I Don't Think I Like You Very Much

I got a GPS (Global Positioning System). My car is fifteen years old. The idea of getting lost and the fear of breaking down if I'm lost was starting to freak me out a teeny bit. So I gave in. I've been in cars with people who use them, they didn't seem perfect, but neither am I.


And they got pretty cheap.


Today was the first time I used it, I had a few errands to run so I just programmed in "home" and went from there. I think it told me to turn left when I needed to turn right, and it just stopped doing its satellite thing for about a minute. Aside from that it worked fine. Oh, and it can't read traffic signs like "no left turn".


Later that day it was time for the big test! I needed to travel to unknown parts. But I had my GPS so I had no fear. Right as I turned off of my street "she", after all it is a women speaking, started to act weird, so I calmly restarted her. She was doing fine until I reached the highway, maybe I just wasn't listening carefully but I didn't see the exit she told me to take. I saw the one with the number 13A, but I didn't see 13B. Once I passed the exit I didn't see, she said: "recalculating".


I had to be somewhere at a certain time, but I gave myself an extra half hour, so I wasn't too worried.. Well, once we were on the recalculation route things really got fun. I had no clue where I was, I missed one turn because I didn't see the street sign and was too out of my safety zone to make an executive decision. Long story short, I got where I needed to be, on time and in one piece. I had NO IDEA where she took me but, I was happy.


Then came the rain.


I got to my next destination with only a slight hitch. By the time I returned to my car the rain was more like a torrential downpour. I get nervous driving in the rain, the radio station was talking about flash floods and traffic issues but I knew how to get home. For the fun of it I left the GPS on. I was alerted that there was a traffic jam and another route was suggested by my new friend. I figured this thing is run by satellite so it must know better than me.    


I followed her commands.


About two minutes after I got off at the exit she "suggested" I use, I knew I was going to be headed towards my own personal "Twilight Zone". It was loaded with cars, trucks and super huge trucks...and traffic was not moving. I will not bore you with the gory details, let me just say that my thirty minute ride turned into a 2.5 hour ride because of the rain, but more because of my new friend. 


Thinking back over the day and my "Twilight Zone" interlude, I have fondly dubbed her Talking Tina (Tina for short). Because on that day she proved she did not like me very much.

Men in My Boudoir

Are you decent?
Honestly if I was decent why bother coming in?

I jest ~ they just want to talk and I'm a good listener.
I'm a problem sponge, when they leave they feel better.

So take a number...put your feet up, get cozy.
I'll stop doing whatever I'm doing long enough to talk to you.

Spend the night if you like, just not in my bed.
Then we can have coffee and chat.
After that you're on your own.

Y'all come back now ya here?

The Grim Reaper on Facebook

It really gets me going when someone posts about death on Facebook. I have no desire to see the Grim Reaper on Facebook, or anywhere else. He even scares me when he shows Ebenezer Scrooge his future grave.

Whether a victim of a crime, an accident, a sudden death or a long drawn out illness that takes ones quality of life and what dignity remains and throws it to the wolves. Death sucks, we all know it, we've all experienced it. But it isn't about us is it? It feels to me that some people insist on trying to make it about them and it isn't.

If it's someone close to you chances are your friends are aware of it. You can write, talk, comfort, hug, yell, scream, cry, whatever in private. I think it's fine in a united effort to memorialize the person when you are all sharing in the pain of loss. I myself have posted on pages about someones loss. You can tell when it's a heartfelt cry or pure despair. It's when it's used as an announcement of some sort, like "look at me, I deserve attention, I know someone who died" "poor me" I call it sympathy votes.

Maybe I'm a cold hearted bitch, or maybe I just started young with this death business but when I hear someone over 90 has passed away I feel sad, but not too sad. If they lived a full life, got to watch their children grow, had some success, enjoyed life, etc. Well, death is part of life. Isn't it?
If they are young, it's very, very sad. I have a difficult time not thinking about it and the family they leave behind ~ BUT it's still not about me.

The facebook responses are many, and almost all the same. I think this stuff is just too personal, I'm a private person. The reason I got so irked and needed to write about this is the following post. I'm only quoting part of it to protect the author.

"Saddened by the impending loss of my beloved mother in law...",
Wait a minute, so she's not even dead yet? Obviously this one is gonna be milked for everything they can get out of it. This has gone too far. Yeah ~ I'm saddened by the impending loss of every man. Consider yourself fortunate that you get to say everything you never got to say and spent part of your life time with this person.
"I keep vigil every night after work by her bedside"  "You a remarkable", writes a friend.
"My husband's lovely mother died this morning, we will miss her always."
Does this mean we don't have to hear about it anymore? Christ, I surely hope so.

Sincerely,
Your average cold hearted cynical bitch

P.S. We all know how it sucks to have a pet die too. Man up, keep your memories, if you really miss cleaning up shit, get a new one. But do you have to post it on Facebook?

Disclaimer: someone I love recently lost someone they love ~ this post is not in anyway a reflection of anything posted on Facebook by you, your family or friends. 

Don't Take Yourself so Seriously

I don't.

Unfortunately I take other people VERY seriously. Every look, expression, word, even body language.

I had a book on body language in the seventies and it stuck.

I don't like it, they don't like it, nobody likes it.

I go round and round in my head, "what did that mean" "why did they say that" "what's that look for". I'm surprised I haven't checked myself into a mental ward. How can I not take myself seriously, yet take everything else so much to heart?

Many, many people take me seriously when they shouldn't. I find myself making a statement, waiting three seconds and saying "I was kidding" I see a lot of blank expressions throughout my day. I'm not always kidding. Sometimes its a great release to leave people with zingers, walk away, and keep them guessing. It feels good.

Seriously.

Death to Ants

I am not a bad person. But sometimes I think bad things. I am not always politically correct.

I wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, yeah I would hurt a fly, and I hate ants ~ I'm positively cruel to ants. (especially the teeny ones) When there are too many ants in my house, I fe-fi-fum over with a large strip of clear packing tape and take out as many of the little buggers as I can. I enjoy watching their little legs squirm as they try to get away. My only fear is that somehow the other ants will know what I did and decide to have a funeral.

I guess I need to buy a black dress.

Denim Chick

When I was a kid we still had strict dress codes in school. The girls wore dresses or skirts with socks or stockings. I don't remember what year it was when schools went liberal, it was sometime during my junior or senior year of high school. That was when I truly started my "denim chick" liberation.

Comfort ruled.

I wore my bell bottoms everyday (maybe even the same ones). Back then we wore them until they wore out, I sewed calico cotton patches all over mine. When the knees got so bad you either cut them and made them into a skirt or cut offs. Rips and tears were cool. 

I still wear jeans most days, I still make them into cut offs and skirts and handbags. I have no idea how many garments I own made out of denim ~ a lot. I really only feel like my true self when I wear denim. When I go to the beach I leave my cut offs on with my bathing suit. I don't see other women like this on the beach any more. If the blue is not some shade of denim I will not wear it. Of course chambray is completely acceptable.

For me, denim never fades.

Missing You

It hits me when I least expect it. I’m driving and suddenly a certain line in a song makes me miss you. Songs written for lovers not Daughters missing Fathers. Sometimes it is just a moment captured by a picture in my brain frozen in time. I miss who you were, who I was, who we were.

Mostly I miss the life I never knew.

Like a fantasy that has been concocted in my brain. It's not that I ever really made up a story, it's more like stories I've seen time and again in movies.

When certain things get talked about a sensitivity rises from a narrow well in my soul. Major life events, things that are important in a young girls life, take me back ~ even if it is no longer me it is happening to.

I am no longer a young girl.
But there are things that no amount of time can erase.