Caterwauling

When I was little, my ex-stepfather looked right at me and declared to me that I would never go anywhere in life.

I’m not really sure why — I was a straight-A student and pretty damn cute back then, if I do say so myself. 😉 He was just a dick, and even then, I knew it.

I’d blocked the memory completely until someone brought it up while I was back home this past weekend. The thing is, you don’t say shit like that to kids — or to anyone, for that matter. People can take that shit seriously.

But even when my age was merely in the single digits, as it was at the time of the insult, I apparently was very good at considering the source of the insults.

I mean, by the time I was 4 years old, I’d already learned how to say “bastard” because my mom called him one so often when she thought I was out of earshot. Yeah, I had his number, all right. 😉

As y’all know, I’m doing just fine in life, thankyouverymuch. And a hell of a lot better than him, I’ll tell you that. I achieved more in my 20s than he has in his 55 years.

But here’s the funny part. His older daughter is graduating this year. (Surprisingly — I thought he would have raised crack addicts, but both girls are merely teen parents. Yes, the younger daughter is, too. He must have given them the same speech about not amounting to something. Apparently, they listened.)

So the fucked-up part of all this (yeah, I still haven’t gotten to it) was that the high school gave his daughter an award — the “Best Teen Parent Award.”

Um, the hell?

Seriously?

We celebrate that shit?

Fuck, my mom was a teen parent, and all she got was exiled from the mainstream classroom for her trouble. Homeschool the girl until she gives birth — hide her from society. And that was in the ’70s!

Today, let’s celebrate the girls who can probably order napalm on teh Intarweb but who can’t buy a box o’ condoms before they leave a snail trail over the football field. I am pretty sure this award-winning ‘ho has two kids, if I remember correctly. What, so the more puppies you poop out, the more you’ve done to qualify for an award?

Is this what passes for standards these days? Christ.

You know how many awards I got? About 14 poetry-writing awards, as well as excellence in A.P. English and also A.P. history. I also got outstanding student in business, and I wasn’t even following the business track — I was just smarter than the shit-for-brains assholes taking the courses in hopes of it leading to a vocation. (I was on the academic track.)

In any event, it always entertains me, these people who raise themselves up by tearing down someone else. And for a 30-ish man to put down an 8-year-old so cruelly, when he would go on to live a less-than-mediocre life (God gets you back, you son of a bitch. What goes around, comes around, fucker) and the biggest claim to fame his kids would have is to be teen parents. Woo. And don’t get me started on that ugly wife he has now — no wonder he was drooling over my mom (the hot ex-wife) at the high school’s promenade.

I just LOVE it when people’s lives turn out exactly the way they deserve. Sad part is, they probably never really understand why they get what they get, and if we keep rewarding less-than-exemplary behavior, well, I can only shudder in fear for what our society might be destined to become. …

Making me wait till 10 a.m. to get coffee is like asking a group of inebriated Polish grandmas at a fire-hall wedding reception to refrain from polka-ing at the first strains of an accordion playing.

Of course my blood pressure was an issue. Because I gave up cooking for Lent circa 1998, so fast food it is. Actually, my BP goes from sky-high to abysmal-low, so they had to test me three times because, per usual, I went from high to “is she still alive” to “oh, yeah you’ll live *whew*.”

I always try to do creative imaging to control my BP — I was trying to think of moments when I was deliriously happy (it came out high), then I did the calm-blue-waters route (too low) and finally I just checked the hell out and it turned out perfect.

This perhaps suggests that I need to make myself devoid of thought a little more often, although judging by this blog content? I’m as healthy as can be!

*off for a refill of Swiss Chocolate Almond java*

Heh. When you’re typing a word like oh, I don’t know, “calls,” inserting “balls” doesn’t make your editor happy, but it does make her giggle like a fourth-grader. Yay toilet humor!

All right, I guess you had to be there.

Heh heh heh. Balls!

To say a friend of mine married someone who isn’t good enough for her is the understatement of a lifetime. Don’t get me wrong — I love him to death, but he’s not the person I would have thought was most worthy of her.

And to add to this bizarre week, I’ll refrain from sharing why we’re plotting to take a machete to his balls and gold-dip them so she can have some “fuzzy” dice to hang from her rearview mirror, but I will use this opportunity to share the quote of the week that came out of it.

She called me yesterday to say she was on on her way to the hospital, and knowing the immediate danger that her husband’s scrotum is in, I said, “Oh, my god. Did you wound him?!?!”

And she shot back, “No — if I had, I’d be on my way to the morgue, not the hospital!” 😉

For all my fellow marketing-types out there, courtesy of T. …

The buzzword in today’s business world is MARKETING.

However, people often ask for a simple explanation of “Marketing.” Well, here it is:

1. You’re a woman and you see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and say, “I’m fantastic in bed.” That’s Direct Marketing.

2. You’re at a party with a bunch of friends and see a handsome guy. One of your friends goes up to him and, pointing at you, says, “She’s fantastic in bed.” That’s Advertising.

3. You see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and get his telephone number. The next day you call and say, “Hi, I’m fantastic in bed.” That’s Telemarketing.

4. You see a guy at a party; you straighten your dress. You walk up to him and pour him a drink. You say, “May I?” and reach up to straighten his tie, brushing your breast lightly against his arm,and then say, “By the way, I’m fantastic in bed.” That’s Public Relations.

5. You’re at a party and see a handsome guy. He walks up to you and says, “I hear you’re fantastic in bed.” That’s Brand Recognition.

6. You’re at a party and see a handsome guy. He fancies you, but you talk him into going home with your friend. That’s a Sales Rep.

7. Your friend can’t satisfy him so he calls you. That’s Tech Support.

8. You’re on your way to a party when you realize that there could be handsome men in all these houses you’re passing, so you climb onto the roof of one situated toward the center and shout at the top of your lungs, “I’m fantastic in bed!” That’s Junk Mail.

9. You are at a party, this tall man walks up to you and grabs your ass. That’s Former President Clinton.

10. You like it, but 20 years later your attorney decides you were offended. That’s America!

“He’s been in more assholes than a retired proctologist.”

(To steal a great entry title from the lovely Nic!)

Actually, it’s a day full of ripping on off others, as the following came my way via the lovely K.:

Just in case you are having a rough day, here is a stress management technique recommended in all the latest psychological journals.

The great thing is that it really does work.

1. Picture yourself lying on your belly on a warm rock that hangs out over a crystal clear stream.

2. Picture yourself with both your hands dangling in the cool running water.

3. Birds are sweetly singing in the cool mountain air.

4. No one knows your secret place.

5. You are in total seclusion from that hectic place called the world.

6. The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.

7. The water is so crystal clear that you can easily make out the face of the person you are holding underwater.

See? It really does work. Aren’t you feeling better already?

Two words: Antonella Barba.

Two actions: Piercing my own eardrums with a letter opener, and throwing the bloody sword at the television.

Somehow, I cannot help but envision the microphone as a penis.

Like someone said about her, “I just don’t recognize her without a dick in her mouth.” And as I replied, with her in mind, “Some people do look much better with one.”

I was just fussing with my AIM settings, because I only have eleventy billion projects due before midnight and really, why the hell not?

And I learned that you can name people anything you want to. Which, heh. *rubs hands evilly* Just ’cause someone’s on your buddy list doesn’t mean that they’d ever *be* your BFF — I think we all have people we have our own lil nicknames for, and the temptation is just too great to assign them what you *really* call them. 😉

That’s all we’d need, for an autoresponder to come up, “Sorry, (Oxygen Thief), but Goddess doesn’t want to talk to you — EVER”! *bonk*

I was also particularly interested in the “Alert Me When” feature. I do this in iChat but I didn’t realize AIM had added it. But I looked for “alert me when X buddy like, dies or something,” but it wasn’t an option. Bah. Maybe in the next version!

I was just watching “American Idol,” and there was a promo for “Fox News at 10.” Fuckin’ hysterical — they just did a blurb on the blowjob-giving whore, and the ad spot that immediately followed it? “Brought to you by Hummer.” Seriously, they couldn’t have planned that one any better!