Kick the cat

July 24th, 2013, 12:55 PM by Goddess

I crack myself up. Just tried to log in from work and I see I’ve banned our IP address. My message to spammers brings me joy, inviting their miserable asses to curl up in a ball and die.

Of course, I wrote that to my stalker after he slipped up and left a harassing comment from an IP other than a public library. I marked his ass as spam and it felt terrific

I know there are other ways to read me than by visiting. But it reminds me that there are more people who hate me who keep up with me than there are people who genuinely have my best interests at heart when they check in on me.

Anyway, I’m having what a colleague called a “kick the cat” kind of day. I’m detoxing from manic busy-ness and now seeing all the drama I’ve been too preoccupied to care much about.

What people need to realize is that speaking favor produces better results. When you talk shit about me, I seem to do more stupid things to prove their points. Ugh.

I spoke favor over someone today. I hope he receives it and that more love will go around this world today because of it. I guess it should be a “hug the cat” day, then, yes?



The last word

July 23rd, 2013, 7:06 PM by Goddess

Memo to: Those who can’t hold a candle to me

Subject: You suck

______________

If you have to invent things I’m doing wrong and complain about them at length, especially when you had opportunities to help or train or basically get out of my way, you are only further solidifying my case that I am awesome and you will never be me.

Wait till I get my strength and my sanity and my will to live back. You think I’m a threat now? Please. I will dance circles around you even more than I already do.

Most people flap their jaws. The rest of us get our jobs done and YOURS TOO.

Love,

Goddess



Scratch

June 7th, 2013, 9:20 AM by Goddess

Thought for today: Those who can’t, irritate the motherfuck out of the rest of us who not only can, but who also HAVE.

What kills us more is that we can’t do anything about it other than to keep doing it. And to try not to inflict physical harm in the process, on them or on ourselves.

I haven’t been smoking but I’ve started cutting. Not with sharp objects, just with my nails. I wish I were one of those people who got frustrated and decided to, I dunno, exercise.

But at least I’m exfoliating every time someone pisses me off. That counts as self-improvement, right?



If these are the ‘better days’ that everyone said were ahead, I’ll pass, thanks

February 23rd, 2013, 8:04 PM by Goddess

Today was so stressful, it felt like a workday.

Got up early to go look at a house I’ve been lusting after. The listing agent on it never called me so I called a realtor friend and asked her to hook me up with a showing for the 3/2 villa at X price point on the water. I said it was a gated community so I’d meet her at the gate.

She calls me at five till the appointed hour to see where I am. And says, oh, there’s an ungated entrance — use that.

Hmm. I’ve driven by this thing a million times. Everything is gated down there.

I said, where is this entrance that is ungated?

She gives me an intersection.

There are no intersections ON THE DAMN WATER.

Turns out that there is a complex with the same name and apparently same setup and price, completely on the other side of town.

That’s where she was.

*headdesk*

So I find the listing agent and hunt his ass down to get to see “my” place. He picks up and he’s either asleep or in mid-fuck … I can’t really tell. He says he’ll call me in a couple of hours when he gets to the office.

Fast-forward exactly eight hours and I get a call. He’s just as idiotic-sounding as he was earlier. Tries forwarding me to his “partner” who, gee at six o’clock on a Saturday isn’t at her desk, which he apparently can see from where he’s sitting.

He hangs up on me three times and finally calls back now (8 p.m.) to say OK fine he will help me himself.

So the unit I loved? Under contingency. Someone else is applying for it and getting it.

He tells me to text him my e-mail address. I texted him the fact that I e-mailed him on February fucking 16th from this e-mail address. Meaning, if your DUMB ASS had gotten your shit together last week, this could have been MY HOUSE.

Oh I am so bitter I cannot breathe.

I work my ASS off so that everything is perfect and every ass is adequately kissed or slapped or whatever their fancy is. And then this idiot just lets me fall through the cracks like I am not worthy of the wonderful things I deserve in this existence. And he sounds like he’s rich — asked me if I wanted to rent a house he personally owns for the low price of $3,000 a month.

Fucker mouse.

Something better will come along. God if I keep saying it long enough, you will bring better things along, right? Or if these are the better days I was promised, just tell me and I will END IT NOW.

I don’t even want to talk about the rest of the day. But if this is how the latest Mercury retrograde cycle kicks off, you can find me under my damn covers for the next few weeks.



Speak now, or forever shut my trap?

November 18th, 2012, 3:12 PM by Goddess

Mercury Retrograde is good for one thing: telling people off creatively.

Especially for us Mercury-ruled types, we should just duct-tape our mouths for three weeks at a time, three or four times a year. Because shit comes out that you have been muffling for months or even years.

Or as I admitted to someone (because yes, I do blurt shit out that I shouldn’t), it’s also a wonderful time to let things escape under the guise of, “Oh dear! How did THAT pop into my head (and out of my mouth)?” *innocent look*

My poor mother has heard everything I’ve been squelching since my grandfather died six years ago this week. And it ain’t pretty. She’s in hiding in her bedroom right now. AND I CAN FINALLY WRITE AND BLEED MY DAMN WOUNDS. HOORAY!

The thing is, she knows how to push every goddamn button I have. Sometimes, all at the same time. I can identify this because I do the same damn thing to her. And yesterday it was like throwing a shut-in on the whole piano keyboard. The noise is horrific and every button is stuck in depressed mode.

And boy does that last sentence say it all!

Speaking of Depressed, Meet Topo Gigio

Most of you don’t remember Topo Gigio, the mouse from “The Ed Sullivan Show.” I don’t either, actually. But that’s one of the names I call one of the “men” in my life.

And yesterday, he pretty much took a hammer to the last remaining button I had left standing when it comes not just to him, but to humanity.

This after I had received the most-wonderful e-mail from someone I knew and liked very much from my younger years. The timing was uncanny, really. I was on top of the world and recognizing my value to others when Topo thought he could wipe his ass on my world.

It will be the LAST time he does that. Because I can do better. I have always been able to do better. I just seem to have forgotten that because everyone has gone on to other people and I remain the asshole who is still alone.

But you know what? I’m probably the happiest asshole of them all because of that single state!

‘I Saw Goodbye in Her Eyes’

I’m borrowing this subhead from the new Zac Brown song. The thing is, I saw goodbye in Topo’s eyes a long time ago. And he flares up every now and again and, I’m ashamed to admit, I wonder if he’s finally had enough of his shitty choices that leave him isolated from normal people.

Rather, I’m ashamed to admit that I HOPE he’s coming to his senses before I put the epitaph on this entanglement. Which, again, that day was yesterday.

I haven’t seen him in a while. Because, well, distance really does make the heart grow fonder in two distinct ways:

1. He misses me and wants to see me.
2. I miss him until I spend time with him. Then, I’m good for a good long while.

I got an e-mail from him on Wednesday not saying he missed me. But saying that whenever I can free myself up, he’d love to do lunch or coffee or something.

OK.

So yesterday morning, we were texting back-and-forth about the usual pile of social, political and otherwise-surface issues that fill our conversations these days. (Since he has backtracked on everything he’s ever said to me personally. Easier to keep the truth straight, I guess, when the topic stays on national affairs.)

I was out and about, feeding my fur-niece and otherwise enjoying the pre-babysitting (Mom) gig that would eat up the entire rest of my day.

And thinking, OK, he said to tell him when I’m not busy, I said hey — I’m going to grab java after I spend some time with the cat. I’m by the highway. Want to take an hour to grab coffee with me? I’ll come to you.

Deja Vu All Over Again. And Again

I should know better. But, you know, maybe I’m sick of the only time we connect is when he is feeling like he’s off the leash that HE PUTS HIMSELF ON.

Seriously, he hangs himself with it. And you know what? Nobody gives a good God damn. Suffering is kind of pointless if nobody is witnessing it, yes?

The man’s got more excuses than China’s got rice. Yet he found another grain.

Funny thing was, he was heading down to the same fucking exit where I was doing my cat-sitting. But lo, raincheck! Eight Starbucks stores and three Dunkins in the six-block radius separated my whereabouts from his destination. But Jesus God no, he did not initiate the invitation so it is null and void!

I was stalking his whore online the other day. And I thought, hmm, she has a really cool Pinterest profile. We would probably be friends if I cared to associate with riff-raff. But that ain’t ever gonna happen.

I looked at her photo and thought, wow — that’s a face only a dumbass could love!

Or, more to the point …

A Face Only Dumbass Can Love

Understand, I’m not jealous. I actually hope these star-crossed nitwits can find their way together. But I think Whoreicane looks pretty happy with no mention of him anywhere or in any of her vast amounts of photos.

And I don’t think he can actually handle her. Like I said, I see parallels between myself and hoebag. I mean, he’s lowered his standards considerably on the looks front and even with the coherence front on that one. But I don’t think he can upkeep something like that.

Nay, I think she’ll get bored, or wait till he comes to his senses and finds somebody better. Frankly I think the only thing she loves is herself. And I’m not typically wrong about these things.

And forget me — I’ve made a return trip to my senses and closed the borders. So I think Raggedy Ass will be the lucky beneficiary. Since, of course, that’s where he was headed when he couldn’t come out and play yesterday.

Anyway, he said he was babysitting her dogs. And I was thisclose to saying, “Have fun with the dogs … and the canines!” Referring to her and her roommie, of course.

But …

I like that he thinks I’m so damn nice. (Clearly he has missed out on Caterwauling.com so far. Thank God.) I don’t want to say something shitty like that and have it be what he remembers me by. (Like I remember all the bad stuff.)

Again, but …

I thought of the whole “Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Peace” thing. Not that I plan to be around for that. But … WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS?

I can see rejecting me if he thought I was trying to get back to where we were heading, once upon a time. Trust me, the man is his own sequel to “He’s Just Not That Into You.” I get it, dude. Really.

But Jesus, I don’t need friends who are so married to the idea of possibly being disloyal to someone who doesn’t even know/care about their whereabouts at any given time that they can’t even hang with their platonic friends.

That’s why I’ve often said that he cared too much. (And punished me for it.) It’s not that he doesn’t trust ME around him … it’s that he doesn’t trust HIMSELF around me.

And, well, we girls DO HAVE WAYS OF SHUTTING THAT DOWN* YOU KNOW.

(*Actually I hate to pull out the Repug pro-rape-pregnancy line. Because he’s a Democrat and I do admit liberal guys do it better!)

OK, so for the punchline to all this …

Do I take advantage of Retrograde to unleash the verbal demons and be heard across hell’s half-acre … or continue being sweet and letting him kick his own ass when he realizes what an absolute shit he’s been to me?

Because, he will. I KNOW he will. That’s the funny thing about knowing someone inside and out. You can put a timeline on things. I say by the 2014 election cycle when we rid ourselves of Gov. Rick Scott.

He’s going to get what’s coming to him … and he’s going to DESERVE IT. (And not just “Pink Slip Rick,” although I look forward to helping that to come about, too.)

I don’t wish him ill. I don’t even wish him gone. I just wish that he could change his own destiny somehow, because “alone” is going to be a very lonely place when you’re not the one choosing it.

And maybe that’s what I’m doing at home. I had to beg for alone time today. After a yelling match where I was pushed to the absolute brink. Again, I don’t wish anybody ill — I wish they’d give me my damn space already. Once in a while, anyway. And not after they’ve pushed me to meltdown status.

We’re alike in that way, he and I. We’ll come around again when we need some companionship. Difference is, I see how we could be each other’s cheering section, support group and — I dunno — FRIEND.

But this half-assed shit isn’t good enough for me anymore. And the goodbye is definitely in my eyes. Question is, does he see it?