"THINGS AREN'T ALWAYS AS THEY SEEM " – The Dragonfly’s scurrying flight across water represents an act of going beyond what’s on the surface and looking into the deeper implications and aspects of life.
Author: behoxie
Coffee, juice (Vitamin C & Vitamin V-vodka), wine. The rest you can find in wordpress in: The Word According To Behoxie
The kind that show up with Dr. Tito’s or hit redial when you go ghost because they know something is bothering you.
Listen to you time and again get something off your chest until it finally dissipates.
Just “know” you’re a bit off and dig it out until you spill it.
Would drop everything for you if you needed them.
Tackle you to the ground for granny panties with a kangaroo pouch.
Hijack your worst photos and create beach towels, coffee cups, wine labels, and shot glasses.
Laugh with you and laugh at you until you’re physically sick.
Do stupid shit and find stupid shit entertaining.
Most importantly, great friends will always re-focus and work to understand why you can’t, won’t, don’t, and accept you just the way you are knowing when it’s time you need to help yourself.
I am blessed to have these friends. Some made it into my picture video of our annual biddy convention in Rhody, and others did not, but they all exist in different forms (daughters, nieces, not blood related, but should be), and I’m eternally grateful for and to each one of them.
The movie video depicted what we are about as we round 3rd base. My son commented, “disturbing,” which doesn’t disturb me in the least because I know he truly appreciates how twisted I am and the geniune fun we have. Our daughters tell us they wish to have a group of friends as us, and don’t hesitate to hang out with us when our cult is gathered. So, within all the inappropriateness, shenanigans, liquor-related idiocy, lies a powerful bond of friendship, and a healthy avenue to enjoy life because we too have: endured deaths, heartbreak, tragedy, deception, divorce, corruption, asshole teenagers, caustic work environments among other things. Add to that, delivering and raising an average of 3.0 children each (some husbands included) into kind and decent humans in a crazy-ass part of the U.S. is no easy feat.
Even the most decent people are breaking down with what has transpired in our world in recent months/years. A good example was a post from a teacher friend. Fran, a melanoma cancer survivor shared, ” Grand total of 8 shootings yesterday by nightfall. Baltimore – let’s get it together. In one f’ing day. Where is our humanity.”
It’s heartbreaking what is happening each day, and I think, hasn’t Fran done battle enough not to have to worry about locking down her classroom or taking her son to a park without random shootings? I see her fleeing to Scotland.
So, I say in order to survive, I need to be an Aunt Joyce. My Aunt Joyce. Teaching your 12 year old niece how to make Sangria on Christmas Eve. The fun & naughty Aunt. The one who innocently bought the ping pong balls because she truly thought the kids wanted to play ping pong (not beer pong). The one who would drive up to the casino at midnight and stay up all night playing the slots. The one who cracked a toilet tank, flooded a bathroom and made it look like a CIA crime scene because she didn’t know how to turn off the water valve. Also, the key representative on the birthday party bus who stood outside the bus waving on the ferry because of a bathroom visit and didn’t wake up until the party was over and the bus was disembarking for the return trip. Surround yourself with the Aunt Joyce’s of the world who bring laughter to your heart.
Be you because the right people will gravitate to you. It’s the only way to survive and love your life in this world. I’ve watched people sitting on top of their pedestal one day, and the masonry repair the next day for that pedestal knocked down. Don’t even think anyone’s better than you because we’re all going out the same way we came in – with NOTHIN’. Live your life between the dots, use sentence enhancers, master a decent jello shot, crack a toilet tank, flip the bird behind an asshole’s back, but be a good and decent human. Then you are enough.
Happy Highly Functional Human Day. I made that up.
There’s so much shit going down in this world, that even us high functioning humans can’t dissect or make sense of it any longer and have given up trying. Personally, I don’t even bother to feign normal because you’ve got to possess some level of crazy to be semi-functional in a world that is goin’ all washing machine-like turbo spin cycle.
Word Up on the U.S. Government – Republicans SUCK. Democrats SUCK. Independents SUCK. At least none of us feels left out. Yea, yea, and it’s one big televised or online Haterade Fest. You’ve got the real news….well, maybe, kinda, sorta and you got the fake news. Then there’s the 2 thumbs up SNL versions. What we can count on is the Earth Tribe’s posts that the 911 attacks were, in fact, a conspiracy, and Sandy Hook never really happened. You get the sick and twisted point. What we do know from paparazzi photos is our mASS Tweeter-cheesy Dorito-hue-YOLO President is beefing up his golf game every weekend in Palm Beach getting ready for the Masters. Can you imagine if all the veterans, physically and mentally impaired, and homeless of our country benefited from some of those gazillions of dollars we’re all spending protecting the cheesy Dorito and cheeto family. WTF is wrong with this picture? “Nothing,” says everybody on the Trump payroll and employed at Mar-A-lago. Life is good in West Palm Beach.
When I really want to know what’s going on around everybody’s town and Russia, I read the Skimm. A synopsis of the day’s events delivered in snarky tone mirroring my own. Do me a favor and Skimm that shit so I can make the “A” list of Skimm Ambassadors. Where the hell is Sara Palin’s deck report on Russia anyway? I’d probably believe her and her binoculars at this point.
My 2 cents on life, relationships & other worldly bullshit – Alas, the gravitational pull – Screwing up children and families from the beginning of time. You can take one look at a kid after meeting the parent(s) and conclude the kid is screwed. For life. Or take one look at an adult and think, “Oh, dear Lord, please say you didn’t procreate.” A few year’s back, I would be absolutely enamored with a person’s life story. Nothing shocks or fascinates me now because once you begin connecting the dots, the foundation is always the same – cracked. Damaged childhood due to substance or physical abuse, mental health issues of a parent(s), infidelity, and the list goes on. Can you say REPEAT? When humans naturally gravitate to someone who is just as damaged without ever breaking the cycle. Therefore, the cycle of dysfunction continues and pours more cracked foundations. The Result: The next generation inherits more of the DNA malfunction. Word to the wise prior to that boink-a-boink in the hay or in the high school bathroom stall: DNA testing, psych eval, psych eval, psych eval of the potential significant other and the whole family. Maybe just live in sin and experience it firsthand, and have a bag packed for the Irish exit just in case.
I’m not worried about the fate of our spinning world because the only things occupying my mind now is how amazingly cold those copper cups keep a moscow mule, scoring a reservation on the bicycle bar in Nashville, or designing a retirement community of tiny houses for all of my friends so we can take care of each other as Golden Girls/Boys because…..
Long Term Care Facilities are equivalent to a Motel 6 & Nobody Cares – Immediately forget that once you walk out the door from visiting your elder in an extended care home, they are no longer attended to in a humane way. It’s a hard emotion to shake. Then when the time comes and that elder’s body functions are clearly shutting down, a decision needs to be made in regards to palliative care; and one would think the facility’s staff would be well versed in guiding you to that next level of care since these facilities are usually one of the gateways to Heaven?!?!? And the answer is……Aaaah, No. Forget even thinking someone will sit you down in a compassionate way such as a social worker or care coordinator to explain how the process works. Nope. What you do get is a matter-of-fact, likely underpaid nurse who tells you, the choice is all yours, Sugar. Now go and git it.
However, DO NOT FEAR…….HOSPICE CARE IS HERE. These people have been and continue to be some of the Angels on Earth. Why yes, Virginia, there are still beautiful souls who can comfort with kind words, a loving touch, along with a devotion in helping the dying cross over pain less and peacefully. Thank you to all those organizations who care for the terminally ill and dying. You are a blessing and so appreciated by those who have witnessed.
Remember children, loyalty ends at the exact moment when the benefit of you is no longer needed….
Try explaining that shit to a Polyanna-type friend. I have one. I love her dearly and marvel at her continued optimism, but a Polyanna needs hands-on learning experience. And….she just earned her learner’s permit…..3 hits in one week by those me-me-me people….and if it’s not about me, me, me, then F you.
Here’s the thing ….. and I’m not getting all High Universe Shamanic on you, but there does come a juncture in life when you finally realize you are evolving into your highest self. When that happens, you dump frequencies that are no longer a match to your own frequency. I have cut people off, out, with and without explanation, because they betrayed my trust, took advantage of my good nature, or possess an unhealthy attitude or aura, and I just can’t be around that shit anymore.
For years I felt I needed to justify everything (in my head) to whomever would listen. My Pollyanna friend being one of them. Now she’s learned how to do the cut off and cut out. As I’ve shared with many, I no longer care about anyone’s opinion of me. I like who I have become and am comfortable in my skin, and this can only happen when:
You accept your shortcomings
Forgive your mistakes and learn from them
Be a giver, not a taker. Don’t take advantage of people, situations, or life in general.
Think highly enough of yourself not to need affirmation from anyone.
Lastly, do the right thing even if it means it’s not accepted by the majority, and it rarely is. Usually the majority is composed of ego-types that make certain it personally benefits them. People have all kinds of personal agendas, and sometimes the sole purpose is to elevate themselves so they can feel better about themselves. For a half-minute anyway.
I wanna be president when I grow up… said no ever again.
Dumb question of the day: Why would either a wealthy 69 or 70-year-old want to be president instead of retiring, buying an island, play golf or Mahjong all while being served bottomless Bellini’s??
(Bill Clinton: Bellini is a drink, not a bottomless bikini)
Answer: Because no amount of prosperity or notoriety, is ever enough to feed the Ego? And, that folks is how it’s done in my town…..to answer a question with a question. It saves a helluva lot of time in NEVER having to admit to answering incorrectly and being wrong.
Comments from the peanut gallery or the paranoid sector…..I’m often told my blatant truths and blog posts will offend people or get me in trouble. I’m pretty secure in knowing that the other 90% of unpublished writings fall in that category not to mention I get in trouble for shit I don’t even write. Even if I did have some troll or little chippy in mind while writing a piece, I can guarantee they would never think it directly applied to them. Hell, most adults I come in contact with possess ADD and can’t read anything past the headlines while scrolling Facebook. This is how it works: I can bash people upside the head with truths and then be totally ignored because remember…..we live in a world so wrapped up in the me-me-me. If I shed a couple of people, I’ll just Tweet about it to make myself feel good like the Big Dorito does on his smart phone….
Smart phones – Truth replacement (because it’s so much easier to lie in a text message, tweet, or email than to someone’s face). These phones are so smart, they’ve replaced the need to learn how to be articulate in communication or making eye contact with another human being ever again. I wonder how new parents communicate and discipline their kids now. Do they text them and tell them they’re grounded because they got a C or do they just block them?
Social media or electronic therapy session. It will report everything from hospital visits (getting my colonoscopy today Yay!), to bashing posts targeting an ex-lover, to documenting every F’ing emotion you feel every hour on the hour: Feeling concerned, feeling meh, feeling excited, feeling sad. Here’s a photo of everyone who cares:
You know it’s bad when nursery schools have to post a sign for parent pick up, “Please put your phone down and pay attention to your child.”
Oh, yeah, for sure I am crazy because I can listen to hear versus to respond, speak articulately, make eye contact, and cutting off …..
What to say to your boss who’s been repeating the same stories for 5 years about his former job(s): PLEASE STAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!!!!!!! I can’t. I just can’t, and where the hell are the scissors so I can stab myself. Save that shit for “the home.” That long-term memory cache will bring years of enjoyment to your nurses and fellow inmates. You’ll rock it until someone finally beats the shit out of you with their walker.
Maybe I’ll share with him my story about, “When the well runs dry and you turn into a man.” I’d bet my next month’s mustache, he’d have a similar story to one up me. 🙂
So, my place of employ offered up Biometric screening free of charge to its employees. Biometric screening is the measurement of physical characteristics such as height, weight, body mass index, blood pressure, blood cholesterol, blood glucose, and aerobic fitness tests that can be taken at the work site and used to promote wellness.
For those who partook, good for you! It just wasn’t for me, and here was my response to the Biometric screening and in addition:
I don’t wish to be reminded of my body FAT mass. I see that mass every damn day out of the shower and play with it like Silly Putty.
Nobody’s finger sticking me for cholesterol (both LDL and HDL) – oh, hell NO! Not when I have a loaded candy bowl sitting in front of me 8 hours/day.
EACH PARTICIPANT WILL EARN A TICKET TO BE ENTERED INTO A PRIZE DRAWING FOR GREAT PRIZES…
GRAND PRIZE 6 MONTH MEMBERSHIP TO MASSAGE ENVY
I don’t ‘knead’ Bertha herniation of my spinal discs. However, you go right ahead. Enjoy!
KEEP SCROLLING……..I’ve only just begun.
2ND PLACE 6 WEEK MEMBERSHIP FOR A FAMILY OF 4 TO BLUE APRON
Do you seriously think “THE” Father (Jesus), The Son (Baby Jesus), The Holy Ghost (nephew) will eat food out of a box? Do ya? This looks like the box lunches they just packed for “Feed My Starving Children” to be shipped to Haiti. Only the newbie Stepford wives use this to make meals for meal trains for all their friends that reproduce like rabbits. Of course all prepared on their, 6 burner Garland stoves/or in their triple ovens. Their kids get organic chicken nuggets for dinner with Ella squeezable veggies as a side dish.
3RD PLACE APPLE WATCH (SERIES 2, WATERPROOF)I stopped wearing a watch. Life is VERY much like a roll of toilet paper. The closer to the end, the faster it goes. I DO NOT care to know how much TP is left on my roll.
Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? NO.
Just in case you didn’t know, that’s a song by the group Chicago in 1969 – you weren’t even born yet, but maybe you heard it once or twice on an FM station – that would be the ancient way of listening to music prior to Sirius & Pandora. Google it.
P.S. It’s not like I’d get any pool time anyway at the YMCA to check out whether or not it really is waterproof. I had to put in my own pool because the Y’s open swims were at 2pm when my kids were in school….on purpose. So, NO THANK YOU.
4TH PLACE FRESH FRUIT DELIVERY TO YOUR HOME ONCE A MONTH FOR 6 MONTHSThe only thing I’d do with this basket is make a Sangria or try & stomp the shit out of the grapes to create a libation. Seriously? I can snarf down an entire double batch of rice krispie treats. Plus these things went from seed to picked fruit in 24 hours a la…………
IN ADDITION A FIT BIT TRACKER WILL BE RAFFLED OFF AT EACH LOCATION
Again, aah NO. You all don’t need one either because every time you all walk past my office window (an interior window that looks like a McDonalds take out window), I click my “vintage” counter. No one is tracking my last steps on earth OR MY LOCATION – probably a little chip inside is watching all of yous locations!
Then a note to the Administrator & then some I sent this to:
Don’t worry – I didn’t put in for overtime to crank this out. Sometimes I just gotta release the sarciotic. It’s like having a massage for the brain. Bless yous all. ❤
And since everybody’s offended by every little thing…except me because I truly don’t give a shit, here’s the most brilliantly written blurb from Freecycle of all people:
“Before you wish a Merry Christmas, you might want to consider a more politically correct statement:
—-Festive Greetings—- Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, or secular practices of your choice, with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all. In addition, please also accept our best wishes for a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2017, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make this country great (not to imply that this country is necessarily greater than any other country or area of choice), and without regard to the race, creed, color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual orientation of the wishers. This wish is limited to the customary and usual good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first. ‘Holiday’ is not intended to, nor shall it be considered, limited to the usual Judeo-Christian celebrations or observances, or to such activities of any organized or ad hoc religious community, group, individual or belief (or lack thereof). Note: By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher at any time, for any reason or for no reason at all. This greeting is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. This greeting implies no promise by the wisher actually to implement any of the wishes for the wisher her/himself or others, or responsibility for the consequences which may arise from the implementation or non-implementation of it. This greeting is void where prohibited by law.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!TO ALL OTHERS-FESTIVE GREETINGS (if applicable)”
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas, Festive Greetings, Happy Holidays or whatever the hell you celebrate. If you’re blessed, count your blessings. And, lighten up in 2017. It’s the year of re-purposing. Below is only the beginning of my inappropriate Pinterest projects. Place setting markers using our garden harvested carrots, wire, and a recycled wine cork.
For my dear friend’s daughter who asked me to write about dysfunctional holidays and another friend who was just bitching to me today about Asshole drivers.
The holiday season brings it on for everyone. It brings it alright. By Labor Day, we’ve already lost what feels like 4 hours of daylight. With less daylight, it brings SAD people who (Seasonal Affective Disorder) start sleeping more, peopling less, with ZERO ambition. It’s almost as if our bodies are preparing for winter hibernation. Add to that, the big store chains are already setting up for Christmas. That alone brings on a host of emotions, not necessarily all Merry & Bright especially for families who’ve lost a loved one, can’t provide the “Lifetime Movie T.V. image” Christmas, among the hundreds of other valid reasons.
I’m certain I’m not alone in identifying the bizarre, frenetic, and psychotic behavior of people throughout the year, with an even thicker concentration of it from November through January 1st. Let’s review a few categories that take a hit:
Driving: Almost everyone in the Northeast is always rushing no matter what time of year, but Thanksgiving to New Year’s …. holy shit! I had my first experience with HORRENDOUS HOLIDAY drivers a few years ago when I had my blinker on to make a left turn into a driveway and a woman was in such a hurry (not to mention a stupid A-hole), she tried to pass me on the left as my car was turning……LEFT. No one is paying attention this time of year, and cell phones triple your chances. Even when you stay behind the line at a light or stop sign, you can lose your entire front end and then some. Crosswalks mean absolutely nothing in our town. If anything, drivers speed up like you’re target practice. I was shocked years ago that residents in upstate Connecticut and New York actually stopped at crosswalks and allow you to walk. It was so foreign to me. Everyone is in a rush to get to important places liiiiiiike……
Squeezing in a manicure before the school bus arrives. As the observer I am, a lumberjack-type women bounded in my local nail salon looking like she just finished stacking and caulking a log cabin by herself. No salutation, just a quick scan of filled chairs and a “How long is this gonna take? And, I need a lip wax.” Hunny, you need more than a lip wax. You may want to visit the great and powerful Oz and hit up the Wash & Brush Company…..repeatedly. You may even wish to consider requesting the same service as the Cowardly Lion. There was no please or thank you. Next to me was another women who got quite snotty when the owner was trying to help her with her purse and belongings on the way to the nail dryer. She snipped, “I’ll take it.” Nope…not even a, “thank you, I’ve got it.” Like he’s really gonna heist your bag in his own establishment, Bitch? Last but not least, the sweet masseuse asks another woman, “You like massage?” Her answer, “No.” Not a, “No thank you.” Not a, “Not today, but thank you.” Just a barking NO. I realize we’re all trying to re-balance after the election that went down in history as the most immature, inappropriate, shady, corrupt, you name it, but hell’s bells….it’s as if a gigantic wad of mankind shit out all their respect and manners. WTF?
Grocery Stores: Like cars, some people shouldn’t be allowed to commandeer a shopping cart down those narrow isles. Ever. My all-time favorite haunt is what we refer to as the “League of Nations.” It’s a Shoprite in the next town over where you can be run over with a cart by an entire family fleet from South/Central America. The beauty of the League is I rarely run into anyone I know; and Spanish is the 1st language so if they’re talking smack about me, I don’t know. I’ve had to begin frequenting the League more often because my local grocery store’s last batch of hires hate their job, hate people, hate life. One day there was 3-4 employees bullshitting behind the cold cut counter, while a hunched over 80-year-old employee was spearing rotisserie chickens. They see us, ignore us, walk into the back to continue their B.S. session, but when I whispered to the guy next to me that we just got snubbed, the big he/she barked, “We’ll be right with you!” giving me the hairy eye. Oh, hell no! I grabbed the day old pre-cut shit out of the case and the Neanderthal didn’t return to packing MEAT until he/she saw me in the cereal isle. There was no F’ing way I was gonna let he/she spit on my Land ‘O Lakes cheese.
Which brings me to I’m an F’ing delightful customer. I say please and thank you probably to an annoying level. I bag my own groceries because I enjoy it. I’m always pleasant and trusting until you screw me. Recently, I got this young, petite, freaky yellow-toned corn-rowed, resting-bitch-face checker. Nasty doesn’t even begin to describe her attitude. No hello, but clearly pissed off I handed her my Stop ‘n Shop scan card. I bagged my own stuff as usual. I decided to save myself some time by getting $80 cash back instead of hitting an ATM. I don’t usually count my cash back because I always want to be trusting; but for some reason the resting-bitch-face made no eye contact when she shoved the money at me so I counted the cash and saw she stiffed me out of a 20. When I called her out on it, she didn’t look up, told me I had to wait because she had quickly started the order after me. When the little snot finally handed me the 20, she did it with no remorse, no apology, no eye contact. I’ve only seen her one time since, and for as much as I frequent that place, I’m guessing petite resting-bitch-face quit or was hopefully shit canned. Glory Be because she wasn’t peopling well.
To sum it up, for whatever reason, the Holiday season means different things to everyone and emotions can range from ultimate dread to blissful joy. Holidays can be a grim reminder of happier times especially for the elderly propped in beds/chairs, of loved ones who can’t or won’t be with us during this supposed “joyful” season. On the flip side, there’s the upbeat, hopeful energy of the newly married generation looking forward to cutting their first tree or their baby’s first Christmas or Hanukkah. Holidays, just as everything in life has its checks and balances.
I work with someone close to retirement age who starts wearing her snowman turtlenecks/Xmas fleece the minute the thermometer drops below 75. This year she’s doing some kind of daily Where’s the Hershey Bar today” photos. The Hershey Bar could be with some of her Christmas figurines, tucked in a yule log – kinda like finding Waldo. She takes Thanksgiving week off to decorate for Christmas and gets her picture taken with Santa. The minute Christmas is over, she starts posting the countdown of how many days until the next Christmas (she knows this makes me crazy). So, as the sarciotic I am, I retaliate with….
It’s all in good spirit, and perhaps we should all lighten up a little and play hide the salami. Maybe we should kindly call out individuals who are being rude and manner-less to other people. Maybe we should all take a personal assessment of our own manners and behavior and not be an asshole.
Just remember this particular holiday requires a lot of time, attention, stamina, and shit tons of money. If your family and friends contribute in any way in making your holiday Merry & Bright, acknowledge it. Say thank you because the day will come when you look back and wish for a replay, and there are no replays.
Wishing you all nice store clerks, a peaceful online shopping experience, and a truly blessed holiday season, and please watch out and don’t be an asshole driver.
Well, well, well. I kinda, sorta hate being that annoying bitch that says I told you so, but in my deranged circle of friends, being that bitch is an esteemed label; as highly regarded as our twisted One Upper game regaling Fucktard of the day stories.
So. A year ago I posted about a “friend” and her dilemma with full-on fishing line popping through her C-section shelf. For anyone who’s had a C-section, don’t lie here, you are quite familiar with the “shelving unit” above the incision that just morphs all by itself. It’s basically the left over baby blubber that inhales every fucking carbohydrate and piece of chocolate you put in your mouth, and expands until it just about resembles a mini bar. If you didn’t have a C-section and you still got that shelf thing going on, that’s what I refer to as a Stajina (pronounced Sta-Ji-Na) or the flubber that flaps over your vagina.
So. I will obnoxiously re-post the original story of this friend’s non-dissolving 18-year-old sutures because that’s the type of fun-loving, snarky, soothsayer friend I am.
And, here we are a year later and guess who had to get a tummy tuck almost to the day of last year’s post prediction? After the doctor’s disbelief, I suppose he felt it was a good idea to roto-rooter her out since it would make sense to see what the hell was left in there nearly 2 decades ago. As ya’s know, it’s all about liability now-a-days – gotta blame somebody. Since the Nip ‘N Tuck, her new nickname is Joanie, short for Joan Rivers. I don’t know how much chum & fish netting was in there, but if one would venture to guess, the bow of her womb-boat resembled something like head cheese:
Head Cheese
After three solid weeks of wearing a full body girdle with an express hole for bodily evacuation functions, Joanie showed us her incision. Gag. The surgeon peeled her flubber back from one hip to the other; kinda like how you open a can of sardines. And, oooh, that new man-made belly button should be adorned with a nice piercing with….I don’t know the Fuck what kind of ornamental accoutrement. All’s I know is Joanie is very much resembling the Stepford wives in our town. I’m referring to the cult of breastis & butt cheek implanted blondes in Lululemon yoga pants sipping pumpkin lattes (Naturally organic, Non-GMO, skim milk please, freshly extracted pumpkin).
Bless you Joanie and your newly acquired immaculate can of sardines that I just can’t “unsee.”
P.S. tummy tucks are like a C-Section but 6-8 inches worst and there’s no bundle of burping and shitting joy to bring home. Needless to say, I’m probably gonna get in deep shit for making her laugh recapping this while she’s healing, and using her photo of “head cheese” against her. Then again, she’ll be as svelt as Joan River’s 30th body nip ‘n tuck so Fooka her.
A dear friend’s Mother is the author of my title, “You Kids These Days Are So Carefree.” Her Mother’s doing time at a long-term care facility, and the kids she refers to are…
A dear friend’s Mother is the author of my title, “You Kids These Days Are So Carefree.” Her Mother’s doing time at a long-term care facility, and the kids she refers to are us – all in their 50’s, edging towards grand parenting and designing our tiny houses during cocktail hours. We the “kids” are sandwiched between caring for elderly parents and continue to be the go-to for our young adult children.
Sure we could be like our parents and save for that rainy day, but our generation has seen too much with what happens to our elderly who saved for the rainy day. In a blink of an eye a $600,000 retirement fund vanishes in 3 years or less in a long-term care facility, only to become a medicare recipient for the remainder of their days which are long and endless because of some physicians who plug for “quantity” versus “quality” of life. BULLSHIT to that I say. Signing up for the *Hemlock Society because the only time you’ll catch my dimpled ass in a Depends is at a Halloween party or disco dancing in funky wedges and a too short dress.
*Hemlock Society USA was a national right-to-die organization founded in 1980.
Okay, so my generation is more carefree than our parent’s generation was, and we won’t dispute that fact. It stems from the wisdom of knowing and having seen too much. Access to TOO MUCH SHITTY INFORMATION is only a click away. Gone are the days of my favorite way of ignorance is bliss, and bliss it was.
While laying out on lounge chairs in my garden popping off a bottle of champagne this past Mother’s Day, me and a friend came up with our own list of how we managed to raise 3 children each trying to justify our apparent “carefree” behavior. Naturally religious and maternal guilt played a part: Sacrifices we made, the menial jobs we did so we could stay home to raise them; and you’re damn right we’re gonna practice the art of being carefree now if we have the health and means to do so.
THE THEN – In order to stay home and raise our children – We stuffed envelopes, typed bills, contracts, estimates for small businesses, State tax forms data entry for $75/box (or a penny a line), glued Christmas ornaments to cards, ran home daycares, typed Home Inspector reports, raised 3 children by day-fed & bathed them and went to waitress for 6+ hours by night. Then we got full-time jobs as soon as the last kid was in school.
Babysitters – We only asked our parents or hired when we had a wedding or event to attend that children weren’t invited. We couldn’t afford a sitter nor trusted anyone enough.
Housecleaning – Even with multiple jobs, we did it ourselves.
Manicures/Pedicures – If we ever had the time, we did it ourselves and it was usually for a special occasion.
Hair cuts – Cut at home for years by a friend who was a hair dresser and my hair-do usually resembled Mrs. Pynchon from an ancient sitcom called, Lou Grant.
Carpet cleaning/window cleaning/power washing/painting/wallpaper – all performed by us. We never paid anyone for something we had the capability of doing. We were taught by our parents how to paint a room and cut in trim and windows with oil paint nonetheless….not that easy latex shit that wipes up with water.
Clothing – Hand-me-downs usually from family members, averaging 3-5 years behind in style. So, I was either dressed in preppy pastel Lacoste/Laura Ashley or looked like Wednesday of the Addams’ Family in black depending on which Sister-in-law’s cast offs I inherited. My daughters were usually throwing up Laura Ashley matching dresses and trust me…not by choice.
Formal attire – We would hit up each other’s closet if we had to go to a wedding/funeral. We continue that tradition today.
Window treatments – We watched HGTV “Design on a Dime” and made our own out of chicken wire, batting, t-pins and material or we sewed some out of sheets and tablecloths.
Stains & Hems – We are stain masters and were taught how to hem by family or Home Economics – the class they cut out and then realized these kids haven’t a clue on basic “life skills” unless they’re ordering take-out, high-five’ing the cleaning lady, dropping clothes to a laundromat, dry cleaner, etc.
Family meals – We cooked them and ate together every night. Take out and frozen dinners were a treat especially for the cook.
Liquor- Right around age 40, we Mothers began taking our medicine regularly, and we continue that group therapy.
What we didn’t have or do: Botox, eyelash extensions, waxed eyebrows & who-ha’s, tanning beds, Blue Apron Meal service, nannies, cleaning ladies, pure barre, personal trainers, massage therapists, facials, manicures/pedicures, new cars, exotic vacations (ours usually included a tent, a raft & a beach chair). We didn’t have “Me” time. This is probably why most women are plagued with IBS – they never had time to take a shit in peace for years.
What we did have: Dirty little kids running all over the yard and rollerblading, broken wrists and ankles, an inventory of freeze pops or popsicles, a stockpile of snacks hidden in the dryer, a trashed house, a dead lawn, constant laundry, food replenishing and cooking; the need to scrape together enough money to buy Christmas presents and have Birthday parties.
Yes, we are the “You kids are so carefree” generation because retirement to us is enjoying what we have now. We’re not stupid – the Brinks truck will not be following our hearse. Hell, my kids are turning my ashes into a plant pod and nobody’s spending any money on me after I’m dead anyway. So, take the trips, buy that new car and hit the road, spend time at that summer cottage, see new places, meet new people, and by God have that daily cocktail hour of Vitamin V and Vitamin C and just sit your ass down and watch the flowers bloom and the hummingbirds flitter. Another dear friend’s Mother, Peggy and a wise Mother of 7, used to say, “Screw the golden years.” These are our golden years. We’ve done enough and have been enough.
None of us plan on spending retirement propped up in a chair waiting for everything: Minimal Family and living friends to visit, meals, toileting, showering….ultimately for our eternal rest. So, treat yourself to regular manicures and pedicures (with a spiked seltzer in a paper cup), eyelash extensions until the glue seals your eye lids shut, a massage of your dimpled ass, lush vacations that don’t include a tent, eyebrow tattoo’ing since they fall out when you get old (and relocate into a mustache & chin Billy Goats), and a most definite splurge – A SQUATTY POTTY – ergonomically aligned with your colon for effortless evacuation.
If you’re reading this, thank you for the return visit. My children reminded me that I haven’t annoyed you with a blog post since 4/20, otherwise known as National Marijuana Day. I…
If you’re reading this, thank you for the return visit. My children reminded me that I haven’t annoyed you with a blog post since 4/20, otherwise known as National Marijuana Day. I’d love to say I’ve been stoned for the last 3 months, but I’ve learned that my low blood pressure and pot don’t make for a fantastic voyage. “The Children Are Baking” post explains how that all works out. However, I may just have to take my chances on Election Day.
Life really is like a roll of toilet paper – the closer to the end, the faster it goes…..shit. I’ve been very busy, but if you ask me exactly what I’ve being doing, I’ll tell you laundry because it’s literally the only damn thing I’ve been able to complete start to finish. The analogy – the world is going to shit and is in a perpetual spin cycle via toilet or washing machine. That’s pretty much how I’ve felt the last few months and that same vibe is emanating off most people I come in contact.
Oh, the things I keep….and the synchronicity of them all….
After Christmas 2000, I purchased two Hallmark limited edition globe ornaments that had the twin towers inside. Macy’s was practically giving them away for $4.00 each, fully equipped with a stand, and it still beats the shit out of me why I bought them. Sure I like puttzing around the city, but I certainly didn’t have any emotional tie for buying them. I gave one to my brother who lived/worked in New York for years. That Christmas was the last those towers would be standing.
When I was an elementary school secretary in 2001, I wrote an email to our then Assistant Superintendent after the 9/11 attack about how the newly installed door camera was only a band-aid and false sense of security because when I went to “buzz” someone in: a) you couldn’t tell if it was a human, b) 2-4 people would piggyback onto the 1950 Polaroid semi-zombie doing the buzzing, and c) all these visitors were traipsing through the kindergarten wing to make their way to the school office way down the hall in Bum-F Egypt. She didn’t like me, and the feelings were more than mutual.
Now 15 years later and Sandy Hook, there is a door monitor posted there all day running driver’s licenses through, printing visitor badges, monitoring a security camera system, and there are plans for the school offices to be relocated near the entrances.
In January 2015, I clocked over 20 hours during the holidays tapping out a 5-page long-winded letter painfully explaining the “emotional contagion” effect within our School District and Town as a whole. The only backers in agreement with me were the individuals with a conscience and moral compass, and we went straight to the top with our valid findings and concerns in regards to an investigation, only to be ignored or slowly dismissed. However, when I made it to the top, I met the Board of Finance Chairman. I shall name her Mizz Mouth because within seconds of being introduced she informed me she was also a lawyer to which I retorted, “Well, I’m a secretary.” All the while thinking to myself….hunny this shit went down on your watch Mizz Lawyer, and you’ve been the Chairman of Finance for our town for how many years? Clearly our findings had validity because Mizz Chairman of the Board of Finance aka Corruption submitted her resignation not long afterward and our Town’s 1st Selectman pulled the EZ-pass card of a town charter whereas the Town Governance and Board of Education are separate entities. I had to sign a waiver. Call me crazy, but you present facts of actual corruption, miss-use of resident’s tax money, the self-serving individuals serving on boards – all of which could be verified, and I’m asked to sign off on a waiver as if I’m the criminal. The only thing I achieved was a crash course in political veiling. As the French Prime Minister said, “Get used to incompetence of our leaders.”
The overall point of the letter was to enlighten the self-serving members of our Town Government and Board of Education to open their eyes, acknowledge the corruption, make it transparent, to help heal a very broken town.
*Self-Serving: I use this term often because it depicts those individuals who serve for the betterment of themselves versus that of the whole. They are individuals in it because they want something, they need to gain something. They are not humble and kind. They cheat, lie, are dishonest, and are able to justify and resolve any wrong doings within their heads to achieve their end goal.
I now see it as one of my hundreds of premonitions of what was yet to come. I even attached a video clip, “If we Could See Inside Others’ Hearts” to drill my point home and can be viewed below.
I compromised myself by speaking to someone of high authority about a racial profiling incident only for the individual affected to be patronized, hushed, and lied to right along with me. I know this travesty has gone on for years, but now it’s at a combustive stage all over the United States.
At Christmas, I wrote my blog post, “24 Hours and It’s Over.” A story of truth with the hope of lifting the stigma of mental illness and suicide. That was followed up by two posts written by a young man incarcerated for Heroin addiction.
Every week since there has been either a suicide or a heroin overdose, many of which were classmates of my children, children of people I’ve grown up with or a friend’s child. I began writing this blog post just a day prior to finding out Heroin took yet another victim….a family friend’s son.
Below is the video clip that accompanied the letter.
Below is an excerpt from that 5 page letter:
EmotionalContagion: “The tendency to express emotions similar to and influenced by those of others; also, the phenomenon of one person’s negative thoughts or anxiety affecting another’s mood.”
Every child should be entitled to a healthy school environment, and the nurturing help and guidance they need. The focus needs to be evenly distributed insuring NO child is ever left behind. Our educators should have the ability to focus on ALL students – regular education, special needs; identify the cutters, the attempted suicides, the ones using marijuana and heroin to escape their anxiety and mental disorders, children of alcoholic and abusive parents who try and run them over with a car, children with drug addicted parents and/or are incarcerated and/or broken homes, children who have lupus due to stress disorders, depression due to autoimmune diseases, parent suicide and/or death, sibling suicide and/or death, parent/sibling with cancer, and children who are struggling to understand their sexuality. Yes, these are descriptions of actual children residing in our town that no one wants to talk about, and I can get each one of them to write about how they survived, and which district employees impacted their lives in order to achieve survival. These children can be easily overlooked because they are sometimes average to good students yet are fighting internal battles each day; and wouldn’t necessarily reach out for the help they need because that would mean disclosure of dysfunctional families/parenting with subsequent reporting to DCF, use of illegal substances to self medicate, etc. Let’s also please include the regular education students who are entitled not to be left behind that also need the instruction to bring them to the next level of their education.
Every employee should be entitled to a healthy work environment; a place where they know what is expected of them; a structure they can work within that uses respectful communication, please and thank you, and showing appreciation for employee dedication and contribution. After all, our united goal is supposed to be for: THE BENEFIT OF THE CHILDREN. As the 4 minute video relays, each person has life events going on, both happy and sad, but work should be a place you are able to compartmentalize the personal, and focus on the job at hand. It seems like everybody is just trying to survive in a me, me, me world and overlooking the human aspect of trying to understand first, taking all things into consideration before reacting or passing judgment. Poor morale = no loyalty = poor productivity because there’s an attitude of no one cares anymore, and that is not a work environment conducive to educating children. After all, they do live what they learn.
Nobody cares. Nobody listens. So, that and much more is what I’ve been processing since National Marijuana Day, and those are only tiny snippits of things that have been bothersome. I won’t be voting for either criminal in the Presidential election because I’ll be staying in bed to pray that day for the younger generations if Drumpf or Killary get into office. The way I see America’s two choices:
Drumpf – Over 3,500 law suits, bribery of the Florida Attorney General and Texas Governor over Trump University. “When I want something, I get it. When I call, they kiss my ass.” Wow…..weeeeee no ego there. Mr. Andrew Tesoro, made a short video and tells how Donald Trump cheated his architecture firm out of thousands of dollars when it designed the clubhouse at the Trump National Golf Club in Briarcliff Manor, NY. Drumpf and and his “mob” brought in all the other vendors and tradespeople who worked on the golf club and they were all subjected to renegotiation of their fees after the job was complete. In my world, that’s called a threats and bullying. Drumpf is a power hungry, egotistical, narcissist with a thick coating of racism and bigotry. Need I say anymore?
Killary – Illegal International deals, murders, war-mongering, hundreds of classified emails that the FBI admittedly announced that she broke the law, treason, countless felonies. Need I say anymore?
I have become extremely appreciative and ultra sensitive to symbolism of our flag, the Pledge of Allegiance, to our veterans, and the freedom we used to enjoy. I’m sorry to say I took it for granted. I was sitting on my daughter’s porch this past weekend in upstate New York and heard “America The Beautiful” playing on the church bells a couple of blocks over, and I grabbed a kleenex probably knowing what’s coming down the pike. I’ve been coined a ‘witch,’ and I fully accept that. I’m a good witch 99% of the time lending a healing hand or ear for others. I’m a bat-shit crazy witch when faced with self-serving, lying, cheating, dishonest humans. That is not to say I haven’t made a shitboat of poor decisions and paid the price. They were all valuable life lessons leading me to exactly where I want to be and a better person because of it. Our world is so technologically advanced, yet so uneducated in appreciation for the magnificence of our world, it’s energies and what lessons lie within. I’m thankful for looking at it with fresh eyes of enlightenment.
My generation is on the back 9 in life. We fear for our children, the generation starting families, and for the children born into this angry, unraveling, and unsettled world. You can go on any number of social media sites to pull off tens of thousands of posts/statuses/quotes depicting the pulse of raw emotion. The simple, unfortunate truth is there is good and there is evil, and the scale keeps tipping to evil because each generation “lives what they learned.” Remember, we were all born with a clean slate.
If you get a minute listen to the lyrics of Tim McGraw’s song, Humble and Kind, the lyrics address the basic principles of being a decent human being.
Teach your children to love who they are no matter what. Everyone was born into this world with a purpose for however short or long that time may be. Learn from the “butterfly child.” Learn from a little girl named Lindsay who suffers from a rare disease called progeria. Watch the bond between David ‘The Beast’ Douglas, Semper Fi Ex-Marine/weight lifter and Lindsay. Racism is learned. Hate is learned. UNLEARN it.
Lastly, love yourself and be happy with being the crow because THINGS AREN’T ALWAYS AS THEY SEEM.
I began writing this while sitting in the ER for the second time in a month with my 88-year-old Father and umpteenth all-time record. After feeling the need to explain and justify every little dam…
The Word According to Be Hoxie (Hok-see) 