OWN YOUR SHIT LIKE A MAN

 

Really, this doesn't need much of a story or explanation to go along with it if you've read any of this blog.  You will totally get it! 

If you are a man and are going to enter yourself willingly into a relationship, watch it grow over a number of years, and perhaps even nurture it in your own stupid, lame-ass way, and then decide you have perhaps made a mistake, a very grave mistake, with nothing to support your decision (I love you, I love you not) and think perhaps it should no longer continue because you are just plain retarded, then have the effing decency to handle your shit like a man.  

Sending an email is being a pussy about it.  Period. 

You are a pussy. 

Any questions?     

WINNING

Every now and then a song is just what you need to hear over and over and loud and clear.  This is one among many of my archived faves...an oldie but a goodie...and fitting for the current circs.  The list of many is for another day.  But it includes Kelly Clarkson's "What Doesn't Kill Ya Makes Ya Stronger" and Sara Bareillies' "King of Anything."   I welcome suggestions for this category, too.  I do.  Really.

Random interjection:  A lady I work with asked me today if I had talked to "the jerk."  I said no.  She replied, "Good.  You're a fun person...you're a lot of fun to be around.  You need to find that person you think is a lot of fun to be around.  He's out there.  Go find him."  Hmmm, I think I will.       

 Go ahead...sing along.  You know the words!  Everyone does. 

THESE BOOTS ARE MADE FOR WALKIN'

Nancy Sinatra

You keep saying you've got something for me.
Something you call love, but confess.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been a messin'
and now someone else is gettin' all your best.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.  Yeah...

You keep lying when you oughta be truthin'
and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin' when you oughta be a changin'.
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do.
One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin'
and you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burned.  Ha!
I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah
and what he knows you ain't had time to learn.

These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do.

One of these days these boot are gonna walk all over you.

Are you ready boots?  Start walkin'!

SHARE TOY

Okay, this is a serious question.  No, seriously.  It is.  What the hell is a fucking SHARE TOY?  Bueller?  Bueller?  Anyone?

Yeah, see?  You have no idea, do you?  No, you don't.  It's not in Webster's Dictionary.  It's not in the Urban Dictionary.  It's not even part of anyone's flippin' vocabulary!  Except his.  It was bad enough when he said it in conversations with me.  But it was bloody embarrassing when he used that term in public.  Made me cringe!  Oh God, I was fearful he'd say it in front of my father.  But since he rarely spent time with my family, there was little-to-no chance that my dad would ever hear that inane meaningless utterance come from a grown man's mouth.  Share toy.  Really.  Sounds obscene.

Say it to yourself right now.  Go ahead, say it.  Share toy.  No one's listening.  Share toy.  Share toy.  Share toy.  Just say it out loud and ask yourself, "What image does that conjure?"   Well, I'll tell ya, it has nothing to do with some rubbery plastic device you might see in a porn movie (if you were to watch them...hey, I'm not judging).  It sounds like it could be.  Maybe.  I guess.  But it's not.

I've come to learn what he means by that expression.  I'll try to explain.  Say we're in a restaurant ("we're in a restaurant") and we order appetizers that we are going to split.  Yep...share toy.  Or a delicious dessert that is just too big for one of us after a big meal.  You got it.  Share toy.  God, how ridiculous and retarded.  And just plain stupid and wrong. 

Share toy. 

He almost ruined a trip to Kauai for me by using that term while engaged in conversation with a couple we did not know but accidentally bumped into as they were coming out of a restaurant that we were going in to.  He asked them about the menu.  They told us that the food was good and all served tapas-style.  Yes, little appetizers.  Uh oh, you already see where this is headed, don't you?  Down that dangerous road called 'humiliation.'  God, I prayed for him not to say it.   I prayed and begged in silence.  But...wait for it...wait for it..."Oh, share toys."   He said it like it was the most natural response in the world.  Oh, horror of horrors!  I almost died on the spot.  The couple just looked at him with blank expressions.  I could almost hear the man thinking, "What the fuck did he just say?"  They had NO idea what the hell he was talking about.  And they turned and walked away without another word.  Well, really, what could they have said to that?  Really.  Share toys?

I always figured maybe he got the term from some stupid little blonde cute-as-a-button girlfriend that may have said it to him in a little squeeky Mini-Mouse'ish voice.  "Ooooh, look..a share toy...heeheehee."  And she was probably just so damned hot that it didn't matter what blather she spewed, he would take it and accept it as real.  Because he has a penis.

A man might accept a woman saying it...because of said dick...but no man in the history of the world would ever actually repeat it.  Out loud.  To another human being.  No.  Never!  NEVER!!!    

I don't make this shit up.

You're still here?  It's over.  Go home.  Go.

BREATHE...IT'S OVER

Here's the latest drama regarding the saga of "me" and "him."  IT'S OVER!!!  FINALLY!

I know that may sound funny now, after all this time.  But the truth is these past three months have been helacious!  Do I love the asshole?  Sadly, I still do.  But I imagine that will fade rather quickly this time around. 

Out of the blue, about two weeks ago, I got two emails from him.  They were sent at the beginning of my work week so I chose to NOT read them until the work week was done, in the event I got...that's right...let's all say it together...EMOTIONAL. 

Well, having NOT read the emails, I was unaware and unprepared for the first phone call I had received from him in 2 1/2 months.  My walls were waaaaay up high and very thick.  I was less than warm and fuzzy.  I was cautious and slightly cold.  I had NO idea why he was calling me.  I now have an idea, but I didn't have a clue at that time.

He asked how the weather was (so I knew he was back up north).  He wished me a BELATED birthday.  My birthday is in a few days.  In fact, it is 11 days after his.  That faux pas did not set well with me.  This would have been our 5th birthday celebration together.  I know.  It's very difficult to remember something like that, and I should be kinder, gentler, and more forgiving.  Ummm, yeah...NO!

He asked how I was doing.  I said I was okay.  I was still angry and in a decent amount of emotional pain.  I told him he managed to bring out the ugly in me.  He did say he had noticed that.  Things were somewhat cordial at this point.  But turning quickly.  He got a bit pissy.

Then he asked me if he should not have called me.  Hell, I don't even know why he was calling - but I told him he should have called me when he said he was going to.  He immediately got defensive and said that would have been difficult since he had been so sick.  What?  What the hell was he talking about?  I had no idea until later.

Oh, it went even more downhill from there, if possible. 

He then (wrongly) assumed that I wanted us to go our separate ways.  I responded with, "I thought you went your separate way back in November."   Yeah, I wasn't really being easy on him.  He didn't like that much.  Oh well, it was how I felt.   And after the crap he's put me through these past several months, I had every right to be bitchy.  In fact, he should have expected nothing less.

With an attitude he had developed rather quickly, he said, "I'm sorry I called."  I simply said, "I'm sure you are."  I'm pretty sure he was thinking I was going to relent and backtrack and apologize and become softer.  Nope...I just hung up.  I get stubborn just like he does at times.  Should I have hung up on him?  Probably not.  But I wasn't going to beg him to stay on the phone either.  Should he have maybe been more direct and actually TOLD me the purpose of the call?  Yes.  Don't call me after a few months of not even bothering to answer any of my calls and expect ME to guide the conversation.  Don't test the waters.  Use that spine and tell me what you called for.  Yeah, no such luck.

So...I opened the emails.  He missed me.  He hadn't given up on us.  He was finally coming out of his "cave."  Well, maybe I wish I'd have read those first.  Our conversation may have gone differently.  I'll never know. 

I feel kind of bad.  But only kind of.  The second email stated that he was sorry he wasn't calling that night but he was sick to his stomach and was going to bed.  So, he made himself physically ill just thinking about calling me.  But still, I only feel kind of bad.  Think about it.  Calling me was so difficult for him, yet he worked up the courage to do it.  Yet he never told me why he was calling.  And he's made me feel pretty crappy for quite some time now, so my sympathy for him was not as strong as maybe it could have been.  Does any of that make sense?  Oh, who cares.  It's my story.

I did try to call later to apologize for hanging up.  He had already gone back into his cave, I guess.  He had already resorted to avoidance.  God, he is so flippin' frustrating!  I tried a few more times and sent a few emails.  I was really getting tired of it all.   His immaturity is completely exhausting.  And it fuels mine.

So, fast forward two weeks.  I get an email from him asking me to not call him anymore.  He said I cannot make him love me.  Huh?  I thought he did love me because that's what he told me.  But I certainly was not trying to make him love me.  I may have been trying to make him respond to me, but I have no interest in trying to make a man love me.  Nor do I have any desire to be with a man who does not love me.  And now I know.  He does not love me.  He wishes he did...it would make life easier (???) but he does not.  Sorry.

What the fuck?  It was like a short Dr. Seuss story minus the rhyme.

His email has been blocked and his number purged from my phone.  I have, in a sense, deleted him from my life.  The memories will fade in time.  What a total waste of time these past three months have been.  Game over.

On the bright sde, I will NEVER have to hear him use the term "share toy" again.  Story for another day.

THIS OTHER GIRL'S HAIR

Okay, so a friend and I at work were talking about her hair one day and how she was worried that it looked like this other girl's hair.  It doesn't.  Not even remotely.  But she was concerned.  And rightly so, if she was having those thoughts.  Her hair is pretty and shiny and she has nothing to worry about.  Nothing like this other girl's hair.  I did suggest some hair colors she could ask for at the salon if she was going in to get it colored and for some bizarro reason decided she really wanted it to look like this other girl's hair.

Here's some of the selection:

Weathered Broom Stick

Broken Twig

Old Wooden Fence

Tumbleweed

Camel's Butt

50 Shades of Hay

Touch of Old Gray Mare

Rusted Dust Pan

Strawberry Blah

Betty GRAY-ble

SERIOUSLY? WHO DOESN'T LOVE FART JOKES!?

Well, besides my parents.

What are you waiting for?  Check out this blog! 

http://whofartedphotos.blogspot.com/                (free plug)

Don't just look at the pictures.  Read it.  Take it all in.  All of it.  Even the labels.

Freaking genius.  Wish I'd thought of this!  I've passed the link around the office and I can totally tell who's actually perusing it by the uncontrolled outbursts and the attempts at stifled laughter.

But then I'm really immature and so is my little brother. 

VENUS STATIONARY DIRECT

You know what today is, right?  Today is the last day of this current cycle of phase 3 of Venus in retrograde.  And you know what that means, right?  Yeah, neither do I.

So I Googled it and found this on the "Darkstar Astrology" website.  Of course I only copied and pasted the stuff I want to apply to me (and some random stuff I can't pronounce and don't understand).  But it might make me look smart.

I love where it says that the negative aspects of our relationships and own weaknesses in how we love has peaked.  No shit.  Like 73 times already since the end of April.  I'm flippin' worn out.  And my face is on permanent puff from all the lame ass crying I've been doing.  It's a miracle I can see out of my eyes.  (Little brother, do not say a word!)  

I'll let you know how this story ends...read the last sentence below in the first paragraph below.  Hard to imagine any evolution when the other half of the relationship has, for all intents and purposes, fallen off the face of the earth.  My earth anyway.

All I'm really hoping for is the opening up of communication channels, as suggested in the second paragraph.  And the affectionate sharing of thoughts.  See, I foolishly continue to hold out hope.  'Tard.

On June 27, Venus stations direct at 7°29′ Gemini on the fixed star Hyadum II, the same spot the journey started. Back then, Venus was conjunct the South Node and square Chiron. Now the only tight aspect is Venus quincunx Pluto. So we could say the pain at confronting the negative aspects of our relationships, and our own weaknesses in how we love has now peaked. This final phase is about adjusting to a new dynamic in relationships, the give and take, and then settling at a new power sharing arrangement. Venus is love, Pluto is transformation, the quincunx is an aspect of karmic readjustment. Our relationships and how we love each other and ourselves is evolving.

 

From July 2 to 16, Mercury sextile Venus again opens up the communication channels in our relationships. We had this aspect back in early May before Venus had turned retrograde. Now, in the final direct phase, it gives a much longer than usual time for affectionate sharing of thoughts, and for the resolving of the tension which has been ongoing for some time now. This will likely climax around July 5 with Venus at 8 degrees Gemini sextile Uranus.

The 28-Day Curse

Major emotional set back this weekend.  But guess what?  Oh, yeah...you're way ahead of  me.  I started my fucking period!  I started getting weirdly emotional on Thursday.  Couldn't figure out why.  I'd actually been holding up pretty well.  YES - I still miss the hell outta him.  Geez...it's only been a few weeks since his last email (the no-show let down one).  And, recall if you will, that I'm still holding on AND I'm a 'tard.  But still...I was actually really looking forward to seeing him.  I love him, okay?  Give me a break!  Was hoping maybe something would be cleared up.  Like maybe he'd have an epiphany and realize he loved me too.  Bahahahaaa!  But I digress...

Anyway, Thursday, I ended up going to Happy Hour with a good friend of mine.  She's very understanding...also a Leo.  We compare notes.   And we laugh.  So the night went by quickly and I was doing okay.  Went home and got a decent night's sleep.

Friday fucking sucked!  Anger at no response/resolution started kicking in.  Big time!  Confusion surrounded me.  Who to turn to?   Well, the person responsible for the pain and confusion, of course.  More emails and voicemails.  Now, I'm sure he doesn't listen to them or read them.  But still...I should not be sending them.  He doesn't care.  I have no control.  Seriously!  It's like I'm helpess. 

So, my period actually started on Saturday.  Wonderful.  There's been no stopping the emotional rollercoaster since then.  Wheeeeee...what a fun ride.  There's also been no stopping the voicemails or emails either.  God knows he will never answer his phone if he sees it's my number, meaning I will continue to call.  I leave ultra-pathetic messages and then I listen to them and then I erase them and start all over.  I do that about 7 times until I think it sounds just right.  Then I hit the dreaded send button.  And then I kick myself because I remember something really clever.  So I call back and do it again.  And then I kick myself for even doing it at all in the first place!  'Tard. 

Guess he's mad at a voicemail I may have left a couple of weeks back.  When I may have raised my voice.  And may have used a tone.  May have yelled into the phone something along the lines of, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!!?!?"  Oh well, he'll get over it!  He's a grown man.  And he's dealing with a grown woman.  These things happen.  His overblown ego can't deal with that though.  I can hear him in his King Phillip voice..."Who does she think she is speaking to me that way?  Unacceptable, indeed."

So, I'm currently deciding if I really do need therapy or if I just need to let this cycle pass?  And if I let this cycle pass and I go all batshit psycho again in about 28 days?  Yep, therapy.

The thing is, I totally know he has no interest.  But the mere fact that he won't provide me with closure is enough to send me over the edge.  It's just enough to make me hold out hope.  Who doesn't see the simple answer there is to PROVIDE RESOLUTION!!!  Seriously, he acts like a fucking 15 year old boy by NOT providing a simple answer, and then I act like a 15 year old girl and get all stupid.  Really?  I need meds.

Someday I'll tell you about all the red flags.  You'll laugh at just how amazingly fucking stupid I really am.  
   

MYSTIC CRYSTAL REVELATIONS

Well, duh!  No wonder my relationship is sucking so badly.  Venus is in retrograde.  Of course.  I mean, who knew?  Certainly not me.  A sweet friend of mine suggested this was the reason that things are not going smoothly right now and to just let things ride for a bit until the phase ends.  Uh, sure.  Why not?  

Great.  I've already pretty much told him (via emails - remember...he won't have a grown-up, real person conversation with me) that I am through!         

This phase of the planetary movement (or whatever it is) will be ending on June 27th.  Yes, soon harmony, understanding, sympathy and trust will abound.  Peace will guide the planets, love will steer the stars.  Blah, blah, blah.  (Okay...yes.  I Googled it.)

Apparently, this is an extra special Venus in retrograde period (which started on May 15th and ends June 27th).  There was the solar eclipse on May 20th and the Transit of Venus on June 5th, both occurring smack dab in the middle of this Venus in retrograde period.  I saw both with my special eyes, in case you were curious. 

So stand by for the dawning of the Age of Aquarius...or the reawakening of the Cancer I've been dealing with. 



(Note:  Some lyrics and the title of this post were "borrowed" from the 5th Dimension's "Age of Aquarius" and slightly changed - I like to give credit where it's due so I don't get in trouble.)

MANDATORY TEAM BUILDING

Yesterday at work I had to attend one of those mandated "training" days where you really don't learn much of anything but HAVE to attend.  I work in a small'ish unit of a large'ish agency.  There's a lot of shift work so we don't have a whole lot of interaction amongst each other (think ships passing in the night), which is perfect because most of us don't really care for each other.  That's okay.  It's sort of the nature of the beast and we'd all agree with that statement.  Funny, because we'd be hard-pressed to agree on anything else.  

Anyway, we were told to wear black and white, not to whine, and to be prompt.  Told to.  Really?  What the hell do we need to wear black and white for?  Oh...photo fun time.  OMG.  Seriously?  Most of us loathe having our photos taken.  Boy, this will be fun.     

Well, it was okay.  Not exactly fun.  Not what I would have chosen to do.  It wasn't the worst thing we could have done, I guess.  And it's not like we had a choice in the matter.  Or did we?

We were placed (forced) into different scenarios around our town.   A few times we were told to do something funny (the AT&T Dancing Squirrel commercial comes to mind).  We didn't want to do anything funny.  It was drizzling.  We hadn't had our coffee.  We don't really like each other.

At one point, the photographer (a supervisor from another unit) was telling us how to stand and pose.  One girl flat out refused.  "No, I'm not doing it.  I'm NOT doing it."  You could hear a collective gasp from all of us.  This particular photographer/supervisor is not known to be particularly kind or tolerant and this particular girl has a slight reputation for creating unnecessary conflict.  Needless to say, we didn't get that "posing" shot.  But in a way, it sort of made me secretly happy.  None of us wanted to have these photos taken and one person was strong enough to stand up for herself and say no.  It's not a job requirement.  Turns out the photos are for a Christmas card that we will send to other agencies that will look at them briefly, post them for the Christmas season, and then shred them. 

The purpose of this little exercise (the jumping off point for a "fun-filled" day of Team Building) was not for the benefit of the girls who work in this unit, but more to the point of making our unit's supervisor simply shine in the eyes of her superiors.  It's all a load of crap. We still don't really like each other.   

Speedo-Man and the Community Pool

Feels like summer out there.  I spent some quiet time this morning out by the pool (after my morning cup of coffee and before tackling my errands).  I've learned early on living here that if you get out to the pool before 11:00AM (preferably 10:00AM), you can enjoy the pool in utter solitude for a good hour or so - just the way I like it.  The younger adults are too hungover to be out that early.  The sun would probably scorch their alcohol-infused skin.  The little kids are still inside eating cereal and watching cartoons.  And the older folks rarely come out there at all, with the exception of occasional appearances by Speedo-Man.

Lucky me - I often have the pool all to myself. 

It's one of my guilty pleasures.  Always has been.  Just laying by the pool on a nice warm day and reading a good book or perusing, mindlessly, the most current "US Weekly."  Lord knows I don't want to be behind on any Kardashian-related "news."  Kim wants to run for mayor of Glendale.  It's  part of her 5-year plan, I guess.  Well, good for her - at least she has one.  And Tori Spelling is pregnant again.  Riveting.     

Speedo-Man's daughter is in town visiting so I can relax poolside without wondering if/where he is lurking or if/when he will appear.  There's just something wrong about a man in his early '70s going out in public in nothing more than a Speedo.  Or any man, for that matter.  I don't care what kind of shape you're in, no one wants to see it.  I mean, it's not like he's walking up to the liquor store like that.  Or jogging to Trader Joe's.  But still...he's going past my window...and often.  More than once, while I've been dozing by the pool, thinking I was all alone, I open my eyes only to realize he's plopped his Speedo-clad body onto the lounge chair next to mine...sans towel.  Ew!  That's akin to using gym equipment and not wiping it down afterward.  In any case, when he does that, I find it's my cue to exit stage left...or right...or whichever is the quickest route out of the pool area so I can go home and shower.  His ogling makes me feel so dirty.  After all, to him I AM a younger woman. 

But today was glorious.  No one around.  Got my tan on.  Yes, I do slather on the sunscreen these days and don't spend nearly as much time baking out there as I did in my younger days.  I just enjoy the warmth and get my fill of Vitamin D.  I'm aware now of the damage that mean old sun can do.  But it feels so good out there, I doubt I'll ever stop completely.

JoeJoe the Tattoo-faced Boy

The beauty of living in Melrose Place is the wonderful array of colorful people who live here.  Yes, I'm being sarcastic.  I find most of these people insanely annoying and useless.  One in particular, a newer resident, is a young'ish man-boy I refer to as "JoeJoe the Tattoo-faced Boy."   He's 38 for cryin' out loud.    He and his girlfriend moved in about six months ago.  Oh, what a joyous day that was.  I thought, when the day after he moved in he was arrested and actually incarcerated, that things were already starting to look up.  Well, nothing lasts forever.  Three months after he was locked up, he was released and he returned to the only home he had.  Even though his prior length of residency here was less than 48 hours.  His young girlfriend, bless her little heart, allowed him to move back in with her.  What a sweetie.  Yes, more sarcasm.  He's an unemployed self-proclaimed tattoo "artist" who is tattooed all over - including his face and neck (ouch).  He's a criminal and a junkie.  Yes, that does mean he uses/abuses heroin.  He refers to himself as a "recovering addict."  Ummm, okay.  Sure.  If that makes him feel better and he thinks others are buying it.

Don't ask how I know things about him.  It's irrelevant and I won't tell you. 

Normally, I'm at work during the weekdays.  Well, I happened to be home for part of a mid-week day.  Boy, the things I miss.  I got to witness a sampling of the fights that occur between JoeJoe (of course that's not his real name...although it may be close to it) and his girlfriend.  Here's a little bit of what I got to witness (warning...foul language follows): 

She yells at him for getting loaded, he denies it, she yells at him to get out, he jumps on his little bike, tucks his skateboard under his arm, and pedals away while yelling "FUCK YOU!!!"  She then chases after him begging him not to go.  "Please don't leave.  I love you, JoeJoe!"  He comes back, secretly happy that he has a place to keep his bicycle and skateboard so he doesn't have to stash them under a random bush where they will be stolen at some point down the road by a savvy hobo) and she cries and sobs about how sorry she is, secretly thinking that she has no self confidence whatsoever and this is all she deserves but still won this one.  And on and on...

In the meantime, I'm secretly thinking that he is getting loaded again and will soon get re-arrested, violating the conditions of his parole, and he will get locked up for a long period of time.  At which point, he will be evicted from Melrose Place (the manager said that will happen if there are any more problems over there) and I won't have to listen to anymore of their heinous, foul, repetitive arguments.

Also, I'm thinking that maybe the girlfriend will then have time to find some of that lost self confidence, pull herself together, find some inner strength and cut the loser from her life.  Maybe she can learn to put some of that kind-heartedness where it will be truly beneficial to someone who really appreciates her sweet soul.

Okay...I'm hoping for this really hard.  Maybe even out loud.

BUTTERFLIES AND BALLS

The San Diego Zoo's Wild Animal Park changed it's name to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park.  I still call it the Wild Animal Park.  I mean, why change a good thing.  And what is the point of changing it after a zillion years of it being called the Wild Animal Park?  It had a safari and wild animals before.  It has a safari and wild animals now.  It has been upgraded/modernized.  So has the zoo.  The San Diego Zoo.  That's still called the San Diego Zoo. I don't get it and I don't like it.  So, I still call it the Wild Animal Park.  And when I do, people feel compelled to correct me.  "It's the Safari Park now - not the Wild Animal Park."   I swear I hear a little "neener neener" after that, so I jump on the opportunity to correct the hell out of them.  "No.  It's actually now called the San Diego Zoo Safari Park.  Dumbass."  I mean, The Corrector obviously knew what I was referring to so, what, did they just want to show me how smart and current they are?  I don't care.  I'm smart too.  I'm also a proud card-carrying member of the Zoological Society of San Diego.  And if you've never been to the Wild Animal Park, I suggest you find a way to fit that in to your next trip to the San Diego area.  Don't go in the summertime.  That's when the animals are more lethargic (look it up).  Springtime is a great time to visit The Park.   Yes, I just shortened the name to The Park - but only because you already know I'm talking about the Wild Animal Park.  Not Central Park.  Not Yosemite National Park.  Not Gorky Park.  You get the idea.  So, check it out in the Spring.  You might get lucky enough to visit during their "Butterfly Jungle" event.  It only lasts about 3 weeks, but you get to see and photograph some very beautiful butterflies.  Butterflies in abundance.  These are just a few of the photos I took while I was there.  We also saw other animals.  Wild animals.  Lions and cheetahs.  Giraffes and rhinos.  We also took a tram ride that took us into a part of the park that you can't really walk into because the animals are, well...wild.  We had a great time and I'd recommend it for a day of family fun.

                          I also saw lion balls.  Here's a picture of them...

EULOGY WITHOUT APOLOGY

So I received an email this morning advising me of the passing of an ex-coworker.  I'm not really sure why this person felt compelled to let me know.  He knows there was absolutely NO love lost between me and this person.  She was not nice to me.  In the nearly 17 years we worked together, she was unable to utter an honestly pleasant word to me. 

She accused me of doing something (I've never known what) some 15 years prior to my leaving the company that negatively affected her.  And so she held some sort of grudge for nearly two decades.  She said I knew what it was and that she had it in writing.  I never saw what she was referring to, she was never willing or able to produce the "evidence" of my horrific action.  Yet she was known to growl, "SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID!  SHE KNOOOOOOWS!!"  These utterances from her caused some investigations within our organization.  I was questioned at work and even asked if I'd had any "minglings" with her husband.  Really?  I was told that the only reason a woman would hate another woman so much for so long is because they must have screwed around with the others hubby.  I was insulted and angered over this.  But got over it.  Nothing ever happened between her husband and me (except I always felt kind of sorry for him being married to her). 

She was a sue-happy person...sued her brother, her next-door neighbors, Wal-mart, her in-laws, and attempted to sue the company we worked for.  She thought her neighbors were spying on her.  She forced her husband to remove, completely, the patio bar in the new house they bought because there would be NO gathering place for the consumption of alcohol in her home.  During one of the many "investigative meetings" at work she threatened to hurt me.  She was fired for that threat but regained her job after three days off without pay (thank you Teamsters).  She told our employer I didn't like her because she was fat, gray-haired, and Mexican.  She wasn't fat.  She colored her hair red.  Yes, she was Mexican.  So are many people I am friends with and so were many of my coworkers at that time. 

I didn't like her because she was a bitch.

Bottom line - she was insecure.  Who knows why.  She had a loving husband and adoring son (whom she smothered the hell out of...poor kid).  She had a good job and lived in what I heard was a very nice home. 

She's gone now.  I'm not sad.  I left that company several years ago and have had no contact with her since.  When I found out she was ill, all I could think was that she brought it on herself.  Karma's also a bitch.

Melrose Place

Okay, so something exciting doesn't happen to me everyday.  In the meantime, I'll fill you in a little bit on where I live.  It's an apartment complex...courtyard type.  It is often referred to by the locals as "Melrose Place."  There are a few subtle differences though.  There are no cute wooden doors or archways.  There is a pool in the center of it all, but no gorgeous bodies lounging around it.  And no hot pool guy.  The tenants are not exactly young, beautiful, or professional.  Certainly not any combination of the three.  No, it's not a senior living complex either.  I'm middle-aged, not over-the-hill.  There are a few nice people living here.  Some are senior citizens, some are family people with small children, and some actually have jobs.  There is diversity.  There are a few apartments that exceed maximum occupancy.  There is an unusually high number of loud, vulgar, pot-smoking, white trash, useless, tattooed, drunk individuals living here.  Some are cohabitating, but I hope to God not procreating!  You'll hear more about them.  I loathe them.  I don't so much mind the tattoos - freedom of expression and all that - I just despise who the tattoos are attached to.

I'll fill you in later on the "Church Girls," "Speedo Man," "5150 the Music Mogul," "JoeJoe the Tattoo-Faced Boy," and "Peeping Juan."  It's a colorful place.  Can't we all just get along?