Cautionary Tales, Timing FAIL, and High Drama

In some ways I’m glad I can’t get into serious drinking like I used to.  An occasional glass of wine at bedtime is one thing.  Getting shitfaced and waking up on one’s best friend’s front porch- or in a motel room bathtub- is quite another.

I remember the last time I was butt drunk.   I woke up in a bathtub filled with freezing cold water, with a half-eaten Domino’s pizza on the ledge, in one of the Campbell House Motel’s rooms. The year was 1992.  I was 23.  It’s been a very long time.  I don’t miss binge drinking one bit.

I was able to score an actual pic of Jerry’s actual black eye.  Why he let me take a pic of that is beyond me, but perhaps he wants the lesson to stick for a day or two.

That’s going to look really wicked once it turns green and all that.  I offered him the use of my concealer, but the white- and it needs to be pale white-  that I use to cover up the dark circles under my eyes is probably too white for him.

Last night I almost felt sorry for him.  In retrospect I probably should have dragged him to the ER to get checked out as he likely gave himself a concussion as well as a black eye, but I didn’t have the $100 copay.  He was coherent and breathing when I got home last night, so there’s probably no permanent damage, except maybe to his dignity.  The lesson here is that binge drinking and maintaining one’s dignity are mutually exclusive.

So when he was snoring away I wasn’t going to bother him.  I turned on History Channel and proceeded to watch a fascinating episode of Modern Marvels- Corpse Tech.  I was really getting into all the stuff that can be done with dead people, like tissue donation and all that when the dogs started going nuts.  Damn, I thought, who in the hell is out front pestering me.  So I look out the door to see my sister-in-law.  Great.  Just when I thought I was going to have a quiet, relaxing evening.

She demanded to know where Jerry was.  I simply said he was in bed sick which wasn’t exactly lying.  Then she asked, “Sick how?”

I explained that he had hit his head the night before and was resting.  She didn’t buy that for a minute, and barged right on in.

“Sick, my ass!  The stupid shit got drunk and fell again, right?”

Well, she is his sister after all.  So I let her wake him up, which she did, first to give him hell about his drunken stupidity, and then to inform him that she needed her car fixed because her boyfriend hit some foreigner’s aged Nissan in the WalMart parking lot.

Take me away now, ’cause I’m hearing banjos again.

I ended up taking both her and her boyfriend home so they could leave the car.  It was probably a good thing they left the car.  It wasn’t wrecked badly- just some minor front-end damage, but the coolant reservoir was cracked and it could have overheated and then a little bit of front-end damage would have turned into front-end damage and a blown engine.  The sad part about her car is that it only has about 5,000 miles on it.  She was pretty pissed off when she got to my house, although getting to see her little brother looking like someone had beat the hell out of  him helped improve her mood quite a bit.  I bet she was every bit as sadistic as my oldest sister as a child.

My quiet evening turned into high drama yet again, and I missed the rest of the Corpse Tech episode.  Damn.  At least I made it home in time for World’s Dumbest.

Never a dull moment!

A Little Personal Dignity, Welcome to the Freak Show, and Modesty Lost

Yes.  Bad ass, and not in a good way.  Woof.

Whatever happened to personal dignity?  I feel guilty when I go through the drive-thru with PJ’s on- but on the rare occasions I do that I usually wear a coat over them, and I’m not getting out of the car parading around in a store.   If I absolutely must take a late night or early morning foray across the road to Speedway or CVS I try to be kind enough to others to a.) put on clothes vs. PJ’s, and b.) wear a hat if I am suffering from Bed Head. 

When I wear shorts they are normally Bermuda-style, and I generally prefer capris or below-knee skirts to shorts as they cover more of my legs.  At no time whatsoever do I appear in public places displaying butt crack, the top of a thong, or midriff.  Nobody wants to see any of those, at least not mine, and besides, we have laws in this country against subjecting others to cruel and unusual punishment.

I have some personal dignity even when it’s hot weather, but it’s certainly not hot weather yet.  I may break out the summer ensembles some time in late May depending upon the weather.    In Central Ohio, March is still part of the limbo snow-booger grey season of  “not quite winter, but definitely not spring” in which one may as well prepare for plenty of cold, wind and rain because that’s what you get.  However, I still see girls wandering about with little more than a tank top, flip-flops and a smile. What the hell are you thinking?  Especially tragic are the ones who dress (or should I say, fail to dress) like the native women in National Geographic but weigh more than many small cars.  Woof.

It is no crime to be large, just dress accordingly.  Nobody wants to see meaty arms, especially complete with an anchor tattoo.  I like her blue hair, though.  Nice touch.

I find it hard to believe anyone would find this pic sexy.  There’s even a warning label in the tights intended to inform the wearer that they are not pants.

‘Nuff said.

Of course I would be willing to relax my own modesty requirements for the male -and buff of bod. 

I don’t know too many dudes who are comfortable enough in their masculinity to wear a pair of Hello Kitty underwear, but given the right physique, it can be a beautiful vision to behold.

The only problem with revealing clothing items for men is that the guys who have absolutely no business wearing garments such as man-thongs or speedos are the ones who do wear them.  I remember one afternoon, when he was very little, taking Steve-o to the pool.   Steve-o, having an eye for the odd and out of place that he has, saw a very fat dude who appeared to be nude, and at that tender age was rather distressed by the fact that someone was nude at the pool. (Today, I’m sure Steve-o would find a skinny-dipper at a public pool most amusing.)  I was going to say something to the manager, because the fat dude appeared to be nude to me also.  I thought he had absolutely nothing on- until he bent over and you could see the slightest hint of red speedo stretched tenuously across his butt cheeks.  His fat rolls covered up his skimpy suit when he stood up.  This is a guy who just might want to consider the boxer-style swim trunk.

I don’t know which is worse, the speedo on a guy who should be wearing boxer-style trunks, or the giant plastic crucifix he’s wearing.  Talk about mixed messages.

I would have to say that 95% of men should wear the boxer-style trunks, to spare the rest of us the rather unsavory visual,  just as 95% of women should be wearing the old-lady skirt type one piece bathing suits (or a two piece that has a long enough top to cover the entire belly area) with the bra inserts in them like I do. 

Has everyone forgotten about modesty?  I don’t believe women should be confined to the burqua or anything draconian like that, but there’s a hell of a lot of space between the burqua and the women in the South American jungles who wear nothing but a leather thong and a smile.  Women with meaty arms should not go sleeveless.  Large women should rethink spandex and tank tops and should avoid anything that shows midriff or thunder thighs.  Even thin women can go without displaying their butt cracks and tramp stamps.

Fat men in speedos are just plain gross.  Any “fashion” that displays a man’s hairy ass crack (whether he is buff and hot or not) needs to go away. 

Steve-o, this includes you dude.  Nasty!

I don’t want to see a dude’s ass crack, or the top of his boxers when he bends over.  Pull your flipping pants up to the waist.  And don’t even think about skinny jeans or spandex unless you look like Steve Perry back in 1981:

If you can wear tight jeans like that, gentlemen, then by all means, go right ahead.

A Well-Deserved Rebuke, Losing Perspective, and Whiny Minorities

I got a very pointed reminder today from one of my closest friends (who I’ve not seen in years) that I have been pathetically lax in doing the things that friends do- i.e. communicating…   He didn’t come right out and say that in so many words, but the correspondence he sent me certainly implied it, and I get the point.  I can count on one hand the people I actually consider to be friends versus casual acquaintances or family I have to tolerate because they’re blood, and he is one of the two human beings on Earth who know me better than anyone except for God Himself.  There really is no good excuse for me being so distant.  I can say that my health issues or work or Jerry’s high maintenance demands are the culprits, but to do that is a cop out.  It’s been over a year since the hysterectomy so that’s not an excuse, (my health has improved most markedly since then)  I used to work a lot more hours than I do now, so it’s not really about time, and Jerry always was and always will be high maintenance and jealous of every second I fail to spend kissing his ass.

So the thing that’s holding me back is the thing that always holds me back.  Fear.  I am afraid to make a simple phone call to my closest friend because I am afraid that he will tell me what I already know.  I’m getting used, abused and ran like a railroad, I allow it to happen, and I’ve allowed it to happen my entire life.  He has told me that for years even though I know it already and I’ve failed to do anything about it.   I am a rather pathetic specimen in more ways than one.  But I did make the call, and at least had the courage to leave a voice mail, for what it’s worth.

I’m tired of living in fear, and I need to break that particular bad habit.  I also have to have the decency and the just plain humanity to maintain the relationships and the people who have maintained me and grown my soul.   The caveat here is to maintain such relationships in an honorable and good way.  Running from them is not an answer.  Since when did I give a rat’s ass what anyone else thinks of me except for God Himself?  The touchy part of this is that in my quest to “do the right thing” I’ve gotten so hung up on morality and rules and conventions that I ignore people.  I’m afraid to maintain a dialogue with my friends- especially those of the opposite gender- because I am afraid that I will fall down the slippery slope.  I guess it’s hard to be bad to other people when you avoid them, but it’s also bad to avoid them because then you’re not doing any good.  I admit, I use Jerry as an excuse because he does make things difficult for me, but he will always do that.  Sometimes I forget that socially and emotionally he has a mental age of about four.  I’m not saying that to criticize because I am an emotional cripple myself.

I have lost my perspective and have come damned close to losing whatever honor I ever had.  I know emotions are a really difficult area for me, but running away from them and failing to be honest with myself regarding how I feel and who and what I deem to be important is not working. 

I have to admit, nobody does apathy like I do.  Then again, if I get something in my craw it’s hard for me to do or think of anything else.

Especially when the large groups are trucked in from Michigan and West Virginia to protest at the Ohio statehouse, so the media will think that most of the people in Ohio are all for continuing the status quo instead of actually addressing the graft and waste in state and local government.  Nice try, but I hope that the Governor as well as the General Assembly have enough sense to understand that the union protesters are a very small but very whiny minority. 

The tail has wagged the dog long enough.

That goes for every other whiny minority out there too, including any racial group who thinks they are owed reparations because their distant ancestors were slaves, including the litigation happy trial lawyers, including the special rights for gays contingent, and anyone else out there who believes they are entitled to special protections or perks that the majority is not entitled to.

The bottom line:

Anyone who goes back far enough in their genealogy will find ancestors who were slaves.  I have a good number of Scots in my lineage, but I really don’t feel compelled to go back on Great Britain to seek reparations for the Scots in my ancestry who were enslaved, oppressed or killed back in antiquity.  Nor do I feel compelled to go to the US government to seek reparations for their treatment of my Cherokee ancestors.

Anyone who feels compelled to sue someone else because of their own stupidity and negligence (remember the lawsuit over McDonald’s coffee being hot?) should be 1. laughed right out of court, and 2. fined for wasting the court’s time with bullshit.  The bottom feeding trial lawyers who make a killing on insurance fraud and frivolous, bullshit litigation should be fined also, and then required to make restitution to the honest part of society by picking up trash along the freeways and serving the homeless  who come to the soup kitchens.

I don’t really care what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms, and I really don’t care if a person is gay, straight, bi, furry, whatever, as long as they abide by the rules and contribute to society.  However, getting special treatment because of one’s lifestyle choice is not only unfair, but it has been proven by medical science that the gay lifestyle leads to a  host of serious health concerns.  We also know from history that rampant homosexuality led to the decline of both the Greek and Roman societies in antiquity.  Do we really think that sanctioning homosexual partnerships and claiming them to be as good if not better than heterosexual marriage is a good thing for society in general?  How about a legal process in which one’s partner-be it a roommate, a business partner or a homosexual lover- is given the right to legally act in many of the ways that a spouse automatically is?  Marriage is for a man and a woman, with the implication that there may be breeding going on, but any two people can choose to be “legal partners” or something of that effect.  That sounds like a viable compromise to me.

I think I’ve ranted enough for today, but the lesson lingers on.  I cannot forget about and/or neglect my friends.  I don’t have that many to begin with.