Attachment Disorder?

I have decided that I cannot be connected with anything that brings me so much joy that it interferes with my life, or overshadows it in a way that I become somewhat obsessed with that object. In doing so, I keep my life simple and can be more focused and stop worrying about the ‘thing’ for which I have so much affection. I thought it was called attachment disorder, but that's something entirely different, apparently what I am is part of a minimalist movement.

My ex-husband helped me with that when after I left him he threw out everything I own. And I do mean everything. He did a favor for my teenage kids as well, threw out all of their belongings too. Someone who was garbage picking that day hit the motherload. So now I am 44 y/o I have a garage with a few boxes, and apt and no storage facility of any kind

Here is a quote from Fight Club:

“It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Thanks again douchebag ex-husband. I know I can do anything. I am a minimalist. Except when it comes to clothes. Even then I’m not typical of a woman.

For example: When I was married, my ring was absolutely breathtakingly stunning. I loved it. I stared at it every day. I got my nails done all the time just to make sure it was highlighted by a perfect manicure, I worried about it, checked it, cleaned it, thought surely one day someone would chop off my finger to get it. That ring became part of my identity, I worried over it so much it owned me. It identified me and it tortured me. It elevated me in social standing or so I thought.  I sold it. It was a anvil off my chest.

Example 2: My BMW Z3. It was hot. A convertible, dark blue, tan interior. It turned heads. When I was in it, I felt like a movie star or Charlie’s Angels or something to that effect. I babied it, I talked about It, I obsessed over it, I worried about it, I paid a lot of money maintaining it, I worshipped the car. It supposedly elevated me to a new level of class. I traded it in, I cried like a baby, it was a monkey off my back.

Example 3: My hair. It’s red and curly and everywhere I go, every single day of my life, it receives commentary and attention. It’s a curse, it’s a special power. The attention it draws has caused love, adoration, crushes, women crushes, fawning, embarrassment, sexual harassment, undue attention, an air of unprofessionalism, and a general message that …I want to have sex … if I wear it down. If I wear the hair down, in public, in general I can count on someone behaving in a way that they are sure that I want to have sex with them or that they can behave inappropriately towards me.  For instance, yearly work conference, biggest guy in the system comes over pulls on my hair over and over again and tells me ‘oh what I want to do’ and smells it and declares how much he loves my hair. Inappropriate. I cut it off…  No I didn’t but I wear it in a bun most of the time.

So in other words, things that own me or I adore too much, I get rid of. Next things on my list are my ultra amazing bed in which I spend too much time adoring it and the way it makes me feel (alone) and my jetta – of which I am too fond and think about and obsess about too much. And my hair is next on my list, I’m wondering if I should cut it off and be done with it … relying on the fact that I can attract husband no 3 purely by my wit and smile. Unlikely. It would be like Sampson (sp?) and Delilah I would surely get fired, be an old maid, and lose all of my social standing, (choke) power, charisma and influence.

“Only after disaster can we be resurrected. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything. Nothing is static, everything is evolving, everything is falling apart.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

I got good genes

A Story of Douchebaggery

 So I work with a guy who is, let’s just say he’s mentally challenged. And I don’t mean because he has something wrong with him. He is mentally challenged and a douchebag because he must have a very small penis, small brain, or gotten hit in the head to0 many times by people he offended.  I’m guessing the third.

This guy started about one year ago and although he still has learned basically nothing about how to do his job, he pretends to be all knowing and goes about his business of checking up on his coworkers to make sure they get things done, that our boss assigns, even though he is not the boss. Doesn’t sound that bad does it. But cumulatively, he aggravates me so much that I’m glad I’m not one to resort to physical violence, however verbal abuse is fair play. Here is an example of his douchebaggery.

Our boss tells us to move all of a certain report, for all of our customers, to another spot on our database. Essentially electronically move 50 files from one spot to another. It would take hours and it’s a very stupid exercise. With that being said we had until the end of September to do it. (I still haven’t done it) On September 10^th douchebaggery comes to my desk and says, “Hey did you get all your files moved?” I say “Um. are you my boss? We have until the end of the month to do it. It’s only the 10^th” he says “Well just checking, you’ve got to get it done” I’m like HELLO MYOFBDB !! (Mind your own fucking business Douchebag) WOW WOW WOW my blood starts boiling. (I still haven’t done it. WHY? Because he told me I had to)

Second example: He comes to my desk and says “Hey why were you out of the office yesterday” I say “none of your business” he laughs and I smile (because I’m at expert at bitchcraft) and say “I was sick DB, I had a  migraine all day” He says … “Sounds like the wineflu to me”  I think Duh dumb dumb I drink vodka. Grrr. From then on every time I’m sick he says I have wineflu. He’s putting nails in his coffin.

Third example: He comes to my desk (essentially he is at my desk at least 5x per day harassing  me) He says “hey, how was your weekend”  I say it was great. He says “So you got some strange?”  MIND YOU!! I have never talked about anything sexual with this mentally challenged douchebag! He should expect it when he least expects it. (Get Smart – literally)

Fourth example: Walks by my desk and says under his breath “Hey Hooker how you doing” And I say excuse me what did you say? He says “I just say hey hey how you doing” Uh huh. He shouldn’t walk in front of my car.

Fifth example: I say your parents must have been ugly because that is hereditary. He says what did you say? Terriditory? I say no ding dong, HEREDITERY. He says oh. They aren’t and neither am I, but it is not hereditary it’s genetic. (HA) I say it’s the same thing. I guess your parents were stupid too. He says … no genetics and heredity are two different things. I say no they aren’t. We are like 5 y/o now going back and forth. He walks away. As he does I say one of the meanest things I’ve ever said in my life … “Don’t get in an accident on the way home” he didn’t hear me. I think you can get fired for workplace violence. I wonder which is worse, sexual harassment or workplace violence?

So he leaves and I look it up. And apparently the study of heredity is called genetics. I sent him the proof via email (link and excerpt) and I said … Boom Farm Boy Wrong Again. Of course he doesn’t respond.

So with that being said, there is something to be said for good breeding and apparently his parents should not have had children. I know mean but true.

Crazy Dream

I have a sister, she obsessed with moving away and whenever things get stressful or overwhelming she would revert to the ‘I’m just packing up and moving away’ conversation. My sister is really eccentric. That's a nice way to say batshit crazy. I'm only eccentric. (Joking Sis) We have crazy ideas and verbalize them and people don’t think we are serious. But we usually are. Like her Kill List for example. No blog about that. Anyhow --- So over years and years and years she’s been driving me insane with the I’m moving scenario crazy dream. 

She reminds me of a visit to an elderly person and they tell you every single time that they see you, about their bunion, or their bedsore, or their heartburn whatever. But I would just smile at her and basically say …. OMG you’re just stressed out and you ramble about this when you want to escape. In my mind I would say … STFU I’m so tired of hearing this stupid bullshit story. But I love her I do.

Ironically, the other day, she said to me … "Hey will you stop! You already told me the x,y,z story 3x and I’m so tired of hearing it over and over again.(Mind you it was only about the 3^rd time) it really drives me insane." And I just said something like ok sorry. Internal dialog said ... omg you are such a bunt. reminds with ... ha. Not nice. Needless to say EVERY SINGLE TIME I see her or talk to her, she repeats one of her stories … like years old stories. I used to kindheartedly let it go. Now, because I’m passive aggressive, I say … “I’m so sick and tired of hearing that story over and over again. It drives me insane” I’ve had the privilege of throwing it in her face about a dozen times in the few weeks that it’s been since she scolded me for boring stories. Ha payback is a bitch. It’s so fun to win. HA.

So I have a crazy moving dream too, and I’m going to move within 5 years to Italy. Why the 5 year mark? Because I want to be less than (Insert my age here)  when I move. There will at least be a slim chance of hope that I’ll have lost weight by then, gotten a facelift and boobs, and will  be totally hot.

Incidentally part one of the plan is in motion. I joined the health club. Sadly I didn’t make it to the gym today – that makes the 5^th year in a row. (I stole that joke)  

With that being said the second part of the plan is the bring Prince Harry with me, for which I’d have to be totally hot, or if he declines – which I’m guessing he will because I’ll be nearly (insert age here +5)  by then and he will still be significantly younger .. .. plan b to part two is that I’ll go alone and meet some hot Italian guy who knows no English and can speak Italian to me while we are naked in bed. plan c is i'll go alone, send Prince Harry a shit ton of photos and packages until he just can't resist 'visiting' and then i'll steal his passport and clothes so he can never leave. (I say I wouldn't do that ...the stealing his passport part is totally inappropriate and wrong, the other part is totally socially acceptable to do in my book)

(I Blame all of this blog on Tourettes. I was telling my friend today that I really like diagnosing people, and since I present the diagnosis as if it were fact, I should really go back to school to get the credentials to back it up. Not gonna do it. Just saying.  Too bad I can’t diagnose myself … look a pony! )  

The first scenario is the favored one though. Just saying (Prince Harry)  And it’s a crazy story and people think I’m not going to do it, and I tell people every single day that I’m going to do it ---- and mark my words I’m going to do it. Unlike my sister I’m actually going to move somewhere fabulous. And then there will be bliss, and lots of walking by the ocean, great food, and sex.  Italy is conducive to sex, food, and walking. That’s just the way it is. It’s the way of the world. And music too. Yes music.

So do you sense some competition among sisters? Hell I’d like to write just about that today but I won’t. It would be a BOOK. Hmmm that’s an idea. Anyhow my crazy sister packed it up last week and moved somewhere fabulous too! I can’t believe that bitch beat me to it. She moved by the ocean. She’s a bitch on the beach and she one-upped me.  Healthy competition is good – or unhealthy as the case may be. This is just the inspiration that I needed to get my 5 year plan going --- full speed ahead. Italy here I come.

Excuse me Ma'am where is the GYM?

I’ve been in the contemplative stage for I don’t know, years about exercise. Honestly the only time that I exercise is when I am naked. And if that activity is … well inactivity … I naturally start to get fat. Not only fat, but fat and unhappy. So with that being said I’ve been in the contemplative stage for, well most of my adult life.

This is my life. I wake up, look in the mirror, well I try to only look in mirrors that are like … medicine cabinet mirrors … when I’m naked. That way I can’t see the damage I’ve done below the breast area. Or should I say the damage children, inactivity, and Indian food have done to my lower body. Here’s a thought. Went to the Indian place the other day and we were joking with the owner that we’ve gained weight because we go to her ‘buffet’ like 3x a week. She vehemently denied her food would make us fat. This is the food. Creamy sauces, cheese, and fried food. Ok. I don’t understand the logic there. She said, but seriously ladies do you ever see Indian people who are overweight? They are fit and healthy. We nodded in agreement, in my mind I was thinking the following. First of all, yes I’ve seen plenty of fat Indian women. They wear Sari’s with their back fat hanging out (sometimes) and they have men with big fat bellies. Incidentally they are usually smaller in stature, but still can pack on the lard. Conversely NO I haven’t seen Indian people, say on the internet or TV that depict the desperately poor people that live in India. Of course starvation makes you skinny, but if you eat cheese, fried food, and cream sauce you are going to get fat. After her dumb logic in that area I decided never to go back, until the next day when I was really starving for some saag paneer. Ha.

Ok back on the subject. So what has my contemplative stage looked like. I avoid mirrors, especially at night when gravity has done even more damage on my body. It pulls everything downward. The best time for anyone to see you naked is clearly in the morning. That is why I firmly believe that men enjoy morning sex so much, aside from that they are usually unconsciously ready for it without even trying. If you know what I’m saying. (I’m getting a visual here. It’s daytime and I’m inactive – this is not a good thing)

When I do look in the mirror there is internal dialog. From the shoulders up my brain says … Wow (insert my name here), you have an afro, you are ugly, you are getting wrinkles, look at your chin. Age, Alcohol and smoking are taking its toll. You have to stop. Then I accidentally walk by the full view mirror, the only thing I don’t like about my new condo. Full length mirrors in every bathroom and bedroom. Clearly the college aged women who rented before me were conceited bitches. Moving on … I glance and stop and say to myself … holy shit you are a hideous fat ugly monster. (no lie) and then as I go about my day I compare myself to every morbidly obese woman, and those in between, and say to myself … Angela surely you look exactly like that. You’ve got to do something about your big fat butt. You have to exercise. How can you accomplish that? Yes you will start exercising … someday. This is literally an every single day dialog that I have with myself.

When I do bite the bullet and exercise it lasts MAYBE a week or so. This is why … I head out usually running, and being the perfectionist that I am I do it full force, render myself disabled for the next 3 days, go about my day looking like I’m a pathetic senior citizen, and promise myself next time I’ll start slow. There never is a next time.

I’m in a stage in my life where I have to make a decision. Either I’m going to age gracefully – make sure my body is as HAWT as possible, and if my face is ugly it won’t be that large a blow because I can just stare at my awesome a** and make sure other people do as well, or let myself continue on this road of laziness and gluttony and get a facelift when I start to turn heads --- away from me. OR … find a preferably younger man who will have sex with me 3x a day, inspire me to participate in a very cardio –exercise way, AND get a facelift. That’s the plan that I’m shooting for. I’ve posted a job ad on CareerBuilder. The job doesn’t pay, because if I did then I’d end up on the news, and /or in jail. But it would be a fun ride, literally.

Diarrhea Mouth

So. Thursday night there was nearly an incident on the flight coming from O'Hare flying to Omaha. Why? I was on it. Here's how it went 

Ever been on a flight when someone,, in my life usually next to or within a few rows of me, thinks the world is a stage. Yes and not for entertainment but rather to use the passengers that are sequestered on the plane as an unsuspecting victims to spew diarrhea on them from their mouths. Disgusting huh. Do you know what I'm talking about ? Verbal diarrhea. This is how it goes ...

They sit down to some poor a hole, who is also party to this atrocity, and start with the sweet politeness. "hi how are you? My name is Sheila Blowhard ( or suckhard whatever you like better

) how are you ? So what do you do for a living (yes this is how you know that you're gonna wish you brought something sharp on the plane to kill yourself or the other person with) and en its the banter back and for. At first it's like .... I, listening, this could be interesting, oh I bet we know some of the same people, then it's obvious she wants the person and all those within earshot, to know how wonderful beautiful smart and accomplished she is. Only thing is, the ones with diarrhea mouth just think they are. Oh Mr A Hole who keeps engaging me, I am a big wig at FNB and oh you are an astronaut? Wow we are hiring astronauts. Since I've been chatting with you all of ten minutes I'd like to give you my card, you should call me because I'd like to hire you. Then sadly, that's not the end of the convo. Mr A Hole thinking this stupid dumb biotch is really looking for an astronaut, says minor things to keep her fueled for conversation. Its been about 15 minutes the convo is fucking boring and it's about time they would stop talking. NOPE now the convo turns personal. 

Oh where did you go on your trip 

Where do you live

Do you have kids 

Where did you grow up 

Are you married 

This looks like Mrs blow hard and suck hard is genuinely interested in his answers. She's not. She uses each as a platform to talk about that particular question and how it relates to HER. And it's not interesting. She is a mom. She works at fnb she grew up in Ponca and went to Omaha north. She is married and she knows about computers at least she knows that databases are sequel. Pooh ahhhh the guy is attractive and unmarried. She makes a point of telling him she's married, what part of town she lives in, HOW HARD IT IS TO BE MARRIED and incidentally soon after, how her husband is out of town. Literally an hour of non stop bullshit coming out of her mouth. 

I put my headphones on and turned the music up as loud as possible until blood dripped out of my ears. I could still hear her. I wanted to absolutely hurt her. I wanted to reach over and slap her so hard her mother could feel it. I wanted to say lady you are such a dog you aren't getting any tonight and you'd look better if shit really were coming out of your GD pie hole. I was that angry. 

Why so angry? Because the guy was hot and I wanted to talk to him and she stole my thunder. Ha. Just Jk. Because she was stupid and uninteresting and she was invading my brain and spewing her diarrhea mouth all over me. And I still have her horrible voice ringing in my ears. Why people. Don't do it and the flight attendants should have bats that they are allowed to use on these people ...just whack em on the head and knock them out for the duration. I fly. 2x a month. On 99percent of the flights someone is afflicted with diarrhea mouth for which only bodily harm is the cure. 

Crazy Town

So. I was in Chicago and after a full days work, I was ready to drive to my next destination. Unfortunately I would never make it because, although I'm an exceptional genius when it comes to travel and logistics, somehow I justified going to Chicago in January and a blizzard was grounding me at the airport Hilton.  Good news is I did learn from my experience. I made the same travel schedule for next year.

So. I'm at the hotel and realize that I'm stuck. There will be no white castle, no portillos, no Chicago hot dogs. I'd have to put my mission to develop the baddest badonkadonk on hold. I'll have to eat in the hotel. I look at the room service menu and it sucks so I walk down to the restaurant and wait at the hostess station to be seated. The restaurant seating is vacant and there is no hostess to be found. Could it get even worse ?! I look around the corner to the hotel bar, where they also serve food. It's packed, with men.

Normally this would not be a problem, but rather a delight. But I have a staunch rule. I do not ever ever ever drink or go to  bars while traveling. Alcohol, and unfamiliar people and places are dangerous to a vulnerable woman. Anyway, so look at that. You really can have two personalities. Work me, and play me. Not literally PLAY ME  though I do feel like its written on my forehead sometimes.

So. I nervously choose the safest place to sit. One stool between a guy with his head in his iPad, and the other who was extremely fat and loud mouthed. As soon as I sat down the fat dude steered his conversation to me. First asking me questions to feign interest, then revealing he was a TEAMSTER and so what else could I do but swap BROWN stories with him. It actually was a very entertaining convo even after he gave me his card, told me to "look up the lies they tell about him" on google, and invited me to call him saying "it never hurts to know a TEAMSTER" in case you have to dispose of a dead body. I giggled, haha what a bullshitter. The fat TEAMSTER leaves, my food and 3 rd drink arrive, and I turn towards my plate. I realize at that point iPad guy is looking at me. I look back and smile, and he says in a perfect English accent, Babs why were you talking to that guy, he was such a freak?! I laughed and said ... Because he was entertaining. He asked me if he gave me his number and I said yes. We both laughed, a lot, and I said lets look him up on your iPad and see if he was lying. Mr Accent looks it up and BAM the guy is on Internet with all sorts of indictments and accusations against him. This guy was the real deal. This would only happen to me. I texted my friend and told her about the teamster. She got all excited, and asked if I got his phone number. Can you imagine what a perfect boyfriend he would be? He was rich, he was a criminal, and he was willing to hide bodies for me. She said it not me. At that point I was able to confirm that my friend really was twisted and deranged. Those are the makings of a perfect friend. :) 

Honestly i did think of the benefits of such a boyfriend, but frankly I would rather not rot in jail, or HELL  for that matter, before I'd accept a big fat guy for a love interest, never mind the fact that someday he could decide to hide MY DEAD BODY !

COMING SOON  an even better part two to this story. Same night, more insanity story. 

Remember these blogs are TRUE 

Get Busy

So. I'm sitting in the airport by the gate and some old lady just farted. GREAT.

They say in writing you should write to please one person, aside from yourself. If you try to appeal to mass audiences you will achieve nothing.

I am going on a journey starting Monday. For years I haven't owned a TV and now Im going to commit to no vehicle usage during daylight hours. Yes daylight hours only.   1. Because I live in the hood and someone will hit me over the head with a pipe.   2.The Leavenworth rapist is on the loose. I wonder if he's hot.   3. Because I don't want to take a bus or cab to the bar, round trip. Lol. I'm going to write about those experiences on public transportation, a cab, or walking. Seeing that every time I've walked anywhere I ran into some crazy random person it should make for some interesting commentary.

Got to go now. Plane boarding. White castle here I come