Caterwauling

Honestly, what the hell is going on this week? It’s not a bad week, by any means, but man, it’s off-kilter.

My friend just called to say her cousin is in the local burn unit. Turns out that he was trying to fill a lighter with butane, while he was smoking crack. Burned off most of his face and blew up half of his apartment, while he was at it. Brilliant.

I have no problem with self-destructive people. Really, don’t share your stupidity with the world. It’s those assholes who think their life’s mission is to ruin yours that I have a problem with. (Like that Virginia Tech shooter — man, how many creepy assholes have we come across in our days? That could have been us, at any time. Some nut with a few screws loose and look what happens. It’s a wonderful *snerk* case study for the counseling field — oh wait, they couldn’t help him either. Blah blah blah I’m not blaming anyone but the little whackjob himself, but really, why doesn’t society listen to not only the crazy when they cry out, but also the perfectly sane who try to alert people to it? Why do good people have to die because someone’s on an imaginary warpath?)

I digress.

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, back to my friend’s cousin. Look, the crack-smoking? Stupid. Really fucking stupid. But blowing up himself now has his family going berserk, trying to figure out how to advocate for him in the hospital while wondering if he’s even worth saving at this point. You can’t burn bridges while you’re standing on them and expect people to rally around your sorry ass. And that little habit of his? Endangered the lives of everyone in his apartment building, because there was a bona fide explosion. Not to mention that his family members are fairly prominent in the area — lord knows we house the bulk of the nation’s elected officials in our various suburbs. I hope this bullshit doesn’t get out, because it’d be a freaking mess.

My friend said her cousin has these charred boxes on his arms. She asked the medics what that was all about, and they said it was burned skin. *shudder*

I don’t know what’s worse — people with evil intentions or the dumb idiot who has no freaking clue how his actions affect the world around him. Well, bad intent is definitely worse, don’t get me wrong, because you can choose to be civilized and if you don’t, you’re walking away from your God-given responsibilities to the world. You can try to forgive the happy idiot who’s oblivious to the rest of the world, but either way, it feels like people have no freaking clue what their actions (or inaction, depending) does to throw the world off its axis for the unfortunate few who happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time who either tried to help or didn’t even know to run when the anvil was hurtling toward their heads. …

Nothing bothers me more than when people fuck stuff up, then chaos ensues, then they finally fix what they broke in the first place … and THEN, the accolades start to fly.

Like how my car sat in a bed of ice for a week, undrivable, and I was reliant upon neighbors, colleagues and cabs to lug my fat ass around. I just saw our apartment’s monthly newsletter, congratulating one person in particular for all his heroic efforts to get the parking lot in tip-top shape in a hurry.

Seriously?

Christ, well then let’s give him a promotion and a big fat bonus for doing his JOB … and late and half-assed, at that.

Of course it’s followed by the bullshit line of asking us to thank him when we see him. Yeah, I saw him a week after the ice storm — where was he in the interim? I assume now that we’re expected to get four inches of white, fluffy shit today, he’ll be burrowed like a goddamned groundhog till the sun comes out again!

Today’s horoscope — Gemini, daily extended (by Astrology.com):

Even if you will be surrounded by grownups all day, it might feel as though you are stuck in a kindergarten class. For instance, you can expect some petty behavior or even a tantrum when someone doesn’t get his or her way. Your first instinct will be to deal with this person compassionately, but there is no need for that. You can feel free to ignore, and move away from, this negative energy.

No, I don’t wanna be your friend. And definitely not just because you decided you need one, not because it had to be me personally but instead because I was the last one out of the sandbox that you peed in. *punch*

It’s ponderous, really, the lengths we go to, to save some. Yet, we don’t step up to the plate for the ones who are worth it.

No matter how challenging some of my days can be, most of my stupid mistakes aren’t done in the public eye … unlike this e-mail I got this morning:

“if you (are attending this conference) don’t forget to miss (my) class this Saturday”

I won’t forget to miss it — that’s one class I assure you I WON’T want to make time for!

There are moments in my life when I’m so mixed-up and don’t know what to do because it feels like it’s going to be wrong anyway, and there are other times when I suck it up and say, hey, it’s done. Move on because there are more decisions to be made. But even so, you just feel so, I don’t know, dumb for a moment.

And then there are moments like today when you realize the rest of the world is so much stupider than you could ever be, and suddenly, you feel so much better.

I booked a trip in December to take soon. And they usually ding the credit card for one night’s stay, but they didn’t. So today, I decided to confirm the reservation. And I must have spoken to 10 people, but no luck — I was nowhere in the system.

The weird part of all of this? I got a snail-mail confirmation that I am in fact attending the out-of-town event at that particular hotel, but while everyone else had their hotel reservations at the bottom of the letter, mine did not. But here’s the kicker — they wouldn’t have KNOWN I was attending the event in the first place had I not FAXED my room reservation form to their stupid asses in the FIRST PLACE.

Gah.

Mercury goes back into retrograde tomorrow, but I think it got there early. …

I was inside my head when I came home from work last night. I usually am — I don’t clear my mind of the day’s events very easily, given that a lot of the work is creative in nature and inspiration usually strikes when I’m released from my little box.

I’d also had, for all intents and purposes, a great day and wasn’t about to ruin my little bubble.

And then, I got home.

I’ll forgive the fact that I needed pet food and didn’t get to the pet store till 9:06 p.m. (Aaaand, it closed at 9.) I picked up a pizza at the joint next door and went to another store closer to home for catty kibble — I don’t sweat details like this; I use them as opportunities.

But then, hell broke loose.

I had too much to carry, but I wasn’t going to make more than one trip. My stupid management company didn’t see fit to salt the non-city-owned walkways, which were a sheet of ice. I don’t do well on ice. I don’t own a single pair of non-fashion boots and I really didn’t want to fall on my ass with a bag full of groceries, a pizza, a box full of crap that I’d ordered and had delivered to work, two books to read this weekend, and a pile of paperwork.

I was juggling all this shit when my upstairs neighor pulled into the spot next to me. He’s nice enough. Creepy, sort of, but whatever. And I didn’t feel like talking. I know, it was an early night (trust me, getting home before 10 is a luxury), but I had talked to everyone I needed to talk to yesterday, and again, I wanted to be inside my head. We already established the fact long ago that we have NOTHING in common, and now that I’m moving? There’s no need for me to be social.

Anyway, I wanted to strangle him because I think I made it pretty clear when I jetted the fuck away from my car that I wanted to be alone. The ice, however, impeded my progress a bit, and fucker was RIGHT ON MY HEELS for the 100-yard walk. I was pissed. Seriously, pissed. I guess it’s wrong to expect someone to give the person in front of them a little breathing room on the ice.

I knew he was at my heels. It was making me nervous, truth be told. I don’t see the problem in trailing someone by a few feet, not inches. I was clearly not interested in acknowledging his presence — why do I have to be punished for it?

So I get to my door, and something had been delivered there that SHOULD have been delivered as a gift to someone else (on Jan. 23, not Feb. 2). I was furious — people in my building are known to open others’ packages, take what items they want, and re-seal them. I kid you not.

From my overloaded vantage point, I was trying to figure out whether the package had been opened as I put the key in the lock.

And I dropped everything.

Every.thing.

Including the pizza, which landed face-down. *splat*

Asshole was standing right behind me … I mean, RIGHT behind me. I know he needed to get past me, but seriously, BREATHING ROOM, people. Has anyone heard of it?

I was scrambling to get the key in the door when the pizza hit the floor, the package, the books, the paperwork, my purse and my other shoulder bag. Cans of cat food went rolling. Expletives went flying.

I didn’t look at the guy.

He mumbled some sort of snotty, “Sor-ry” my way, as though he expected I blamed him for breathing.

Which, was sort of true.

I just answered with a very tired, “It’s just that kind of day” and kicked all my shit into the doorway.

But it WASN’T that kind of day. Not by a long shot.

I hate feeling like I have to cover up so others don’t feel bad. Even though he WAS the reason I was scurrying!

I just get angry that I can’t choose to ignore someone who creeps me out. It’s 10 p.m., there was just a report of an assault on the property and damn it, what law prevents me from choosing to not want to talk to strange men at that hour?!?! (Unless I’m in a bar — talking to strange men is mandatory, in that case!)

I already have to put up with enough people in this world I can’t stand — don’t crowd my space and get added to the shit list. It’s a short list, which means all the ire that would normally be targeted to a crowd is split evenly between two people. I just added No. 2 last Friday night — want to be third?

I don’t know. I don’t ever want to make anybody feel bad, but was I wrong to just want some personal fucking space? No one was out at that hour — do you really need someone at your heels, on the ice? It’s like when you’re the only car on the road and some nitwit is tailgating you. Go around, drop back or drive off a cliff — just quit breakin’ my stride and stealin’ my peace.

Like Jim Belushi said in “About Last Night” — “We’re talking about space. Recreational fucking space!”

I was just plotting out a huge password-protected entry about work, titled “I pay for an apartment why?”, but then I realized that I’d given my password to people there. Oops. 😉 Instead, I shall keep working talk about something else!

So, thanks to Isaiah Washington’s piss-poor behavior at the Golden Globes (beyond his inappropriate comments on the set of “Grey’s Anatomy” toward T.R. Knight — way to outdo yourself, moron), there’s an online petition to get him fired.

It was only a matter of time, I guess, before the petition started. But what’s interesting is that, if he were a desk monkey like the rest of us, his ass would’ve been slapped with a sexual-harassment lawsuit faster than you can say “hostile work environment.” As a manager, I’d have had him escorted to the door and hit him in his ass with it.

AND YOU’RE ENTITLED TO ACT LIKE AN ASSHOLE WHY?

My mind boggles at how people of a certain age and maybe even stature have no class whatsoever. I meet people who seem to think that they’re so much better than me and they’re entitled to so much more because they’re a little bit older or they think they’re smarter.

Yeah, if the only person who’s impressed with you, oh, IS you, here’s your sign!

Sabre did a great post “On Narcissim and Entitlement,” and the sad thing is? The people who could benefit from that big mirror in front of their faces are the most likely to miss the message that should be tattooed to their widdle foreheads.

A highlight:

“The pathological narcissist believes that they are superior to almost everyone else. They often have a very rich fantasy life filled with visions of unlimited success, brilliance, superior insight, etc. The narcissist believes that he is special, unique, and should be admired for his excellence (niceguy^TM syndrome, anyone?) Two of the most telling traits are an overblown sense of entitlement (extremely unreasonable expectations of automatic compliance with their, usually, unreasonable demands) and a lack of empathy. The inability to see how their actions, or inactions, affect others is a very telling sign of the deep-seated issues they suffer from.”

Can I get an amen? Testify!

ADMITTING YOU’RE AN IDIOT DOESN’T
INSTANTLY MAKE YOU NOT AN IDIOT

I don’t care what happens to Isaiah. I really don’t. They could kill off his character on “Grey’s” or they can make him a hero. Either way, it doesn’t affect me. I don’t think much of him and wouldn’t break bread with him if given the opportunity, but his “celebrity” status affords him the ability to live by a different set of rules than the rest of us, and it’s the people who sign his paycheck who have to live with his actions and the repercussions they may cost the show and the network.

I was saying to my friend the other day how Alzheimer’s will probably be cured before stupidity, and she took the contrarian view — that stupidity will be cured before anything else, and we will keep idiots alive forever and let useful people slip away from this world.

STICKS AND STONES …

It’s interesting, the power of epithets. But they can only have power if you GIVE them power. I’m not saying that Isaiah shouldn’t go into anger-management classes (I read that he’s in counseling. BFD), but you can’t teach somebody to be a better person. I’ve tried setting an example for others. I’ve waited. I’ve even prayed to become a better person myself.

You can only change yourself. And if he didn’t voluntarily seek help — as though there is any therapist in this world who can teach couth — meaning, if ABC forced him into it, he’ll just be an asshole with a therapy bill.

I walked away from a relationship because of a stupid, careless, racist comment. Granted, the relationship, as it were, wasn’t worth saving, but I was on the fence about how much bullshit I was willing to forgive, and that answered that.

It occurred to me that I’d just been disrespected for the last time. Even if it wasn’t aimed at me, it was still a recurring theme.

I don’t want to introduce people I care about to people like that. You can’t fly with the eagles if you run with turkeys.

So, Isaiah, I think Sabre said it best when she wrapped up her post that reminded me so much of so many people, you included:

“How do you deal with people who honestly believe that they are so above the rest of us that they don’t have to live by the same rules as we do?”

You don’t. Like the old Poe song (“Trigger Happy Jack”) that my friends and I used to sing so vociferously about someone who totally deserved it:

“You can’t talk to a psycho
Like a normal human being!”

I always say Karma pulls on the shit-stompers in due time, and I have one of those stories that will warm our hearts of that actually happening.

There was some miserable whore who got my friend’s husband fired from a job in her company. Gossipy wretch of a woman who no doubt didn’t want anyone else to succeed. He got the boot because the bitch’s seniority might have counted for something, and the family was left in dire straits for awhile.

But then my friend gets a call recently from the wench (did I mention they used to be friends? I stress USED to be) and she was all hysterical because after all her years with the company, she just got FIRED.

HAH!

I don’t understand how “people” (I use the word loosely) who do their damndest to screw others over can have the audacity to call them for a shoulder to cry on when clearly they lost the privilege for a reason — do they think people don’t KNOW about their dastardly deeds?

Did she think she was going to get sympathy? I mean, really. Doesn’t she know that while no one would ever *wish* misfortune on her directly, she certainly won’t get any tears cried over her predicament by anyone but herself?

That’s the thing — you can’t even be happy at someone’s misfortune, no matter how much they might deserve it. If you just don’t care, however, that’s the best reaction of all.

You know you work with truly selfless, wonderful men when you declare that you are looking for something to hang yourself with and, without thinking, one goes to take off his tie to hand it to you. (To his credit, he realized after the fact what my intentions were and refused to help. Damn!) But doesn’t that say to you that your boys will do anything to help you, if only you just ask? 😉

In other news, I have a dentist’s appointment today. Finally! I had written to cancel the appointment that the 1-800-Dentist people had set up, given that it wasn’t till the end of the week. Stupid me, I had ASSUMED the hotline people had conveyed to them that I was in so much pain, I could barely speak. Hah. Turns out, the original dentist contacted me back to say that they were very sorry to learn that I was in pain — they would NEVER have made me wait if they had known that. Further, they extended an invitation to get my ass over there ASAP for immediate treatment.

Note to the wise: Don’t call a hotline under the auspices of them actually helping you. I’d gone on the 1-800-Dentist Web site, and it had said if this is an emergency, call this number. But all they did was leave a fucking message somewhere for me and clearly didn’t convey the reason WHY I was looking for a dentist on that particular Sunday. Sheesh. And here I was thinking what an asshole the dentist must be to treat an emergency so carelessly. I’d been so pissed off that I just started calling all my colleagues’ dentists till I found the one with the closest appointment time. Which I could/should have just done in the first place! Gah!

In writing about the adventures of obnoxious great-uncles, here’s a gem about Uncle Pester (recall, the one who picked a fight with me at the casket).

He’s got a daughter who’s a little older than me who loves him to death. Fought for him when he was getting shoddy medical care (went into the hospital with the flu and had to have open-heart surgery due to all his misadventures there). It kills me that he came through all this and is still an evil asshole and my sweet grandfather didn’t fare so well.

Uncle Pester’s daughter came home from work two hours early on the day of my grandfather’s viewing. Pester happened to call her and get her on the phone, and he asked what she was doing home so early. She’d replied, “I came home two hours early to get pretty.”

His answer? “Then you should have come home last week.”

Seriously. This is what I’m related to. *kick*

My cousin loved my grandfather — like a dad, as did practically everyone in the family.

And we wonder why I say the wrong one was in that coffin. …