Caterwauling

I was telling mom, we could have turned on the gas and been dead in here this Christmas, and no one would have noticed. 

Granted, everything is electric. And I couldn’t go an entire day without bitching that the idiot upstairs is building pipe bombs and praying to Mecca over his goddamn karaoke system. But still. 

If two colleagues and two cousins hadn’t reached out, I would have thought we were dead already. I’m still waiting to hear from the handful of people I texted 12 hours ago. 

It’s times like this when you wonder whether any friend or man-friend is good enough. Hanging around waiting for a good one is a lonely business. 

But wine and lasagna never disappoint …

Now how do I cure this shit?

Concealed Anxiety

Everyone else is posting photos of all the presents under their tree. All I have under my tree is a motion-activated bird that tweets every time the car goes near it. Because, fragile ornaments. 

What’s sad is that the thud muffins upstairs are banging shit around so hard, the bird is tweeting up a storm. And we have really high ceilings. 

Right now I’m watching Dish’s “crackling fireplace” channel and detoxing from the three spirits that visited me last night in the form of Amarone and two bottles of Pinot. 

I’m also reading up on how Americans are leaning left politically again. It’s a great read. 

I used to be a democratic centrist. I even registered as an independent a couple times. But post Bush the Younger, I’m a democrat again. 

It’s mostly my way of balancing the tug o war with the batshit wing of the other party. 

There is no such thing as being a centrist anymore. You have to lean all the way left in order to achieve any sort of compromise. I’m not compromising from the middle. Glad to see some of my favorite Washingtonians see it my way. 

On Faceypages, I looked up a girl I used to babysit. She was horrible. Pretty little girl but very mean. Loud and obnoxious and violent. 

She grew up physically beautiful. Has three kids now who look like her. But man, the mouth on her. 

Her husband died a couple months ago but that did nothing to humble her. 

She grew up poor like I did. Got a good job like I did. And instead of having any respect for our moms — who never had a pot to piss in and still don’t — she rages against the poor. 

She’s a pharmacist. And her company lets them, at their discretion, not charge the most indigent customers. 

Instead of shutting her stupid mouth, among all her wacky conservative bullshit postings she laughs and says she would charge the poor folks more if she could. 

I can’t wrap my head around her. Other than to say she’s just like all my former friends who vote for trickle-down economics. And we all know how THAT turned out. 

In any event, you’d think losing your husband would soften you a little. But once a bitch, always a bitch. 

I’m glad I turned out the way I did. I just wish I were the one shaping three young minds and not her. 

In any event, it’s 9 am and day drinking is next on my agenda. Cheers, Jesus. And sorry this is what your world looks like. 

Now here’s a conversation I’ve had more than once. 

And not always in my head. 

I’d say all I want for Christmas is a day off. 

But last time I said that, I got fired on Dec. 27. 

I thought today I could be “off.” I hauled ass and got all my shit done through Monday morning. 

Then one of the boys said he’s sending me three projects today. 

I’d ask Santa to give him coal. But we all like natural resources so that’s not punishment. 

Might as well start on next week’s work since I’m stuck here. 

I’m starting to see why all my relationships and friendships are short-lived. I go all-in right away. And pull out as soon as I can. 

I’ve never been a girl to settle. I don’t stay with someone because it’s Christmas or their birthday is coming up or I’m lonely and waiting for something better to come along. 

That’s how most people are in the workforce. And unfortunately I see a lot of that in relationships and marriages all around me. 

My take has always been to be free. When the right one comes along, why have baggage in the closet blocking the way of your cutest cocktail dress?

My firm belief is that you can’t pick up what you want when your arms are filled with what you don’t. 

Of course, you need a job to get another job. Maybe that’s the way to get the right relationship? To have something to compare it to that you’re willing to sacrifice for something greater?

Or would you just be like 97% of the people I know and think you can have both?

Maybe I need a freelance opportunity as my love affair. Money never disappoints. 

“Don’t want to go home to the T.V.
Don’t want to go down to some bar
You grab a blanket,
Put the top down
And go driving in your car
Though your bed’s as warm as January
On this cold December’s night.”

— Bon Jovi, “Blind Love”

What most men fail to understand is that we want a damn gift from them.

I don’t need a yacht. Although that would be nice. But, you know. Something for Christmas and birthday and perhaps other random times through the year.

You know. To prove that they are paying attention to things we say we like. And thinking about us when we’re not around. Or pretending that they give a shit when all they want is someone to listen to them and care about them and ask about them and talk about them.

Even and especially if, all the while, they’re trying to get with someone, ANYONE else who will tolerate them for 10 minutes.

What bugs me is that if another man gives you a gift, or if you buy one your damn self, these guys feel like they are off the hook.

Let me be clear. I’ve not found much use for most of the (sadly few) gifts I’ve gotten in my life. That’s why my best boys give me wine and I cherish them so. (The boys. But also the bottles of deliciousness.)

Also let me be clear. If I gotta hear about your dick, I want restitution. The gift of silence is good too.

“Welcome to another hard night
You made it through another day
Sit at the counter counting tips
Can’t count on nothing else these days.”

I did something recently I’m proud of. I took time I’d normally spend on a “going nowhere” kind of thing, and used it to breathe some life into a couple near-dead friendships.

It’s amazing how much happier I am to have made a couple of connections to people I haven’t made time for in a very long time.

I mean, I’m not up for friend of the year or anything. Gotta keep expectations low, yo. But my theme of 2016 is “Enough.”

And that means there is enough time and money and will and willpower for everything. I just have to find it.

And that means a little less reality TV and a lot less reality in general.

So the only real gift I want or need … is me, and everything I’ve given away (i.e., time) that I would benefit from more than anyone else.

But if you want to take that time, pay up. 

I haven’t felt very good for a long while. The stress, while not very high in general, has manifested in a semi-permanent case of heartburn.

I never say anything; I don’t want to hear about it from people with kids (which is every one I know these days) who love to tell me that I couldn’t POSSIBLY know what stress is.

Everyone’s got to top you, you know? Like, just come out and say my stresses — mom, apartment, money, sanity, loneliness (well the 1% of it that isn’t self-imposed), car and other random people who need to lose my number — are lesser than yours.

Of course, everyone thinks their stresses are worse than anyone else’s. But it’s easier to just put on a happy face and let everyone think all is well. Because then you don’t have to hear about their woes. And I like the silence very much.

I saw an opinion piece today about when it’s time to cut friends loose. And I had to laugh because every single bullet point describes me. In other words, I don’t pick up the phone … ask about jobs/kids/significant others/parents … reply in a timely manner unless I need something … or say hi just to say hi. Nope, not me.

Small talk has always annoyed me. Standing around parties, going 19 rounds with the same person — “Things good?” Yup. “What’s up?” Nothing. “Done anything fun lately?” Nope — makes me nuts.

Then because it’s Christmas you get the inevitable, “What are you doing with your time off?” I mean do you kick them in the nuts because they get two weeks off and you don’t, or just go mate with the bottle of wine that you swear has your name etched into it?

I am feeling old because I don’t want to drive anywhere anymore. I mean there are redneck assholes no matter where you go. But they all seem to be concentrated in Palm Beach County. And I’m sick of, say, seeing holiday lights like I did last night. And then getting tailgated by some asshole for two miles who doesn’t see the posted 25 mph signs so he is screaming and throwing the finger 22 times on a barely paved road. ‘Tis the season to despise humankind more than usual.

Calgon (or wine. Whichever), you know what to do.

Made the mistake of wearing a little pink Key West tank top and cutoffs on our coldest night of the year. 

But other than the aching bones from my front-row metal bleacher seat beside the Intracoastal Waterway, I had a great night at the Boca Raton boat parade. 

And the cops were friendly! And helpful! I felt safe and welcome. 

Amazing, that. As was this …

  
I probably shouldn’t say it. 

But that’s never stopped me before. 

Not long ago, a friend and I walked into a room. And we overpowered it. 

And I got the feeling that we are truly life forces. Where everyone else was just in a rut, a routine, a never ending circle of sameness and frustration. 

We wondered how we got so lucky not to be all of that. 

Maybe it’s external. Or maybe we just have a fire on the inside that life can’t seem to extinguish. Hard as it appears to try. 

I was at a party the other day. Half the people had no idea who I was at first. But then my big mouth gets going and I can hear people buzzing in the next room, “Goddess is here! I hear her!” And that wasn’t a bad thing, for them or me. 

All the photos of me from the past year show that I look exhausted. And I feel it. But I crave the opportunity to light up a room. And get a thousand hugs and leave people feeling a bit lighter than when I crashed their party. 

I’m not acting like God’s gift here. Plenty are annoyed that they can’t break me. I refuse to wear a bow in my hair at Christmas, for example, so I don’t hear, “Are you my present?” Because the answer is *stabstabstab.*

This week I spent some time wondering whether this girl who can’t be “gotten” by any man, well, was never really wanted by any of them in the first place. 

But I don’t think that’s entirely true. I’d just rather be alone than wish I were. 

Unfortunately it has turned out to be an either/or option, for the most part. Sure I’ve been trying to have it all. But having less than everything is ultimately nothing, don’t you agree?

Perhaps I should wish for someone who loves me as much as those who don’t really know me do. 

Of course, maybe being the girl no can have is the only thing in this world I really know how to do well. 

As Joel McHale said on “The Soup” series finale last night, “That’s what I’ve been doing for the last 11 years? I have no talent.” 

I’m with ya, brother. I’m with ya.