Bitchy McBitcherson's Blog

Author: mstori

  • Anyone have a taser I can borrow?

    Me: teens are invading my house
    Me: well at least one is
    Me: and that feels a lot like way too many
    Friend: ew
    Me: it also means I have to put on pants
    Friend: if you stop buying pants
    Friend: eventually
    Friend: you won’t have any to put on
    Me: and then I could refuse to allow the teens over, for their sake, and legal reasons
    Me: teen is IMing me telling me he is heading over soon
    Me: guess he did not forget
    Friend: wth, you let BOYS in???
    Me: well
    Me: they like video games
    Me: and make less noise
    Me: and they talk about clothes and boys less
    Me: they smell worse…
    Me: and eat more
    Me: it is a toss up
    Me: woohoo
    Me: I put on pants – and now, not only am I less embarrassing to my daughter for when her friend arrives.
    Me: I found $25 cash in the pocket!
    Friend: hmm
    Friend: maybe I should put pants on
    Me: these are like the best pants ever
    Friend: really
    Me: of course the teen instigator of this pant wearing
    Me: will eat more than $25 worth of food
    Friend: don’t feed him
    Friend: they just keep coming back if you feed them
    Me: don’t you think he might become dangerous if I don’t feed him?
    Friend: keep a taser handy


  • Ain’t No Cure for the Summertime Blues

    It is that time of the year yet again. It has been for a while now, but as I get further into the season I find it less and less bearable.

    I hate summer. I hate it with as much passion as I can stir, which is actually very little because summer makes me so distressed and depressed that I cannot focus enough to have a passionate hate for it.

    I hate sunlight. I hate heat. I do not like to set foot outside during it. If I could stay inside all the time, I would, and it would only help a little. It isn’t just the sun and the heat, it is all encompassing. I am better off if I put off any outings until night, but only marginally. I am less likely to have a total meltdown, but overall my ability to cope with ANYTHING is so diminished during the summer.

    I get that I am not normal. There are so many people for whom this is their favorite time of the year. Others, who may not like the heat, might think they understand, but they don’t. Heat can be alleviated, but the overwhelming feeling of being trapped, of having nothing to look forward to, of just being stuck in misery until fall, that, they don’t have. A cold drink, and a nice breeze and they are enjoying their summer activities. The meaning of the word enjoy is almost beyond my grasp for the season.

    I try. I try to stay cooler. I try to schedule things in small doses so I can keep on having minimal functionality and don’t have a total collapse, which just upsets me further. I like to get things done. That may be strongly worded. I HATE to not get things done. It really bothers me when I feel my productivity slipping for whatever reason. Truthfully, even vacationing is difficult for me because I am not “getting anything done.” If I go to long without getting enough done, it depresses me. The summer season depresses me. The only thing that alleviates some of the worst symptoms of the summer depression is scaling back my activities, and yet, accomplishing less depresses me. Is anybody able to see the problem here?

    My antisocial nature increases, my ability to handle any sort of annoyance decreases. I could cry over drank milk, because it means I need to go to the grocery store to get more, and the grocery store is located outside of my house. It is expensive too. Our electric bills are astronomical because what small grip I have on something resembling normalcy depends on the AC working and working HARD. It cannot be just taking the edge off the heat outside, it needs to be cold, to battle against the looming oppressive heat and light that chip away at my will to breathe. I hate to go to other people’s homes because they will not keep it cool enough. If they come to my home they need a sweater. Not that there is a lot of inviting or accepting invitations. I am not in the mood for interaction and I have no social graces.

    The problem has increased with age, and of course our move to SoCal amplified it and lengthened it. Summer here lasts much longer, and when I am the midst of it, I can see no end.

    I am living in an endless summer.
    If you can call it living.

    Here are a couple of articles.
    a few years old – Seasonal Depression Can Accompany Summer Sun
    a recent one – Too much sunshine can bring on the blues

    I don’t have the lack of appetite aspect, but my eating patterns, choices, cravings and ability to be satisfied by or really enjoy food is very different during the summer and they also bother me a lot. Any condition that messes with my enjoyment of food does a lot of damage to my overall mood.

    (more…)

  • My Life

    A snippet from a real phone conversation:
    (“Him” has a lovely British accent, btw)

    Me: Just copy and paste it into the email.
    Him: Copy and paste?
    Me: Yes.
    Him: What’s that?
    Me: Highlight the add…
    (interrupted)
    Him: Highlight?
    Me: Use your mouse, and highlight the text and then right cl…
    (interrupted)
    Him: Whoa whoa whoa! You are getting too technical for me. We had better wait until (his assistant) comes in and you can talk to her.

  • Round and round I went – Relay For Life

    I did my portion of the relay at night. For most of the night they have stadium lights blazing, with everything lit up practically to daylight. I walk right after the Luminaria Ceremony where everybody gathers and lights candles and then takes a lap around the track en masse with candles lit. They turn out the lights for that, and leave them off for a stretch. When they do bring them back up, they come up slowly. It feels a bit like dawn breaking.

    Anyhow, I checked in at my team tent and chatted with the people there for a bit. Then I started my walk alone because the friend who I was going to be walking with was running late. Everything was dark except for the Luminaria bags lining the path.

    Luminarias

    I made it all of 15 feet from the tent when I almost tripped over a body huddled in a ball on the ground. I swerved to avoid it, and as I got along side it I heard wailing. I paused and took a closer look. There was a girl about my daughter’s age, on her knees, curled into a ball (I had mistaken it for a child tying their shoe at first). I knelt down and asked if she was okay, thinking she had perhaps twisted her ankle. The wailing got even more hysterical and she sobbed, “My mother is yelling at me!”

    Well shit, not at all what I want to be in the middle of. I look around trying to spot said mother, because really, it would be best if meltdown girl were not left to sob in the middle of a darkened track.

    “I miss him so much!” She wails to me. She looks up for just a moment and her eyes are puffy with huge dark circles under them. This is not brand new crying. Her face collapses back toward the ground and she continues to cry. “She doesn’t even care.”

    “I’m sure she cares,” I tell her. I have my hand on her shoulder, but am not sure what else to do with her. Touching strange children is not generally well looked upon in this society.

    “It doesn’t seem like she cares! She won’t talk about him, she never talks about him! I miss him so much, and she just pretends like nothing has happened.”

    My heart is aching with what I am imagining of this family’s life. “Is your mom here?” I am still looking around for somebody who looks connected.

    “I don’t know where she is.” sob sob sob

    I see this slightly older looking teen wandering toward us, looking around as if she has lost something. She has a cell phone out and her eyes are wet. Her eyes land on our little heap in the middle of the track and she questioningly says a girl’s name. Sobbing girl looks up and explodes out of her ball and into this girl’s arms. They both weep and I overhear “I just want to talk about him, but she always yells at me.” as the older looking one leads her off to the side.

    I got up and brushed the dirt from my knees and continued on my lap, eyes leaking.

    I had pulled myself together by the time my friend joined me. We walked and talked, as the lights came up. I took some photos. A live band plays covers. Last year I walked to songs from The Beatles, this year to Pink Floyd’s music.

    I was able to raise over $1000. Thanks to everyone who was able to help. They won’t have the final total for our relay for a while, as donations are still being turned in. A lot of people won’t donate online. I’ll post the total amount raised when they have those numbers.

    2007 Relay For Life - ACS

  • you are what you eat

    A sushi-eye view, life on a revolving sushi bar belt –
    http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=c35_1178938654&p=1

  • Plungers

    I am just posting this link because after first reading this article when it was posted in November of 2006, I’ve found myself searching for it multiple times in order to just reread it, or to pass the link to somebody else.

    Yes, it usually comes up again due to a bus crash.

    The Rise and Fall of the “Bus Plunge” Story

    I like the overview of a piece of journalism history.

  • Defenestration

    WTF is with “service windows”? I provide customer service for people. I do admit to allowing myself some slop. Los Angeles traffic being what it is, I tell usually tell them a half hour window during which they can expect me to arrive. If I am traveling from another client’s location, which could make me even less precise (because everything always takes longer than it should), I tell them ahead of time that I might need to be flexible, and I keep them informed. If they’d rather have a more concrete appointment I offer them one later in the week.

    However it is common for all manner of companies to expect me to wait around for 4 (or sometimes even more) hour windows so that they can annoy me and charge me money. It is rare for them to have any process to contact me and narrow it down further or keep me informed. I am just supposed to wait, and hope they don’t suck too much when they show up.

    Today I am waiting for somebody. The window was 8 AM – Noon. It is almost 1 PM. They have not arrived. They have not called.

    They have a FOUR HOUR time window, and they can’t fucking manage to hit it.

    EDIT: A little after 3 PM they called to say they could not make it today, and will come tomorrow morning.

  • Saviors Need Not Apply

    My journal is a place for me to keep track of and pass on bits of information that stike me as interesting, significant or amusing in some way. This external stuff is fair game. It doesn’t involve me directly and if you enjoy going on about the much better way in which you’d handle it, that’s up to you.

    My journal is a place for me to vent. The act of venting is a means to an end in itself. The venting is what I am looking for, not help with whatever I am venting about. Do not mistake my posting it for you to read, as a cry for your help.

    My journal is occasionally a place where I ask for advice or help. You’ll be able to tell, because my post will include the words “I could really use some help, if anyone is available.” or “I would appreciate some advice on this.” or an equally direct variation. I’m not shy. I’ll make it clear. When I just post a general complaint, it is NOT some passive aggressive way of asking for advice or help.

    I think.

    I think a lot.

    I think about things way more than is reasonable.

    If each time I ranted about something going on in my life, I went down every path I had already considered, I would only be able to post once every six months, at best. That is how long it would take me to type it. Also, you would never have the patience to read all of it. You’d still present an angle I had already thought and written about, and that you passed out before getting to.

    There are certain topics about which people cannot seem to refrain from giving advice, so I tend not to post about them at all, because (I think I mentioned this already) I don’t much care for unsolicited advice. Instead I cherry pick a couple of people and let the poobird of stress deposit directly upon them (send your dry cleaning bills). It isn’t that I am trying to spare the feelings of the “I can’t fucking refrain from giving my unwanted advice about your personal situation, because obviously you do want it or you wouldn’t have mentioned it where I could see it” folks, it is just to spare myself the annoyance when I am already annoyed. I do get that sometimes people mean well (sometimes they are just holier than thou arrogant little twat monkeys who can only see things from their perspective) but sometimes they genuinely care and mean very well. Meaning well does not equal wanted advice.

    I see a difference between you having experienced a similar situation and talking about what did and did not work for you – and giving advice. If you clearly understand that the same may not, and often will not, apply in the case of another individual, then we probably at least have that bit of common ground. ONE SIZE DOES NOT FIT ALL.

    I write because I like to write. If you like to read what I write, that is great. Really. If you do not enjoy what I write and just have an overwhelming desire to FIX me, you should go elsewhere.

    I am not looking for a savior. Period. Exclamation point

  • Road Rules

    I am greedy. I want what is mine. Quite honestly, I want more than what is mine. I want.

    One of the things I want is zero traffic on the road with me. I want the way to be clear from where I am, to where I want to be. I do not want traffic jams, or cross traffic, or any sort of light or sign that is not in my favor. I want nothing at all to slow me down between here and there. I want that. I admit it.

    Not only that, but I do pay my taxes, and I pay quite a lot. I also follow traffic laws. I vote too. On occasion even have a flash of feeling entitlement where traffic things are concerned.

    However, when it comes right down to it, I know that this want is not something I can reasonable expect to have fulfilled. I completely understand that I need to share these public streets with the rest of the public. As such I do not cut people off, cause gridlock, go out of turn at intersections or lay upon my horn just because I am in a pissy mood. I get that it is a requirement that I SHARE.

    What I am not nearly so understanding about sharing, is the bit of space on the road that I believe is mine for the using. The part that at any given time my vehicle is momentarily and predictably occupying. On most roads they have designated lanes. These are typically marked by painted lines, usually either white or yellow and some even have little bumpy reminders in case the paint wasn’t enough.

    Main Entry: 1lane
    Pronunciation: ‘lAn
    Function: noun
    Etymology: Middle English, from Old English lanu; akin to Middle Dutch lane lane
    1 : a narrow passageway between fences or hedges
    2 : a relatively narrow way or track: as a : an ocean route used by or prescribed for ships b : a strip of roadway for a single line of vehicles

    A strip of roadway for a SINGLE line of vehicles.

    I consider the space that my car takes up, as well as small but important section of space in front of, and behind my car to be MINE while I am in it. MINE MINE MINE. Stay the fuck out of my space. Your inability to maintain lane control should not be my fucking problem. If you cannot drive a car as wide as you are driving, get a different car. If you are scared of the barrier wall and tend to shy away from it, plan ahead and don’t use that lane. If you cannot steer and talk on the phone at the same time, get off the damn phone. Get off the damn phone anyway. If you just can’t drive properly, stop doing it. I really do not care what it is that is causing you to drift into my lane. Stop it. Stop it, or someday it is really going to piss me off, and that is not going to go well.

    Thanks.

  • PSA – Spoilers Suck

    As mentioned recently on The Leaky Cauldron and reiterated by J.K. Rowling.

    As much as I hate (and I do) the individual spoiling dickheads of the world, of which there are many. I even further resent the media and their propensity for spoiling left and right. Plot points are not NEWS. They are not part of what you need to inform the public about. If you fucking must, then put it no earlier than paragraph two and always warn in paragraph one. The dumbfucks who put spoilers in headlines should be fired, and perhaps fired at, or set of fire, or something involving an F word.

    They have no excuse. The internet has been around for a long time now. VCRs and other recording devices have been around for a long time now. Time shifting occurs. People do not all have access to shows at the same time. People do not all get a chance to watch something or read something the first minute it is available, much less before it is available to the general public. Some of us are fucking busy with long to do lists trying to be decent halfway productive members of society. We also try to read the news occasionally so we can make decisions about important topics, like, elections for instance. We should not all be forced to remain uninformed about world events just to avoid finding out {insert some spoiler that totally fucked you over here}.