Sunday, August 24, 2008
Typical White Person Has A Question
Why is it that the Obamessiah swooners claim to be so adamant against racism, claiming that if we don’t vote for Saint Hope and Change that we are racist yet all they can concentrate on is the color of his skin?
Aren’t we supposed to make our decisions about a person based on who they are, what they have done, what they say, how they act and not the color of their skin? If that’s what millions of Americans are doing, how is that racist?
Therefore, one can only logically conclude that if, as they claim, I’m not voting for him simply because he’s black, then they must only be voting for him because he is black.
That sounds pretty fucking racist to me.
And they are showing their true colors.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Underestimated
Most of my adult life I seem to have found myself in jobs in the tourism and hospitality industry. How that happened I do not know because I really don’t like people. I guess it’s because I like to travel so this was a great way to do that for free or very low cost and because most of these types of jobs seemed fun and interesting. My current job can be fun and there doesn’t seem to ever be a dull moment.
When one deals with the public, one tends to meet some real morons and I’ve absolutely met a great number of them. However, when I first started my current job, I was told by someone who has been here 20 years, “Some of the stupidest people in the world will walk right through those doors.” Having so many years of this industry under my belt, I figured I had a pretty good idea just how stupid people can be but I have to bow down and admit that I obscenely underestimated my co-worker’s claim. I have come in contact with some of the dumbest fucking people on earth at this job.
By the way, Europe? You really need to watch what you say about us “Murricans” because you have nothing to be proud of. In fact, the few countries that have not embarrassed themselves over here are Ireland, England, Australia, (not part of Europe but included on the list anyway), Norway, Sweden and the Netherlands, specifically, Holland; pretty much in that order. The rest of Europe? It’s time you took a long, hard look in the mirror.
Now. As we all know, TS Fay came to Florida and apparently liked it so much, she decided to stick around for awhile. Granted, the center of Fay moved towards the north, first to the east, now back towards the west but and this is a big, “but”, just because the center of the storm is north of here, that does not mean that we have cloudless skies and warm weather. See, there’s these things in those types of storm called “arm bands” or “feeder bands” and those can reach hundreds of miles all around the center of the storm. This is basic meteorology here. You do not have to be a weather junkie such as myself to grasp this concept. Nonetheless, this basic, 4th grade level science seems to escape many people.
So this week we are still getting whipping winds and rain because of Fay and her little arms and this week we are still getting ignorant fucks who get upset because of the weather. I state again: When you travel, one of the first things you should do is check the fucking weather in your location. Turn on the television in your hotel room as you get ready for the day and watch. You don’t need to speak English to understand the graph that shows the storm covering the entire state of Florida. You don’t need to understand English to know that clouds with lightning strikes coming out of them on the 5 day forecast means, Hey! It’s going to be fucking stormy today!
That did not stop one Russian asshole from grilling me about the weather, earlier this week. First he was pissed because it was raining. Then he was pissed because the seats on the boat were wet. (Hello, because you see that water coming out of the sky? Guess where that lands? Guess. It’s impossible for me to dry the seats of the boat because it’s fucking raining ass. HOLE! Then he wanted to know how long it had been raining. I told him it was off and on throughout the day. Well, then, he insisted on knowing the precise minutes between each break in the weather. Dude. Are you serious?
As we went along, he got more bitchy because it wasn’t perfect weather for him and his little family. He was certain I was at fault for the weather and he was determined to take it out on me the entire tour. At one point, aggravated with the conditions, he asked me, hotly, if I worked for the state. What. Are you going to write a letter to the state of Florida demanding that we shoo the clouds away when you visit? No, I do not work for the state, this is a privately owned business but the Everglades themselves, the area we are in, the 4000 + square miles, that’s all National Park. So, hmmm, I don’t know, maybe you can write a letter to GOD about the weather. Bitch to God. Or, if you don’t believe in God, piss and whine to Mother Nature.
I just love it when ignorant pole lickers start pitching fits and throwing tantrums and acting all self righteous about shit they don’t know. The two biggest complaints are about the weather and the alligators. I control neither one but it’s interesting just how many people actually believe you do. These people take it real personal if either of these two things are not to their liking.
If they aren’t bitching about the rain, they’re bitching because it’s too hot. Well, gee, you cheap bastards decided to come to the tropics in the summer. Ever wonder why your airfare and hotel rooms seemed like such a deal? NOW YOU KNOW! Dolts.
And alligators, either they don’t see enough because are expecting gangs of alligators to be swimming around, (they are solitary animals and they are territorial....alligators do not travel in packs), or the alligators aren’t “doing anything” prompting many to conclude that they are “plastique” as the French love to say. To which I turn off the boat and tell them I will wait for them while they get out of the boat, walk through the water and go pick up that fake alligator as a souvenir. Oddly enough, no one takes me up on that offer. The other thing they like to whine about is the size of the alligator.
I had one asshole on the boat this week argue with me about a 3-4 foot alligator we saw on tour. Instead of allowing everyone else to enjoy the sighting, he wanted to put a damper on it by stating, “That one is tiny. He couldn’t hurt a thing.” I told him that indeed a 3-4 foot alligator could open him up like a filet knife. He insisted I was joking, kidding, making it up, looking at me skeptically, it was bullshit, it wouldn’t hurt, blah blah blah.
Really? Ok. Then I will sit here and wait while you get your know it all fat ass out of the boat and go wrestle that wimpy alligator. Go ahead. Again, I was not taken up on my offer. Real impressed, stud.
So, to summarize: If you don’t know what the fuck you are talking about, don’t argue with the person who does. Second, do yourselves a favor and check the fucking weather before you go out. If you have a miserable time, that’s nobody’s fault but your own. Capisce, Sparky?
As for Fay, where I live it really wasn’t a big deal. Just another stormy day. I enjoyed it, of course and we did get a day off of work this week, (hurray!) that we are not getting paid for (boo!) like other companies I’ve worked for around this town but it really didn’t do a thing around here except blow a few leaves around. As for all the flooding.....it may look like a mess now but don’t go feeling too bad for the state of Florida. We needed that storm. We needed all that rain in a big way. Not just for people to water their lawns but the lake needed it because that lake feeds much of the water in to the Everglades and the Everglades needed that water like you wouldn’t believe. Florida Water Mismanagement cannot do this right so Nature needed to step in and take care of the issue.
We’ll see what happens in the next week as we have other areas of interest to look at in the Atlantic right now. Frankly, I welcome more. Even if it does mean I have to deal with more twitsicles.
By the way, the really, really crappy thing about this whole “lot of rain” business? The fucking mosquitoes. In fact, a couple of weeks before the storm and up until this time, the mosquitoes have been horrifying this year. Some times, when on tour, no one is listening because they are too busy smacking each other to kill the mosquitoes. Two times a week I have to clean an alligator pit and I am more anxious of the mosquitoes than a fricken pissed off alligator.
No, OFF! Your shit doesn’t work. Many times I have liberally doused myself in repellent and many times I have mosquitoes biting me and then buzzing in my ear to thank me for the complimentary drink before their meal. I would tell you how many bites I have except I can’t count that high.
Does anyone out there have A- blood? I may need a donation soon.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Fayke Storm
When you travel to another country or even a different state, do you or do you not perhaps check the weather, local customs, traditions, that sort of thing before you go?
Here’s a conversation I imagine taking place earlier this morning between two tourists:
Tourist 1: “Hey, there’s a tropical storm coming! It might even turn in to a hurricane!”
Tourist 2: “Oh no! We should prepare! What will we do?”
T1: “GASP! I know! Let’s go on an airboat ride in the Everglades!”
T2: “Great idea!”
Idiots.
Fucking idiots. These are people who vote.
So, there’s a storm coming. This morning the meteorologists weren’t sure if it would become a hurricane or not but were putting out all the warnings. And bright and early, we had bus loads of tourists coming out to take tours. Then bitching, pissing and moaning because they got wet and because they couldn’t see any alligators.
“Where are the alligators?!”
Oh, you mean those “stupid” animals? Yah, they’re fucking hiding from the storm. Dolts.
One carload of idiots, when told there was a storm coming, hence why we were closing early, actually asked, “What storm?”
You see that big black box in the armoire in your hotel room? That’s called a tel e vision. It gives you news and information that you need to know in the area in which you are staying. Like, say, what the weather may be like before you decide to go out on the fucking water in the middle of the wilderness during a fucking hurricane! How do these people not constantly hurt themselves every day?
So far Fay has been a bust. The reporters are all stationed at various beaches, we’ve had the obligatory showing of a puddle and a fallen palm frond, “It’s nasty out here!” And one asshole on t.v. keeps calling it “squally weather”. Shut up.
Out where I live it has rained a bit but nothing more than I’m used to from living in Seattle. The wind is next to nothing as well. In fact, this just reminds me of winter in Seattle. No big deal. You can almost see the disappointment in the on location reporters’ faces.
Now, even though it hasn’t been that big of a deal, I will tell you I’d be one pissed off mofo if I was one of those who had to stay at work because pole smokers want to go to the movies or shop around in the retail stores. If these assholes get a day off to go home and prepare, (that’s the point of the day off, not fuck around and make other people work harder), I want a day off, too. But some poor slobs are stuck catering to others simply because their bosses suck ass and won’t let them leave.
I’m not saying that the storm is bad enough to have S. Fla come to a screeching halt, I’m saying, TS and hurricanes are kind of tricky and you know they’re coming, you just don’t always know exactly where, when and what magnitude. That’s why most people get time off as it gets closer so they can get things in order beforehand just in case it does turn out to be one stormy little bitch. Yet, still, after all this time, there are people out there who will not allow the hired help to get home and do just that because they care only about their fucking bottom line. I mean, give me a break. Even my boss is reluctant to close unless there is a damn good reason and we closed early today.
Anyway, if it gets any more interesting, I’ll come back and let you know. Meanwhile, I’m going to go outside and have a beer.
update The winds have picked up a teensy bit. Enough not to make me sorry I took the “screened in porch” (tent) down after all. At first I was miffed because of the hard work. Still, the storm isn’t all that bad as I still have internet and t.v. (Both satellite.) Maybe during the night it will pick up. Like I said, I’ll get crushed in my sleep by a tree...just as long as I’m smiling by God!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Fay Smiles
So by now everyone knows that the little singing Chinese girl at the opening ceremony was a hack. Sure, she was cute but the other girl was cute, too. God we’re so image obsessed in this world.
One of the smallest jabs we make at people but one of the things that irritates me to no end is when people say stupid ass shit like, “You should smile more”, “Smile!” “Keep that smile on your face.” “You have such a beautiful smile, you should show it more.” “Your smile is so infectious!”
Oh shut up.
Do shut the hell up.
Ever see the movie, “Office Space?” “Looks like someone has a case of the Mondays.” Yah, that’s how stupid it sounds when you boneheads keep talking about smiling.
Most of the people who say that are people at work or people who come in to where I work. (Like when I was a bartender. There I was, washing the filth of the masses out of glasses so those assholes could drink more and some fuckwhip wants to come up and tell me, “Smile!” Do you fuckers smile when you’re doing the dishes? No? Piss off then.) First of all, I’ll smile when I bloody well have a reason to smile. Just because I’m not smiling doesn’t mean I’m the exact opposite; that I’m miserable. And second, have some of you seen the sour pusses you’re toting around most of the day?
I hear this shit at work sometimes, “You need to smile more.”
Ok, first, look at yourself. Because I do when you asses tell me to smile. I look around and I don’t see shit eating grins plastered on my co-workers faces. What’s the deal with always telling me to fucking smile? Leave me alone. Second, have you pole smokers bothered to notice that we live in the tropics and that in the summer time the blistering sun is about two feet from the surface of the earth and it’s blinding with or without sunglasses? I’m not squinting because I’m upset, I’m squinting because my retinas are about to combust.
Again, just because someone isn’t smiling doesn’t mean shit. When I think something is funny or amusing or smile worthy, I’ll fucking smile. Until then, concentrate on that mug of your own. In fact, why don’t you just concentrate on your own life altogether and stop getting all up in my business. I’m not a fucking phony, ok? I don’t go around wearing fake ass expressions on my face just to please your insecure self. Get some counseling and get over yourselves.
Now, then.
I may or may not be smiling in the next two days. I love wicked weather and part of me is looking forward to TS Fay while the other part is thinking, “Hmmm...considering where I live now, this may not be as fun as previous storms. In fact, this could suck.”
The other day, I finally got the back yard cleaned up so that I could put up a decent size tent to sit in during the evenings. This way, I could unwind after work, have an adult beverage or two, maybe invite a neighbor, shoot the shit and not lose 3 pints of blood in an hour to the mosquitos. It’s my version of a screened in porch since I don’t have one and it can be really peaceful at the end of a long day. Of course. Of course I put it up not three days ago and now I have to pull it back down because of TS Fay. Naturally.
So...the next few days ought to be interesting. I have a lot of trees around me. Right outside my bedroom. Maybe one will crush me when I sleep. Well, who cares, as long as they find me with a fucking smile on my face.
Ciao kids.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Lightbulbs In The Darkness
Don’t think I’ve ever done this before, seen others do it and it worked well.....may as well take a stab at it.
I want to know what you, the reading audience, wants me to blabber on about. Do you want to know my opinion about any certain subject? If so, leave a comment and I’ll do my best to do just that. (Another great chance for the silent readers to speak up.)
Not that I think people really care much about my opinion, I’m certainly not egotistical enough to think people are DYING to know what I think about anything at all....nonetheless, if there is something you want to know or want me to carry on and on about, usually with little knowledge of what the hell I’m talking about, by all means, let me know.
Ciao
(By the way: I just took this quiz about current events and I got all of the questions right.
Here’s Your Score: You correctly answered 12 of the 12 possible questions along with approximately 3% of the public. You did better than 97% of the general public.
Only one question was I unsure, exactly, of the number but knew, generally, what it was and answered it correctly as well. So, maybe I DO know a thing or two after all. And I now know that I’m quite on spot when I go about stating that most people are completely ignorant fucks. I now have some facts to back that up. It sickens me that the national average is 48% and that the one question most got correct, nationally, was based on fucking television.
I declare again, people are fucking stupid. And these are the idiots who vote....for shitheels like the Obamessiah. God help us all.)
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Dear Kittens
While I applaud your efforts and enthusiasm in using the litter box, please stop hurling the litter out of the box with such force to create mountains. And please stop stomping through those litter mountains, back and forth, back and forth, whee isn’t this fun, because you spread it all over my kitchen and living room floors. It does not feel good on my feet and I’m tired of cleaning it up 4 times a day due to your obsession with it. Kidlets, I’m tired. Just throw a few crystals on it and be done with it. It’s going to be changed within the day anyway.
Oh and while we are discussing the topic of my fatigue, might I also request that you not wake me up at 5am every. single. morning? I know you need to play and explore and discover new things but I have two hours left to sleep and you keep me awake during that time only to go back to sleep the instant I have to get up and get ready for work. That’s downright irritating. For the love of GOD let me sleep until 7.
And also? My head? That’s not for resting yourselves upon nor is my back for climbing to reach aforementioned non resting area. You are kittens. You have the claws of Freddy Krueger. They hurt. Stop it.
Other than that and the exorbitant weekly food bill I suffer for you pigs, I adore everything else about you.
Thank you.
~Serenity
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I Am But An Ornament
Or a cat tree. All this evening, while sitting here trying to relax, read blogs, have dinner, a refreshing adult beverage, I’ve had kittens climbing up my back, up my legs, hanging from my arms, swatting at my sweatshirt hood strings....apparently I’m nothing more than a giant jungle gym.
As soon as I get my hair back out of some kitty claws, I’m going to bed.
(In other news, the Miami Humane Society apparently got their new a/c unit for all the doggies and catties so all is well again...as far as THAT is concerned. Don’t let that stop you from donating to a shelter in your area. They need all the help they can get.)
Sunday, July 13, 2008
PSA For The Animals
Summer is on us and it gets hot...hoooooot where some of us live. Here in Miami it has been downright horrible with the heat lately. Mid 90s, factor in the humidity and it’s pretty miserable.
Now, imagine wearing a fur coat in all of that, a fur coat you cannot remove. And you have no air conditioning. This is what the Humane Society of Miami is going through right now. Unfortunately, their air conditioning system said, “Dudes, it’s too hot here, I’m leaving” and left hundreds of dogs and cats with no reprieve from the scorching temperatures. They need help. They need donations from the community so that they can get a new air conditioning system. Right now they have fans set up and are leaving doors and windows open but it’s still HOT in there and the animals are having a rough go.
Kids, I don’t do many requests for donations but I’m begging you, all, to help out here. Even if you don’t live in Miami, you can still help. They are trying to raise $80,000 for a new system so that the dogs and cats can once again have something of comfort. It’s bad enough these animals are sitting in cages wondering if they’re going to die or get adopted...why add more trauma to that experience?
I don’t care if you only have $5 to spare, donate it. If you love animals, please, please go to their site:
and do what you can. Even if they get the funds needed for the new system by the time you donate, you can still help out for kibbles and blankets and litter and other overhead costs for these animals. And you can also help the Humane Society in your area or any animal shelter in your area. Maybe you can’t adopt right now, but a little bit of money from many people goes a long way.
Trust me guys, I work in this heat all day long and it can be rough. Please help. Thanks kids.
(Thank you Amanda for letting me know.)
update The Humane Society of Miami has a Florida Animal Friend MySpace page. Here are some facts from that page in case you are still deciding if you are going to donate:
At present, approximately 800,000 dogs and cats are killed each year due to overpopulation.
-> Every day in Florida, 2,191 homeless pets are killed.
-> Every hour in Florida, 91 homeless pets are killed.
-> In the minute it takes you to read this, 1.5 homeless pets will be killed.
Not only have I donated, I also had to renew my tags for my car and went ahead and got an “Animal Friend” license plate. It absolutely costs more to renew with this license plate than it would with a common plate. The proceeds, $25 extra dollars for the special plate and tags, go towards spaying and neutering programs here. I can only do so much. I’ve adopted two stray cats that people either dumped off or were born out here because people didn’t spay or neuter, I’ve got 4 kittens from the cat I rescued after someone dumped her off and I have a plethora of strays I’m currently feeding as I’m trying to win their trust so that I can either a) get the fixed and them bring them back out, (no one here minds them so much as they do that people are not getting their pets fixed) or b) for the youngest not quite feral cats, bring them to the Humane Society in hopes they get adopted. I’m going through massive amounts of cat litter each week and one giant 20 pound bag of food every. single. week. I am not rich. If I can do this much, I know you guys can donate something. Again, please help.
It’s NOT the animals’ faults.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
I Really Do Want Your Opinion
I know I don’t post every day or multiple times a day and I know that there are many political bloggers who have thousands of adoring fans while I have mere hundreds. I also know that many of my readers do not comment. I also know that some of my posts get missed because they are not at the top and a lot of people read through RSS feeds and miss many of my posts or some people just don’t look past the first post. (Hint, there is a new post under this one...just saying.)
Nonetheless, I really, really want your opinions and would love to have a discussion about this particular topic:
Recently, a tour guide who brings “language” students from different countries, (I’ll avoid talking about, again, how these kids come here on mommy and daddy’s funds to learn English and have been here for 2-3 years and still don’t understand a word anyone says), was telling a co-worker and me about some rules enforced in other countries. One of those rules was that teens were not allowed to travel in packs more than 5. Their reasoning was that too many kids in a pack would cause chaos and violence and beat up little old ladies.
A co-worker agreed with that rule.
My argument was that it was too much like a nanny state and that really, they need to clearly think about it. If it’s only 5 kids, they won’t beat up an old lady but if it’s 6 kids, well, the teetering see saw slams to the ground and now, because of ONE extra person, old ladies beware? That it wouldn’t matter how many kids were all walking together, if they were hoodlums to begin with, a pair of them would beat up an old lady but if they were decent enough kids, it shouldn’t matter. And what if you were having a birthday party? You can only walk in groups of 5 and how far behind the first group can the second group walk? I understand that some kids are completely undisciplined but should we really be punishing all kids because a few of them like to beat up old ladies?
Needless to say, my co-worker and tour guide did not like to hear all of that and were not angry but getting heated that I was “refusing” to understand how horrible kids really are. Further, I know some malls in this country have that rule.
So I ask, in all seriousness, should all teens be punished to walk in groups of 5 or less because a few of them out there like to beat up old ladies? Am I the only one who sees that as absurd? Or am I wrong?
I was a teen, too. I did stupid shit, skipped school, passed notes in school instead of paying attention in class, stayed out later than my parents wanted me to and liked to pretend vomit for the traffic with the blue slurpees we got at the local drive in.....but did I beat up old ladies? No, I did not and I did hang around more than 4 of my peers at a time.
I’m going to do my best to leave this as the first entry for awhile because I know a) most people don’t read past the first entry regardless of how many I may have written in a day and b) I want to give time for those who read here once a week to have the chance to voice their opinion.
If you’ve been a silent reader, now is the time to speak up because I’m not just blabbing on about what I think, I want to know what you think.
Here's Your Broom, Barack HUSSEIN Osama
He’s going to need it for the sweeping generalizations that he makes.
What a condescending twat. I cannot believe that people are still having orgasms over him. The putz said, earlier this week, that all of us ignorant, trailer trash Americans, (not a quote...it was implied), need to learn how to speak different languages in order not to embarrass HIM and ourselves when we visit Europe. He states that we go over to Europe and can’t speak a lick of their language. HOWEVER! Alllllllllllllllll of the Europeans who come here, DO speak English. FURTHER, he states that those who come here to live will learn English.
Lying sack of shit!
Osama, I extend an invitation to you. You come here and take an air boat tour with me. I triple. dog dare you. I can’t tell you how many times I have taken a boat load of Europeans who don’t speak a lick of English. My aching ass they all speak English. They don’t understand a word anyone is saying and the counter people have to point to the display on the register so that these holy Europeans would know how much money they owed for a fucking Coke.
AND, Mr. I Don’t Even Speak Spanish My Hypocritical Self Osama, have you ever spent any length of time in Miami? Have you? You think the immigrants will learn English? Really? What fantasy unicorn and lollipop planet are you living on? You come down here and you spend one month in this city as a normal citizen and you will find out, very quickly, that thousands upon thousands in this city do not know any English even though they’ve been here for years. Decades!
They don’t have to learn English because this city caters to them. They require, in so many jobs, that one be bi-lingual. Now, let me explain...er, let me do it in Spanish so as not to offend, let me ‘splain to you what that means, Osamamouthbreather. That means that if you speak English as your native tongue, you damn well better learn some Spanish or you will not get that minimum wage job. HOWEVER! If you speak Spanish as your native language, then you’re good. You do not have to learn English even though you are in the United States of America. Bi-lingual goes ONE way.
I came here with an open mind. I had learned some Spanish in high school and I was looking forward to brushing up on my Spanish speaking skills and was going to learn more. But I’ll tell you what stopped me. The arrogance! The ARROGANCE of those who speak Spanish to those who do not. The fuck with you, assholes? You want to look down your nose at me because I do not speak Spanish yet you refuse to learn any English at all? I’m the asshole? Really! After six months of that, I said fuck it to the Spanish. I refuse to speak it and I refuse to learn more of it. Is that what you meant, Osama?
Do I want to know another language? Yes, out. of. interest. Not because I’m forced to learn it. When I lived in Germany I took two weeks of classes to learn enough to get around and then, as I met Germans, I had them teach me all kinds of words. I wasn’t fluent but I was getting there. Because I’m an ignorant asshole American who can only say, “Merci beaucoup”. Right. Now, in the 20 years since I’ve lived in Germany, I’ve not had to use that German one bit. In the job I have now, I choose to speak what German I do remember not because I have to, remember, all Europeans speak English, but because it makes the Germans laugh and I get tips. I am in the tourism industry. Most people are not and do not have any reason to learn a speck of German.
And that’s another point. I learned as much German as I did because I was in their country for three years. OUT OF RESPECT, I tried to learn as much as I could about their language. If I was only vacationing, I would not need to be fluent. I will learn a little bit so that I can get around and have some basic idea of what is going on but why do I need to be fluent if I’m only there for a few days?
But people come here to live and refuse to learn the language because they have no respect for this country and yet I’m supposed to cater to them because Osama might be embarrassed. Douche bag.
And, as Lucas pointed out, and is something I’ve said all along, has anyone bothered to compare the United States to one European country? If I lived in Washington state and we all spoke English and I then decided to drive down to California, a mere 8 hours away, and they all spoke French, then of course I would have learned to speak French. That is how it is in European countries. Traveling to another European country is no different than us traveling to a different state. The fact is, however, that all the states speak English so there is no need to be fluent in French or German or Spanish or Russian or Japanese. In Europe, you go from Germany to France in less time than it takes to get from Washington to California and the countries speak totally different languages.
Do you get the point, Assama?
Now. If I chose to live in another country, I would absolutely learn the language. Of course! But don’t give me that line of shit that Spanish speaking people come here and will learn it. Many do. Many do NOT. And those who do not have an hysterical hissy fit about it if you can’t understand them!. That would be like me choosing to live in France and refusing to learn French. Nooooooooo. I will speak English and look down my nose at you because you do not.
Osama is totally out of touch with reality. Pandering asshole that he is, he’s just trying to win votes from those who chose to come here from other countries to live. Is he that desperate for votes, is he that scared of losing that he would insult a population?
I cannot believe some clowns still think he’s the next messiah. Instead of groveling at his feet, “Oh, yes, Osama, you are right, we are the unwashed masses, we are so unworthy, we adore you!”, LISTEN to what this crayon is saying! His ghetto wife already stated, a few months ago, that for the first time in her life, THE FIRST TIME IN HER LIFE, she was proud of America, and Osama is acting that out.
We are SCREWED if he wins and anyone who votes for him, I say, right now, FUCK YOU very much.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
The Dumbing Down Of Me
Sigh, what I would give for an intelligent conversation in real life. The only intelligent conversations I have are with those who comment here, (because you are brilliant and have good taste to come here...naturally), and with other bloggers. In real life? Damn near non existent. At work there is only one person I know who has a fucking clue about politics and what’s really going on while everyone else is of the “Blame Bush” crowd.
The second anyone starts blaming President Bush for everything is the second I start tuning them out. Do I think he’s a perfect president? Hell no. He’s done things that I don’t agree with but I’m not stupid enough to think that everything is his fault. I often like to point out to those at work who “Blame Bush” for all sorts of things that most of what is pissing them off these days can be answered by their precious Democratic congress. What a bang up job those assholes have done!
Half of them don’t even know anything about John McCain and they all worship the Obamanitor. Then again, half of them talk about all the “hot asses” and chesticles they see all day and make up lyrics to country songs on the radio and repeat them over and over and over and over and over.....fucking hell.
Then I started to think about other co-workers I’ve had in this life and I realized, I don’t think I’ve ever had an extended, intelligent conversation at work. And since most of my friends live nowhere near me, intelligent, well thought out discussions are hard to come by in my real life. And I feel like I get more and more dumb with each passing day because I am not stimulated at. all.
Thank GOD for blogs. Seriously. Especially ones like hers. If it wasn’t for blogs like hers, I’d probably go stark raving mad. I read posts on her site and want to discuss them with real life people the next day and it’s pointless. Real life people I know don’t seem to care or don’t have the attention span of a gnat. Don’t get me wrong, my co-workers all have their good qualities, it’s just pointless to discuss politics or anything current in the world these days unless it has been posted on YouTube and involves crashing or bodily injury.
My ex used to discuss politics but that was pointless because he liked Ron Paul and was “open to the suggestion” that 9/11 was a conspiracy. Cripes. There’s no sense in even talking to someone like that about anything remotely grown up.
I know there are smart people out there...they just seem to be in limited supply.
In other news, I finally got a Wii. Finally. After so long, a famous toy store near where I live started selling them in the store and I just happened to stop by on the first weekend they did so and was third in line for one. Totally by accident. Lucky me. So, I got it, came home, set it all up and since I got the Sports pack, played around with the tennis and baseball and bowling a bit before deciding to try out the boxing.
Now, I didn’t think I’d like or be good at the boxing. I hate boxing in real life. That shit grosses me out. I hate the sound of noses being crushed, the sight of the bleeding, the sweat, GROSS the sweat!!! and it does nothing for me. And I sure as hell have no idea how to box because I don’t fight with my fists. But, I thought I would try it.
Three hours and 48 minutes later, I discovered that Wii boxing is a great stress reliever. I started tentatively punching at first. Then I realized I was good at it and started imagining my opponent to be every damn person who has ever irritated the shit out of me in some way or another. Mostly this weekend I imagined some of the tourists who come in to the establishment.
“I said sit the fuck down, asshole!” Punctuated by a volley of punches to the face.
As an example.
At the end of the almost 4 hours, I was exhausted, I knew I would pay for it the next day with sore arms but man did I feel good! Not only did I get some exercise, I got out a LOT of angst. Oh, Wii makers, I adore you.
In even other news, Eye Candy came in today...as a tourist. I was supposed to take the boat he was going to be on but I gave it to someone else because after driving all day in the 300,000 degree heat, I wanted a rest. It turned out not to matter because Eye Candy brought his girlfriend with him and I really didn’t want to have to take that tour when I found out he was there. (I had already given my tour to someone else by the time I found out he was there.) On the other hand, I was glad he brought her with him because...well, because I’m kind of an idiot in a way.
See, now, for some reason, I won’t be stupid and nervous around him because I’ve seen him with another girl. I guess it’s that safe mode thing I was talking about the other day. I can appreciate the fine art in a safe way because I know it won’t be happening. I wouldn’t date him anyway because...well, many reasons, we’ll leave it at that, but now it feels even safer to admire him when he shows up. Does anyone know what I mean or am I really fucking weird?
I don’t know, it just felt like a relief. A co-worker had on her sad face and when I asked her why, she pointed out that he was there, with his girlfriend and gave me a sad face because she knows I think he’s yummy. I looked, sure enough, there they were and I felt instant apathy about the whole thing and stated, “I don’t care.” And meant it. I also reminded her that I would only care if I actually wanted to date anyone at all, which I do not, which people don’t seem to understand. Seriously, guys, it’s not about giving up...I am just so not remotely interested in dating. It’s like asking me if I want to go to a bar for drinks. After working in a bar so long, I have zero interest in doing that shit either. It’s....boredom of the whole thing, I think. Boredom and disgust. Maybe some day I’ll change my mind. Who knows. There was a time in the past when I didn’t want to date at all and I went six years without having a boyfriend because I just. didn’t. want. one.
Why is that strange to so many?
Anyway, I passed by Eye Candy later on and sure enough, because of the relief I felt, I had no problem whatsoever speaking to him. Oh, and I wasn’t being hard on myself in the other entry. I was making fun of myself for being the way I was because it really is ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous and I can absolutely point the finger at myself and laugh just as I can when others act retarded. That’s all that was.
That’s about it for now. Except that I find myself wanting to get a dog just to piss off Muslims..which isn’t the right reason to get a dog, I know but the desire is strong considering all the fucking whining they’ve been doing about dogs in Britain lately. Give me a fucking break. Eventually I want to get another dog anyway but I need to wait until I have the room. Only fair to the pooch.
OH! That reminds me......why the hell do people line up to adopt dogs who are rescued from a puppy mill...the story gets national attention and all these dogs are rescued and how wonderful for the dogs! Yes, I know. So they clean the dogs up, get them all ready for adoption and thousands of people line up to adopt them all.
WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE ON ANY GIVEN DAY? There’s thousands and thousands of dogs and cats, every single fucking day, who need homes. Do these people only do it to say, “I saved this dog from that puppy mill in Tennessee....the one that got shut down....you probably heard about it in the news...” What, so people will think they are wonderful? It’s only good enough if the dogs make headlines? Why aren’t there thousands of people lined up every single weekend to adopt unwanted dogs and cats? The fuck, people?
With that, I’m going to bed.
Ciao, kids.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
It's Out There
So...I think I’m finding my inner bitch. Earlier this week I was in a pretty damn good mood. I had a tour with some people from California and Sweden and some other places and the two mentioned groups had themselves a blast. (The others acted like most tourists who come out....as if they are going to a funeral. It’s not that I give a bad tour, I give a great tour, it’s this weird thing people do on their vacations. I’ve seen it when I worked in the cruise industry and would take cruises and go on shore excursions. People aren’t always there to enjoy themselves, they are there to say they’ve been there and done that. Seriously. It still leaves me speechless to this day. It’s like going on vacation is a burden instead of an enjoyment. Please shoot me in the face if I ever get that way.)
Anyhoo, where was I? Oh, right, the tour with the Swedes and Calis....they had a great time, laughed at all my stupid jokes I make on tour, were really in to it and tipped me big. Big. BIG! And, the best part, when they got off the boat, the Cali dad told me, “You have a great personality. Don’t ever lose that part of you.” Then he and the Swede girl who laughed at everything I said in jest, (which, kids, that makes a person very likable and charming. Have a sense of humor and pay attention to the person talking and you will be very liked), were walking towards the show and talking. I overheard Cali dad telling her what a great personality I had, what a wonderful sense of humor I had and she was saying, “Oh yes! She was great! She was very funny! I liked her. Her tour was fantastic.” (And, Swede girl brought along some serious Swede guy eye candy so she is welcome back annnnny time. Oh shit these guys were painfully good looking.)
So, after hearing that, I floated through the rest of my day and it carried over to the next day. I was really enjoying this job and life itself. It’s amazing what a little compliment can do for a person.
The mood remained until the following night when one of my neighbors got drunk and pissy and was basically an asshole. And the next day at work was apparently Asshole Day because people were in bitchy little fucking moods all day. That mood apparently carried over to yesterday and by the middle of the day, I was also part of Asshole Day and finding myself in short supply of patience with a lot of the tourists.
The last straw was when I saw two little pre-teen fucking shits from South America chasing the baby peacocks around and smacking them with a stick. Oh I lost it. I lost my fucking mind when I saw that. I yelled at them from across the park and ran to them and basically unleashed all my pent up aggression and anger on them. I told them to nok it the fuck off, what the fuck was the matter with them, I jammed my finger on my forehead to illustrate my desire for these twats to use their brains, I told them to get the fuck out of here....I went off. Oh yes, I was cursing at them in a very harsh way. All I could see was red.
They fled to their parents and would not meet my eye the rest of the time they were there. While I was laying in to them, cursing and yelling away, I thought to myself, “Welp, I’m fucking fired now” but I did not care at that moment. Who the hell comes to a park with animals and then abuses the animals? Who the fuck does that?
Well, of course I’m not fired and I was told, later, that if I ever see anything like that again, I do have the authority to tell them to leave the park. That’s it. Your time here is done, get the fuck out. Wish I would have known that at the time. I would have marched on over to the parents and told them to get their spawn the FUCK out of there, get in to their cars and get. OUT!
Now I know for the future.
Before that incident I had a tour with a bunch of Italians. Let me start by telling you, again, that I’m 1/4 Italian. Ok? So anyone who wants to read this and pull the racist card or some such shit can just eat it. I can’t stand the Italians. They are the rudest son’s of bitches I’ve ever met. (The French follow extremely closely in second place.) They don’t listen, they throw shit around, they litter, they try to talk louder than you, they make it impossible for others to hear the tour guide and they think their behavior is funny.
So I had 14 Italian assholes and 8 people from somewhere else. The 8 people from somewhere else were well behaved and listening...the best they could. The Italians? Pscht. At one point in the tour I like to show people a sample of saw grass. It’s serrated on three sides and talking about it is one thing, showing them a piece, passing it around for all to see, is another. It helps them to understand. So I have a piece of sawgrass, I hand it to one of the 8 good people and they pass it through their row and up to the Italian assholes in the next row. Italian bitch decides she’s done looking at it and throws it over the side of the boat. Hey, who cares if three OTHER rows of people have not had the opportunity to look at it, she’s done. That’s all that matters.
I stopped the boat and asked her what her problem was. She looked at me as if she didn’t understand English. (Bullshit, they are here for 2-3 years learnin English that their rich parents are paying for...my aching ass you don’t understand what I just said, bitch.) I said, “Look, trixie..” (I don’t know why, either...guess cause I couldn’t very well say, “Look, bitch” on tour so “trixie” came out, instead.) “Look, trixie, the point of ‘show and tell’ is for everyone to see what is being passed around, not just you.”
She got all embarrassed, not at her mistake but being called out on it publicly, and apologized. Dumb ass. So I got another sample and handed it to that row with explicit instructions to pass it up this time. Same row, last guy in the row, another asshole Italian. Looks at it, shrugs theatrically to let me know he’s very unimpressed and throws it over the side...and then they all laugh about it.
No. No you didn’t. One thing I’ve learned about Italians....when they try to “break your balls”, you break theirs right back. And I did just that.
“What the HELL is the matter with you?”
He looks at me in shock.
“What part of, ‘pass this around’ is so difficult for you to understand?”
Italian Twat: “I wasn’t listening”
Me: “Clearly. You haven’t been listening the entire time and not only do you not listen, you have no consideration for other people. I did not hand the sawgrass to your row, exclusively. In case you were unaware, Einstein, you’re not the only people on the boat. This is not a private tour for you.”
Italian Twat: “......”
I grabbed another sample and stated, “Pass this around. Do NOT piss me off, Italy. There are other people on this boat who would like to look at this and you will NOT throw this over the side again. CAPISCE??????? Remind me to act like an ass if I ever visit your filthy country. You’re trying to break my balls? I’m going to break yours.”
Yes. I did indeed say just that.
And yes, they did indeed pass the damn saw grass around and they behaved their sorry little asses the rest of the tour. I didn’t even give the tip speech at the end because I didn’t want their fucking money. I wanted them the fuck off of my boat. The other 8 people were very consoling and gave me pity when they got off the boat. They also tipped even though I did not ask for it. The 4 who were in the front don’t like Italians either, apparently. Funny thing is, I think those 4 were French. HA!
Anyway, by the end of the day yesterday, Asshole Day had calmed down, I had started to calm down and by the time it was all said and done, things were back to normal. I don’t really like to go off on people. I do it, at times, when I’ve just had it it up to here with people...except when I’m driving..then forget it. I’m not passive when it comes to my life being endangered by fools with Cracker Jack licenses. Overall, though, I usually just bear it and say nothing or mutter under my breath or come on here and vent....but every once in awhile I stand up and speak.
But yesterday I was letting people know, I’ve had it. You will not walk all over me, you will not get away with your shit, you are not funny and I’m going to let you know, precisely, what a tool shed I think you are. This time, I’m not using any tact whatsoever.
Seems to work out pretty well.
Who knew.
Oh, God, I almost forgot to mention this. Because I’m a retard. I’m not a retard for almost forgetting, I’m a retard and you’ll see why here in just a moment. Remember the guy I was mentioning in the earlier entry? Mr. Eye Candy who comes in some times where I work? Ok, so he was there yesterday. Looking extremely fine in his Iraq War veteran t-shirt he had. (He served in that war.) Being as it was Independence Day I felt that I wanted to say, ‘thank you’ to him for his sacrifice and service. He walked over to some of my co-workers, shook their hand and talked a little bit. Then he made the point of turning around to say hi to me. (Don’t get excited, it’s because he’s a wonderful person and has manners...not because it’s a sign he likes me. Don’t analyze that one...some of you...you know who you are.)
Well, as always, I get flustered around him and don’t know what to say. I’m not even remotely clever, witty, charming or endearing when he’s around because I act like a fucking 12 year old school girl with a crush and OH MY GOD! He’s so cool and I respect the hell out of him and swoon! he’s good looking...so like, hi!! I’M RETARDED!
He turns around and says, “Hi (my name).”
Me: brilliantly, “Hey, what’s up?”
and then nothing more.
Not “Happy Independence Day” not, “Thank you for serving”, not anything like, oh, I don’t know, good! Not anything remotely interesting. Not anything even resembling the fact that I’m a girl...noooooooo!
I’m going to sit there in my ugly ass uniform, no make up, sweating, hair destroyed by humidity, looking like shit, and say, “Hey. What’s up?”
Because I’m brimming over with confidence and control when he’s around.
And do you know what he did?
He chuckled! CHUCKLED! And then turned around and talked to my co-workers some more never saying another word to me again.
Chuckled like he was dealing with an idiot. Because that’s exactly how I acted. I wanted to hit myself over the head with a shovel and then bury myself in a 30 foot deep hole I had dug with that shovel.
Sigh. Yah, I know. I’m disgusted with myself, too. See? This is why I don’t want to date.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Add 32 Felines, Allow To Simmer
The more people I meet, the more I don’t like people. There is something seriously wrong with people these days. It’s rare, it seems, to find people who are genuine and good, to the core. I’m certainly not perfect and I don’t expect anyone else to be perfect either but I gotta tell you, I’ve seen a lot of bad, piss poor behavior in a lot of people and it’s....depressing, frankly. Don’t we have consciouses anymore?
Anyway, I’ve had a few acquaintances tell me not to give up on the whole stupid dating thing. (I mean in real life, no insult to people who have written that in comments.) I sit here and think about it, sometimes, rarely, and I think I don’t want to because it’s so much hassle, there’s so much drama and damn people are such liars about who they are.
I wonder if I’ve just been hurt too much and am bitter or if I’ve actually learned lessons along the way and realize that most people just aren’t people I want to be with for a minute more let alone the rest of my life. I really don’t know the answer to that. Maybe it’s a combination. All I know is that most people make me sick to my stomach and I find myself caring less and less about the population in general.
A part of me doesn’t want to think like that, of course but another part of me says, “Fuck them anyway. They’re all assholes in the end.” I then start listing off, in my mind, all the disgusting, mean, horrible, rude things people do on a daily basis and confirm I am right and people can suck a fat one for all I care. Screw them. Why on earth would I want to even bother dating one of these idiots?
And then like 5 minutes later I recoil, “Damn! Maybe I AM bitter. I never used to think or feel this way.”
I never wanted to be the bitter old person....not that I’m old but if this keeps up, I sure as hell will be. That’s kind of a scary thought. Children will flee from me when they see me and they’ll do shit to my house and property because I’m that person. You know the one. Ultimately, as you well know, scary person saves one kid’s life and they see that person in a different light but in the meantime, “those” types of people pay dearly. Which I can only imagine might make someone like me even more bitter. If I am bitter.
Hell, I just don’t know what I am.
Maybe I’m just exhausted and disgusted. Maybe that’s it.
“Hey, Serenity, why don’t you go out with this guy?”
UGH! Why?
Like, there’s this one person who sometimes comes in to where I work and he’s a great guy. Fantastic person. Anyone who knows him will tell you how fabulous of a person he is. He served our country, went to war, he’s calm and decent, and good looking to boot. And I enjoy the eye candy while he’s there. I might even talk about it but I do that because I know it’s safe.
It’s safe because I know I would never go out with him. Part of that is a self esteem issue...the guy must get like all the really hot girls and I’m ok, I’m decent, I can be cute sometimes but I’m certainly not hot. I think, overall, my personality is pretty awesome...except this bitter part, if that’s what it is..oh! and my serious lack of patience with all things stupid, but it seems guys go for the hot girls and not the sometimes cute girls with great personalities. I mean, how many guys cringe when they hear, “She’s got a great personality!” about a girl they’ve never met and are set up with on a blind date. Great personality doesn’t seem to get the guy. Sure, it helps for the long run. You can be a hottie with no personality and eventually guys will tire of you. Great personality will keep them around...but how does one compete in the “looks” department when so many girls are practically advertising all their goods from the get go? That seems to be what the guys look at and try to hook up with. Good personality girl gets to be the “friend I respect too much to go out with.” Of course, it’s quite possible that I just know all the wrong guys. I’m not just talking about the ones I’ve dated...what a pile of douches they have been...damn what is wrong with me? I’m also talking about co-workers, acquaintances, friends, random conversations from guys that I’ve overheard. We don’t have a “Great Personality Issue” of Sports Illustrated....just sayin’, ya know...to get the point across. Anyway, the biggest reason I know it’s safe to enjoy the eye candy who comes in sometimes and even say something once in awhile, is because I know I would not do it even if he did ask me out. Because that’s just how much I do not want to date anymore.
I know people say, “Keep your options open” and you never know who will come along....but I just really don’t think I want to be with anyone.
I guess I am bitter.
Great, now all I need to do is collect a few more cats and I’ll be the fucking crazy lady down the street.
Lovely. My life long dream.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Must Everything Be Difficult?
Ok, kids, I promised you video of the kittehs and I have video of the kittehs. But first, I want you to know the incredible struggle I went through to get this done.
First, I had to think about doing it. That took me a few days. Second, I had to get up and get the camcorder. This took another couple of days. Sigh. Battery needs to be re-charged...third, I had to charge the flippin’ battery. Battery charged, now I had to actually film the kittehs. More procrastinating until I realized, “Hmm, they really do grow up fast, guess I better do this today, on my day off or I won’t do it for another week.” Got the video camera, got the battery on it and filmed. Good, now let’s load it all up.
Double plus sigh. First I had to find the blasted cord. That meant I had to go outside to my car and it was hot today and I didn’t feel like going outside. So I sat here some more and read other blogs until I decided to just do it. Got the cord. Went to hook it up...oh for crying! out loud! I have to switch the damn card on the back of my computer. Shut off the damn computer, changed the card, restarted...sigh! sigh! sigh!!
Loaded video. Waited. Waited. Waited. I’m bored!
Picked some of the better segments and made a mini movie from the footage. A lot of the footage ended up on the cutting room floor but it was also very cute and very good but I know most people have the attention span of a retarded gnat so I had to cut it down. Added music. Went to my new video site, (D. Bunny, I had actually stolen the idea from you from your site before you commented about said site. Thanks!), loaded video.
Due to a high volume of uploading, it would take 20 minutes to convert. Give me a break! This is taking FAR longer than necessary. Finally it was done. Realized I had accidentally uploaded uncut version instead. Fuuuuuuuuuuck!
Deleted video. Uploaded correct video.
Due to a high volume of uploading, it would take 35 minutes to convert.
Screw this, I’m going to the store.
Came back, video is done and ready and here you are. Do you see what I go through for you people? ENJOY it! NOW!
The Kittehs First Public Appearance from Serenity Cat on Vimeo.
Damn they’re adorable.
And yes, the video is a little jumpy but this turned in to an all day event and if you complain, I’ll cut you.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
To Tear Down That Wall
I’ve been writing since I was a kid and have always really liked doing it. I think it was a combination of reading anything and everything and feeling quite lonely that made me enjoy it so much.
My mother instilled in us a passion for reading. She was a teacher so she knew just what books to get us started and interested when we were younger and then always got us in to the summer reading program at the library no matter what town we lived in. I absolutely loved reading. It was one of the things my mom did right.
One time, when I was 14, we were heading on our annual summer vacation and it was my first plane ride. We flew from Seattle to Orlando and after awhile, the claustrophobia and the clipped “s” and “t” and basically the entire conversation two ladies were having a few rows behind me started to kill the excitement. I wanted the ladies to shut up before they drove me crazy and I wanted to be free to move around again. I shifted and squirmed and moaned in my seat like a spastic child until my mother, brilliant in her pre-planning, pulled a book from her purse. She handed it to me and that is how I came to read, “Where The Red Fern Grows”. When it came to reading and the exact right material and timing, my mother was a genius.
When we would go on vacations, my mom and dad would go their way and my brothers would go their way, leaving me to explore on my own. It was a very lonely feeling and I would be rather sad until I, inevitably found some boy a year or two younger than me, standing in line for a ride or whatever and we would strike up a conversation. The two of us, my new found friend and I, would then hang around for hours until his parents came to collect him. Then I would be on my own again, sad and lonely until it was time to meet up the family at the designated spot. I would then listen to my parents talk about what they did and my brothers talk about how much fun they had together and it would make me want to jump out of the car and just run as fast and as far as I could to get away from them.
They really hurt me a lot.
So I dove in to writing stories to make myself feel better. As time went on, I got better and better at it until one day I titled a story that riled my mother up in a major way and the joy of writing was dead for a long time. I was walking home from school one day, thinking about a story I was working on. It was a gray, cloudy day, the wind was picking up and rustling the leaves of the trees along the trail I was walking. They weren’t willow trees but I thought, “The wind in the willows” and suddenly decided that would be a great title for my story. Gray, cloudy, rainy, stormy days and night time have always made me feel better, always given me strength, always given me hope for something better. Those days still do it to me to this day as an adult. I’m much calmer when the weather is bad or when it’s dark.
Needless to say, my mother informed me, angrily, that there was already a book with that title and instead of believing me when I stated I had never heard of the book, (I hadn’t...I was all of 8 by that time, maybe), she accused me of plagiarizing. She threw such a fit over an innocent mistake that I did not go back to the typewriter for years to write a story for myself.
I did, of course, have to do writing for school and college and I apparently did exceedingly well but the passion for it wasn’t there like it used to be. It wasn’t until I discovered blogs 4-5 years ago that I felt that fire burn inside me again. I wanted to write. I wanted someone to read it. I wanted someone to hear me.
Along the way, either in school or some book I read, I was taught that you only write what you are most scared of, otherwise, there is no point. I had forgotten that lesson until recently when I was reading someone else’s blog and they wrote that they had been taught the same thing. And the fact is, the posts where I’ve written about things that make me the feel the most vulnerable are the posts that get read and talked about the most. Those types of posts also happen to be the ones I enjoy the most on other blogs. I like to see the raw, human feelings and experiences behind the words. I like to know the good, bad and ugly about a person’s life.
About four years ago I wrote an entry about my early beginnings and forced myself not to delete it. Comment after comment told me how brave I was for writing it all down. To be quite honest, I felt embarrassed with those comments and refused to accept I was brave for it. I wasn’t scared to write that! No way! Hmph. Not me, I’m not scared of shit. That was a cake walk.
Truth is, that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever written and I was so overwhelmed with the comments and the caring behind the words so many wrote that not long after that, I retreated. A few months later I broke my ankle and I was so down...so...lost, really, after working so hard to get ahead, after going through so much to turn my life around, to make something of myself, to finally succeed, I lost so much just to have a chance to gain that to lose it all again was more than I could handle. Add to that some pain medication and I blurted out to the world that I was done. I had given up.
Another outpouring from all kinds of people, people I didn’t know. Total and complete strangers went above and beyond for me! ME! Just to make me feel better. I’ll never forget the military guy who bought every last thing I had on my Amazon wish list I had at the time just because he wanted me to know I was not alone, that someone did care. He wanted me to read to my heart’s content, help pass the time and I was floored when that package arrived. When I found out that one person did this, I have to admit, I just sat there, looking at all the books...the massive amount of books, and cried. Not one single person had ever done anything like that for me in my entire life and here, someone who didn’t even know me did it just to be kind. I will never forget that person. Ever. And I will never forget what he did and I have done my best to pay it forward, beyond, hopefully, what he did for me. I want someone else in this world to feel like I felt that day.
After that, though, I started to feel really vulnerable, really exposed, too known. The irony is, when I was younger, I would have lapped that up. As I get older, I feel like closing myself off more and more. I have it in my head that the less people know about me, the better off I’ll be.
Except that isn’t true.
And now I sit here and think about those words I was taught so long ago and just heard again on another blog I read and wonder if I can write about that I most fear. Because that’s the only thing worth writing about, they said.
I don’t know if I can. I don’t think I am that brave. I don’t think I am that strong. I think for all the boisterous bullshit I put out here about what people should and should not be doing, I can’t take my own damn advice. I think I’m all talk and a whole lot of hiding. Oh I can sure help other people out. I give great assvice. But me? Me do something like that? Pscht. I think not.
Except, I think maybe I should try that again.
Jesus, just writing that makes tingles of fear run up my arms. Seriously, I physically feel that right now. Hell, I feel like I’ve exposed more about myself than I should just in this post. I guess that’s a first step.
Second step, allow this to stay.
Third step, try not to throw up.
Fourth step, do it again.
I do have a lot of stories...I just have to find the spine to write them. Because otherwise, it’s not even worth it.
Feeling It
At long last, I got rewarded for someone’s stupidity and pissiness. (New word.) Yesterday I was loading up a boat to take out on tour and, as always, I tell people that if they step on the seat to get on to the boat, it will be much easier on them and perhaps save them from bruises or, I don’t know, falling in to the boat like the graceful swans they are.
Now, while I’m taking tickets and loading and spouting off safety rules, I am sizing up the group. If the people are paying attention, nodding in understanding and having a good time, I know it will be a good tour. If they spill on to the boat, slap their ear plugs in right after I get through telling them they don’t need them and ask me stupid questions before we even get started, I know it’s probably going to be a shitty tour.
So, as stated, I’m loading the boat and every damn person I’m telling them, “Step on to the seat to get in to the boat. It’s much safer and easier on you that way.” And damn if every last one of them failed to listen and banged their legs up, flopped in to the boat, were all kinds of confused. About halfway through loading up, I muttered, “Oook, it’s going to be on of those tours.” (Keep in mind, after a year of this, and especially after spending most of it in 5000 degree heat, one gets to know these things and patience is looking over its shoulder as it sneaks out the window.)
One particular man from New York got a little snippy with my comment and stated that he was quite adept at walking, thank you very much, and did not need me to inform him how to get in and out of a boat. He glared at me while I ensured I had everyone and gathered up tickets. As I reached the two rows holding him and 7 of his friends and family, I witnessed a moment that made my heart sing with joy.
Apparently they had only purchased 7 tickets instead of 8 and this particular man did not have a ticket. He needed to run back to the counter to get one. Mr. Adept At Walking Thank You Very Much failed to step on to the seat to exit the boat, tripped, took a few running steps to correct himself on the dock before stomping back to the store to get his missing ticket. I guess he’s quite adept at counting as well.
He came back, we went on the ride and I made a point of singling him out, in a friendly way, of course, throughout the entire tour. The guy had at first decided to have a miserable time but by the end of the ride, I did catch him smiling a couple of times. And he felt like such a tool shed for the earlier comment that he handed me a $20 tip.
Guess he is quite adept at eating some crow, too.
Anyway, haven’t been posting too much because the heat is wearing me out. I’ve been crawling in to bed less than an hour after getting off work and sleeping off the pain, the PAIN, my GOD the pain. Some time last week I managed to get dehydrated, crawled home, slept for 13 hours and since then have been feeling really wiped out.
So far tonight I’ve already slept 8 hours. I woke up at 2:30 to read some blogs, maybe write something and then I’m going back to bed. I think it’s a mix of working in the heat, dealing with idiots all day and just basically returning to my own sane little world after dealing with some major league cock smokers in the past two years.
Let me rest, kids, maybe I’ll be funny again one day. (Assuming I ever was. I don’t think I’m all that funny but people tell me that I am so I guess I am. Or everyone is a big, fat liar. Time will tell.)
Saturday, June 21, 2008
She's Crazy
Hi people. This is Serenity, the cat. The actual cat that you see at the top of this page. That’s my picture. I think I’ve let that human girl hijack this blog long enough. I mean, it IS my blog isn’t it? It does say, “Serenity’s Journal” doesn’t it? That’s me! I’m Serenity. My space! And I have a few things to say about the crap I’ve put up with in this past year.
Number one: She’s obviously insane. There is nothing wonderful about storms. I do not like when the sky rumbles and lights up. Can’t she smell the danger? Why are humans so stupid? I have to make this quick because the sky is splitting apart right now and I need to get the good spot under the bed before Rani hogs it all up with her ridiculously striped self. Stripes. Tacky!
And that’s another thing...Rani. I wasn’t enough company for the human girl? She had to adopt this little pain in the butt? What for?! We don’t need her! I was being quite giving by allowing the human girl to sleep on the bed but now, apparently, I have to share it with this ghetto cat as well? I’m displeased. It’s only a queen sized bed....there’s not enough room.
Number thrice: Kittens. The farookin’ kittens. I really don’t mind them, per say, they don’t eat my food and I don’t have to share a litter box with them but! I have found my space limited because of them. Who do they think they are? All of a sudden, one day after they appeared, a door was built and put up to separate me and Rani from the other street cat the human girl calls, “Mama” and her batch of hoodlum midgets. Excuse me! I was here first! This is my house! Dang immigrants. Where are their papers? Are they legal? I have yet to see an alien card around here! And! AND! Not only have I lost about half of MY territory but I’m now subject to sharing the smaller space with that ghetto striped embarrassment, Rani. It wasn’t enough that I gave her a sliver of the bed? When will the indignities end?!
My birthday was earlier this month and this is what I get for being a good kitty all these years? All the cuteness, all the licks, all the affection I have given and I get this in return?
Oh that human girl has a lot of sucking up to do to me if she ever wants to get back in my good graces. Maybe one day she can let me run around outside OFF the leash for a change.
Rude!
I Love Storms
This place has two seasons I love. Winter....which, really, for a northern girl, this is not really winter but a pleasant summer in December and January. And rainy season...which is going on right now. I love rain. I love thunder and lightning even more. Yes, I have great respect for lightning and the storms in Houston actually freaked me out...holy shit Houston gets some wicked lightning...but I do still love it even if I am not like half the population who thinks it’s fantastic to run around outside in it. (Or take airboat tours in it...morons.)
Speaking of, really quick digression here...when I started this gig last year, we had to take boats in the lightning. If we stated we felt uncomfortable, we were labeled....pansies...although the word was different. I just don’t like the word. Unless I’m using it to describe an ex I know. Because he is one. In a major way. Anyway, since that time we have two new girls working here and those two girls are wonderful. They are very real, very true, hard working and oh shit are they funny. I adore them. That says a lot about them because I usually can’t stand girls. Most girls are catty and bitchy and whores, frankly. But these two are amazing. Because of them, the bosses are a lot happier, it would seem, have a lot more fun at work and have lightened up quite a bit. Now? Now we do not go out in lightning. Now we are not...pansies...but being safe. Now they wait until the lightning is GONE before we go out in giant, metal boats on the open water. I know, in my gut, it’s because of these two ladies. In fact, the other day, the storm lasted all day long and we actually closed early. Holy shit in a flask! The boss let us close early? WHA???? I quickly looked up in the sky for pigs flying. God bless those two ladies and may they stay here for a long, long, long time. They are wonderful.
Anyway, why the hell did I start talking about this? I had a point I was going to make and now I’ve completely forgotten what I was going to write about. This happens often, by the way, I just rarely ever tell you all about it.
So...let me talk about something else. After my last rant, I’m feeling a HELL of a lot better. Man did I need to get that shit out of my system. This does not mean I will forget and I will still call people on their shit but I’m feeling more at peace. Plus, it’s kinda cool when some people that you’ve known from the past pop in and say, “hi”. (Yes, Jim, I do remember the certain patio in Plano and the cigars, conversation and drinks. Mostly I remember the cigar. Because I was told too late not to inhale that shit. And I got siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick! So sick that I remember I couldn’t even be decent enough to bid a proper good night to most in attendance. I had to get upstairs and lie down fast or I would have been the center of attention there with the mess I was going to make. Now I look back and think it’s a funny story.)
I’ve never gotten over someone so quickly as I have this time around. Took me less than a week because I started looking back on everything and realizing that the guy was a bigger cock sucking asshole than I was thinking towards the end of the whole thing. Man that twit did not treat me right at all. And he sure as fuck did not deserve someone as great as I am. Because I am great. Well, I guess the fact that he didn’t even graduate from high school and the Ron Paul sticker on his car should have been all the warning I needed but, as stated in the last post, sometimes I make excuses for people when I should not. He fit the Ron Paul supporter crowd to a tee. Fucking. Insane. Not living in reality. Cannot handle reality one iota. Narcissistic of the likes I’ve never seen before. He makes videos on You Tube...he can’t sing for shit...can’t read a note to save his life and refuses to learn how to do either one because he doesn’t like to be “told what to do” or be “controlled”. Fucking moron. But he would make these videos and use ProTools to make him sound better....and don’t you DARE tell him that a true singer should be able to sing without those tools because the child cannot take constructive criticism at all. I think his mommy spent her life telling him how wonderful and special he was and let him act like the fucking prat he is so now he has no fucking clue how to live in the real world. Nope, instead he makes videos and puts them on YouTube and stares at himself for hours and hours and hours on end every single day. Jesus, just carry a fucking mirror around with you. It was sickening. “I’m just going over the videos to see how I could have done things differently.” Oh fucking bullshit. Once or twice...hell even three times I might understand that but all fucking day, every day? No. You are in to yourself and think you are the shit. News flash...your mommy lied.
So, anyway, I’m about sick of hearing the words, “You” and “Tube” in the same second so when I was looking for a place to host videos, I decided to opt for another site. I’ve just signed up and as soon as I figure it all out, get off my lazy ass and load some video on there, I’m going to share some video of the now 4 week old kittens as they begin their explorations. They, just this week, have started walking around. On their wobbly, little legs. Christ it’s so adorable I can’t stand it.
Look for that soon.
It’s now starting to rain again. Hooray!! I hope it storms, HARD, all night long. Unfortunately, except for that one day this last week, most storms do not last all day. Just an hour or two and then are gone. Oh well, it’s better than nothing.
Ciao kids.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Year Of My Disgust
In the past month I’ve gone through a move, a revisit, 5 births, a death, another death, a feeling of being out of place and am now finding myself again.
I am still driving idiots around in airboats and let me tell you kids, I’ve had it with people, in a general sense. There are far too many stupid, immature, whiny, lying, manipulative, bullshit artists out there. Europe? Seriously, you are not all that so get the fuck over yourself. Especially you Italian and French pieces of shit. Jeezus you guys are complete assholes.
As for personal, trust my instincts. For the love of GOD would I not just trust my instincts already? If I feel something isn’t right in Whoville, then maybe something isn’t fucking right in Whoville. But nooooo, I constantly make excuses for people’s bullshit. “Oh, they’re having a bad day.” “Oh, they just haven’t learned this or that in life.” “Oh, they’ll get it eventually.”
No. Fuck those people. Some people are perpetual victims and will never understand that they are the ones doing every damn thing to themselves. Idiots. I’ve had it with whiny assed idiots. Enough of the pissing and moaning about how things aren’t fair. Enough of the crying and carrying on about how they’ve had it so fucking hard in this life because of shit they did to their own stupid asses. Some people have had everything handed to them and yet they carry on and on and on about how hard it’s been for them. Bullshit. Go experience life. Go see what others have endured in their lifetimes. Stop fucking whining. And get up off your pathetic ass and do something for yourself. Twats.
Right now I’m saving up my money like you wouldn’t believe. And eventually I’m going to move from this city and go somewhere else where people are sane. Where people give a shit. Where people have consideration. Where they care about the others around them. This city is full of self serving, narcissistic assholes. Plastic assholes. Mail order whores. The stupidity in this city runs rampant. The complete lack of consideration is jaw dropping. The incivility is bewildering, even to this day. I understand that there are pricks everywhere you go but damn this city has cornered the market on that. Image, image, image, everyone look at me, I have this and that and my car, my phone, my fake friends, fake boobs, fake nails, fake hair, fake ass.....I’m so fucking special! You wish you were me! You’re just jealous!
Hell no I’m not. I’m not jealous of a piece of plastic, empty, soul less shit like you. Whoop de fucking doo...you live in a big house or condo and have a BMW or Mercedes and like, wow, you’re so skinny and have big chesticles and ass implants but you know what, idiot? You have no fucking personality or compassion or any sense of being real at all. You’re right. I’m just one giant wad of jealousy over that. How many medications are you fools on?
One day, I think I’ll move north and get a plot of land with an old house, sturdy house. I’ll have a porch and a rocking chair and I’ll have all these animals I’ve saved running around, being free and happy, cared for while I sit in that rocking chair, on that porch, under the glorious evening and night sky, snapping beans and peeling potatoes for the nightly feast. I’ll then go inside and sit in another chair and listen to the ticking of the old grandfather clock as I have my tea and read a book before retiring to bed and watching some stupid ass reality show with some stupid ass bitches on it who complain about the stupidest ass shit I’ve ever heard and laugh and laugh and laugh because yep, they have it so! much better than me.
That’s my plan. Peace and fucking quiet, relaxation...being real. Living in the moment. Enjoying nature and this world and beyond. The people? Hopefully where I’m choosing will have much more “down to earth” (I hate that expression), people, real people, hard working people, people with soul, people who get it.
I’m done with the whiny shits of this world and I WILL call every fucking one of them on it every damn time. And if they can’t handle it? Tough shit. Grow up. A disagreement is not the end of the world. It’s unbelievable. People in their 30s and 40s even beyond still act like school children who think that if you have an argument, everything is bullshit, it’s all disrespect, it’s all too hard, it’s all over! OH THE DRAMA!
An example of the mentality in this city....not only do they not bring their shopping carts back to the drop off or to the store, not only do they drive through parking lots however they damn well please, not only do they run red lights, cut you off, turn left from three lanes over to the right, blare their horns, throw their trash everywhere except in a garbage can, drop things in the store and leave them there, open containers of milk, pass it around to their entire family and then put it back on the shelf, get pissy with you if you don’t speak fucking Spanish, (I refuse), mess up the simplest order, let their children run around like fucking monkeys, shove past you, bump in to you, step on you and don’t even say, “Excuse me”......but they have such an arrogance the likes of which I’ve never seen before.
I had something for sale. I did find someone who wanted to buy but had to make payments. Against my better judgement, I decided to allow them to do so. The first month they gave me $50 out of the $1000 owed and a whole lot of excuses and turned it around as if they were doing me the favor. Then someone I sort of know called up and said they knew someone else who wanted to buy what I had for sale. Fine. I doubled the price and told them to have the person meet me the next day. Then the asshole had the audacity to ask me to charge the person $200 extra for them for a finder’s fee.
A fucking finder’s fee! Let me explain how a finder’s fee works, douches. You actively seek people out. You work at it, you make it your job to find a buyer. You do NOT get a finder’s fee because someone you know mentions in casual conversation that they need what the seller had for sale. Let’s say you and I are acquaintences and you have a sweater for sale. Three weeks later, a friend of mine says, “Wow, I really want a sweater.” You say, “I know someone who was trying to sell a sweater, let me call them for you.” I call and tell you that my friend wants a sweater and you say, “Have them stop by tomorrow morning.” Nowhere in there have I fucking earned a damn finder’s fee. The absurdity makes my mind reel. No one around here does anything for anyone else without a fucking price tag attached to it. No one does anything just to help out or be kind or be neighborly. Everyone wants something. Everyone acts like they’ve done gigantic favors for everyone they come across. And what’s even worse is that this is becoming more and more common and I know that someone is going to read this and not understand why it is, indeed, absurd.
Not everything has been bad, though. I did rescue a cat, another one, that was dropped off by some cock sucker, near where I live. I won its trust and eventually she got to move inside. Not before she got knocked up, though. Now I’m the nurse for 4 tiny kittens who are on their third week of life. Jesus they are cute. I need to find homes for them and hopefully I will. I think I might have two homes already lined up. We’ll see. I don’t trust anyone anymore with the bullshit words they say. Actions, assholes. Actions. Your words don’t mean diddly shit to me anymore.
I lost a bunny I rescued from being snake food. Storms. Bad storms. Think it had a heart attack. I disposed of the body in the Indian way...as close as I could get, that is. That really sucked to lose it but I may have another coming. Because apparently I’m the one who saves all these innocent helpless creatures according to the neighborhood. Fine with me. I’m really liking animals a hell of a lot more than people these days.
By the way, why on earth do people have snakes? You can’t do shit with them. They sit in a cage. Whoo. What fun.
Oh and the next douche bag who tells me I need to get out and date? I will come there and put my boot up your ass because I don’t need anymore of that shit. I apparently cannot pick the right people. I am no good at that. I pick all the fucking cream of the crop assholes out there and I’m not doing it again.
Ok, enough random strings of thoughts today. I have to get ready to tote around more arrogant worthless fucking oxygen wasters. Hey kids! Let me give you some advice. If you see that it’s raining hard, maybe some hail, thunder and lightning, that is NOT THE FUCKING TIME to come out and take an airboat ride. And if you are stupid enough to come in at that precise moment, do not, for the love of GOD, ask me if you are going to get wet. Yes, dipshit. You are. And do not blame me and not tip me because you did. You’re the fucking fool who bought the ticket. I was dry before you came out. Now I’m sopping wet because you just HAD to go on an airboat ride right fucking now! TIP ME.
And if you think this is venting? You have seen nothing yet.
Oh and to a commenter from the last post..Dave...no, I didn’t leave because of some shits on the internet. No way. I could not care any less if it was humanly possible about anyone from the internet getting their panties in a twist over something I said or say. I was talking about people in real life who know my site but the gloves are totally off now. Fuck the lot of them. They read? They are not going to like it.
Boo.
Hoo.
OH! And one more thing. That whole crap about how it’s soooooo racist with the Osama and Michell “baby daddy” thing? That fucking bitch said it her damn self four years ago. When Osama was elected Senator, she fucking introduced him as “my baby’s daddy”. Go look it up if you don’t believe it. I told you when and where. DAMN what a bunch of idiots in this world. Does everyone have ADD?
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Back In Business
Again we are connected to shiny objects floating in the sky...satellite, kids.
I have a hell of a lot to tell you all and I am NOT sparing anyone’s pwecious wittle feewings because I’ve had it up to here with certain types of people.
At first I didn’t think I’d bother but oh yes, I’m going to bother because I do not fucking care if they read it and get all upset. Fuck them.
But that comes later.
Right now I’m going to eat and relax.
Ciao kids.
