Not Always such a Peaceful Easy Feeling

The Eagles may have fibbed a bit.

I had to search deep inside of my being to find some peace recently. I think we all find ourselves in situations where we can’t shut our mind off. When I am hurt about something I almost obsess on the situation. Okay, not almost, without hesitation I am consumed. I know better, I am better than that but it takes me a bit to find clarity in what is bothering me. When I use “that” I mean in the bigger picture, the realm of life. You know, is this going to matter in a year, a week or even a day? I think of all of the times I worried myself until I was physically ill and mentally exhausted and cringe. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat and now I can’t even tell you what the actual fight or pain was over. It’s time to stop that shit.

I was struggling pretty hard this week for some tranquility when I came across this:

It is said that one day the Buddha was walking through a village. A very angry and rude young man came up and began insulting him. “You have no right teaching others,” he shouted. “You are as stupid as everyone else. You are nothing but a fake!”

The Buddha was not upset by these insults. Instead he asked the young man, “Tell me, if you buy a gift for someone, and that person does not take it, to whom does the gift belong?”
The young man was surprised to be asked such a strange question and answered, “It would belong to me, because I bought the gift.”

The Buddha smiled and said, “That is correct. And it is exactly the same with your anger. If you become angry with me and I do not get insulted, then the anger falls back on you. You are then the only one who becomes unhappy, not me. All you have done is hurt yourself.”


Whoa, that is powerful stuff right there. Of course it made me step back and wish I had that in me. That serenity, the ability to not take things personally, so I started reading more and looked deeper in myself and found that I wasn’t okay with my being, my behavior and that constant nagging I do to myself. So I said “self, shut up and forgive yourself and others and get busy making some good memories.” I couldn’t get out of my funk though so I had to face what was bothering me.

It seemed to be everything this week. It could be something as small as hitting a bunch of red lights on the way to work or someone giving me some criticism. I start to think everyone and everything is against me. That’s a cluster of bullshit and I know it. Seriously, did the stop lights on Itsallaboutme Ln. conspire against me? Of course not, and neither did anyone else. It is my choice if I choose to be around people who are not kind and belittle others. I can’t take that personally. It’s not about me, it’s about them. As I call it, I get “all butt hurt” and sit and fester in someone else’s shit. Well, time to drain that septic tank and be done with it.

I am old enough and wise enough that I should be able to step back and distinguish the difference between someone else’s misdirected anger and my own conduct and differentiate between the two. Yet, this is what happens when I squander my time on taking things personally. Now my challenge is to step back from the accusation and let itself work itself out. It may be small to me but not the other person. I am just not good with conflict. I find it demeaning and I shield, defend and then collapse. The most difficult lesson in my life has been to accept I am not responsible for another individual’s behavior and let it be. It’s a shame I could not have got this through to my thick ego last Tuesday. Okay, Tuesday back in 1942 but who’s counting?

I have to give my partner some credit here. I always read and hear that saying “only you can make you happy.” Oh shit yes, it is beyond true but in this same sentence I can say without a shadow of a doubt; I want to be a better person because of her. Not for her but for me and for us. I like who I am when I am with her and she makes me happy. I love our family dynamic; I love my time with her and away from her. In all of these lessons of life, she has shown me something I continue to learn on a daily basis, it is okay to not be perfect. She has taught me how to not take everything so literal as well. You can’t buy that stuff and I am lucky.

To sum all this up, every day is a learning experience. It is up to me to find the beauty in the ugly experiences we must endure. It is effortless to fall victim to tradition and take things personally because we were taught or acquired it in our lives. It is up to me to stop that circle of negativity. It is up to me to surround myself with good and positivity so hopefully I can show the little ones in my life how to be kind and non-judgmental. It is up to me to learn from hurtful experiences and be a better person by owning my own behavior and not repeating the same mistakes. I will attempt to see others’ core humanity and resist putting Nair in their shampoo. I will show love, compassion, gentleness and all in an effort to make this place we all share a bit better. That’s all I got in me today folks. I almost have some sort of liquid forming in my eye so I have to stop writing. Thank you for reading this and allowing me to sort out my feelings through words.

Let’s all be kind and expect the same.



Holy Crap, I’m Not Crazy


For as long as I can remember I have had a therapist, shrink or whatever they were calling themselves at the moment. Even my school counselors would confuse me from time to time. Some would classify me as an extrovert while others would say I was more of an introvert. Then I would get the mental health professional that had a script pad and then poof, I was depressed. Well guess what fuckers, how about something as simple as calling me an ambivert?

I feel like I should stand up and say “Hello, my name is Nikki and I am an ambivert.” Hell, Microsoft Word doesn’t even recognize the name and wants to correct it to “Ambien.” The software program must be in cahoots with the Psychologist prescription writing fiend. Drugs are a Band-Aid, and Band-Aids are gross. They just cover up the wound and make it worse in the end. I am sure there are many instances where they are definitely needed in extreme cases but I am not one of them. I think it is perfectly normal that I am considering opening the window and screaming out “hey world, guess what? I love spending time with people but then I get tired of them and need some time alone. Why didn’t someone tell me it was okay to be both, an introvert and extrovert?” And then I slam the window because I am pissed that it took me 42 years to figure this out. You see the difference between certifiable and normal is the key word, consider. Yes I want to but I know this is not the time or place for an emotional outburst.

I thought there was something wrong with me that I like people, I love making them laugh but holy shit they exhaust me. When I worked from home I was okay if I didn’t leave for days. I love being all domestic and crap. I enjoy my time alone gardening, washing my car, cooking for hours in the kitchen but then I am bored with myself and my thoughts. This is when I pick up my phone or laptop and see what is going on in the world. I suspect that is why I blog and like social media. I can be social and then shut it off without being rude and go pick up my book and jump in another world.

This is why I imagine texting has become such a popular communication tool. It’s horrible for a relationship but sometimes it is the only way I can communicate. Thankfully, I know that and have made it a point not to make it my only means of communication. I need interaction with people but damn it needs to be purposeful. Small talk or people who go on and on drive me insane. I try and listen to the story that would take some people a minute to explain but if a person is rambling on and on it drives me nuts. I want to scream “just land the fucking plane already. Stop circling the landing strip for hours.” Many stories are just that, a trip with a beginning and a destination, not a round a bout.

I have taken so many personality tests I started just giving them the answers they wanted. Every person always wanted to put me on a certain spectrum. I never fit into any of them. I would always hear “you need to be more outgoing. You need to be less outgoing, blah, blah, blah” is what I was really hearing. No one would ever understand how I could be meditative one minute and gregarious the next. Well guess what, it’s not personal and I am not bizarre people. It’s just me and I like it. I really like it more that I can call it something that actually has a definition. I have always known and considered myself very lucky I could be a jack of all trades. I can learn and do anything. That is a gift and shame on the people who call themselves mental health professionals for telling me I needed to pick one area and be an expert in it. Just stick a pencil in my eye and kill me now if I have to do one thing for the rest of my life.

I always liked the ying-yang symbol but I didn’t understand why most decisions in life have to be one of two things. I wanted a yong in my world for lack of better words. This ambivert business excites me because finally someone understands why I adore being around people but then I go away to recharge myself. I finally know it is okay that I need those same people I wanted away from to recharge in a different sense. My point here is simple. I really thought there was something wrong with me. I could go out and hang out with a person and be very social. The next time I saw them I would be quiet and contemplative. I would be asked over and over until I just didn’t want to go out “what’s wrong, you can talk to me, are you sure you are okay?” Yes damn it, I am fine. If I want to talk you won’t be able to shut me up but I’m not always happy go lucky but nothing is wrong.

I feel like it’s okay to be me. It’s the most freeing feeling in the world. Yet, by being me I also know I can be quite the ass. This is also the reason I know it is essential I work on being a better listener and communicator. Not everything that comes out of people’s mouths wants or needs a response, especially a smart ass one. I love my strengths but for once, I am beginning to like my weaknesses as well because I understand them. It is what makes us individuals and how stunning is that? It’s pretty exquisite.

I am still a bit pissed that for over 40 years people told me I had to be one or the other. Ha assholes, I am both and beautiful. I don’t even need a label but it’s better than other names I’ve been called.

Peace, be kind.


Getting My Spring On

It’s not a secret I am not a fan of exercise. It’s just not my thing. If I am going to “work out” I want to be doing something worthwhile. I mean like yard work, painting, going on a nature trail hike, walking around the neighborhood looking at people’s houses or in their windows if the opportunity arises or riding a real life bicycle is my kind of exercise. Don’t think for a moment I am going to jump on some treadmill or eucalyptus machine, sweat my ass off and be standing in the same place where I started with nothing to admire along my way or when I am finished. Just shut up now with your shit “oh, you can admire your body when you are done.” NO!

In Texas the weather is warm enough for getting the yard ready for the summer. I spent half of Saturday and all day Sunday getting my spring on. I built a planter box, which actually consisted of screwing a kit or two together. I planted some more herbs in my pallet thingies, moved them all over the place and shoveled more dirt than a House wife of Atlanta can dish. I completely murdered a palmetto with a drain spade shovel as if I were trying out for the role of Chucky. Of course my body is sore because, well I am out of shape, duh. I just said I didn’t like exercise.

I am sure my co-workers think I had an exhausting weekend of rough sex and craziness. I mean, I am walking bowl-legged or bull-legged depending on where you are from. They know my vodka consumption is plenty so I can’t argue with their conclusion. My consistent moaning and groaning probably doesn’t help. One in particular might be speculating if I have a tapeworm after witnessing me reach down for the bottom drawer of a file cabinet only to stay in that position and walk backwards to my office chair without straightening up because my body wouldn’t do it. I then proceeded to scoot my office chair forward looking similar to a dog dragging his ass on the carpet. Don’t judge; I didn’t want to have to bend down again. The other option would be to stoop down with my knees in a squatting position but I am afraid I might pee a little. I am not kidding when I say EVERY muscle hurts. I did go to the bathroom today and the minute I started to squat my legs began to tremble and I wished for a pull string like in the hospital or one of the “help, I’ve fallen buttons.” So naturally, I have been holding it all day.

As I was carrying paving stones across the yard yesterday I tried to hold one in each hand and pretend they were weights. That was stupid; I can feel the burn in that muscle still. I need to do more of this because I am expanding. I am the biggest I have ever been and I don’t like it. My boobs are huge and that’s asinine. I went from a 34B to a 36C. I know most women pay for this which I don’t understand. They also go to a gym so they can wear a bathing suit with a string up their ass. I don’t get that either. I can’t even stand it when a hair drops down in that crack. I go crazy trying to get it out. If they want to be a sling shot, fine by me but I am not interested.

I told my girlfriend the other night I was going to have to start waking up 10 minutes earlier everyday just to wash all of this. She is sweet with statements like “you always look good, no matter what.” No! I might be exaggerating a little but I do need to get busy with more physical activity. I really do enjoy building stuff and making things and it is just a bonus I get some much needed exercise. Here are some pictures of stuff I have been doing. Some of my friends think I am crafty and creative. Truth is I just like fresh herbs, delicious vegetables and free shit.


Peace. Please be kind!

And yes, I know it is called an elliptical machine.

Shh, Penguins Are Sleeping

I have a few random thoughts in my head today. Of course these thoughts are scattered and oozing with sarcasm. As my coworkers began to trickle in on this cold, cold ass morning in the great state of Texas the complaints of the chill linger behind them. I told one of them “shh, the penguins are sleeping.” It is frigid in the office and I have stolen a portable heater from the Vice President’s office. I figure this is the easiest way to get one without having to pay for it. I doubt I will be charged with any major crime since I haven’t left the building with the procured goods. Someone will run out and get her a new one and I will not have to search the office for any of my digits that may have fallen off.

My office chair and I have finally gotten to know one another. We have quite the comfortable bond now with her being so close to my intimate parts. I have a horrible bad habit of sitting with my leg under me and I leaned forward to hear a loud snap. Yep, I broke one of her feet smooth off. After examining it and finding no new part could be ordered the IT guy suggested we get some gorilla glue and repair it. I don’t really see a need to buy the glue. If anyone has ever left the remnants of oatmeal in a bowl on the counter all day, that shit is better than any adhesive money can buy. I’ll just grab the breakfast leftovers of one of the pint sized humans I share space with on my way in to work tomorrow. I know I could order another sitting apparatus from the office supply catalog but like I said, we are intimate now and I’m not ready to give up on our relationship. I can also rock back and forth now. My fellow office mates might find it better than my normal fetal position in the corner they have become accustomed to.

As I mentioned, it is cold in Houston and the surrounding areas. We have had two “snow” days in the past week. As odd as it sounds, it is humorous I moved from Seattle back to Houston to escape such horrendous conditions. I am not a fan of cold weather in the least. I like cool weather because it affords me the opportunity to wear hoodies and that means I can get away without wearing a bra in public. I am a fan of that freedom but I don’t own a jacket. So any weather beyond sweatshirt cold I want to crawl in my bed and pretend it is a biscuit warmer and I am the Pillsbury dough boy and coo.

I have enjoyed those couple days off but I am happy to be back to the normal grind of the week days. I forgot how much I sometimes enjoy the solitude of a busy office and a nice quiet lunch with my laptop to peck in some of my thoughts to share with all of you. I took a picture of yesterday’s travesty which shut down schools and offices yet afforded us with some rest, relaxation and the opportunity to gain a few pounds. I cooked and ate all day. Speaking of food, I have to finish my lunch and get back to work.




No Shit!


Yes I know I have shared some more than personal information with the public, friends, and strangers lately with and so I figure what does one more shitty story matter. As you know I had to transport toxic waste back to the doctor’s office not so long ago. A person should not have to do this once in a lifetime, much less twice.

Oh yeah, you guessed it, they want more of my crap. This time instead of trying to figure out how to get it in that little fruit cup they have gotten even crazier. They want me to smear my shit for three days and then drive the finger painting like slide show back to the lab. Again, I am wondering if I should request a permit for the transport of said bio hazard waste.

I reluctantly accept the package the nurse so neatly put in a plastic bag. I hear her mumbling some instructions but I tuned her out 2 minutes ago with her other demands. I politely stop her in mid-sentence and ask “does it come with instructions?” A bit offended I interrupted her she nods yes with a disgruntled sigh. “Well okay then, I can figure out how to do it.” I say with a hint of a smile. You see, I simply don’t want to have a discussion with this lady about how to smear some poop on a square of paper. People are walking by us and pausing to look at why she is holding a fucking paper towel and a popsicle stick looking as if she is making a peanut butter and jelly fold over. No, no ma’am, I do not want to discuss this crap with you. I can read and I am out of here, with my sandwich making kit none the less.

So, Kit and I are sitting in the car as I text my girl to tell her “yep, they want some more shit from me, but this time I get to smear it.” If I remember correctly her response was “you would have thought they could have gotten it from the last sample.” I agree with her as if she can see me and pull out the instructions. I browse over a few bulletin points and notice this is a three day test. I quickly put those disgusting thoughts out of my head and Kit and I take off down the road. It’s 4:00 p.m. and I should go back to work but I am in a crappy mood now so I head home.

I start thinking of what to cook for dinner and my mind begins to slow and relax. My mind is consumed with thoughts of a chilled glass of champagne with a hint of orange juice, some pajamas and my little dog, Sandido. It dawns on me; I bet if I put super glue in my co-workers speaker phone, my day might be more peaceful. I crack a smile as I pull in the driveway at the thought and Kit and I head into the house. My girlfriend and I discuss all of the tests one has to do after the age of 40, what a pain in the ass it is, literally and I find Kit a home upstairs on the back of the toilet. I want nothing to do with Kit until tomorrow, nothing.

I go back downstairs and begin to look at the options for dinner. The girl is running here and there picking kids up, dropping them off, and getting what they need for school or dance or baseball or Halloween or whatever the day is. I begin to chop some veggies, I am whistling some song and bam, Kit pops in my head. My brain is flashing three days, three days, three days and I look down at Sandido, who is hoping I will drop something and say “holy shit Dido, what do you do with the turds in between days?” He only gets excited because I take off running upstairs to retrieve Kit’s instructions. He thinks it’s fun to run in the house and so does the 7 year old human. I arrive in the bathroom at a skidding halt and grab the crumpled instructions, fiercely straighten them out and browse the pictures. I look like a frantic blind person reading braille. I am mumbling please, please do not say “store in the refrigerator.” I will die. I will have to go out and buy a portable one because I refuse to put that shit in there with edibles. I don’t give a rats ass how many plastic bio-hazard bags it’s wrapped in. Not happening in my casa.

Ah, I find it, “Store in a dry cool space, such as a cabinet.” Um, no. I can’t handle this. It is not in me to smear shit on a piece of paper after the instructions want me to do the dreaded number two in a paper towel like thing adhered to the sides of the toilet. That tissue is so thin I doubt it will even hold it. Oh, Kit says it’s okay if it hits the water. So, the test results will show that I am infected with Mr. Tidy Bowls chemicals. That doesn’t seem right. According to the instructions I am to remove the chemicals from my toilet bowl. What the hell? Am I supposed to grab my sub pump, transfer that city water to the curb, refill the toilet with spring water and proceed? Whatever, I need a yellow suit like the ones they wear in Breaking Bad. Go ahead and throw in the damned mask and gloves and maybe, only maybe will I be able to do this test.

Once again, I crumple Kit’s papers and throw them back in the bag. I look for the orange plastic bag but it’s not there. I catch a glimpse of orange, a Chihuahua and a child. I quickly grab it out of Dido’s mouth and throw it in the trash. It’s over Kit. I want to break up. I know you think you can handle my shit but I am not comfortable giving it to you. It’s simply too much intimacy. I don’t understand why you only have one stick for three samples. Are you supposed to practice safe smearing? You can’t stay in my cabinet for three days. This is entirely too complicated and I want out.

I put Kit back on the porcelain throne and wash my hands. And by washing my hands, I mean of the entire situation. I know it is there and I will work up to it but someone needs to find Kit a place to live in between smears. I refuse to house Ms. Sample until Kit can bring them back home to live happily ever after.
Put feces in a cabinet? I think not! The doctors should have gotten that shit when they were down their doing the inspection of ground zero. I am done with this căca.




A Few Ways to Spend 72 Years

pay forward

I wrote this 7 or so months ago. Some days, I need a reminder to Just BE!

It’s not breaking news I am the queen of sarcasm. I know I don’t always have a smile on my face or a ray of sunshine beaming from my ass, but I am always kind to others. Yes, even those I don’t really care for. I don’t blow smoke up their asses but I pass on attending every argument or Debbie downer convention they invite me to.

When talking about the future with my girlfriend I refer to it in years. I constantly change the number of years but I think with modern science I have narrowed it down to 72 years. Yeah, I will be 100 plus years of age but hush, this is my blog, not yours. So, in my next 72 years, give or take a few I am going to make a conscience effort to stop being so grumpy to others.

16 ways to spend 72 years

Let me attempt to tell you how I believe one can change forever grumpiness:

1. Let that guard down.

Don’t get all crazy and knock down that brick wall you have created but just make some peep holes in it. It’s kind of fun to look beyond the surface every once in a while. You must open your heart a little if you want to feel anything. Take it slow; time heals all of those past infractions. Find someone to talk with about the things that bother the hell out of you.

2. Go out on a limb and meet some new people.

First thing is don’t anticipate awkwardness, just make eye contact. Don’t stare the poor person down. I read somewhere if you stare at someone more than 6 seconds it means one of two things; you want to have sex with them or murder. If you are a murderer, do not go outside of your brick wall. Stay there…thanks. Remember, your best friend was once a stranger.

3. Compliment people when you think of it.

The reason I say when you think of it is because I used to think things all of the time but I never told the person. I don’t care if you are the hottest person on the planet. Everyone likes a genuine compliment. “Yo bitch, you is fine” is not genuine. I was thinking more like, “I like your shirt.” Think of it as if you were a candle. You can light so many more with just your flame, nothing else needed.

4. Learn to take and appreciate a compliment.

It was a tough one for me too, don’t worry. If you are a regular reader of my stuff you have read that when a person tells me “I like your hair.” I get weird and am like “Here, hold this can of tuna.” And walk off in the other direction. Now, after a sufficient amount of education and extensive therapy I have learned the proper way to handle this situation is to say “thank you.” Do not ever put yourself down. Everyone is beautiful in some sort of way.

5. Leave people nice notes.

I am not just talking about your significant other, I mean random people as well. I used to carry around pink post it notes but I found odd pieces of paper are more fun. (And it makes the recyclers happy.) I write, “Smile!! Yes, you the individual reading this. Stop looking around and just smile for goodness sake.” Sometimes I also draw some kind of animal which is always funny because I can only draw stick figures. I would leave them in random books, magazines, bathroom stalls, wherever I thought people would eventually find them. Silly stuff like, If Adam has two squirrels and a chipmunk has a peanut does 2 + 2 = infinity?” will make someone at least shake their head and lighten their mood.

6. Tip people well.

I am not going to go into a huge rant about tipping people well. I will just say if you don’t you are a piece of shit. Just kidding, well no I am not but seriously, if they did a good job at least tell them. I saw a quote: “A person, who is not nice to the server, is not a nice person.” That sums that up.

7. Be passionate.

I am just learning this one. If you are going to do something, be passionate about it. I used an example in my other blog yesterday but it is fitting. I don’t make my bed every day but when I do I pull a Martha Stewart on the thing.

8. Stop future tripping or living in the past.

Not everything in life has an answer. I always wanted to know why or how or who or when or what if. Quit that shit right now, let it be. As a matter of fact it is time for you to just be. There are no guarantees in life and nothing is for sure. Think about that saying: “To just be.” It is far more fulfilling to dare yourself to the powerful experiences life has to offer. Keep communication open and never, I mean never, give up on love.

9. Reread number 8.

Yes, right now, don’t skip down yet.

10. Now stop and think about number 8 again and never give up on love, never!

Oh and take hate out of your vocabulary. It’s so ugly.

11. Let people be themselves.

It’s odd I should have to explain this. It’s really so simple. If you don’t like someone, let them be. Stay out of their bubble. This is also another way of saying, don’t be ignorant. If you are racist, homophobic, or just in general, an asshole; then go sit in that brick courtyard with the murderers and non-tippers.

12. Ah, judgment.

This one is tough because I am guilty of making fun of people’s clothes or appearance. I am not proud of thinking ill thoughts towards people. I am simply convinced they have homes with no mirrors. If they did have a mirror, I know they wouldn’t have gone out wearing such outfits. However, my outfit probably looks as ridiculous to them as well.

What I am talking about is judiciousness. You don’t know shit about what a person has been through. That person may have been neglected, raped, imprisoned, bullied, experienced loss, robbed, have a handicap, poor, rich, beaten up, lost a job, deformed, been addicted, used someone, been used, fought a disease, lost a child, broken hearted, broken a heart, and other tragedies of life. Step back before passing judgment is all I am asking.

13. Simplify Life.

I have come to the conclusion I could write 72 of these. So, I am going to stop while I am ahead. It’s already three pages of what should be a given in life. I do understand it takes some longer to learn than others but it is what it is. If one person takes something from all of my scribbles, I will continue to write them. Don’t complicate life with the unnecessary. Ask yourself if it will matter in the big picture. Do you want to be remembered for complicating things? I think not…

I feel the need for a disclaimer. Perhaps it is the legal side of me but it seems necessary here. Do none of these things in life with excess. Do not go stick post it notes all over your ex’s car because I told you not to give up on love. Do not compliment every hot woman you see with “whoa baby, if you were a screen door I would bang you all night long.” That is not being kind. Lighting one hundred candles outside of someone’s house is called arson. Please refrain from burning anything down. You can’t run away yelling “don’t judge me.”

Simply put my friends, be kind and expect the same.


I Don’t Give a Shit

I am sure you all have read The Vagina Maintenance blog. If not, go read it at

If you don’t feel like reading it, well don’t.

Today in my doctor visit I was again asked to pee in a cup. The nurse handed me another fruit cup to pee in but this time she gave me a little mason jar as well. Included with this jar, a clear plastic bag with orange Biohazard printed on it was mine to sport around the office. Now, I was asked to bring this back at any time before my Monday appointment. I don’t think I need to spell it out for any of you what I am supposed to do with this new container but I can tell you I am not shitting in a plastic jam jar in public and then carrying it through a waiting area. They just need to swab my ass or something because it’s not happening. I can barely use a public restroom as it is, much less try and get some poop in a condiment jar. Who are you people?

If any of these people would stop and remember they too possess an intestine, most likely two and a vagina they would stop putting us common folk in distress with these outlandish requests. Carry my poop in a jar, in a bag, and through a lobby? I think not. The biohazard bag alone is enough of a neon sign on me flashing “I have shitty problems.” I want to retaliate with my own sign “I don’t give a shit, especially in public.” It’s one thing to clean some pee off my hand but no, I am not doing the dreaded number two in public, no. I can’t even begin to imagine how I am going to get the crap into the Tupperware at home. Ugh.

I am not calling my Mom and this isn’t even a phone a friend kind of problem. Well, not any of my buddies that is. I have a strict policy amongst my comrades and bodily functions are yours. And by yours I mean, not mine, at all, ever. I am perfectly perfect knowing none of my people poop, fart or have menstrual cycles. I am not the one to come looking for sympathy if you have cramps or need some Imodium. That’s your friend named Walgreens, not Nikki. If you have gas, then go away, use the restroom, take a trip to Disneyland but simply stay away from me. You people that let that stuff out on purpose are inhumane and I am glad I never have to do your laundry.

I was a bit taken back when the doctor was asking me to discuss my bowel movements with him. I mean, I have talked with my girlfriend about issues but not a dude in a white coat with pens in his pocket. He asked me if it foamed. I raised my eyebrows and stared at him blankly. I finally managed to say “what, foamed?” I was sure it was a language barrier type of question but nope, that’s what he said. I probably had a look of pure terror by now when I said “I don’t think so. I certainly hope not, that would be a little crazy.” I wanted this conversation done when he asked “what color is it? Does it smell?” That did it for me. I blurted out “of course it smelled and no clue about the rest. I don’t know, I just don’t want to know. I suppose I will start paying attention if you need me to.” He gave up on me about the turd talk and that’s when I was issued the bag-o-biohazard.

Anyway, so it’s a self-problem; exactly the way it should be. I will refrain from giving any updates. Not one soul in this universe wants to know the outcome of this. Hell, I don’t even want to know. I picture this poor little man in a lab wearing a gas mask with random outbursts such as “stop giving me shit.” On really busy days he screams “no more shit from you people, enough.” I would like to apologize in advance Mr. Lab Worker, I am truly sorry, surely you don’t need any more crap in your life. I really was happy in my life not giving a shit. I wonder if I need to put in for a permit to haul this crap back to the doctors office? Isn’t it illegal to transport hazardous cargo?

Peace. Please be kind.

See, I did make a t-shirt.

Broke Down Fridge and Toxins

The phones were going crazy. I had one person on hold while I was transferring another when I pushed line 3 and without a hello, good morning, or even a hey, I hear “I need to talk to you about these toxins.”

“Toxins huh?” I say nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I can’t be putting my feets and body in a bunch of toxins and chemicals in the bath tub. I’m 57 years old and my brother is 60. I am disabled and I need my bath tub. I can’t just go stay with him.

“Uh huh, I understand. Ma’am, which property are you referring to?” I say patiently.

“I left a message on April 2nd. Oh wait, I mean November 2nd, no I mean August something.”

“Oh, I see. Well, go ahead and give me your name and number and I will give the supervisor your message.”

“You need to give her the message. It’s easier said than done to just go stay with a relative for 72 hours. That’s 4 days, you can’t just go stay with folks for that long.”

“Yes ma’am” is all I could muster to say. I was still trying to figure out what her brother’s age had to do with the price of tea in China and exactly how one shortens a day to 18 hours? I might need to know how to do that one day.

Hours later a lady called and pardon the language but I must quote these things exactly as said. “My God damned refrigerator quit running. You need to do something about it right now. All my food is shit. I told them it was going break down and sure enough it did.”

Of course in my head I am sympathizing with the fridge at this point. I would quit running too if all of my contents were of the feces nature. By break down, I am sure she means nervous breakdown because she is having one at the moment. Now I have images in my head of a tired, rusted, stressed out refrigerator in her kitchen. If she stopped and listened to herself for one minute she would realize the appliance probably committed suicide from having to listen to her mouth. She is still yelling at me to fire the manager, the maintenance crew and I am sure a delivery driver somewhere. I begin to stare at the pencil on my desk with visions of plunging it in her eye, or maybe mine.

I remain calm until I hear “Are you going to fix my refrigerator or what bitch?”

I clear my throat and do everything in my power not to say “or what?” and hang up. I go with the smoother approach. “Well, let me look around here in the accounting department, since this is where I work for an appliance manual. I’ll grab my tool belt and head on over after I find a receptionist to cover the phones because this too is my job. However, if you give me the property name, your name and a phone number I will make sure another bitch gets the message.”

This caused instant silence and a quiet “I apologize, here is my information.”

I took it all down and decided I would give it to someone in 72 hours or 4 days, whichever comes first. I am hoping her refrigerator starts running again. And by running, I mean away.

Did you ever realize that Apartment Association has the initials A.A., coincidence? I think not.


Breaking News

I summed up the headlines today.

Anna Wintour Cancels Miley Cyrus’ Vogue Cover After VMAs Twerking – “Duh.”

NASA Spacecraft Cruising to Moon With Novel Design – “I thought they cancelled NASA.”

Who should start for US national team vs. Mexico? – “Someone from the US national team would be my guess.”

Redesigned iPhone 5S home button shown in clearest images yet – “Who gives a shit?”

What should be expected from Rose this season? “Maybe some pedals, maybe a thorn, wait, who is Rose?”

George Strait Sets Dates for Last Run on the Road – “Um, how many last tour dates is he going to have? I seriously doubt he will run.”

Judge dismisses AEG execs from Jackson lawsuit – “Did y’all know he was dead?”

WATCH: Michele Bachmann flubs almost everything about Egypt – “No. I will not watch anyone flub.”

Batman, Captain America Rescue Cat From House Fire – “Na na na na na na, who?”

In Jamaica, a twist on wine tours for pot lovers – “Ya Mon.”

Miranda Kerr Is Noticeably Absent From The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show Line-Up – “Well, she better bring a note tomorrow.”

Can a Baby Be Too Fat? – “Please tell me someone didn’t do a study. I can answer that. YES!”

A Masters green jacket sold for nearly $700,000 at an auction – “Did Tiger’s ex need some cash?”

Michael Vick: Cary Williams needs to calm down – “You have no credibility sir.”

Google’s Chrome OS Could Destroy Windows – “Po windows.”

Job Loss at $15 an Hour: Real Problem or Big Whopper? – “Mmm, whopper.”

Gay Cake, who knew?

I can usually let things be but usually is such a tricky word. This story of the couple who owned a bakery in Oregon and refused to make a cake for a lesbian wedding is pissing me off. They are trying to blame it on standing up for their religious freedom. That is a bunch of horse shit. Let me give you a synopsis:

A woman and her Mother enter said cake place owned by Melissa and Aaron Klein. While speaking with Mr. Klein about their needs for the upcoming lesbian wedding, he stops them and says “you are abominations unto the Lord” and refuses them service. They leave the shop and the Mom of the bride to be is angry and storms back in saying she is going to file a discrimination complaint. In all of Aaron Klein’s infinite wisdom he boasts “I’d rather have my kids see their dad stand up for what he believes in than to see him bow down because one person complained.”

And now sir, your children get to watch you close the doors of your business because discrimination is illegal. There is nothing less or more to this case. I want to spell the word discrimination very slowly and then hand them a dictionary. I applaud this couples passion and dedication to their Religion but they opened a business that serves the public. They denied the service to a woman based on her sexual orientation. That is discrimination and it is illegal as of 2007 in Oregon. If they wanted to only provide a service to certain types of people they should have stuck with the local bake sale at Church.

When I first read this story I simply shook my head and said “idiots” and went on about my business. Then people went on and on about how unfair it was and poor gay people and woe is me religious whiners started crawling out of the wood work. Oddly enough “woe unto me” is in their right. “Job 10:15: If I be wicked, woe unto me; and if I be righteous, yet will I not lift up my head. I am full of confusion; therefore see thou mine affliction.” Did you know that was written over 3,200 years ago? Yeah, neither did I.

Anyway, I would like to give the Klein’s my professional legal opinion. If you would have simply told the lady “look, your Mom is a pain in the ass and I don’t feel like dealing with her” everything would be fine. There is no law for refusing service to pain in the asses. If so, I would have been sued a hundred times. If the lesbian’s owned a pie shop and refused service to those who “serve the Lord” if they would think it’s discrimination? I honestly believe that if I am in the left turn only lane I shouldn’t have to use my blinker. It’s pretty safe to assume I will be going left but the law says I have to use the annoying thing, so I do. It really goes against my better judgment.

Yeah, yeah I know. People all over are saying it. Why didn’t they take their business elsewhere and forget about it? Because we are sick of hiding, sweeping things under a rug and getting treated like a lesser human being. This is exactly how to get stuff taken care of. I will admit I am ashamed of the way people treated the Klein’s. One does not intimidate and threaten harm against another, their family and especially children. That is not how to get things done.

What if Rosa Parks had just given up her seat and forgot about it? No! When you are beat down, tired and sick of injustice it’s time to stand up for what is right. It’s not about marriage, it’s about equality. That’s eee-kwal-it-tee for you slower people. Mrs. Klein was quoted saying “what if my children saw them kiss? I have known gays and have had gay friends.” Holy shit Melissa, can you imagine if your kids saw two people in love? How awful would that be? You lady, are teaching your children discrimination and hate. Geez!

I read one headline “Oregon couple refuses to make gay cake.” Hmm, how does one make a gay cake? Oh wait I know, bake the shit out of it. Either way, it’s still just a cake. Something similar to a gay wedding, it’s still simply a wedding. According to Mr. Brainiac at the bakery it is a “religious institution ordained by God,” Klein is quoted as saying. “A man should leave his mother and father and cling to his wife … that to me is the beginning of marriage.” Well shit, if I bet he had them lined up on his parents front lawn waiting. I want to make t-shirts and koozies for him with the saying, “Keep Calm and Cling On.”

I also like “Ore. Bakery says no to same-sex wedding cake.” I have visions of the Pillsbury dough boy standing in a doorway screaming at a cake dressed in drag and lace. “No cake, no, no, no!”

I know, I sit here and make jokes but truthfully I am thankful people are standing up. I am tired of not being able to hold someone’s hand or having to sneak in a kiss. It gets to be so difficult to act a certain way. I only know how to be me and I shouldn’t have to hide that. I also believe people should be able to stand up for their beliefs, but not at the expense of dehumanizing others.
With all of this off my chest now, I am really glad I don’t like cake, neither hetro cakes nor gay cake.