Same old, same old (auld lang syne)

January 1st, 2018, 3:25 PM by Goddess

Welp. After buying and losing tons of food, I was just told that I shouldn’t have bought it in the first place.

That it wasn’t my place to try to figure out what to buy. Which I did when nobody gave me a list because their memory is so bad from all the body pain that they can’t remember how to cook.

That’s why I didn’t get my lasagna (Gram’s recipe) or my orange cookies (my grandfather’s mom’s recipe) as requested.

And don’t get me fucking started on all the vegetables that have gone bad that I bought as side dishes for Christmas that never got cooked because GOD FORBID I went to spend three fucking hours with a colleage’s family who said come over for a slice of ham and a board game.

I asked for precious little this year. That was it. I begged for three months for these two things. And then I threw out the yucky ground beef (and I don’t eat beef anyway on a normal day), expired ricotta and jacked-up oranges that have been here seemingly since time began.

OH YEAH. And I bought a brand-new orange juicer at her request. Granted it was cheap. But still. I bring home the bacon and the damn contraption to make it with.

I mean, it’s not like she gets out to buy gifts. But this was the real wake-up call that her mind is really going.

And it’s not like I learned how to cook from her. I mean, I used to cook when I lived on my own. I even knew the recipes. But she’s also not a nice person in the kitchen.

I remember her throwing a box of Band-Aids not just at my head — but another at my grandmother’s, as she lay in her hospital bed in the living/dining room — when she got pissed off at us for breathing.

Since then, it’s not like I’ve tried to hang around in the kitchen and get the secrets to why her bacon-wrapped scallops are like the best thing EVER in this whole entire universe.

I’ve begged for years, write me a recipe book. I want to make my Great-Grandmother Anastasia’s Polish recipes. My other Great-Grandmother Jesse’s French recipes. My Grandmother Rose’s Italian recipes.

I already know I can buy all our traditional Jewish stuff at the local deli. And I can fake the Feast of the Seven Fishes just by raiding the local Publix and Costco meat counters.

But I can’t even spell half the things I grew up eating at Christmas and New Year’s. (Pierogi. And Paczki for Easter. Well that and Shit on the Shingles the rest of the year.)

Clearly, I don’t ever want to eat Shit on the Shingles again for as long as I live …

But it’s real hard to make the same “No Bullshit (insert year)” resolutions when that is EXACTLY what is emanating from the kitchen over the cajun pork tenderloin I picked up on a whim (hey! We are actually going to eat that!) and sauerkraut that I really want to know how to make but, really, what is the point when it might as well join the Halushki recipe that’s been lost to the ages.

I know I am going to regret these rage-filled posts. But if it keeps my trap shut and prevents a fight, I’m all about beating the shit out of my keyboard instead.

(Also, neighbors kept us up till 6 a.m. with what sounded like roller-skating across the ceiling, and Electronic Dance Music blaring. I fucking hope they die. Choke on a dick, you miserable fucks.)

Christ, I feel like a husband. Maybe I should find a good wife instead of looking for a man. One who has the Italian, French and Polish heritage who can feed my fat ass well.

Not what I wanted, domestic edition

December 10th, 2017, 9:34 AM by Goddess

Because a traumatic November just wasn’t enough …

The apartment I prayed to be able to keep is going to be the end of me.

Thundercunts Part IV decided to party all night. Usually it sounds like they are riding their suitcases around the hardwood floors. And stomping like they are 5 years old. That’s daily.

But generally they settle down. Generally.

Last night they were drinking and loud-talking and what sounded like letting a horse gallop from room to room. They have a big ugly dog. So he was riled up while they partied.

Finally after “Saturday Night Live” was over, I called security. Thank the baby Jesus, I got the one competent guy. He paid them a visit very quickly.

And … the night got worse.

The good news is they took the party outside for EVERYONE to enjoy their drunken whooping.

The bad news? They turned on every TV in every room to top volume. It’s 10 a.m. Sunday and they are all still blaring.

I’d figured since we don’t have any other loud neighbors, maybe they didn’t realize how thin the walls/floors are. So, courtesy knock, keep it down plz kthanksbai.

Hahahhaahaha nope.

When my job got eliminated and the landlord wanted to sell, I prayed to keep this place. I know it’s not perfect. But it’s on the water, I have covered garage parking and a great space not 50 feet from my front door, and come on who can move without a job.

Today I have my job back (sort of). And a landlord who wants me to get settled before he lists the place.

Moreover, I have regret that I prayed to keep things the same.

I mean, my real prayer was that we’d be fine. We’re fine. Ish. But not happy.

God I’m sick of not ever feeling safe, secure or happy. Or rested. Maybe if I got a good night’s sleep for once in my sad little life, I’d have the energy to make a good decision and do the work necessary to make it happen.

This is what my limit looks like

October 29th, 2017, 5:52 PM by Goddess

Got screwed for the third time at a favorite restaurant today.

Three visits in a row now, I’ve not been able to eat at the same time as my friend or mom. Always have to send someone’s food back to be redone.

The thing is, the food is always great when it’s fixed. The managers are fantastic, and totally make up for the sucky server and/or cook. Two out of the three visits, I got my meal comped.

The thing is, it’s like any job. If the corporate equivalent of servers and cooks can’t get it right — and the manager ends up doing everything anyway — why do you need “help”?

I’m already at my wits’ end about so many things. Is it so much to expect that when I order grilled salmon, the fucking thing touches some fire at some point and isn’t oozing its innards all over my plate?

Maybe I’m just annoyed because it’s Sunday night and I have work to do that I would like to be done right. Without 75 questions that require more effort than tackling the project itself. Without “well I never did this before” from someone who’s been there exactly a year and a half LONGER than me and I KNOW my/our old boss didn’t do jack shit so SOMEONE had to do it.

And I have a sneaking suspicion I have to cancel next weekend’s plans. Unrelated but equally infuriating. Especially since I’ve spent money I guess I can’t afford anymore to make it happen because my landlord is putting me on the street AT CHRISTMAS.

A Cat-5 cataclysm in my mind

September 14th, 2017, 9:59 AM by Goddess

1. We Floridians can weather a Category 5 storm without even putting down our beers. But come on, people. There are only two working traffic lights on my 26-mile commute. Do you really not know that you’re NOT supposed to slam on the gas when you approach these brand-new four-way stops?

2. Shit for Fucking Brains tRump just landed in Florida. I wonder if Slut for Brains Melania is wearing camo-colored stilettos. Go the fuck away both of you. Wish Mar-a-Lago washed out to sea. It’s fucking hideous. The Merriweather-Posts are probably rolling over in their graves at the sheer gaudiness of it all. And also that fucking TRASH lives there now. #MAGA

3. These uncouth fucks sold Make Attorneys Get Attorneys #MAGA hats to underwater Texans. Maybe they will sell tank tops here since it’s a thousand degrees and eight people have died in a nursing home so far that didn’t have A/C.

4. Speaking of uncouth fucks, the only people I want banished to Siberia as much as those two are my latest batch of upstairs neighbors. Last night it was screaming, stomping, pissing, screaming, pissing WHILE screaming, guitars and more screaming ALL NIGHT LONG. Die. Die. Die. Just DIE. #MAGA

5. And for all those OTHER uncouth fucks who tell me “just move” like the assholes who told me “just evacuate,” please join that crowd at the end of a dock in Cudjoe Key next time a Category 5 hurricane slams into it head-on. You cough up first month’s rent, last month’s rent, full-month deposit and pet fees/rent (Six Grand. I’ll Wait) and we’ll talk.

6. Not sure why I had to come back to work and half the company didn’t. But whatever. I enjoyed being insanely busy. And I realized that even though we’ve let a lot of really good people go, the rest who stayed home did us a favor by staying out of our way. Can we make some trades now?

9/11 — post-Irma (and post-11/9) edition

September 11th, 2017, 12:35 PM by Goddess

When you spend a week glued to Jim Cantore & Co … a day and a half staring at the destruction unfolding outside your window … and another half-day-ish with no cable/Internet/electric and delusions that your four fully charged phone banks can somehow power your Keurig because you live in an apartment and can’t buy a generator … you have a lot of time to think.

I mean, I mostly thought about all my snacks. And ATE THEM ALL.

Not pictured: Ice cream and wine. Because, in mah belleh. *burp*

Obviously, that I am even typing this means we made it through. At some point I gave up on being annoyed at everybody and their “Sending prayers!” And in fact, when a friend said she fucking hated even writing those stupid words, but felt so helpless having nothing else to offer, I said it was welcome. That it’s not like any of us have our wits about us right now to pray for our safety. Thank you for doing it for me.

I don’t want to say their prayers worked. (But that won’t stop me from thinking it.)

But we got off pretty easy compared to Cudjoe Key (Category 4 impact), Key Largo, Islamorada, Marco Island (Category 3 impact) and the Naples/Fort Myers area. I won’t take that for granted.

I think prayers helped. And I know we got a big assist from Cuba, the Virgin Islands, Barbuda and everyone else who got nailed before us. The destruction outside the U.S., and/or in the U.S. territories (which half the nation seems to forget), helped to curb Hurricane Irma’s impact in a big way.

The storm was called historic because we’d never had two Category 4 storms make landfall in the same year. (Harvey was the other.)

Hurricane Jose also helped us — it pushed Irma westward, and dry winds to the west also helped to tame Irma a bit.

But anyone who wants to keep denying climate change and saying it’s a liberal Chinese hoax can suck my big fat furry cat nuts. The air was hundred-plus-degree soup and the water was even hotter.

This was the first time I breathed yesterday, as the storm moved just north of me … and kept moving:

So yeah, I’m ready to rage on our idiot president again, now that I’m out of danger. (What do you call a flock of assholes? A Trump rally.)

That and that he mumbled through two moments of silence in honor of 9/11 today does not shock me.

And I will maintain till the end of time that 11/9 was a more-devastating day in our country’s history than 9/11.

In any event, it appears Jax is underwater (again — they got the hit from Matthew last year) and Pensacola is a hot, wet mess. Funny how those areas were set to be spared and WE were supposed to meet a watery end right where I am.

That’s one more message (missive) I want to send, If you have something to say, go ahead and send a prayer.

Don’t fucking put me down for my choice of where to evacuate to (or not evacuate at all).

Cribbed from Faceypages:

Dear Non-Floridians,

Rules when discussing the hurricane with Floridians need to be put in place….

1) Calling people who don’t evacuate “idiots” or saying “they deserve what happens to them” is a judgement statement that without facts, you are not qualified to make.

2) Just go get a plane ticket! (You can’t just fly out.) Don’t make statements or give advice on how we should evacuate. You don’t have the slightest knowledge of what we are up against. There are challenges to leaving. Flights out are being changed, cancelled, delayed. Tickets are $2-3,000 higher than they normally are and that’s one way.

3) Don’t say “Get in your car and drive fast out” A) Gas stations are getting fuel still, but that fuel is gone before the lines are empty.
B. ) There is no driving fast. Cars are moving 5-7 mph on highways trying to get to safety. The lines are long and imagine, with a gas shortage, being stuck on highways in jams for 12-15 hours.

4) Florida has one way out, and that is through the top (Northern) part of the state. There are basically 2 major roads out. Those roads are jammed, backed up, and not expected to change.

5) To post “Florida is about to be wiped off the map” because you are watching the news reports and panicking from 3,000 miles away- is not the most uplifting thing for us to see. Plus, don’t speak your devastation to us. Be positive!

6) “If I lived in Florida, I would have evacuated a week ago.” Well I’m not so sure that you would have. It’s not that simple if you have a heart…not only that, you don’t know until the final days which path the storm is going to take. Homes have to be boarded up. Things have to be done to ensure that if you do leave, you have somewhere to return.

7) Stop saying God is angry and that’s why Texas went through what Texas went through and that Florida is being hit. God isn’t angry. Every person in the path of destruction was created in His image. Every person not in the path of destruction was created in His image. He is not angry. He is not judging us. He is not putting His wrath down. If you believe that, we don’t serve the same God.

8.) “Go to a safer part of the state.” Yes, we thought of that. No one knows exactly what part that is. If Irma takes a turn it could hit the west coast- if we are all fleeing to the west coast because it says the east coast is the most dangerous, then that could be costly. We know what we need to do and we are monitoring the situation.

Feel Free to pray for us!

Feel Free to check on us, text us, call us. But, don’t text your fears of our demise. Don’t call us crying because you are scared for us.

We have a storm to conquer and we need to be healthy, mentally and physically.

When your son or daughter or friend gets ready to go play in a competitive sport … before the game, do you call them and say ….
“you are going to lose”
“don’t show up for the game”
“The odds are against you”

I would hope not… well we are preparing to overcome this storm. Send us some prayers and encouragement! We welcome it! If you are going to do anything less than that, turn your TV or radio off and keep your mouth shut!

God bless all, stay safe, love and help your neighbors.

If I had time/money, I would have taken up my friends’ offers for North Carolina, Baltimore and D.C. If I could have gotten a flight or a hotel or GAS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, there were many possibilities. If I didn’t fear NOT being able to return home (there are downed power lines everywhere and roads blocked by trees and roads that are totally underwater), money wouldn’t even have been a factor.

Not many people were stupid enough to snark to me. They did however tell my mom that I was dumb deciding to go back home.

But if there’s something I know about hurricanes, it’s that they change their mind a thousand times before landfall. And even then, they can pivot.

I asked my guides and the stars what to do. At first my gut said “Orlando. You have to be in Orlando.” Then when I got home I felt like, “OMG, this was the best decision I could make.” And that was before the weather proved me RIGHT.

Speaking of consulting one’s gut on all sorts of things, that’s a blog entry I want to tackle next. Stay tuned …