Caterwauling

I had this assclown who worked for me for a long time.

She wasn’t always an assclown. We were quite good friends for several years.

But apparently she said something about her mother (a New Yorker) wishing she lived in Florida so she could vote for Ron DeSantis for governor.

DeSantis, I knew, was a tRump puppet. And there was no fucking secret that I think tRump is a destructive piece of shit who was sent here to hand America over to Russia and plagues and what the fuck ever.

Oh hello, which of us was right?!

In any event, I was joking with her and I don’t remember what I said because that wasn’t the nature of our relationship to tiptoe.

But apparently I said Mom better stay home on Election Day because I might run her over in the parking lot before she got to pull the lever for DeSantis.

Literally, I do not remember any of this but I do remember this chick treating me like absolute garbage from that day forward.

Meanwhile she would never follow dress code. She would boo-hoo about her tummy and bunny troubles and I would let her stay home. She had an odor about her most days, too. And she was super-productive at home anyway.

At some point I approached her and said hey if you are looking for another job, give me a heads-up. She asked why I would say that and I said you haven’t spoken to me in weeks and I don’t know why and you keep saying everything is fine.

Sure enough — after she WALKED THE FUCK OUT two hours before my vacation started — someone finally told me a few weeks later that she was trashing me all over the company.

Funny that she was making too good a money for her talent level, but she was suddenly butthurting about a joke I don’t even remember making.

In any event, I am sitting here watching Ron DeSantis — who refused to lock down the state and we are the next New York as far as coronavirus hotspots — now on live TV, telling us to go back to school and work.

And I say this.

Not only should we have mowed down every old fart who didn’t like the Democratic African American gubernatorial candidate before they got to vote for the asshole who makes his predecessor Rick Scott look like a great governor …

Rick Scott who somehow won a Senate seat over the awesome Bill Nelson …

And don’t get me fuckin started about that asshole Marco Rubio or that human shitshow Matt Gaetz …

But yeah. How do you fuckers like me now, when I was RIGHT about all their corruption?

Suck a dick, all of you.

Although you probably can’t even get THAT right, either.

That time when I contemplated opening up my social media again and pulled The Devil, Three of Swords and The Chariot.

TL;DR: Hard pass, G.

That’s what set me off in the first place. I was trying to lie low and basically fuck off. But I got a follow that started a series of events that turned any shitheel feelings into irreverence.

I didn’t realize that till the same entity tried again to get my attention the same way.

Interesting how they have to bother me to come play with them. Hard p…

This time, the part of me that once again wanted to point out their lack of understanding, suddenly didn’t need to.

Funny how the second tag pushed me out of the very rabbit hole it was meant to suck me back into.

I lost a friendship that will never come back for as long as this continues. Or maybe ever.

Maybe next lifetime, possibly.

That’s the alpha and omega, bookended by tweets.

No hot tools for me. My hair is curly from no longer putting crap in it. Curls of Instagram, ahoy!

Funny that I’d pull The Lovers (Gemini) card yesterday …

The Devil (Capricorn) today …

Let me guess … The Tower tomorrow?

The building manager saw me throwing away trash with my mask and gloves on. Because that is what life has fucking become.

He was joking around and asks if I know anyone with coronavirus. I said yes. He kept joking. He said did they die and I said yes.

He kept joking and I forgive him because I know he’s got about six out of nine chickie nuggies in his happy meal.

But I realized, no one here takes it seriously because no one has lost anyone to it. It’s just a stupid Democrat hoax to all of them.

I said please take care of yourself. There are morons in masks and no gloves, physically pushing past me in stores and reaching over me when I bend down to get something off a low shelf. Nobody here has any goddamn sense. Please have some sense. This shit is real.

I said this isn’t going to peak down here in the Florida hotspots for another two to three weeks. I bet we don’t get back to normal till September. Quit standing so close to all the girls, OK? I know we’re cute and all, but we ain’t worth it.

He laughed, and said OK and be well.

I guess maybe his heart grew three chickie nuggies this day. Let’s hope.

Perhaps the only reason I’d call myself OK right now is because I get out of the house nearly every day, to interact with animals.

Also, it’s good to see Florida still hustling and bustling. I mean, it isn’t — good, that is.

My governor is loath to lock us down and people don’t have enough sense to lock themselves down.

But seeing sunshine and people not too worried about life has been oddly refreshing.

I wish coronavirus never had to happen. And I am not one to say things happen for a reason. There isn’t always a reason.

Sometimes they just happen and it sucks. So you either get through/past it — and you grow from it — or you don’t. Dealer’s choice.

I’ve been turning into a salt pillar, in a few ways. Not reading certain social media. It ain’t that snark and smug superiority I miss. Or being typed at like I’m a 6-year-old.

Hard pass, Grimace.

As if it wasn’t hard enough waiting 45 years to open up my heart to someone, and for what?

But I do miss everything else.

Now that being completely discombobulated is happening to everyone else, I feel like I’m in good company.

I won’t say what drastic things I’ve done to help me cope. But let’s just say I have my magic ways. And my magic tarot deck.

* I pulled the Six of Wands today. The victory card. If you look at the card, he’s just won a battle. I think he’s on his way to one. And homey ain’t playin’. He left behind a lot of things he loved, in search of the things he’ll love and the tribe who will love him. YOU ARE DONE MAKING MOVES OUT OF FEAR. YOU ARE NOT DEFINED BY THE WAY OTHER PEOPLE SEE YOU.

* I pulled The Fool yesterday. He’s not naive — he’s seen some shit and he’s frolicking off to do whatever the fuck it was that he was put on this earth to do. He’s remembering who he wanted to be before all y’all told him what you think he is and what y’all told him he can or cannot be/do. DOORS ARE OPENING. FORGETTING IS THE ULTIMATE SKILL; YOU CAN CREATE FREELY NOW.

* I pulled the Queen of Pentacles before that. She is done with surviving. She’s thriving. She’s releasing others’ definition of her. She’s the wild woman of the deck — she is mother and psychic healer and light worker and lover and guess what? SHE IS SHOWING UP FOR WHAT IS HERS, AND SHE IS ASKING FOR MORE THAN SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS EVER WORTHY OF HAVING.

The golden thread?

She’s done some shit. People think she needs to feel a certain way about it. They haven’t seen the good she’s capable of because even she’s pushed that aside to deal with all the other stuff. And guess what? She was always worth more than they thought … than SHE thought. And you can’t manifest what you don’t think you’re worthy of.

I mean, look at all these people with great mates, money, homes, whatever. They think they deserve it all. You have dipshits running around worshiping at their idiot altars. Or maybe it’s all their bots or fake accounts “liking” them.

Wait till these fuckers pull the Tower card and the Wheel and a Five of Wands.

I already pulled all those bad cards myself, and here I am. Running up the seventh floor. Knocking the eleventh door. I’ma sick of trying. Baby could you love me some more?

In any event, life’s about to change again. I have a really hard week ahead. Hard road.

But the Six of Wands calls for balance between what calms you and what excites you.

The Fool said be a writer, lady. It’s time.

And the Queen of Coins says you’ve suffered enough actual fools. Let the cream rise to the top and let the spoiled milk curdle.

God willing, Imma find that missing cup in the wall of the Eight of Cups.

Now to parlay a legacy out of all this.

Doesn’t feel like Easter.

Doesn’t feel like much of anything, really.

I saw a photo from this day last year. And it reminded me of the day before this day.

And THAT reminded me how different it all is now.

I liked everything the way it was.

But at some point, I wanted different.

Boy, did I get it.

That’s the opportunity and challenge with being “a good little manifester,” as my coven leader calls me.

I say it; it happens.

I’m going to go manifest a good brunch now.

I’d say “at the risk of TMI,” but this is me we’re talking about …

I was rationing TP to the point of basically pretending I’m in an outdoor-concert portajohn, wasting three minutes air drying before finally succumbing to a limited number of squares.

Then out of the bloody blue, Mother Nature reminded me once again that my reproductive system is still ready and waiting for me to meet someone worth reproducing with.

The good thing about dating men with kids is you see if they can make a cute one before you take your chances.

In any event, rationing ends here. TP, not BC.

Also, I don’t want to be knocked up unless this is the sonogram I’d get …

Happy yeaster! Nothing like a Good Friday fish fry.

It hit me today. The reality shitshow that this country has become.

I was in the Starbucks drive-thru and got a call from the vet.

I’d managed to kidnap one of the kitties today and took her in.

Where I was not allowed to be with her because no hoomins are allowed in the clinic.

Where they would only speak to me my cellphone despite the asshole who left his loud car running and the other guy who was playing REALLY GOOD R&B music, also loud.

Where I had to pay OVER THE FUCKING PHONE because no one wanted to touch my credit card. Forget gloves — someone put a condom over my BofA card information.

I literally had no idea what I signed myself up for.

So it’s like OK you need to get her this medicine and give it to her every two months. And a flea bath. And this, that and the other.

Me: Um, so do you have all this stuff available for purchase? It’s not like I can go walk into a store without waiting in line four hours and then not knowing if anything IS there because all the websites say you have to COME IN and see for yourself.

Them: Nope! Good luck.

Me: I did tell you this is a stray, right? How the f… Oh never mind.

Them: Didn’t you say you had another one you wanted to bring in?

Me: __

So yeah.

They managed to fleece me for some exams and treatments. Fine. Now treatments. Whatever.

Hopefully if she doesn’t hate me too much after this bullshit today, I can figure out how to treat her when I see her at night.

You know, when I can procure all this magical shit.

Meanwhile, I’ve probably exposed myself to all kinds of god-awful outdoor diseases, too.

Coronavirus is officially the least of my worries now. So there’s that.

But yeah. Not like you can waltz on in to any store, and find 20 of what you need on the shelf.

Not like you can order something online, and it actually a) LET you order it if you are not a healthcare professional, and/or b) GET IT sometime before June.

Meanwhile I have this moppet looking at me like, are you really going to put my ass back on the street after you just paid them beaucoup bucks to fix me up?

Maybe when I said my intention was to be my best self this year and be spirit’s messenger this (last?) month (what is time anymore, anyway …), I should have just asked for better decision-making skills.

In any event, Good Friday is a workday, so back in the saddle again. Is it Friday? Who am I?

The good thing about WFH is that day drinking is acceptable and, just my luck, the days are getting longer.