Caterwauling

It’s yet another “woke up screaming, realized it wasn’t a dream, and kept on screaming” kind of day.

God didn’t put me on this earth to be miserable. And yet, everyone who meant anything to me is either with Him or too far away for me to hug.

But there are plenty of assholes still mouth-breathing their way through this earth. I saw this firsthand yesterday when a particularly loathsome twat from high school showed up in my list of friend suggestions on Facebook.

Now, I’m grateful for Facebook for putting me in touch with all the “good” people — the ones I liked and respected and even found that I missed. I’m glad to see how they turned out, and I wish them all the happiness in the world.

Then I see a rotting twat like (name removed) showing up with a husband and kids and, basically, she didn’t die in a crack den like she SO rightfully deserved, and I ask the universe, “Where is the justice?”

I mean, how can this miserable asshole, who is responsible for years of torture on my part, be allowed to have a good life? Meanwhile I work my ass off, everyone I love is gone and I’m struggling just to pay the bills right now. Fuck that. Fuck HER.

I know I can’t judge whether she’s happy. But the fact that some pimp didn’t smack her into 2012 irks me. That she looks normal and happy and that life has treated her well. Nuh uh. Forget that shit. She doesn’t deserve it.

I know we all do things in life we regret, and maybe she regrets the things she did to me. I doubt she has enough brain cells in her widdle noggin to achieve that sort of realization, though. I vaguely remember the boys thinking she was pretty. I remember her grating voice, her very loud mouth, and the ugly, ugly facial expressions on her puss as she was being such a royal cunt that I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to see/hear her when they could put their face into a meat grinder for a more pleasant experience.

It’s the people like her who made me so driven to get the fuck out of where I grew up. I might be miserable most of the time now, but so many people tell me I’m living the life they wanted, so maybe all is not lost after all.

But what I wouldn’t trade for a husband, maybe a kid, a little freelance job to keep me busy during Junior’s naptimes, and the weight of the world to come off of me already.

I’m sure Rotten Twat’s dumb ass can’t form a thought, let alone have the stamina to live my life. I don’t want to be her .. ugly from the inside-out. And even though an apology would mean nothing to me from the likes of her, I’m just looking toward the universe to wonder why the hurt and disappointment avalanche is always barreling toward me while others who DO NOT DESERVE SHIT seem to be ambling along OK.

Anyway.

She had a partner in crime of course. By the fact that THAT twat nozzle hasn’t surfaced anywhere keeps my dream alive that she became the crack ho she was destined to be.

And don’t get me started on the cunt whose future hopefully involved a mental institution.

God, it’s funny how far you can go in life, and how one ugly face can unleash a repressed flood of memories. I never cared what this miserable wretch thought or said about me, or even why she did the things she did to me. I wasn’t looking to live down to her standards.

But when all was said and done, I guess I thought my suffering would end at some point, and the happiness would eventually start. I mean, really, haven’t I been through enough?

Looks like I left Rockville, Md., just in time. …

“Kate Gosselin Moving To Maryland”

There goes The Palladian. From what I remember, they didn’t have enough bedrooms to house a litter. I presume the kids aren’t coming with?

So I only got about two solid hours of sleep last night, as I was dozing in front of CNN for the better part of the night last night. And it was downright amazing, to wake up and realize, holy shit, Barack Obama won! He’s our president-elect! It wasn’t just a dream!

Of course, it made for a looong workday, as I was tired as all get-out. But it was worth it — sooo worth it.

I found myself having to log out of Facebook today. I’ve had people friending me from high school — people I barely talked to then and don’t have much to say to these days — but interestingly, they’ve been de-friending me left and right, every time I posted a pro-my-guy’s-policies status update or an anti-the-other-guy’s-policies article.

Meh, whatever. I saw their Republican rhetoric and never felt the need to go, “Oooh, no, pwease shield my virgin eyes!”

And then it dawned on me today: We grew up in “Picksburgh.” In a city in which our fathers, uncles and grandfathers — blue-collar workers — were laid off from the steel mills. We were in the generation in which we might not have understood what was going on, but we saw our male providers being laid off by the thousands and we got our asses kicked around by the alcoholics that many of them became. We got food stamps and government cheese until the handouts ran out.

In other words: How can you NOT support the candidates who favor social programs, assistance for the out-of-work, tax cuts for those who need it most, and change in general?

In my words: “When did the Class of 1992 turn into right-wing nutjobs?”

I mean, Christ, I’ve been posting “I’m voting for Obama” messages and some of them had the audacity to e-mail me to remind me to vote for McCain. Hunh? I don’t expect anyone’s paying THAT close of attention to lil old me. But come on. When I sent my pro-‘Bama propaganda to friends (you know, the kind I know in person and who welcome communication from me), I made SURE that I knew my recipients’ voting status or else I didn’t share.

Now, I logged out of F-book instead of getting worked up in a lather. I don’t crap in people’s comments. It’s a free country and I am immensely RELIEVED it’s going to stay that way for the next four years. But … I honestly, remembering what I remember of these people, cannot figure out why they would vote Republican.

I knew their families. Maybe not their political leanings, but at least their — ah, shall we say, humble — upbringing … exactly like my own. I don’t want to call anybody a racist, but given the area where we grew up, it wouldn’t surprise me.

I am tickled pink that Pennsylvania was as blue as it was. I admit, I was worried about Pennsyltucky and maybe even Allegheny County. Just because it was an ethnically diverse area when I was growing up didn’t mean there weren’t some lumps in the melting pot.

The comment, though, that burned my butter was from someone who, upon hearing Obama won, wrote that “Oh, think of all those POOR BABIES who will never get a chance to LIVE because they will be MURDERED BY ABORTION NOW.”

Said she who had four of them before age 30. I’m not being judgmental — she was lucky enough to get married and have a family, and good for her. But what she and the rest of right-wing evangelical America does NOT comprehend is that the No. 1 reason for abortion? IS ECONOMICS.

There was a really poignant moment during one of the presidential debates in which John McCain was railing against Obama as being “pro-abortion,” and Obama paused and said calmly, plainly, “John, no one is pro-abortion.”

I’m fairly sure the gal who is so afraid Obama is going to be single-handedly performing vacuum aspirations is also a social worker. Which, um, I spent two years in social work. I assure you, given the conditions those kids were existing in, it definitely makes you believe quite strongly in having options available for everyone who needs them.

You know, part of my vote for Obama was in knowing that he’s going to focus on the here and now — the economy, for starters — and not be fucking around with constitutional amendments and such. I mean, here’s a conundrum: Republicans want smaller government, right? Less regulation, yes? More individual liberties and decision-making, yo? Then why oh WHY is that party so hell-bent on telling women what they cannot do with their bodies?

And that’s what worried me about Sarah Palin. That she’d be spinning around in Dick Cheney’s old office after trying on all her expensive clothes and shoes that she would keep in his human-sized safe, and decide her pet project would be overturning Roe v. Wade, or something else that has NOTHING TO DO WITH THE IMMEDIATE ISSUES AT HAND.

We all want change. We all want change we can believe in. But we also want change that is needed to make our world a better one in which to live.

And what I loved as I was half-snoozing while Obama gave his speech after midnight last night, was that he talked right to those who didn’t vote for him. To say that he’s their president, too, and he’s working just as much for them.

He wasn’t my candidate originally. But he reached out and found a way to talk to me in a way that I would listen. Now if he can just the rest of the nation to unplug their ears for a little while, he can get down to the business of governing in a way we need and DESERVE.

And God willing, in four years we’ll look back and say, damn, election night wasn’t the ONLY time that man made history in this country. Hopefully, my former high school friends and everyone else like them who are licking their wounds and crying foul will be saying the same thing. …

… Remember, kids, if McCain is the one who gets to pick the next set of Supreme Court justices and he lives up to his promise to overturn Roe v. Wade, stupid people will continue procreating at a rapid rate.

Have you heard about the fucking moronic teen girls in the pregnancy pact? I think vacuum aspiration should be mandatory for those stupid bitches. Save the clothes hanger for beating them with it.

Some of the girls reacted to the news they were pregnant with high fives and plans for baby showers, (Principal Joseph) Sullivan said. One of the fathers “is a 24-year-old homeless guy,” Sullivan told the magazine.

Mind *boggles.*

Sidenote: Those brats had better not be getting baby showers. Just saying. We celebrate idiocy enough in this world enough, thanks.

Anyway, I know any dumb fertile asshole can become a parent, but let’s not prove the same is true of the U.S. presidency, mmkay? I still haven’t gotten into the “vote Obama” groove, but I sure as hell am steady on “for the love of God, don’t vote McCain.”

Worked from home this a.m. and decided to do the afternoon shift at a wireless hotspot simply because my bloated ass feels and looks way better in my cute new jean shorts.

Alas, I’m here now and the firewall is blocking the Web site that I’m supposed to be working on. Aarrgghh!

Am just gonna finish my salad and hightail it to the office. Besides, this annoying mother of 14 sitting next to me yelled at me to take a farther-away table just in case her kids wanted mine. The hell? Now she’s talking loudly with the mother four tables away from her (i.e., two away from me) so I get it. Really. You’re a whore who needs to have her tubes (and her vocal cords) tied.

Good thing I brought a pair of pants more suitable for work, just in case.

I do see the usefulness in having kids though. I forgot to grab a knife (heh — good thing) and Splenda for my black currant iced tea. At least she can dispatch her toddler to the condiment station. I wish I’d been nicer to her, as I can’t abandon my shit-ton of electronics just to get a lil spoonful of sugar for myself.

Of course, she beats the dumb bitch who was in line behind me by a mile, as her natural voice was baby talk. Even when she wasn’t addressing her toddler. I wanted to fork her eyeball if it wouldn’t have resulted in even more high-pitched shrieking, although it would have been amusing to see if her voice could possibly have risen another octave.

Delayed by at least a dozen years but no sense in waiting any longer:

Hey Psychofag,

Just because you comment doesn’t mean I have to read it. The “mass edit” mode helps me to make you disappear from my Web site the way you need to evaporate from my life.

You hate me? Sorry to hear it. You want me to die? Believe me, if it rids me of you, it’s apparently not the worst option. You wanna keep making fun of a dead man who was loved more than you’ll ever be? Have at it — you can’t hurt him and therefore you can’t hurt me.

Since unsubscribing from my blog feed or, gasp, not visiting Caterwauling.com is clearly above your intelligence level, too bad — so sad.

I was through with you in 1993. I was through with you in 1995. I was through with you in 1998. I was through with you pretty much the whole period between 2002 and now. And what, do you think I miss you? I miss someone who doesn’t exist anymore (and hasn’t, for some time now). Or maybe that person was an illusion you showed me to try to get someone like me into your clutches or that vicious circle inside your head.

I admit, all those times I came back? Were because I was afraid. Keeping one’s enemies closer, blah blah blah. I spent too much time being afraid and settling for sub-par scraps of so-called friendship. You were so afraid of me finding better friends, because I’d leave when I did. You were right. So stop punishing me for it and start changing to be someone that others would WILLINGLY hang around.

Get help. Get healthy. Unlike your latest directive, no I’m not going to die. But as I once again have to be the better person (you haven’t made it difficult to do that), I want you to LIVE. I want you to THRIVE. I want you to see how AWESOME life can be without anger and hatred bubbling out of every pore.

My pastor says sometimes you have to keep forgiving people, even when you’ve already done it a million times. Let’s make it a million and one and cap it there.

When you look back on your life and realize how much time you spent trying to make people supposedly regret not being your friend — instead of trying to be a better friend to those who were within arm’s reach — you’ll realize all the love you missed out on (that you willingly sacrified).

Stop using people and start loving yourself. Ask God to help you change, and even you will be amazed at how truly great He can help you to be. And even for those times that I couldn’t forgive you, maybe He will. …

Goddess (and don’t you forget it)

So thanks to Craptastic Comcast, I’ve had spotty Internet connectivity for two weeks and the modem was dead as a doornail for the past two days.

I finally called to talk to a rep last night, who was just a rude little thing. She was mouth-breathing into the phone and giggling at whatever her coworkers were doing.

I knew there was an outage in my area but I was trying to reassign IP addresses and figured I’d effed something up. But, alas, I was fine and the rep should thank her lucky stars that she’s still employed. (She asked if I’m running XP and I said, no, I’m on a Mac. And she said, “Is that new?”)

My favorite moment was when she said, “I have 29 minutes to go and I can not WAIT to get out of here for the night.”

God forbid we talk about MY problems! She went on to say her brother locked himself out of the house and that he works there too and she had to go by his place before she goes home. Huh?!?! The fuck? Who gives a shit?

She wasn’t able to give me a reference number for the call because her computer froze up. I had full intentions of complaining. But then again, at least my call wasn’t outsourced to India this time and, minus the mouth-breathing, I could sort-of understand what she said, even if it was pure nonsense that has nothing to do with all the money I pay these morons each month.

Good to know that the world may change, but Comcast customer service has no shortage of suckage when there’s an outage.

Went to work early this morning, cut out for five hours to go shopping, and just came back. I’m usually at my best past 7 p.m., but I’m having a hell of a time getting started again. But it just goes to show — the only day I can take a lunch break is on a Saturday!

At a time when I’m really starting to see that people cross our paths at certain times for a reason — and that we exit each others’ lives for a reason, too, because God’s comic timing is apparently impeccable — I thought I was put in someone’s path yesterday to be a blessing. But I’m scratching my head over what her purpose was in my life.

I went home last night (past 8 p.m.) and found a woman who had been locked out of her unit. She wasn’t wearing a coat and looked panicked. She asked if I knew the emergency number at our complex, and I said I did. I pulled out my phone and asked if she had a phone or if she wanted to use mine.

She had a fanny pack (!), which she was riffling through and ended up dumping out all over the sidewalk. I figured she really didn’t have a phone and didn’t want to say it, so I dialed the main office and told her to listen to the recording and choose the right option.

She listened for a minute and it occurred to me that she might have been drunk or just plain loopy, because she said it was an advertisement and there were no options to get lockout assistance.

Now, I’ve called the number enough times to know that yes, it says where we’re located, but it also says to press 2 for emergencies. So, I called back, pressed 2 and handed it to her.

She left some bizarre message for them and handed the phone to me. I hung up and asked if there was anything I could do.

I was thinking of offering a blanket or a sweater; I was already planning on letting her into the building to wait since she was in a T-shirt. But she said, “Got a smoke?”

And since it’s been a rather challenging couple of weeks at work — not to mention that Sabre and I have professional meetings over a cigarette because she’s bustin’ her butt for me right now — I had a pack in my pocket. (I’m only smoking one or two a day. I promise to quit again after this BIG FREAKING PROJECT dies already.)

I thought it was a little presumptive to ask for one, but when I handed it to her, guess what? She said, “Can I have two?”

You know, when I’ve been locked out of my place, I NEVER asked anybody for anything. The one time I had to borrow someone’s phone, I went back outside and waited till help came. I didn’t ask to have a smoke or anything because I had assumed I had intruded enough.

I walked away, scratching my head. She wanted to stay outside so she could smoke. I asked if she had a light, because I have “doormat” stamped to my forehead apparently, and she mumbled that she could find one. I was wondering how, since she was locked out of her place and, I assume, her car. But I was doing a “last chance to go inside” and she wasn’t biting.

Now maybe it says something about who I am, but I actually thought of taking her a coat so she could stay outside. But I thought, fuck that noise. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was go to bed. I told her what my apartment number was so she could buzz me when she needed to get in. I didn’t hear back and I hope maintenance got there quickly.

I don’t know why I’m telling the story. Lack of anything interesting to say, really, since I canceled both my brunch plans today AND my dinner plans, so I’m pretty much all out of stories. (Not like I post my social activities, anyway. But still.) I guess I’m just glad that I can always manage to be nice and helpful and patient when people are in need, even if they don’t have the wherewithal to, oh, SAY THANK YOU.

I’m trying hard not to lose my faith in people, but it’s times like this when I am reminded that others are lucky to have/find me — I have this pesky tendency to CARE. It’s not an expectation I have of people, but it’s one that’s OK to have of me.

Maybe that’s my lesson — that I can always walk away from a situation and know that I did what I could. Or maybe it’s just what comes around, goes around. It was in that very same parking lot that another neighbor gave me a jump so I could drive to the mechanic.

It’s funny. I live in a cold city where no one even acknowledges that someone is standing next to them. But where I live, where everyone steals each other’s parking spots and would step over their cold, lifeless bodies, we all really do get out heads out of our butts when it’s needed. So, hopefully the bizarre woman I helped will get her head out of her fanny (pack) and do something useful for someone else next time around.