'd normally hide. And we're supposed to connect with people based on experiences, commonality and shared intellect. It's the exact opposite of those crappy social networking sites where you connect with people you already know and don't like. Or worse, your relatives. Or even still worse, having all your worlds smash together in a horrible kaleidoscope of family and friends cross-pollinating horrible stories about you to each other.
Here on EP, we don't have to deal with that. For all I know, the people I chat with, could be my next door neighbor. Or, the neighbor from my childhood. For all I know, I have relatives in my own fucking circle right now. The point is, we all get to shake it loose and speak freely, or, well, we're supposed to.
I've been gone for a while. And I've changed usernames. I was giving thought to deleting my profile altogether, since, my privacy has been violated and abused. My stories and comments have been ripped apart and criticized. What point was there in staying? While I've been writing this, it occured to me: I always do what other people want me to do. WTF!??!!??!?!! Why do *I* never get to just vent? Why do *I* always do the nice-girl thing, give everyone what they want? Not gonna happen. I already had my blog deleted once by a well-meaning friend. I've already deleted some stories, deleted some comments. Why? Not gonna happen. You want to get pissed off? You want to read my shit and get your knickers twisted? Fine by me. Guess what? This space IS my space. If you invade my privacy, and read my posts, you get what you get. My circle of friends and fans get me, they get "it" and they know I'm usually foul-mouthed, and typically say whatever comes to mind regardless of how inappropriate it might be. This anonymous space was meant to be my sanctum-sanctorium and those that I included inside my safe-haven are individuals I might never meet, might never know beyond these 'walls'. But they are here on MY invitation and because I get them too. I have made some awesome connections here and I'm not going to walk away. I truly appreciate and love my circle of friends. Though I don't know them irl, they are great people stripped away from their jobs, their identities, their shackles. We all are. We're different than that which we are perceived to be by others. We are rich, vibrant and free. We're reaching out, to each other, to ourselves.
We, here at EP, have every right to say all the things we hide inside, freely and openly to each other. If you're going to read my blog, answers, my stories or comments, you get what you get. I'm here, raw, and rough. I'm here, crude and saying whatever comes to mind. I'm expressing thoughts that are sometimes ugly, sometimes painful, and sometimes laced with venom. Sometimes, I embellish, wish I didn't but it's true. If you read my shit, you get what you get,.. and if you get angry, perhaps you shouldn't read my stuff.
4 July 2010
Have you ever needed a place to express yourself and found that such a place didn't exist? That's what this blog is for me,.. a private space to vent my frustrations, talk about things and just generally be 'myself'. I love EP. I love this space. I love that I can rant about any psychotic thing. Not many read my stuff, and even fewer comment. I can just, write whatever comes to mind and let the thoughts go freely.
What began as a place for self-exploration and expression has been used against me. You know, it really sucks, having your privacy violated and the sanctum sanctorium not so sanctum-like. I really need this space because in my real life, I'm miss Nice Girl. I don't say anything cross to anyone, never confront people. I always just walk away, and try really hard to get everyone to get along. It sucks ass. Seriously. Sometimes, I just want to yell, "YEAH!!! Well FUCK YYYYOOOOOUUUUUUU!!!!!" But I don't. I never do. I smile, angrily, and take it.
What happened was simple. If you know someone's username here, you can google the username and add 'experienceproject' to it and you'll end up on their profile. From there, you can read everything in their profile without even having an account. And, furthermore, you can read anything they've written on other whiteboards, stories, comments, etc. And that's what happened to me. My private venting chamber was exposed to the very people I was trying to avoid. Sometimes, you need the outlet. Everyone needs it. I read the stories in "I Live In A Sexless Marriage" and I know, I can't make anyone's life better. But it feels so awesome to reach out to someone else who is hurting and say, "yeah, I get you,..I understand." And in the "Married but lonely" group, I feel so connected to their pain. I want to reach out to them and say, "Hey,.. you aren't alone, there are millions of people who feel like you do, and we need to stand up together and feel less lonely."
I want to be able to complain about my life and not have some self-aggrandizing person throw my own feelings back in my face. I want to have my feelings validated. I want to BE validated. And yet, now I feel naked and exposed. Why? The point of EP is the opposite of stupid Facebook and MySpace. Its about being the real you, and having connections based on who you are without all the crap. We're supposed to be able to get naked here, and just let all out cellulite and funky bits hang out. We're supposed to be getting honest and discussing things we'd normally hide. And we're supposed to connect with people based on experiences, commonality and shared intellect. It's the exact opposite of those crappy social networking sites where you connect with people you already know and don't like. Or worse, your relatives. Or even still worse, having all your worlds smash together in a horrible kaleidoscope of family and friends cross-pollinating horrible stories about you to each other.
Here on EP, we don't have to deal with that. For all I know, the people I chat with, could be my next door neighbor. Or, the neighbor from my childhood. For all I know, I have relatives in my own fucking circle right now. The point is, we all get to shake it loose and speak freely, or, well, we're supposed to.
I've been gone for a while. And I've changed usernames. I was giving thought to deleting my profile altogether, since, my privacy has been violated and abused. My stories and comments have been ripped apart and criticized. What point was there in staying? While I've been writing this, it occured to me: I always do what other people want me to do. WTF!??!!??!?!! Why do *I* never get to just vent? Why do *I* always do the nice-girl thing, give everyone what they want? Not gonna happen. I already had my blog deleted once by a well-meaning friend. I've already deleted some stories, deleted some comments. Why? Not gonna happen. You want to get pissed off? You want to read my shit and get your knickers twisted? Fine by me. Guess what? This space IS my space. If you invade my privacy, and read my posts, you get what you get. My circle of friends and fans get me, they get "it" and they know I'm usually foul-mouthed, and typically say whatever comes to mind regardless of how inappropriate it might be. This anonymous space was meant to be my sanctum-sanctorium and those that I included inside my safe-haven are individuals I might never meet, might never know beyond these 'walls'. But they are here on MY invitation and because I get them too. I have made some awesome connections here and I'm not going to walk away. I truly appreciate and love my circle of friends. Though I don't know them irl, they are great people stripped away from their jobs, their identities, their shackles. We all are. We're different than that which we are perceived to be by others. We are rich, vibrant and free. We're reaching out, to each other, to ourselves.
We, here at EP, have every right to say all the things we hide inside, freely and openly to each other. If you're going to read my blog, answers, my stories or comments, you get what you get. I'm here, raw, and rough. I'm here, crude and saying whatever comes to mind. I'm expressing thoughts that are sometimes ugly, sometimes painful, and sometimes laced with venom. Sometimes, I embellish, wish I didn't but it's true. If you read my shit, you get what you get,.. and if you get angry, perhaps you shouldn't read my stuff.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Experience Project 13
Road Rage
23 June 2010
What is the deal with tiny women driving big ass vehicles??? What is the deal with MILFs driving their stupid vans like they're in Nascar??? What is the deal with that asshole who just cut me off and flipped me off at the same time??? I have road rage, but it isn't MY fault.
I've been driving since I was 14. Yes, driving since I was 14. Didn't say legally, just saying I was. My early driving days, yes, I was reckless and probably caused a lot of premature graying for a lot of happless strangers. But, nearly 26 years later,.. I am an awesome driver. I love driving. I actually use that clickety thingy that tells people around you that you plan on moving left or right. And, I have never wailed on the horn,... I just handle my vehicle so as to not crash into that jackass who just cut me off. I have the radio on, yes it's blaring, and I am in my groove. I love being behind the wheel.
Something that makes my nirvana a little less nirvana-like is the ass hats with whom I have to share the road. For instance, my gender doesn't make you right. And my nationality doesn't make me a bad driver. And the size and cost of your stupid car doesn't give you the right of way by default. How many overweight people buy Lexus SUVs??? Seems the demographic is larger than what the greater populace can support. And yet, it happens often that someone with a cheeseburger clamped in their fist; driving a Lexus or a Cadillac SUV has to swerve into my lane as if I'm not there. Here's a hint, if you are more focused on the burger than staying alive,...perhaps you should focus on the staying alive by eating INSIDE the restaurant.
How many men out there still think women are lesser beings? Honestly,.. you dinosaurs still breathing??? I can't tell you how many times I've heard some neanderthal scream out his window, "stupid bitch" at me, when they were in the wrong. I just want to rip him through his car window and beat him like the moron he is all the while singing, "I am woman hear me roar, in numbers to big to ignore!!!" Having a dangly bit doesn't necessarily mean you have an intuitive connection to cars. Some men couldn't manage to keep a car running without someone else's help. And I am the one that did all the work on our vehicles, except the stuff for which I needed special tools or had to lift something heavy. I know more about the sweet, delicious hum of a strong engine than most of my guy friends (which is sad). I don't drive by tachometer, I drive by feel, when I am able to drive a standard that is... Meanwhile, a guy I know burned the clutch out of one of his cars way back in the day. I remember staring at him asking, "what do you mean you've been resting your foot on the clutch while you drive???" Men are not by default the superior gender when it comes to cars. I know its the usual case, but not always, so before you scream some degrading expletive at me,.. consider that I actually have EOD experience.
Ah road rage... The impulse to drive my vehicle like Mad Max. So far, I've managed to keep the monster at bay. But, my language could use a little help. The Marine in me rears her foul-mouthed head when I'm on the road. I have been known to make grown men blush at the stream of creative adjectives flowing gracefully from my mouth!!! And I'm usually able to maneuver my vehicle around any obstacle or asshole as the case may dictate. Which begs the question, "why am I so fricken angry?" Dunno, but it would be nice if I had a giant version of Whack-A-Mole with little cars of people who have made me angry. And I can use my old Grand Caravan as the mallot, smashing them every time they pop up. It would be awesome, complete with crashing noises and shattering glass each time I made a connection. Probably my score would shoot through the roof. And I'm already pretty good at Whack-A-Mole. Of course, now, I just imagine those little moles as the MILFs I have to deal with...... whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack..... *giggles like a maniac*
23 June 2010
What is the deal with tiny women driving big ass vehicles??? What is the deal with MILFs driving their stupid vans like they're in Nascar??? What is the deal with that asshole who just cut me off and flipped me off at the same time??? I have road rage, but it isn't MY fault.
I've been driving since I was 14. Yes, driving since I was 14. Didn't say legally, just saying I was. My early driving days, yes, I was reckless and probably caused a lot of premature graying for a lot of happless strangers. But, nearly 26 years later,.. I am an awesome driver. I love driving. I actually use that clickety thingy that tells people around you that you plan on moving left or right. And, I have never wailed on the horn,... I just handle my vehicle so as to not crash into that jackass who just cut me off. I have the radio on, yes it's blaring, and I am in my groove. I love being behind the wheel.
Something that makes my nirvana a little less nirvana-like is the ass hats with whom I have to share the road. For instance, my gender doesn't make you right. And my nationality doesn't make me a bad driver. And the size and cost of your stupid car doesn't give you the right of way by default. How many overweight people buy Lexus SUVs??? Seems the demographic is larger than what the greater populace can support. And yet, it happens often that someone with a cheeseburger clamped in their fist; driving a Lexus or a Cadillac SUV has to swerve into my lane as if I'm not there. Here's a hint, if you are more focused on the burger than staying alive,...perhaps you should focus on the staying alive by eating INSIDE the restaurant.
How many men out there still think women are lesser beings? Honestly,.. you dinosaurs still breathing??? I can't tell you how many times I've heard some neanderthal scream out his window, "stupid bitch" at me, when they were in the wrong. I just want to rip him through his car window and beat him like the moron he is all the while singing, "I am woman hear me roar, in numbers to big to ignore!!!" Having a dangly bit doesn't necessarily mean you have an intuitive connection to cars. Some men couldn't manage to keep a car running without someone else's help. And I am the one that did all the work on our vehicles, except the stuff for which I needed special tools or had to lift something heavy. I know more about the sweet, delicious hum of a strong engine than most of my guy friends (which is sad). I don't drive by tachometer, I drive by feel, when I am able to drive a standard that is... Meanwhile, a guy I know burned the clutch out of one of his cars way back in the day. I remember staring at him asking, "what do you mean you've been resting your foot on the clutch while you drive???" Men are not by default the superior gender when it comes to cars. I know its the usual case, but not always, so before you scream some degrading expletive at me,.. consider that I actually have EOD experience.
Ah road rage... The impulse to drive my vehicle like Mad Max. So far, I've managed to keep the monster at bay. But, my language could use a little help. The Marine in me rears her foul-mouthed head when I'm on the road. I have been known to make grown men blush at the stream of creative adjectives flowing gracefully from my mouth!!! And I'm usually able to maneuver my vehicle around any obstacle or asshole as the case may dictate. Which begs the question, "why am I so fricken angry?" Dunno, but it would be nice if I had a giant version of Whack-A-Mole with little cars of people who have made me angry. And I can use my old Grand Caravan as the mallot, smashing them every time they pop up. It would be awesome, complete with crashing noises and shattering glass each time I made a connection. Probably my score would shoot through the roof. And I'm already pretty good at Whack-A-Mole. Of course, now, I just imagine those little moles as the MILFs I have to deal with...... whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack..... *giggles like a maniac*
Experience Project 12
Reflections From The Public Loo
19 June 2010
I was at the mall today (kill me, right,... now). I had to go pee, so I headed to the bathrooms in the food court. The food court bathrooms tend to get cleaned more often (this is true). Not that you need to know my bathroom habits, but I noticed something when I was there.
First of all; on a long row of stalls, most of which are open, why do people insist on utilizing the stall directly beside mine??? I don't want a public experience. I want a private experience. Why do people feel the need to gravitate to the stalls next to other people? Stay away,.. use the one down there.... I want to be in peace to do my thing.
Second; if you DO happen to go into the stall directly beside mine, you get what you deserve. I didn't come here for tea. I came here to do a myriad of things considered impolite in public. Don't get pissy because I pass gas. THAT'S WHY I WENT TO THE BATHROOM, MORON!!! Don't comment on any noises or apparent evacuation you might overhear. You could have gone to the stalls over there. But NOOOOOO, you went right here, next to me. Get over it.
Third; if you happen to be in the loo, and whilst washing your hands, notice you have bad breath left over from lunch, don't you dare (and I MEAN IT), don't you DARE go to those vending machines and buy ANYTHING. Reminder: you are in a public bathroom!!! You don't EAT anything in a public bathroom. I don't know what jackass decided that it was a good idea to try to tap out the change purse of women in the loo, but it was a bad, horrible, disgusting idea. That person, should be flogged with spaghetti in a public bathroom.
Fourth; and this one applies MORE to the fellas, but occassionally (ew) the girls. That cologne bar on the wall over there.... yeah, under NO circumstances are you to purchase a squirt of artificial, rubbing alcohol and formaldehyde laden pheromones!!! Even if you are a mechanic, and you just spent twelve hours beneath a car in the sweltering heat, believe me, you smell better than that shit. Even if you are a farmer, and you spent twelve hours watching cows go by,.. believe me, you smell better on your own. Here's a hint: shower first and use soap. Not AXE,... or any other uber-smelly crap. We women do not need you to bash us in the nose with multiple layers of AXE in a desperate attempt to drag us back to the cave. And if you ARE going to insist that you use the AXE products to lure the ladies,... for God's sake, PLEASE use the SAME scent for all three bits... shampoo/soap/deodorant. Please stop using a different scent for all three,.. I can't take the migraines any more. Seriously. And for the "ladies," if you think that bathroom perfume smells good, I would say that your olfactory senses have been assaulted with too much AXE. Ladies,.. your own natural scent smells so much better than bathroom perfume, I can't believe I even need to mention it.
Fifth; travelling in packs. I have never needed accompaniement to the loo. Yet, whenever I am there, I am assaulted with packs of younger women. Packs of them. Why do you travel to the loo in packs? Is there safety in numbers? Do the young men find it weird that you all stand at once and head to the loo like a flock of seagulls? I find it odd. I also find it odd that although I am eight hundred years old, you all find it necessary to assess my attire and accessories. I'm eight hundred, not in your league. I have no interest in chasing your prospective mates. In fact, the only chasing I plan on doing, is to chase that damned bartender down to get another drink. Your underaged whimsy holds no appeal for me.Getting back to the loo. Why are purveyors of public restrooms replacing the towels with the violent Xcellerators? You know what these are... They are the air blowers that mimic flight at mach ten over your hands. They are the ones that send the kiddos screaming that their faces were blown off. Sure, it's funny, and they actually blow fast enough to dry your hands (unlike those from my youth, that were more like old people with emphesema, blowing germs gently on your hands). However, where does the air come from inside those things? Yeah, from inside the room. Do you know what "aerosol" means? Well, the air in the loo ain't clean. So, using the inside air, means these things are blasting the germs from within the room at mach ten over my hands I just washed.Yes, I am that person that just dried their hands on the back of my pants, and opened the restroom door with my elbow. Public bathrooms have cooties. Ewwwwwwwww.
19 June 2010
I was at the mall today (kill me, right,... now). I had to go pee, so I headed to the bathrooms in the food court. The food court bathrooms tend to get cleaned more often (this is true). Not that you need to know my bathroom habits, but I noticed something when I was there.
First of all; on a long row of stalls, most of which are open, why do people insist on utilizing the stall directly beside mine??? I don't want a public experience. I want a private experience. Why do people feel the need to gravitate to the stalls next to other people? Stay away,.. use the one down there.... I want to be in peace to do my thing.
Second; if you DO happen to go into the stall directly beside mine, you get what you deserve. I didn't come here for tea. I came here to do a myriad of things considered impolite in public. Don't get pissy because I pass gas. THAT'S WHY I WENT TO THE BATHROOM, MORON!!! Don't comment on any noises or apparent evacuation you might overhear. You could have gone to the stalls over there. But NOOOOOO, you went right here, next to me. Get over it.
Third; if you happen to be in the loo, and whilst washing your hands, notice you have bad breath left over from lunch, don't you dare (and I MEAN IT), don't you DARE go to those vending machines and buy ANYTHING. Reminder: you are in a public bathroom!!! You don't EAT anything in a public bathroom. I don't know what jackass decided that it was a good idea to try to tap out the change purse of women in the loo, but it was a bad, horrible, disgusting idea. That person, should be flogged with spaghetti in a public bathroom.
Fourth; and this one applies MORE to the fellas, but occassionally (ew) the girls. That cologne bar on the wall over there.... yeah, under NO circumstances are you to purchase a squirt of artificial, rubbing alcohol and formaldehyde laden pheromones!!! Even if you are a mechanic, and you just spent twelve hours beneath a car in the sweltering heat, believe me, you smell better than that shit. Even if you are a farmer, and you spent twelve hours watching cows go by,.. believe me, you smell better on your own. Here's a hint: shower first and use soap. Not AXE,... or any other uber-smelly crap. We women do not need you to bash us in the nose with multiple layers of AXE in a desperate attempt to drag us back to the cave. And if you ARE going to insist that you use the AXE products to lure the ladies,... for God's sake, PLEASE use the SAME scent for all three bits... shampoo/soap/deodorant. Please stop using a different scent for all three,.. I can't take the migraines any more. Seriously. And for the "ladies," if you think that bathroom perfume smells good, I would say that your olfactory senses have been assaulted with too much AXE. Ladies,.. your own natural scent smells so much better than bathroom perfume, I can't believe I even need to mention it.
Fifth; travelling in packs. I have never needed accompaniement to the loo. Yet, whenever I am there, I am assaulted with packs of younger women. Packs of them. Why do you travel to the loo in packs? Is there safety in numbers? Do the young men find it weird that you all stand at once and head to the loo like a flock of seagulls? I find it odd. I also find it odd that although I am eight hundred years old, you all find it necessary to assess my attire and accessories. I'm eight hundred, not in your league. I have no interest in chasing your prospective mates. In fact, the only chasing I plan on doing, is to chase that damned bartender down to get another drink. Your underaged whimsy holds no appeal for me.Getting back to the loo. Why are purveyors of public restrooms replacing the towels with the violent Xcellerators? You know what these are... They are the air blowers that mimic flight at mach ten over your hands. They are the ones that send the kiddos screaming that their faces were blown off. Sure, it's funny, and they actually blow fast enough to dry your hands (unlike those from my youth, that were more like old people with emphesema, blowing germs gently on your hands). However, where does the air come from inside those things? Yeah, from inside the room. Do you know what "aerosol" means? Well, the air in the loo ain't clean. So, using the inside air, means these things are blasting the germs from within the room at mach ten over my hands I just washed.Yes, I am that person that just dried their hands on the back of my pants, and opened the restroom door with my elbow. Public bathrooms have cooties. Ewwwwwwwww.
Experience Project 11
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
18 June 2010
I had a few thoughts after reading the commentary from the Liddell-Franklin fight. Actually, since Franklin won, I suppose his name ought to have come first, but I'm a Liddell fan, so perhaps you'll allow me that. One of the comments made was that it was a good thing that Liddell lost to Franklin because Franklin is such a classy fighter, he would respect Liddell through it all and be a gentleman and an honorable fighter right to the end. And, Franklin absolutely has been. You'd think that such common decency and respect wouldn't be applauded so clearly. And yet, I can't help but feel even more respect and admiration for Franklin for being gracious and humble. While I liked Franklin before the fight, I respect him so much now, and would consider myself a fan. What a classy and upright gentleman. So many younger fighters would not have been. So many would have delighted in having ended Liddell's career. They would not have been happy having conquered a long-time champion. The would have gone in to cement the defeat with hubris and greed.
I think back to when Ortiz fought Shammrock for the third time. I couldn't believe that Shammrock wouldn't just step away. I could understand it,.. yeah, I've continued to hammer away at a dead deal myself from time to time. There's something basic and animal about fighting. And, I get it. It's basic human survival and cuts to the core of who we, as a species are. Fight to live, fight for food, fight for the best mates, fight to protect family, fight to maintain supremacy. We ARE fighters. With the shifting of the American gross national product away from actual goods, to services, we have forgotten that. I get it, why Shammrock WANTED to fight Ortiz again and again in the hopes he would emerge victorious. And yet, all three times he failed. Not to allow an aging defeated warrior his grace; each and every time, Ortiz pantomimed digging a grave for Shammrock's career. Classless and disrespectful. While it's great to be an Ortiz fan when he wins,.. one can't win every fight. It was only a matter of time before Ortiz lost a few of his own. And Shammrock could only watch from the sidelines.
When you recall the Ultimate Fighter season where Ortiz and Shammrock squared off with their teams, you'll remember then, what a tool Shammrock came off as. I was so shocked that such a great man would appear to be such a punk onscreen. I know a few people who fight in his camp, and the man literally sends out messages to every single fighter in his camp, of support and encouragement; greetings and well wishes during the holidays. This is a classy man who absolutely respects his fighters. So what happened? Cause Ortiz came off looking like the newly fallen snow. I can answer that: the fight that was supposed to be physical, went internal. It wasn't just about a fight card anymore. It was personal, it was mental and Shammrock was so focused on silencing his disrespectful opponent that he lost sight of the fact that he was on a television show. He just looked insane. He was insane. And Ortiz, like the consummate schoolyard bully, poked at the edges of sanity that Shammrock had fought to maintain. Not only did Ortiz have no respect for the man who brought the initial viewers to the sport, he didn't respect the sport itself. A fighter is a warrior, and held by a code, whether or not he wants to admit it. Yeah, it's a sport, something that's been around since there have been humans. The fight, is about testing the character, their intestinal fortitude, their strength, not only physical but also their heart. And to lose, is to have been found weaker.
This same thing happens every day in every business across our country. Though, the different strata aren't separated by age ranges. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "this isn't personal." That's a load of crap, so don't buy it when you've been offered it. It absolutely is personal. People jockeying for position, vying for promotions, better pay, better benefits. All the while, jobs are cutting salaries and wages, decreasing benefits, and increasing the required duties of each job. And the employers seem to not realize the inequity there: they want more work, for less pay/benefits. You can't get something for nothing. Of course they realize the ridiculousness of their demands. But our economy has NOT recovered,.. just ask the scores of folks still struggling and scrambling to survive. So the employers are taking advantage of the job scarcity. I wouldn't mind that so much, if they weren't so damned rude about it. When you're getting laid off, with a family to support, having some jackass tell you it isn't personal is the same exact thing as if Tito himself were digging your grave for you, in your face. So, this shithead is laying you off, he won, you lost, and he has the base classlessness to dance in front of you and make believe that it wasn't personal. "Hey, buddy, Fuck You." Can't say that. No, cause the company could still hire you back at some point, and dammit, a job's a job, right?
That never happens in fighting. That's what I love so much about the sport. There's no lie, there's no pretend. It isn't a pantomime for real life, though many think much of the antics are staged. Maybe they are. But there is just something real and honest about a fight. Even a fight with rules. You're never going to see Ken Shammrock working up at Big Bear. But in the corporate world, it really comes down to "a job is a job." Wouldn't it level the playing field a lot more if you could grab your manager and challenge them? If you kicked their ass, you got promoted. If you didn't, then you got your ass kicked back down to your station with a bit more respect for your manager. It's direct: cause and effect. Very clear. Meaningful and everything makes sense. I think we'd all respect ourselves more, if we felt as if we had a hand in our own future: able to shape and alter course as we saw fit. Instead, we all seem to be living in Shammrock hell, unable to silence that disrespectful little shit who won't keep his mouth shut. We're all suffering with our personal Ortizes, having to listen to their ilk and their idiocy and have them calling us out in a verbal fist fight.
That brings me to the point. I'm not an Ortiz fan. I want to be. He's a sharp fighter, usually. He's got a great training philosophy. He's a fighter. I want to like the guy. I want to. But, he shows a marked lack of respect for his fellow man, his fellow fighters. He appears to be a man who doesn't respect others, and that's just not a man that I can respect. You want respect? Dignity? It starts with you. People will be people. But that doesn't mean you get preemptive and treat others dishonorably just to get them before they get you. No. You start out giving people an opportunity to earn your respect, and let the fight play out. Even the man whose arm is not raised deserves respect for standing up to the fight. As do we all. We all stand up for the fight, whether or not we will win. And there is respect in that, being willing to fight, even when the pre-fight stats say you won't.
18 June 2010
I had a few thoughts after reading the commentary from the Liddell-Franklin fight. Actually, since Franklin won, I suppose his name ought to have come first, but I'm a Liddell fan, so perhaps you'll allow me that. One of the comments made was that it was a good thing that Liddell lost to Franklin because Franklin is such a classy fighter, he would respect Liddell through it all and be a gentleman and an honorable fighter right to the end. And, Franklin absolutely has been. You'd think that such common decency and respect wouldn't be applauded so clearly. And yet, I can't help but feel even more respect and admiration for Franklin for being gracious and humble. While I liked Franklin before the fight, I respect him so much now, and would consider myself a fan. What a classy and upright gentleman. So many younger fighters would not have been. So many would have delighted in having ended Liddell's career. They would not have been happy having conquered a long-time champion. The would have gone in to cement the defeat with hubris and greed.
I think back to when Ortiz fought Shammrock for the third time. I couldn't believe that Shammrock wouldn't just step away. I could understand it,.. yeah, I've continued to hammer away at a dead deal myself from time to time. There's something basic and animal about fighting. And, I get it. It's basic human survival and cuts to the core of who we, as a species are. Fight to live, fight for food, fight for the best mates, fight to protect family, fight to maintain supremacy. We ARE fighters. With the shifting of the American gross national product away from actual goods, to services, we have forgotten that. I get it, why Shammrock WANTED to fight Ortiz again and again in the hopes he would emerge victorious. And yet, all three times he failed. Not to allow an aging defeated warrior his grace; each and every time, Ortiz pantomimed digging a grave for Shammrock's career. Classless and disrespectful. While it's great to be an Ortiz fan when he wins,.. one can't win every fight. It was only a matter of time before Ortiz lost a few of his own. And Shammrock could only watch from the sidelines.
When you recall the Ultimate Fighter season where Ortiz and Shammrock squared off with their teams, you'll remember then, what a tool Shammrock came off as. I was so shocked that such a great man would appear to be such a punk onscreen. I know a few people who fight in his camp, and the man literally sends out messages to every single fighter in his camp, of support and encouragement; greetings and well wishes during the holidays. This is a classy man who absolutely respects his fighters. So what happened? Cause Ortiz came off looking like the newly fallen snow. I can answer that: the fight that was supposed to be physical, went internal. It wasn't just about a fight card anymore. It was personal, it was mental and Shammrock was so focused on silencing his disrespectful opponent that he lost sight of the fact that he was on a television show. He just looked insane. He was insane. And Ortiz, like the consummate schoolyard bully, poked at the edges of sanity that Shammrock had fought to maintain. Not only did Ortiz have no respect for the man who brought the initial viewers to the sport, he didn't respect the sport itself. A fighter is a warrior, and held by a code, whether or not he wants to admit it. Yeah, it's a sport, something that's been around since there have been humans. The fight, is about testing the character, their intestinal fortitude, their strength, not only physical but also their heart. And to lose, is to have been found weaker.
This same thing happens every day in every business across our country. Though, the different strata aren't separated by age ranges. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "this isn't personal." That's a load of crap, so don't buy it when you've been offered it. It absolutely is personal. People jockeying for position, vying for promotions, better pay, better benefits. All the while, jobs are cutting salaries and wages, decreasing benefits, and increasing the required duties of each job. And the employers seem to not realize the inequity there: they want more work, for less pay/benefits. You can't get something for nothing. Of course they realize the ridiculousness of their demands. But our economy has NOT recovered,.. just ask the scores of folks still struggling and scrambling to survive. So the employers are taking advantage of the job scarcity. I wouldn't mind that so much, if they weren't so damned rude about it. When you're getting laid off, with a family to support, having some jackass tell you it isn't personal is the same exact thing as if Tito himself were digging your grave for you, in your face. So, this shithead is laying you off, he won, you lost, and he has the base classlessness to dance in front of you and make believe that it wasn't personal. "Hey, buddy, Fuck You." Can't say that. No, cause the company could still hire you back at some point, and dammit, a job's a job, right?
That never happens in fighting. That's what I love so much about the sport. There's no lie, there's no pretend. It isn't a pantomime for real life, though many think much of the antics are staged. Maybe they are. But there is just something real and honest about a fight. Even a fight with rules. You're never going to see Ken Shammrock working up at Big Bear. But in the corporate world, it really comes down to "a job is a job." Wouldn't it level the playing field a lot more if you could grab your manager and challenge them? If you kicked their ass, you got promoted. If you didn't, then you got your ass kicked back down to your station with a bit more respect for your manager. It's direct: cause and effect. Very clear. Meaningful and everything makes sense. I think we'd all respect ourselves more, if we felt as if we had a hand in our own future: able to shape and alter course as we saw fit. Instead, we all seem to be living in Shammrock hell, unable to silence that disrespectful little shit who won't keep his mouth shut. We're all suffering with our personal Ortizes, having to listen to their ilk and their idiocy and have them calling us out in a verbal fist fight.
That brings me to the point. I'm not an Ortiz fan. I want to be. He's a sharp fighter, usually. He's got a great training philosophy. He's a fighter. I want to like the guy. I want to. But, he shows a marked lack of respect for his fellow man, his fellow fighters. He appears to be a man who doesn't respect others, and that's just not a man that I can respect. You want respect? Dignity? It starts with you. People will be people. But that doesn't mean you get preemptive and treat others dishonorably just to get them before they get you. No. You start out giving people an opportunity to earn your respect, and let the fight play out. Even the man whose arm is not raised deserves respect for standing up to the fight. As do we all. We all stand up for the fight, whether or not we will win. And there is respect in that, being willing to fight, even when the pre-fight stats say you won't.
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