Weekend details over at Starting Over Designs. The narc did not ruin the Festival for me, I’m happy to say 🙂 A good time was had by all. Too good, in fact, to contain within just one blog post. More to come…
Monthly Archives: September 2013
Yesterday AM I packed kitten in his carrier and took him to work with Sabu and I. He had to wait in the car because he wouldn’t stop screaming to be let out.
When the vet’s office opened, we all drove over and I went in with kitty-in-a-box and came out empty handed, which freaked Sabu out. She sulked all day, I guess thinking I’d gotten rid of her little pal.
Lil’ Dude’s procedure went well and he got his shots during the visit. The vet figures he’s about five months old. She told me that he should, “be kept quiet for a few days,” and I promised to do my best. He didn’t look all that perky, so I thought he might be slow from the anesthesia for awhile. Ha!
Sabu was overjoyed to see her little friend again and he set up a howling that didn’t stop until we got home. Yeah. The drugs had worn off and he was feeling feisty. As soon as I opened the door to his carrier, he came bolting out and Sabu immediately pounced on him. The Game was ON!
I tried to explain to both of them that Lil’ Dude was supposed to be in recovery and needed to be mellow for a few days but they couldn’t hear me over the sound of their thundering feet.
I caught the kitty to examine his incisions so I would know what to look for today if anything was going wrong and he slithered out of my hands as quickly as he could and made a leap for the curtains. He fell right back down because one bonus service the vet offers is to clip kitty’s toenails when he was sedated. He tried twice more before giving up and racing for his food dish.
The vet recommended giving him reduced rations last night in case he was a bit nauseous after his surgery but he would have none of it, screaming until his dish was filled to the level he has become accustomed to.
The vet also told me that he should remain dry for the next few days – no baths (as if!) but he was in the shower as soon as I opened the door this morning for his usual I don’t even know what ritual in there. Hopefully he didn’t get any water into anything vital because he was not about to let me check, much dry him off if necessary.
If I hadn’t seen the incisions for myself I wouldn’t believe that he’d had surgery. He’s certainly no more mellow because of it. It’s business as usual, a riot every minute.
I can’t wait until he’s big enough to fit into his harness and we can go for walks – that will make them stare!
Had a new e-mail from the narc when I checked after my second nap Sunday evening:
[his pet name for me,]
Jim has two cats that moved from his neighbor’s to his house. One is a big male and the other is a tiny female. His wife is allergic to cats, so they both live in the garage.
Recently the little female was caught killing a bird in their bird feeder (what do they expect?), so it has been decreed she must go to a shelter. She is the sweetest little thing, so I told him I’d take her rather than send her to the pound.
If you think you might want this kitty, you should contact Jim. I will take her otherwise, though the princess Pookie will not like it one bit. She is coal black and smaller than Pookie.
[Jim’s e-mail address]
Really? I went NC on June 20. He has not heard my voice or received an e-mail reply to anything in over three months and now he’s sending me this? Like I’m just going to forgive and forget?
Oh, sure, I can contact Jim about the poor kitty and leave the narc out of it completely, but WTF is he thinking by even sending me this?
Wait. I know exactly what he’s thinking:
- Appeal to her soft heart with a sob story about a cat and she’ll open the lines of communication
- Insert something about poor little Pookie and how unhappy she will be
- Make sure the message is “from” someone she’s likely to respond to
- Put in something about the nature of cats and how they’re unfairly demonized
- Don’t forget to sign it with “love” to let her know all is not lost
What a bunch of crap! I do tend to respond under these conditions, but not to him, and not to someone who might report back to him about me or inadvertently give away information I want to remain private.
Loser! Nice try, but it ain’t gonna happen!
On an unrelated note: took Lil’ Dude in for his procedure. Left Sabu in the car while I took kitty into the vet’s office in his carrier. Got him checked in, signed up and went back out to the car. Sabu was very concerned that I returned without her little buddy. She’s been giving me the stink-eye all day. Except during lunch, when she was begging for bacon! off my panini. Will report back when Lil’ Dude is home and the meds wear off 🙂
On Saturday I traveled up to Portland (1.5+ hours by car) to help Roxy hand out samples of her vegan dog biscuits at VegFest 2013. She’s a sweet older woman who has a heart of gold, but damn! She steps on my last nerve some days.
She requested that I meet her at the house of her long-time friends no later than 0830. Fine. I got up at 0530, made the long drive and arrived on time. My first clue that the day was not going to go according to plan was when I knocked on the door and saw a woman in a bathrobe approaching. Sigh. It was Roxy’s friend, and no, she was not yet dressed for the day. Turns out Roxy was not dressed either, and was in fact still doing her morning yoga. She also hadn’t eaten breakfast yet. WTF?!?
I had to make small talk with her friends for nearly an hour before Roxy was ready to drive to the convention center. I sucked it up and behaved like an adult, concealing my irritation as best I could. I mean, really – if she knew she wouldn’t be ready until 0930, why did she make a special point to request my presence at 0830? Just to fuck with me? To annoy her hosts? To see if I could handle the pressure of meeting and making nice with people I have nothing in common with? I don’t know, but it wasn’t the first time I sat cooling my heels waiting on her.
Anyway. Roxy drove to the convention center while I navigated. Holy crap does she drive fast! And she’s not all that concerned with staying inside the lines, either! I managed to yelp in fear only once, which prompted her to look over at me and ask if I was alright. A long, lingering look while doing 65 in a 55 zone on the freeway! I swallowed all sounds other than what exit to take after that.
As we were walking into the convention center, I noticed some garishly dressed people heading in the same direction. Roxy was marching along at warp speed, not looking back, so I only caught glimpses as I rushed by. It all became clear as we neared the hall where the VegFest was being held – the Rose City Comicon was going on in the very next room! That’s right – my people were right there and I was stuck with the vegans all day!
There were storm troopers:
And ghost busters:
Oodles of sassy women dressed up as characters I couldn’t readily identify:
Quite a few dudes who take their cosplay VERY seriously:
Lots of family groups all dressed up together:
And even more storm troopers:
All photos borrowed from KATU.com because I was not allowed to leave the room to take pictures. Sob!
But, no. Since I was there, Roxy took the opportunity to visit with everyone selling and giving samples away, leaving me at the table to talk and talk and talk to militant vegans all day. Nothing against vegans – this group was just weird. She did allow me a couple of bathroom breaks, but since we were quite close to the restroom I didn’t need to go far. By the end of the day my voice was gone and I was exhausted from standing on the concrete floor leaning over the table for hours and hours.
I was bummed, to say the least. My reward for this day (and lots of hand holding and computer work over the past couple of months)? A gift certificate for a 90-minute massage by Roxy’s favorite masseuse. In Waldport, which is a 2-hour drive away. Sigh. She really doesn’t get me at all. She knows my story, yet she thinks that I should be thrilled at the prospect of a total stranger rubbing my naked body for 90 minutes. Really? I specifically asked for dog biscuits for Sabu. Or chocolate. Something cheap and easy so I didn’t feel obligated, but that’s not how Roxy works.
I really have nothing against Roxy, just venting. I would have loved to see if I could find a Star Trek communicator pin, or a mini Tardis to set on my desk. Instead I saw the most amazing variety of facial piercings and dreadlocks and smelled “vegan seafood” cooking all day. Let me tell you, it ain’t bacon.
I hear “happy” couples say that a good relationship takes “a lot of work.” WTF does that even mean? I don’t believe that a good relationship should “take a lot of work.” That’s just dumb. It implies that they aren’t compatible and never were.
IMHO (and take this with a cup of salt, considering my record) if two people are truly compatible and love and respect each other, there shouldn’t be anything other than trivial disagreements to deal with and we all have those with pretty much every person we come into extended contact with all our lives.
I hear things like, “he always does xyz and he knows I hate it!”
I ask, “did he always do xyz?”
“Well…yes…but I thought he’d stop for me!”
Or, “she’s so hung up on abc and refuses to change her mind to my point of view!”
“Uh…did she always feel strongly about abc?”
“Yes! But she’s wrong and she’s just being immature and bull-headed about changing her mind!”
Right. So s/he did or felt strongly about something From.The.Beginning. and you’re just now catching on? WTF were you thinking?
It’s the stupidest thing about relationships: thinking that you have the right to change someone else. They are how they are. You either love them and deal with the little things you don’t particularly like, or you call it off before it goes beyond dating. That’s what dating is for, for the love of all that’s holy!
I guess that’s what “settling” is all about, but why live the rest of your life in misery when there’s someone out there who will love you for your comic book/cat/yarn/old DVD collection? Someone who loves it when you laugh so hard you snort? Someone who plays mandolin to your banjo? Someone who understands your baggage – they don’t have to agree to do anything but be sympathetic and not stomp up and down on your Hot Buttons just to fuck with you. I really don’t think it’s too much to ask for. Anything else is just frosting on the cake.
People seem to expect that their new mate will just quietly conform to whatever preconceived notions they have (spoken or not) as soon as the ink is dry on the marriage certificate and that’s where the problems start.
I have to ask – why bother? If you’re not compatible, it’s never going to work and you’re setting yourself up for a lot of pain.
Oh, wait! We get into bad relationships for a variety of reasons and we stay for an even wider variety of reasons, one of which I would like to address right now: outside pressure. Whether from family (“when am I going to have some grandbabies?” “Your sister/brother/cousin has been married for ages and now it’s your turn!” “You don’t want to die an Old Maid, do you?”) friends (“we’re all paired off now and you just don’t fit in with us any more”) or some other group that makes it their business to dictate how you will live your life, they all suck.
“We just want you to be happy!” they exclaim.
“But I don’t want to be married,” you declare. Or, “I’m just not ready to settle down yet.”
Not.Good.Enough. for them. Sigh. Where was I going with this?
Ah! Stop! Just stop telling single people that they will never be happy until they are paired off! It’s not necessarily true and it’s not even any of your business, so butt out! There is nothing wrong with being single. Not a damned thing. Really. The world won’t end because some people choose not to share their life with another person. It doesn’t concern you. Move on. Mind your own business. Stop preaching that happiness comes only to couples.
Let me live my pathetic, empty, lonely life without your commentary and I will refrain from telling you how I do exactly what I want to do every single day. I won’t mention that I ate the last of the ice cream and didn’t have to worry about someone else getting upset about it. Or how I sleep diagonally on the bed every night and I hog all of the pillows and blankets because they are Mine, All Mine! Or that I go where I want, do what I want, watch what I want, read what I want and make all of the decisions in my life (big and small) with no input from anyone else. Every single thing is just the way I like it and there’s no one to complain about any part of it. My life is pretty much perfect, but I won’t disabuse you of your notions.
Unless you’d like to make a break for freedom, too… 🙂
Yesterday one of my IRL FB friends posted this picture to my wall along with the accompanying blurb –
Sigh. I can’t tell you how annoyed I am every time I see another one of these stupid memes. So few of my IRL “friends” post anything of any real value on their FB pages. WTF are they doing all day? Now, I’m just as guilty of not posting much, or sharing clever, witty or inspirational things that other people write, but you will never see a “like this or you are a horrible person” memes on my wall.
Anyway. She accompanied this meme with the following:
An example of some stories that are happy ones. Being with the wrong person is defiantly hell, but finding the right one makes life worth living. I hope you do not give up on love.
Before you go, “Aw, that’s sweet! She must be so happy in her married life that she just can’t bear to see you all alone and miserable…” the person who sent this to me is someone I’ve written about here before. A little recap: P’s husband is an abusive asshole and probably a narcissist. He behaves like a child and corrects her behavior in public. The little time that I spent in company with the two of them was very uncomfortable as he was watching her every move and she had her jaw clenched and her eyes downcast.
So what is the message she’s trying to send to me? Does she think that she has anything to offer about relationships when her own is an oozing pile of crap? Really?
I knew from a young age that I did not want to go through life two-by-two. I saw, even then, the inequalities and understood the trap that is marriage. Three times I gave in to pressure to join my life to a man who promised to be my Prince Charming. Three times I did everything I could think of to do (including looking the other way when they committed Deal Breakers – you really have no idea what I have put up with) to make our life what he had promised it could be. Three times I have had to uproot myself (twice my son, too) and make a new life because those men were assholes who only wanted to take everything they could from me, to use me until I was empty. I don’t believe in love at first sight. I don’t believe in happily ever after. I am content, very happy in fact, to live with my dog and my cat alone with only our needs to take care of. There’s just too damn much Happy, Happy, Happy ’round here to find room for a man! Kudos to you if you’ve found your Bliss – I don’t intend to discount your own happiness – but your path is not MY path and never will be.
In her defense, she really doesn’t know what I went through with the narc* so she can’t have a full understanding of why I might not be eager to jump back on the Couples Bandwagon. She did back off, though:
Happy your way is definitely what counts. I can fall into the desire to see people happy as I define it no matter how often I learn that it’s not valid. I have good intent thou. I hope the happy good life stays.
She’s not happy. Everything about her screams at how unhappy she is. What does she hope to accomplish with her bullshit wishes for me?
I just don’t understand some people…
* Taking El Guapo’s position and no longer capitalizing 🙂
A year ago this week I was in a very different place. The Narc was busy with his online affair with the “old lover (that [he] still care[s] for)” and I had just received news that The Old Boss was making changes to the company’s retirement account and I needed to move what turned out to be $12K into a new account where it would be super easy to withdraw any time I wanted to finally Get Out. The Narc was suddenly all smiles and full of ideas about what I should do with my money.
I was still recovering from his latest round of Gaslighting, pissed about bills that I was suddenly expected to pay, trying to keep my mouth shut about his made-up dispute with the neighbors and getting more and more frustrated and angry as I found the language to name his abuses. I was distancing myself in preparation of fleeing for my sanity.
On the weekend, there was a Fiber Event that I wanted to attend. Because I was angry, I did not formally invite the Narc to come along and that led to a six-hour lecture that started out being about how I am an uncaring bitch for not inviting him along and ended with how I am an uncaring bitch for not letting him carry on an internet affair with his old lover. I attended the Event, ranted to poor Awana about what a dick he is and nearly killed myself driving 5 hours to and from on no food. The next day was more of the same.
This year is about as different as it can be and still be my life. The Event is next weekend and I am looking forward to attending, but my feelings are mixed. I hope the Narc hasn’t ruined it for me.
This year the only time constraint I have is Crazy Helper Dog. Absolutely No Dogs are Allowed Anywhere on the Property, so Sabu will have to stay home with Lil’ Dude. Oh, I won’t be gone longer than her bladder can hold out, but she will be sure to let me know that I’ve been gone forever!ohmygod!forever!!!
I plan to take a bunch of pictures and maybe even buy a thing or two. Details next weekend.
Also, I booked an appointment for Lil’ Dude to have his balls cut off and needles stuck into him. Gotta keep him healthy! I’m hoping his Procedure will slow him down for a couple of days so I can get a full night’s sleep.
Chumplady has posted today inviting all us Chumps to share in the comments the stupidest lie we bought from our abusers. I posted one story from my days with ex#2 in the comments and it brought up another humiliating experience. In the interest of getting this off my chest, I will relate it here.
It was just before Memorial Day weekend and ex#2 (herinafter referred to as D because that’s easier to type quickly) came to me with a fantastic (in his mind) proposal for a Holiday Camping Trip – the secretary where he worked had invited “everyone” to come to her family’s house near the Coast to camp in their yard. It was a big Family Tradition and only the best friends and family were invited. We would camp and cook over a fire and do all the Fun Stuff we didn’t get to do in the Big City where we lived. My son was about 10 and loved to go camping. I didn’t like it much any more because D made it miserable for me, but that’s another story.
I had a funny feeling about D’s relationship with “Sondy” as he called her, but I didn’t trust my gut and had no real proof. The whole thing sounded strange and I really didn’t want to go but he insisted that we had to go together as a family and in the end I gave in and off we went.
We were to meet at Sondy’s apartment and follow her to the house. Surprisingly, D knew the way, although he said he had never been there before. My gut was screaming that he was lying, but it was too late to back out now.
We arrived at her apartment and D bolted from the car like his pants were on fire, skipping up the steps and knocking on her door. No hesitation about looking for the number, no doubt about the right door. He had obviously been there before. H and I followed him and went inside.
Sondy had two teenaged children, a boy and a girl, and her apartment had two bedrooms. Imagine my surprise when there was a big bed, all made up with frilly covers in the space where a breakfast table would normally be set up in any normal apartment. D gave the bed a significant look, then gave Sondy a significant look and I could taste the tension in the room like spoiled cheese on my tongue.
I wanted to puke, but made nice and soon we were off, D distracted and following Sondy’s car down the highway. I made a snarky remark about how he seemed to know right where she lived and he made a lame reply about it not being my concern. They were “friends,” after all. Huh.
We arrived at Sondy’s family house and D immediately abandoned me, giving instructions for me to set up the tent, etc. and took a walk down by the creek with Sondy. My son followed along, so they didn’t have any privacy, which clearly annoyed D, but what could he say?
I was introduced to Sondy’s family who all gave me pitying looks that I didn’t understand. D followed her around like a love-sick puppy all afternoon until another man showed up. He was introduced as Sondy’s “friend” and when I asked D later who he was he said, “he’s safe,” which didn’t mean anything at the time, but struck me as very wrong. D was in a foul mood after the Other Man arrived and followed Sondy around with angry eyes, still ignoring me completely.
Oysters were prepared for dinner (which I HATE, a fact that D knew well) and everyone stood around drinking and having a great time, again, totally ignoring me. I felt worse and worse, my stomach in knots, waiting for something to happen. It felt like a bomb was about to go off.
A little later D followed Sondy into the house and when he came back out his face was softer and he once again looked at her with love in his eyes.
The brick finally fell onto my head and I realized that D got me out to Sondy’s house so that she could tell me that they were going to be a couple and that my son and I were out of the picture. This little camping trip was to audition him for her family! She lost her nerve and refused. I put H to bed and joined him soon after, crying myself into a stupor.
D came in and asked if I was alright. “Oh, sure! I’m just FINE!” I replied. He disappeared out of the tent and didn’t come back until I was asleep.
The next morning I demanded that we leave. He argued with me that it would be rude if we just left but I insisted that I did not want to be where I wasn’t wanted. I was not comfortable with those people, especially Sondy and I wanted to go home NOW!
This was the first time I stood up to him and he was confused. The weekend was not going as planned and he was frustrated and irritated. I packed up our stuff as he continued to schmooze and act like nothing was amiss. He made a lame excuse about me having a headache and we went home.
He made some choice comments on the drive back, but I ignored him. I was exhausted but thought I had won some sort of battle. After all, he came home with me, didn’t he? I didn’t have the nerve or the words to confront him at the time, but I finally did just days before I moved out. His response? “I am not having an affair with Sondy! You can’t prove a thing!” Yeah.
What a Chump I was! He continued his affair with her until I moved out and for some time afterwords as well, but I never had any Actual Irrefutable Proof so technically he didn’t have an affair, right? So said the Narc, but that’s another post.
Sigh. I feel better now.
How about you? Did you swallow a shit sandwich to keep the peace that you later realized you shouldn’t have? Do tell!
We had some heavy thunderstorms roll through this afternoon. Actually, it’s still raining pretty hard at the moment. The lights have been flickering and I just discovered that my office computer does not have a battery backup/surge protector attached. Sigh.
I park in the back lot of my office building. When I worked here before my car was broken into twice, once the window was broken. The thief took $300 worth of rain gear and horse tack the first time, a pack of cigarettes the second. That’s right, they broke the window on my almost-new car to steal a pack of smokes.
Just went out to make sure my windows were up. Yup. My car was, once again, burgled. The thief took my Monster and rifled through everything, but there was nothing else in there of any value. I don’t lock it (to keep my windows intact) but I’ve finally learned my lesson about leaving anything that can be hocked inside the car.
This brings my personal count to four for the number of times my car has been robbed in this town.
Srsly? WTF is wrong with people? I drive a Chevy Aveo, fercryin’outloud! Nothing fancy, nothing clean and sparkly. Fuck. People suck.
Every day I hear people lamenting the “problem with today’s kids.” Maybe it’s always been this way. Maybe the only reason we’re all so united in our displeasure about this state of affairs is because of our easy access to media in all its forms. I dunno. I did see something that gave me a clue as to one cause of the problem and I’d like to offer a small, simple solution for a very specific demographic.
The other day I made a trip to the local Wal-Mart (the Evil Empire when not in polite company) to purchase one very specific item.
It being 4:00 in the afternoon on a Friday before a three-day weekend, the store was packed with people stocking up for BBQ and game-day (it’s still Baseball Season, right?) activities. Many of them had children in tow because of the huge Back to School Sale.
I found my item and got in line behind a family of five (Mom, Dad and three children, the oldest about five) at the cash register. The kids were cranky and acting out, as young children will do. Mom is busy poking her salon nails at her phone while tossing back her fancy hair. Dad is fuming, trying to shush the kids.
“I told you I didn’t want kids! This is the reason! Every time we go out in public they act like this! I hate kids in stores!”
Without looking up from her phone, Mom says, “too late for that now, innit?” flashing her wedding band in front of his face.
Yeah. Hey, douchebag, your five-year-old understood exactly what you said right there and he will never forget it.
Sadly, I see and hear similar exchanges every week. It’s no wonder the “kids of today” are so fucked up when daddy makes remarks like that in public and mummy is so used to hearing it she doesn’t even pay attention. WTF is wrong with you people? Women who are going to ignore their children should not be giving birth, but that’s another blog post.
Here’s my message to Dudes Who Don’t Want Kids: there is one sure-fire, 100% effective way to ensure you don’t get a woman pregnant – keep your dick in your pants. It’s simple and easy to remember.
If a woman says that she really wants to start having kids and you don’t feel it’s in your Life Plan at the moment, that’s a good time to break up with her, dontcha think? I mean, give her a chance to find a man who really wants kids and who will be a Real Father to them, and find yourself a Party Girl to play with.
What’s that? Oh, right, you can’t pass up the free pussy, can you? Can’t be bothered to wear a condom, either? Yeah. I mean, you’re obviously a Studly Dude who has to dip his wick once a day and everyone knows “you can’t FEEL IT” through a condom. I can see that. Self denial (or self-help) is out of the question.
Maybe you should consider the consequences next time. At least that particular Dude is married to the mother of his children. For now.
And people still ask what’s wrong with this country…