Jeepers Creepers.

I am woefully behind on my blog reading.  Seriously.  It's pathetic.  I miss you all so much, it makes me sad inside, like guava-filled donuts.  I can read maybe a post or two a day, and I usually don't end up commenting, which makes me even sadder, because I LIKE commenting.  I am full of how wonderful I am and expect everyone to be hanging on my every word.  Right?

Anyway.

I was reading Grace at ThatsRightISaidIt.Dot.Mom's post and Lizbeth's Four Sea Stars' post on crazy creeper guys, and it got me thinking about just how fucking creepy guys can be.  Not just the usual standing too close thing, but that unhinged moment when you realize that this guy? May be ridiculously dangerous.  I'd like to share my story [thanks so much, Grace and Lizbeth, for the idea - I was in a blogwriting funk.  How many times can I tell you about how much I hate nature before you all desert me? One more? I'm not taking that chance.]

I went to a pretty big university for undergrad.  It sits in a college town that leaves you feeling pretty invincible - people are friendly, there are a lot of kids your age, and LOTS of opportunities to go out and have fun.  And by have fun I mean drink.  I'm not sure where you went to college, but I think that was an extra-curricular at mine.  Or maybe just an extra-curricular for me.

I would go hang out with friends at the bar, at restaurants, at houses, and not really think about walking home later.  Sometimes there were groups meandering down the road, sometimes there was just me.

One time, it was really late, and I was a little drunk [probably a lot drunk] and I had a face off with a raccoon.  Now, as we know, I am no fan of nature [this does not count against me as a post about hating nature, since it's only tangential to my real post.  Right?].  However, I do have a healthy respect for something that may be carrying rabies and most definitely is carrying some sort of disgusting garbage germs.  Anyway, even though I was on a main business street, surrounded by buildings and the accoutrement of civilization, I let that raccoon have its space on the sidewalk and crossed the street to avoid it, all the while carefully keeping it in my sights, and warning people who were walking toward me about it.  [Whether they heeded or understood my warning, I do not know.  I'm guessing it depended on their own blood alcohol level.]

You'd think that incident would have given me an inkling that maybe I shouldn't be walking home alone at night.  You'd be grossly underestimating how dumb I can be.

Later that summer, I was hanging out with friends at the restaurant where one of my roommates worked.  At closing, they were headed in a different direction and I didn't want to wait the extra hour for my roommate to be ready to leave.  I decided to head home.

I was again on a business street, walking along and minding my own business.  The walk was maybe 15 minutes from the restaurant to my place, all but a block on busy streets.  I had done it before and didn't really think about it.  Granted, this was in the dark ages, before cell phones and the pseudo-safety they give you, but still - a few minutes walk by myself in the city I'd lived in for a year? I figured I'd be fine.  And I was.

Until I heard some guy start yelling at me from his car.  I glanced over, didn't recognize him, and kept walking.  I ignored him, or tried to, until I realized he was slowly driving along at the speed I was walking.

Which was starting to weird me out.

He kept telling me how beautiful I was, and how much he liked me and how he wanted to take me out and be my boyfriend.  And I kept walking a little bit faster, wondering when the hell he'd give up and leave. 

Instead, he abandoned his car and started walking with me down the sidewalk.

Now, the things that still stun me are these:

1.  Why would he do this and think it's o.k.?
2.  Why didn't I start screaming?
3.  Why was I even answering any of his questions?

Because he was still peppering me with questions.  Where was I going? Do I want to go out with him? Did I know how beautiful I was? Did I have a boyfriend?

My one-word non-committal answers were not deflecting his attention.  He seemed older, maybe late 20s, and was probably drunk.  I had reached the end of the street and realized I could either turn right down a main street toward home, or turn left down a main street, and hopefully find a business that was still open.  There were [and still are] those emergency phones all over campus, but my great fear at that point was that if I stopped walking, I'd be done for.  He was really freaking me out.

I turned left.

I walked along, ignoring him, hoping I'd find something open when I realized I knew someone who worked at a pizza place up ahead.  Someone who was a guy, who would hopefully scare this douchebag creeper away.

It pissed me off that I had to rely on some guy, because I think of myself as a very, very, very strong woman, I always have.

But at that point?  I was weaker than this guy.  I was smaller and the streets were quiet.  And I didn't think my strength of character or pithy ability to make a cutting remark was going to do the job.

I went into the pizza place, with creepazoid following me in, and saw my friend.  Who was actually more the brother of someone I knew.  I mean, we knew each other, but weren't pals.  Anyway, I quickly explained that creepy guy was not leaving me alone and was really freaking me out.

So my friend's brother shooed the guy away - I think we said he was my boyfriend - and drove me home.  I thanked him for the ride and went into my apartment, glad to be safe at home.

And I wish I could say I was more careful about where I went or walking alone, but that would be a lie.  I did a lot more dumb, dumb things, and it wasn't until my panic attacks and anxiety kicked into high gear that I really thought that walking around by myself in the middle of the night was probably not a good idea.  It pisses me off that creepy guys have that innate ability to pen women in, like polite veal.

What about you?  Crazy creeper stalker stories?

The terrible, horrible, no good, really bad day*

I hate Sundays. 

I've said it before.  I said it on Twitter [and got a lot of people responding that they hate them, too].  I'm sure I'll say it again.

They just make me so angry and unhappy and full of dread.

I spent the entire day Sunday ready to punch anyone who got in my way.  It was not a nice feeling. Not even a little bit.  Not for anyone involved.

I'm not even sure why I was so angry.  I mean, there were a lot of annoying little things that happened - running out of soap for the shower, papers sliding off my desk, realizing I had three baskets of laundry to fold - but these were things that had happened often and never really set me over the edge [unlike, say, losing your phone - but that's a whole 'nother post].  It was a perfect storm of minor annoyances and crazy juice build up that had me muttering under my breath about how much I fucking hated everyone and everything and these stupid fucking cats and their stupid fucking hair and what the hell? why hadn't the husband made the bed again?

It was exhausting.  And I kept having to say, over and over, "I'm sorry, please don't talk to me, I hate you and want to kill you right now," to the husband and the girl [I didn't tell the girl I wanted to kill her, just that I was in a really bad mood for no reason; I'm not THAT bad a parent.  Just a really bad spouse.  Consider yourself warned, in case I get divorced and am looking for a replacement spouse and have fixated on you.].

I mean, having a bad day because of some catastrophe at work or home or in the world, that I get.  Even if it's lack of sleep or PMS or an imbalance in my humours or chakras, sure I get that.  But hating on TINA FEY because she is so awesome and I am not and we'll never be friends? That's just wrong. [And so guilt inducing that I apologized to her audiobook for thinking evil thoughts.  I may need medication.]

The only moderately o.k. time was taking the girl to see Scream 4 at the local third [fourth?] run theater [eh, it was fine, but too gory for our tastes], but I swear to god, as soon as it was over and I tried to use the tiniest bathroom in the history of the universe [it was the size of a coffin, no lie], the anger started building until I walked back into the house and that AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH hateful feeling came crushing back.

Which led me to think that maybe I really need to re-vamp the house, except there is no money, and frankly? I don't want to live here anymore and I don't have a job to make money to leave and I am functionally unemployable and I have a really hard time deciding how to decorate and maybe I need to find an interior designer, but seriously? for this tiny house? or maybe I should just get rid of everything and that AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHH just started all over again.

And so I had a really bad day, for seemingly no reason, that only ended when I went to bed at 1:00am after a tummy ache [I will spare you the details, but suffice to say, I'm glad I wasn't in India]. 

Does this ever happen to you?  Where your hate dial gets turned to 11 for no reason?  Please say yes.  I'd like to not be alone when I'm a fucking lunatic.

XO,

S

***************

*Probably the best book title ever, although I am no fan of Alexander's giant melon-head.  Huh.  Evidently the crabbiness and bitchitude have not left the building.  Awesome.

People Who Are Assholes - Shopping Edition

The other day, I picked the girl up from school, because I coddle her and didn't want her to walk home 2 blocks from the bus stop in 95 degree heat.  I am a coddler.  I just am.

Anyway, she asked if we could swing by Target, and since I am ALWAYS up for going to Target [except for using their fucking pharmacy], we did.

And I swear to god, every fucking asshole in the universe was there, too.  Here's just a sampling:

The asshole who decided to back his rape van into the parking space right next to me.  Dude.  Seriously.  You are already an asshole for owning a van that immediately makes me start blowing on my rape whistle while rooting around for mace, do you have to add to your asshole-ish-ness by holding up all kinds of pedestrian and motor vehicle traffic so that you could back that piece of shit up into a parking spot?  Are you going to be in that much of a rush to leave?  Why?  Because all I'm imagining is you heading into Target and then being driven from the store due to fondling yourself in the juniors department.

The asshole who decided to stop her cart RIGHT IN THE TRAFFIC FLOW of everyone else who was getting a cart to root around in her purse for . . . I don't even know what.  What could be that important to find in your voluminous bag that you can't get past the $1 bins?  Do you have a shopping list dedicated to $1 items?  Because there is an ENTIRE STORE that would better suit your shopping needs.  GO THERE.

The asshole who decided to write a check to pay her bill.  Who does that?  Why are you not using a debit card?  Do you have that many extra checks in your checkbook and need to use them before they expire?  Or do you want to order new ones with Precious Moments figurines on the background?  And why, if you ARE going to use a check, didn't you fill everything out but the amount?  People have shit to do, lady. 

And finally, the assholes who let their feral kids roam free in Target, like it's a giant daycare center.  Get a goddamn leash. 

How was your weekend?  I missed you.

Week in Review - Sometimes you have to wonder about this world we live in.

I have to say, your answers to yesterday's completely scientific psychological profile questionnaire made my heart sing.  I feel much better being on your good sides.

In the spirit of sharing, I'll let you know that:

1.  I pee.  In the lake.  Sometimes in the pool.  I'm SORRY.  I have to go.

2.  BUTTER. Or Caramel. 

3.  I know I shouldn't, but I do find myself wishing ill upon people.  And then immediately trying to take it back, because, you know, I don't want karma to kick my ass.

4.  Right now, that would be Come on Irene.  I HATE THAT SONG. 

5.  Diet Coke.  How I miss you. 

6.  TRUE.

And now, on to the news of the week:

Anthony Weiner finally copped to showing his junk.  And then held a tearful press conference where, to his credit, he did NOT make his wife stand by his side.  I have to say, I'm no fan of uninvited pictures of people's privates, but as a scandal, this seems pretty tame.  He didn't have sex with his twitter gals, there's no surprise 15 year old kid, and there are no diapers involved [honest to god, Louisianna, David Fucking Vitter RE-ELECTED? I get Laissez les bon temps rouler, but COME ON.].

Something weird is happening in Australia - the entire country is BOOZING LESS. Yes, evidently drinking levels are at a 62 year low.  What's up, Australia? Did you ALL hit rock bottom at the same time?  Is is Ramadan? Or Lent? Or is everyone doing some GP approved cleanse? WHAT IS GOING ON? Australia + Drunkeness = Match Made in Heaven!

In Montreal, people were injured in a protest of a police shooting.  Huh.  Anti-violence protesters  went to the site where two people, one an innocent bystander, were killed.  And then they went nuts and started smashing windows and overturned an outdoor portable toilet [eeewww. Why are you touching that, protesters?].  Go figure.  Canada is becoming Americanized.

In Argentina, an ash cloud from the Puyehue volcano is covering much of the country.  And Argentina's president said, yeah, the problems are just going to be psychological.  No worries.  Just like how in Japan, it's now been ascertained that the radiation levels in Fukushima were misstated.  As being half as high as what they actually were.  Um.  I'm pretty sure that anytime anything bad happens, you shouldn't listen to the people in charge.  They're going to lie to you.  I mean, I'm no scientist, but even I know inhaling ash or a reactor exploding is probably not good for you.

And speaking of scientists:  Scientists trap anti-matter!  HOW FUCKING AWESOME!  We can now kind of almost make the world implode! SCORE!

What have you got for me, my lovelies?  What's new?  What did I miss?

Never again. Yes, I know I say that every time, but I'm serious now.

I am a volunteer-er.

I just am.

I raise my hand.

I host political get togethers.

I donate stuff.

I say I'm not going to, and then I do.  I end up in the girl's classroom, on the PTA, running programs, organizing events for attorneys, being a big part of the community.

Usually, I'm o.k. with it.  Usually, I like that feeling of giving and helping.

I have, however, had enough.

I got stuck putting together what I consider the most stupid-ass stupid bullshit stupid thing in the world.  Something that I think is a massive waste of time and energy.  Something that is pointless and egregiously annoying - the end of the school year party.

Fuck.

I got stuck because no one stepped up to chair this.  And because I am a person who picks up when others are slacking, I am CONSTANTLY getting emails like this:

"Yeah, I said I'd help, but it looks like you've got it under control, and I'm busy, and there are plenty of other people who will help, and maybe I could do something, but you seem to have it under control, so I'll just not do anything.  Ok?  Great."

And what I want to reply is:

"Listen you stupid fucking twat, not that I want your help because obviously you are completely fucking useless and should be hidden away so that your douchiness doesn't cause some kind of black hole of fuckitude and suck the world inside out, but DO NOT offer to help and then say you are TOO BUSY to help.  EVERYONE IS TOO BUSY, you fucking cunt bag!  EVERYONE!  I AM! But I'm doing this, because I SAID I WOULD.  TWAT!"

God.  What is WRONG with people?  How are they so fucking self-involved that they think an email telling me that they are too important to do something they said they'd do would be fine?

I fucking hate people.  I swear to god.  I really, really do.

But not you.  I LOVE you.

Week in Review - It's Raining, It's Pouring, Shut Up With the Snoring

Oh, my darlings. I've been meh all week.  I'm not sure if it's Labor Memorial Day Ennui [It's a thing.  I swear.  And I ALWAYS get those two mixed up.] or just the realization that Cougar Town is ending its season [I haven't watched the recent episodes yet; no spoilers, please.], but I've been so anxious and simultaneously lethargic.  It's hell on my psyche.

But never fear! I've compiled a precise of things you need to know this week. 

This week has been a monstrous clusterfuck, weather-wise.   There have been incredible storms, particularly those that wiped out Joplin, Missouri.  Give if you can - you know where your money should go. 

Ratko Mladich, a war criminal for his actions in the former Yugoslavia, including overseeing the genocide of over 7,500 Bosnian Mulsim men & boys in Srebrenica, was finally found living in Belgrade, Serbia.  Funny how he managed to spend the last 16 years enjoying the good life in Serbia's capital unharmed.  Sad that so many Serbian nationalists still think he's a great guy.  He's off to The Hague for trial.

Dude, COME ON.  Obama signed an extension to the Patriot Act.  Be extra careful what you say and do, people.  THEY ARE WATCHING.  Seriously.  They are.

Prisoners are becoming quite crafty in getting a drug - Suboxone, which is used to treat opiate addiction - into prison by having their confederates on the outside crush it into a paste and smear it on coloring book pages, which their kids then color, and onto the backs of stamps.  I know, I know, there are all sorts of socio-economic reasons that people turn to crime, but if you have this kind of wherewithal and ingenuity in pursuing illegal goals, think of what you could do in the straight world.  You could be a hedge fund manager and really clean up!  Legally!

In Canada, a Nova Scotia couple is suing the government.  They want to grow medical marijuana, but are too poor to do so.  So they expect the province to pay for lighting equipment, because they can't afford it on their disability income.  They are alleging discrimination.  Last year, a Halifax woman won a lawsuit forcing the province to pay her medical marijuana producing costs.

What can I say after that?  Nothing.  What have you got for me?  I'm dying to know.

There is no reason these guys should still be making movies.

As I may have mentioned before, we watch a lot of movies.  Not at the theater - no, we're pretty bad about actually organizing ourselves to get to a theater and see a movie before it hits video [we had high hopes for The King's Speech, especially when it was playing at a second run artsy-type theater nearby, but somehow the three of us could not get our schedules together for any one showing.  Not that we're fabulous and have all kinds of cool stuff to do.  Mostly because we commit to things we should do and no that we necessarily want to do.  We suck that way.].

Where the hell was I?

Anyway, we watch a lot of movies and we also get Entertainment Weekly - because I enjoy reading about television shows I'd never, in a million years, watch.  Not even when suffering from horrific insomnia.  That's what DVDs are for.  But because of this confluence of events, I tend to get info on what's happening in the movies and am able, because of my gimlet eye, to spot trends.  And the one that I wish I hadn't is the ubiquity of crappy shit going on in films.

First of all, Paul Giamatti needs to stop making movies.  Seriously.  No more.  I can't handle it.  You know what? As shitty as Lady in the Water was, and it was horrifically bad [but not as bad as The Happening.  I don't have the words for how bad that was.] I'm going on record as saying that it wasn't all M. Night Shyamalan's fault.  Some of the blame goes to old Paul.  Also?  Stop casting him as romantic leads.  And Revolutionary War guys.  Just let him go raise llamas somewhere.  That seems like something he'd do.  [I can't explain my animosity toward him - while I will allow that he has done nothing untoward to piss me off, like some people who will not be named, he grates on me like chewing tinfoil.]

Second, another thing that needs to end is the sullying of the John Gotti legacy.  You know what abomination is happening now? John Fucking Travolta is supposed to be playing John Gotti in some movie they're making.

No.

NO FUCKING WAY.

This?

Aaaaayyyy. Wait. Do I think I'm The Fonz? Source.

Is nowhere NEAR as awesome as this:

That's right, bitches. I'm John Motherfucking Gotti.  Suck it. Source.

It's kind of hurting my soul.

And finally, I have had about all I can stand of remakes.  There is no reason for ANOTHER Charlie's Angels reboot - particularly since #MurderPartyStreetCrew already has its Bosley [yes, that's an arcane Twitter reference.  It's my fucking blog.  I can do what I want.].  Sure, guys dig watching chicks jiggle it, but they can probably choose from a thousand other shows that already have this oeuvre locked down. True, this doesn't quite fit in the doughy guy antipathy, but I bet it was some doughy guy came up with this idea. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to unwrap a hard candy and then blow my nose in the tissue I keep in the sleeve of my knee length cardigan.

You're on my list. Yes, like Nixon's Enemies List. But without all the anti-semitism.

George Stephanopoulous is a fucking tool.

I know he was heralded as some wunderkind during the time he worked for the Clintons*, and I'm sure he did a great job, but he has rubbed me the wrong way for quite some time now.  I didn't like the fact that he rode in with the Clintons and then turned around and trash talked them up and down when he left.  I'm sorry, what didn't they do for you?

And now, somehow, you've reached the pinnacle of your serious journalistic career by co-hosting Good Morning America?  Really?  You're AWESOME.

Except you're not.  You're unctuous and officious and condescending.

And then, today [o.k., not today, more like a month ago, whenever I was actually watching this], you actually compared the possibility of Sarah! Palin! running for president in 2012 with BILL CLINTON'S presidential run.

Um.  The fuck?

How about Clinton was a Rhodes Scholar and actually completed his job as governor of Arkansas and is SMART and compassionate and sweet lord, really?  Do I have to go on?

So I'm done with Good Morning America. I'll just watch the local news while I do yoga.  [Yeah, I can't do yoga in peaceful, quiet surroundings.  I have to do it while being bombarded with last night's arsons and assaults and car crashes.  It IS all about balance, right?]

---------

* Yes, blah, blah, blah about Bill & Hillary, but they actually are smart, committed people who seem to want to do right in the world. The end.  And I'm kind of hoping that in the alternate universe where Hillary was elected president, she wouldn't be fucking rolling over on extending the Bush tax cuts and keeping Gitmo open.  A girl can dream, right?  Because a truly progressive, liberal president is not going to happen, even in my dreams, so I'll take what I can get.