Sincerely, The Universe

Dear Jessica,

Now that you've changed all your elective classes to pre-law, I've decided to up the chaos factor in your life. You've really had that 4.0 far too long now.

First, I'd like you to stop sleeping. You kept on sleeping even with all those nightmares and I'm missing my quota for sleepless nights, so let's just skip sleeping all together and see how that plays out for you. I'm hoping this will have a ripple affect that increases the level of tension at home and decreases productivity at work. Little increase/decrease for you. The Universe giveth. The Universe taketh away.

I like how you're already doing a job that typically is delegated as four individual, full-time positions but I want to add another. Think you can learn web site design and build one in 2 weeks? No, hmmmm...you better or you might lose your job. It's still a no on the professional liability insurance and still a big fat yes on you going to jail if there's a problem.

I asked everyone to bombard you with questions and demand immediate answers. You have no hope of balancing that...but you are a fast learner so....you also have to develop that companion manual to the one that took you a year to complete. I'll give you 3 weeks to do that one but we'll talk about that more after I give you a blood clot.

Oh and clean your house, you have company coming.

So listen, your parents are moving away so there goes your entire system of support. It's cool though because you've already been so marginalized that you're beginning to accept you're in this all on your own anyway. I even gave you those cheerleaders who accept no responsibility for their role in anything so that you could be reminded daily about it. They promise to fill up that half empty glass but then just drink all the water when you're not looking. HA!

I think you're doing excellent. Perfect form in your downward spiral. I can tell by the way you stay up at night thinking about all this stuff that you're really committed. Way to concentrate!

Can't wait for you to fail! Make it epic!

Love, The Universe

The Argument Asshole

There's always that person who just has to take it too far. The one who can't just have a tiff or an argument without elevating it to a level above and beyond necessary.

Actually "insure" and "ensure" are both grammatically correct. Oh yeah, was your mom grammatically correct when she got knocked up by your alcoholic deadbeat father?

Umm...

Really the fastest way to discredit yourself in an argument is to pull the asshole card. Reasonable and appropriate; don't go all shock and awe on me. We were talking about dinner plans, why you gotta bring my self-esteem issues into this?!? It just solidifies to me that you weren't right and really had no chance of being right in this conversation so you took it too far. Desperation creates assholes. Seriously, God was like "what do I do with all this poop? Aha! Let there be assholes."

That's how it happened. Look it up.

I think that was pretty inconsiderate not to call first. Well, I think it's pretty inconsiderate how fat and disgusting you are.

What the hell?

My point is, yeah maybe you were successful in shutting down the argument but you lost respect in the process. Some things should just be off limits in arguments and if you don't have a "don't go there zone," then you're the argument asshole.

Long after I forgotten whether I was right or wrong and even the topic of the argument; I'll remember that you took it too far. Impressions last longer than specifics. I'm not going to go, "Oh, she was so right in calling me a psychotic whore when we were arguing about whether I returned her DVD." No really, I'm not. Neither would you.

So it doesn't matter if you brought notarized letters of support, a team of top Korean scientists, a stack of Bibles and your own wiki answer page to this argument; the second you go too far, you're peddling snake oil and hello fallacious!

You just say that because you don't want to admit that I'm right. Don't try to use my outrage at your assholeness as support of you being right. Stop talking. It's disgusting to watch as an asshole talk. I don't listen to them spew rhetoric.

Demands for Tacos

I want to complain because they wouldn't give me no tacos.

I'm sorry...tacos?

Yeah, taaa-co-ssss

Did they say why?

They said it was because they weren't servin tacos.

So you wanted something they weren't serving?

Yes. I asked for tacos and they said no. That's bullshit. I want a taco!

I'm sorry you could not get your taco Sir. Did they offer you something that they were serving?

It wasn't no taco!

So noted, but you did get something to eat?

Yeah but I didn't like it. Made my stomach sick. And I felt all like I was gonna throws up.

What was it?

A hot messes.

They fed you a hot mess?

Yeah, when I wanted me a damn taco.

Ok...so...how can we correct this situation for you?

I wants tacos on their menu! Just because we poor doesn't mean we's don't enjoy a nice taco everyone once in a time.

Understandable. I'll pass the request along. Thanks for bringing this issue to our attention.

You are welcome ma'am.

I Don't Know How To Respond To That

Just like your office, everyone in my office is on a diet. They have been for years.

One of the medications I take interferes with my appetite. I don't feel hungry. No, I will not sell you my medication. The dieters were curious about how I was being so successful. When they ask how, for whatever reason, I lie. I guess saying that I've been eating better and trying to watch my weight sounds better than the medication for ADD makes me forget to eat because I'm so gosh darn focused on everything else. Haha fuckers! Too bad you can't take it too!

See...that's not nice.

On top of that, I was throwing up for several days straight and then in the hospital. Which amounted to a loss of nearly 15 lbs. So yeah, I do look different than I did 2 weeks ago. HOLLA!

Not really...I'm pretty sure that given some fluids and a couple of decent meals and it'll all come back. Which I'm completely fine with. But, of course, the dieters are enthralled. So while they line up at the microwave to eat their tiny Lean Cuisine lunches, they ask, "How do you do it?"

Vomit. Enjoy.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Blood Clot

Here's the full story...

Last Sunday I get mega-sick. Yep, death metal sick. I throw up straight on into Tuesday before finally going to an urgent care clinic. There I get 2 IVs of fluid some anti-nausea meds and instructions to spend the rest of the week at home. So of course, I go to work on Thursday. But I'm feeling all blah and ick still. My mom convinces me to go to my regular doctor and see what the deal is.

The doc does a little exam and decides that while my tummy tenderness isn't exactly a ruptured organ per se, they want send me over to the hospital for a CT scan. Actually they send me to the wrong office next to the hospital who's staff I cried in front of when they said they couldn't do the scan. I cry when I'm sick. It'll be a theme through this story.

I finally get to the right place and have to drink the Orange Cream milkshake of Eww. Then I have to sit for 2 hours while it ewws its way through my system. Keep in mind, this is the first thing that I've ingested besides water and a half bowl of chicken noodle soup I ate on Monday. Awesome? Yes. Now I'm having to wait on a CT scan that will take God-knows-how-long with a drink that is doing God-knows-what to my insides.

I have the scan...right before the tech tried to start an IV that actually squirted my blood about a foot into the air onto his shirt and my face. I thought that only happened in movies. Cry. Once the scan is complete I have to go sit back in the little waiting room all by myself with only my hideous stomach ache to keep my company. Thank goodness that bathroom is right across the hall. Not thank goodness that the security guard locked the door while I was in the bathroom so that I couldn't get back inside. Not that anyone was looking for me. Cry.

So I wait and wait and wait. Cry. It's 10 pm now.

The tech finally comes and tells me that they can't get in touch with my regular doc but can't release me because of something on my scan. Cry. But I'm sure it's just all that orange cream poopiness. But another hour passes and still nothing. And then the radiologist calls me in.

We've found a blood clot in your abdomen. We can't let you go home. You'll be going to the ER.

So I start crying. I'm tried. I really had no idea what she actually said. I wanted to go home. I heard I couldn't go home.

You have a blood clot in your tummy honey. You have to go to the ER now.

I ask if I can go to McDonald's first. I just wanted a coke. And maybe some time to plot how to incapacitate that skinny ass orderly and make a run for it. But they left my IV port in. I'm not so movie drama bold to rip it out and run. So McD's and then the ER. Right after a quick tear.

How the hell are you only going to have ONE BATHROOM in the ER? Seriously, what kind of sadistic layout is that? And it's co-ed? Screw you Northside. I have to use it after the kid with the severed thumb and the guy who threw up all over the floor. Suddenly I'm not so keen on eating this McDonald's anymore. Or my sense of smell. Gross. Yep, cried over that too.

Basically it's 2 am and I don't have an effing clue what's going on. The ER nurses are so excited about my situation. Did you hear about the girl in 26? Yeah, came in for a CT for appendicitis and found a blood clot in her pulmonary artery! No way? Way! But I don't get it at all. It's a CT scan. Isn't it supposed to find stuff like this?

See my original sickness has nothing to do with the blood clot. In fact, it's just weird, miraculous timing. If I hadn't still been so sore from the vomiting, I would've never gone to my doctor who would've never have ordered the CT to check for appendicitis. They never would've found the clot and I would've just dropped dead.

The clot dislodges, travels through the heart, into the lungs and then you are dead.

They put me on bed rest for 24 hours. They come and take near-excessive amounts of my blood to run tests. They send some to special labs out of state. It's rare this blood clot. I'm too young. It's placement in the abdomen is so strange.

It's in the abdomen. Not the legs? Oh shit! That's so close to her heart. POP! I know, I know man...crazy! She only came in for a CT.

Apparently blood clots are unstable the first 24 hours after they've formed. They don't have tight, clotty holds on the walls so they dislodge, travel through the heart, into the lungs and then you are dead.

You'll have to inject Lovenox directly into your abdomen. Then you wait until the Coumadin kicks in. You'll need a medical alert bracelet. You'll need regular blood monitoring. Call the nurse immediately if you feel x, y, z.

Quite frankly, I'm terrified. I maybe almost died. I maybe almost die every time I sit up or go to the bathroom. I'll maybe die even if everything goes exactly like it's supposed to.

Blood clots are unpredictable. It's a balance.

I never wanted to almost die. I don't want to actually die. Suddenly I'm faced with both. I mean, my God, I'm only 28. My daughter is 5! She's just a baby!

I'm afraid of the mere seconds it takes for a blood clot to dislodge, travel through the heart, into the lungs before I die. I'm afraid of them happening and of their looming. I want to be alone and with everyone all at once.

Thank you to everyone who is praying for me.

Focus Only On The Sound Of My Voice

Not every skill should be available to everyone. Some trade secrets need to stay just that - secret. There really isn't a need for DIY Surgery. So I am emphatically opposed to self-hypnosis as a relaxation technique.

According to this website self-hypnosis is, "often more practical as a stress management tool than normal hypnosis as you do not need to have a hypnotist present."

Maybe I've been confused on what the role of a hypnotist is exactly. Aren't they the ones that bring you out of the hypnotic blackness? Couldn't you potentially put yourself into a hypnotic coma? Didn't you see Awakenings?! That reference doesn't make a lot of sense but I still like it! I mean, I can't even follow a recipe much less be trusted to hypnotize myself!

What happened to Jessica? Hypnosis gone horribly wrong. So sad.

The worst thing that happens when I screw up dinner is we order pizza.

How effing cheap are some people? What's your plan in case you get locked inside your own mind? Do you leave a note? In trance, if not back in 30 minutes, clap twice.

Who knows what the repercussions are of botched hypnotises! I could think I was a chicken. Or allergic to my own skin. Or K.D. Lang. Holy crap! Scary!

I read about this guy who was practicing hypnotism but accidentally mojo'd himself. Thankfully his wife has the number of some other hypnotist, called him and he brought the husband out of his entranced state. First, what the hell dude? Second, yay wifey! But what the hell kind of uber-hypnotist can unhynotize someone over the phone?!? That guy should be some sort of super secret government weapon. Seriously, some sort of carnie version of the Justice League. He could enslave millions just by calling them. It's the network. BTW, I've decided this guy looks like Mothra dressed in a magician's outfit. Or like the lead singer of Judas Priest but that's probably because of the whole hidden messages thing.

Some things are just better left to the professionals...as it were.

10,000 Fireflies by OWL

You know what 10,000 Fireflies isn't? A love song. Seriously, that's an infestation. A sign of impending Apocalypse. The End of Days.

Don't come at me singing a song about bugs and calling it love. Unless I'm an entomologist. Then it might be appropriate. Big might (mite).

I wonder what that band's creative process was like. Like did they just sit down to write a song about bugs? Yeah guys, girls will just swoon with this little number.

TEN THOUSAND FIREFLIES!

OMG Becky, he sang to me about bugs! He totally loves me!! We're meant to be together.

Is this was passes for romance these days? I don't care if I do sound like a grumpy old fart. This bug song is bullshit. People are afraid of bugs! Even more afraid of swarms of bugs!!

Hey baby, I'm gonna swarm all over you like thousands of creepy crawlers.

Gross.

Take Cover! It's a Brain Storm!

Recently it occurred to me that my thought process might look a lot like a psychotic episode. The reason it occurred to me is because while trying to remember a persons name, I put my thumbs on my temples. Not so crazy sounding right? Except I left my fingers at full extension. Kinda like moose antlers. Hardy-har-har...I'ma thinkin' moose!

I stare in space a lot while thinking. I think in pictures. Or think words in pictures. What the eff does that mean?? I'm explaining it poorly. Way to sound not crazy...jeez. Either way I imagine the sentence before I write it or say it. I thought I read somewhere once that thinking like that was a sign of genius. But maybe it was a sign of autism. Imagine how smart I'd be if my parents never vaccinated me! Provided I lived through the measles and chickenpox.

BTW, I used to think measles was an illness you caught from weasels. Like salmonella from turtles only with a cuter play on the words.

Building an excellent case for not being psychotic aren't I? Whatever. I share. You indulge.

So yeah, I talk to myself. Inner voice only with outward facial expressions. Outer me and inner me fight a lot. Inner me says we're BFF4L and that no one will ever know me like inner me knows me...but I gotta say...inner me is full of shit. She just says stuff like that. Really, I bring it on myself. I make her mad. Really, my self-confidence is so clumsy. It fell down the stairs and got all bruised.

And wow...yep...ALL's normal there...

Be more worried about people who think they have angels and demons on either shoulder. Seriously, unless you're wearing Dan Brown books as shoulder pads, that's not true. Those people are psychotics. Burn them at the stake. Psychokabob.

At least I know my voice is inside and you know...me. I will not acknowledge a demon version of me because that's just tempting fate isn't it? Vampires can't come in unless you invite them; demon me isn't real unless I say so. I don't think I would wear a demon well anyway. Not to mention, they're probably impossible to accessorize.

Well whatever. I write this blog so I can have my thoughts to look at later. Because I am nutty enough to want to review my own thinking so that I can...well, I guess rethink them. Like I'm spending my life's work on the study of me. I bet you could get a grant for that. God, how narcissistic would that research be! Not to mention totally stellar and genius. Steven Hawking would look like a creepy paralyzed man-worm next to genius like that. Get down off that high horse before it throws you and breaks your neck! Oh wait, that was Christopher Reeves. All people in wheelchairs look the same. My bad. That's why I walk.

Nurse Jane's Version of Help

Thanks for calling. This is Jane. How can I help you?

I called last week to have your office call in a prescription for me. It's a year long prescription but it ran out of refills...

Yes ma'am. That's because you need to come in for your annual appointment.

Right...I know that. But you couldn't work me in until May 17th. So I need the prescription from now until May.

I'm showing that we called it in last week.

I know. I'm saying you called in a 30 day supply. Through the end of March.

Yes ma'am.

Ok...but May 17th is more than 30 days from now. it's like 65 days from now. So I need at least 2 refills. Well, 3.

We can't refill your prescription until after your annual visit.

Jane, it's YOUR office that can't see me until May 17th. I'm not blowing you guys off. I tried! You picked May 17th; not me!

Does that date not work for you now?

Not if you're going to hold my prescription hostage!

Well, let's see...it looks like the earliest opening will be May 21st at 3 pm. Would you like to book that?

Are you serious? Seriously...are you serious?

I'm sorry?

YOU can't see me sooner. YOU won't give me a refill and now YOU are suggesting I come even later than my already far off and obviously not workable appointment date! I need the prescription to make it UNTIL May. UNTIL MAY!! Give it!

You're prescription has expired has it?

........yes..........

Totally fine. I'll go ahead and call in 3 refills and we'll see you on May 21st.

No, wait! I didn't change the date of the appointment!

You said it wasn't working for you?

Are we having the same conversation?!?

Ma'am?

Just keep it on the 17th. Call in the 3 refills. Thanks.

Muted Failure

This is so awesome because I'm paranoid about the mute button working on conference calls and this is exactly why...

Hey Jessica, I'm going to put you on mute while we wait for the rest of the participants. Sure, no problem.

Press mute button. FAILURE to mute and resulting unmuted awfulness.

Listen, I've only got a couple of minutes here because I need to do this stupid conference call. I hate these people. Whatever, anyway babe, I had a good time last night. You really turned it out. How about you come by my place for lunch and we can f*ck all over the house? Oh yeah...really? Come after this. I'll text you when I've finished with these idiots.

Just so you know - I laughed so hard during this that I snorted, twice. Only he didn't hear it because despite being labeled and idiot I know how to use MY mute button. It was so God-awful awkward, I wanted to just hang up so I could be released from epic uncomfortableness. But of course I didn't because this is AWESOME!

So what do I do? These guys are trying to get us as a client. Lots of money. Big partnership. Only I now know he hates us (or at least me) and that instead of working on our project, he's going to do the nasty all over his house.

Ultimately I decide he needs to know I know and send him an email...

For future reference, mute is *4 on the conference line. If you knew that already, I suggest next time you press a little harder to make sure it takes so that other conference call participants don't have to listen to your personal conversation about the rest of your daily activities. And please don't interpret my use of "next time" as confirmation of a future business relationship between my organization and yours.

Good Thing Numbers are Infinite Because I'm Counting the Ways I Hate You

Ever hate someone you don't even know? It's probably the same person I hate. That lady from accounting that always ticks you off, the cleaning person who puts your trash can in your chair instead of back where it was, airline employees, rude drivers, etc. It's probably all one, really busy, awful person. God how I hate them!

Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like running into them. Like oh...hey, you're so-in-so? Yeah. I HATE you! And then going all rabid spider monkey on her stupid horse face. Sweet.

Or I think about appealing to their sense of morals. You know, a little tug at the heartstrings. Not so hard they pop loose - that belongs in the fantasy above - but enough to have them drown in eternal sadness and pain for what they did to me. Though her fatness would probably keep her afloat. I mean...whatever your hated person looks like would do that...yeah...so...anyway...

I wonder if there are more people out there who hate this person as much as I do. How many people have been fundamentally affected by this one person. We could start a support group. One million strong and counting.

Mostly I think about how lovely it would be to just rip this person out of existence. And a little on how to make that actually happen. Should I donate to MIT for the Never Existed research? Or in building a giant laser to burn her skin off? Seething hate lasers would be awesome!

What makes hated people so hated is their continued presence long after they're gone. That guy cut me off and drove away but I'm still pissed about it 20 miles later. I'll never see that guy again (if he's lucky). You'll probably never run into that Indian customer service rep who screwed up your billing cycle. But if you go so far as to buy a plane ticket to India, you need to check yourself.

And I'll probably not run into that repulsive excuse for a woman. Hell, she's a repulsive excuse for a donkey. She'd probably be better off with the Seething Hate Laser. I'm pretty sure annihilate her verbally and maybe even physically.

Just like you would do to that person you hate. And if your person is in India, long dead or whatever, please feel free to take out your hate one the person I hate since we decided back at the beginning that they're all the same anyway.

Revenge We Can Admire in a Dirty Way

Everyone hates their job right now. Crappy bosses, crazy payroll lady, wonky coworkers, people with foul language and mental disorders and so on. Too much wrong; too little being done about it.

Never fear though, I'm here to cheer you up with the BEST story of workplace revenge ever. Sadly, I can't be specific but it's still a damn good story.

I used to work for a woman who owned 3 stores in Atlanta. The managers and the assistant managers (me!) rotated around between the 3 stores. The boss made our lives hell with ridiculous policies and would change her mind on what she previously said about something and then tell you it never happened.

The other store (#2) had a crazy employee. Like bat shit nutzo and we were all afraid of her. She would do the weirdest things but whenever anyone complained, Boss lady wouldn't do anything about it. That is until crazy employee threw chinese food on sane coworker while sane coworker was trying to go potty. Sane coworker leaves the store, calls boss lady and explains what happened. I learn later that sane coworker also threatened to call DOL which prompted boss lady to take the following action and terminate crazy employee.

Only boss lady has epic failure in common sense. She calls up the crazy, tells her that this is her last night working for this company, to close up and drop the keys back inside the mail slot. Yeah....really...

In case you don't know this...you don't fire someone and still let them mind the store. Because they're mad now and they've been crazy and that's how bad shit happens. Literally.

The call I get the next morning at store #1 went something like this, "Jessica...um, could you...um...come over here? Something is really wrong. We can't go in."

So, I drive my happy, unsuspecting butt over to the other store. Blissfully unaware of crazy employee being fired and entirely ignorant of what I was about to witness.

THAT CRAZY ASS EMPLOYEE SMEARED HER OWN SHIT ALL OVER THAT STORE!

Yeah...really...ALL OVER. The counter, the wall, the cash register, the floor, a little brown dollop on each piece of merchandise and on the keys she dropped back through the poopy mail slot.

Do you know what it's like to see something like that? It's incomprehensible. And very brown. What kind of lunatic would do something like that?? How did she make so much poop??

Who do you call in such an emergency? Damn straight - Boss Lady.

She shit your store. What? Her poop is everywhere. Well, clean it up!

Oh hell no. NO. NOPE. NO. I don't touch poop. Especially not crazy poop. No ma'am.

She ended up having to hire a haz-mat team to come clean the store. I quit soon after that because she gave her girlfriend the day off instead of me even though I had finals at school and had given her the dates almost 8 months in advance.

But I didn't leave any special surprises.

You'll NEVER Guess Who's Gay!

Guess! You'll never guess!

I didn't know this was a game. It seems like it would either be so obvious like "You'll Never Guess Who's Black" or really inane like "You'll Never Guess Who Has AB+ Blood Type."

I bet you can't guess who it is! I'm not going to guess.

Seriously, I don't care. Whoever it is that you're sexuality stalking could arrive on a rainbow of glitter with RuPaul songs announcing their entrance. Or they can come in an old Honda, wearing muted colors. Maybe a mobile closet of which to step out of at every destination. Seriously. I. Don't. Care.

I just find it SO fascinating that X - OF ALL THE PEOPLE - is gay.

That's the opposite of fascinating. Are you fascinated that people are Asian? Of all the people - HE is Asian? I'm from the not-a-choice standpoint. Born gay. Born Asian. Born you.

I'm just saying...I'm surprised.

So? What are you? An MC? Is it you job to go warm up the crowd on someones sexuality? Next to the stage ladies and gentlemen is the gayest gay in town! On your feet! When I say "GAY," you say "WHO"

Never would've known it just by looking at X.

Well, I never would've known you were retarded just by looking at you. It's been a learning experience for all of us.

The Gospel of Paul

First, let me point out the irony of this challenge being set before me by someone who grew up in a liquor store.

You’ve never read the Bible all the way through? Nope. Wow, I thought everyone had. Not me. Weird…sometimes you’re so smart and then other times you got nothing.

See, it wasn’t a direct challenge but it was a pride challenge. He didn’t even mean it that way. It wasn’t an insult. It was a – to use a biblical term – revelation. Regardless, I’m tempted and overcome with that sin about pride (I study).

Bottom line…I really don’t know that much about the Bible. I know there are different versions which I’ve assumed was mostly based on which King of England wanted to sin in a particular way so he switched up the script(ure). The Hebrew Bible really has a whole different spin on things, yet still includes the same cast.

God, Heaven, Earth, animals, 7 days and nights, Adam, rib, Eve, snake, apple. Somewhere in between Adam, his rib and Eve, God rested. It’s the original union mandated break. Even Heaven has policies and procedures.

Ok so Eve eats the apple and the Garden of Eden withers and dies. People speak gibberish. God gets all bent and floods creation. Noah builds an ark, somehow animal whisperers 2 of everything onto it and the sinners sink like stones.

Perhaps Noah didn’t know about Eve’s snake. If he did, he probably would’ve just made the executive decision to leave them off the ark. Even in biblical times, dissemination of information was a problem. Der, people spoke gibberish. Noah maybe didn’t understand the gibberistic warning about snakes.

Here’s where things get a little squirrely for me…I’m not sure what happens next exactly, so let's just skip to the Jesus part.

Mary is a virgin and Joseph is one understanding dude. They’re on a trip and looking for a place to stay but the inns are all booked up. Perhaps there was a convention in town. Off to the manger, baby Jesus, angels with a star, 3 Kings, weird presents, Merry Christmas and….next thing you know (or I guess I know), Jesus is curing lepers and has an entourage.

Someone – I’ve always assumed the King but of where I don’t know – doesn’t like Jesus, he’s sold out by a disciple and crusification. Followers take him down, wrap him in a shroud that’s later proven to be a fraud, put him in a cave and seal it with a boulder. But he escapes! He is Risen. And somehow this is now Easter.

Somewhere before or in the middle of all this, Moses talks to a burning bush, chisels out some tablets, walks through the desert and parts the Red Sea. There’s super-efficient lamp oil and that’s where the number of candles on a menorah come from…at least I think so.

Ever wonder why Moses doesn’t have a day? Think about it. He should’ve gotten Employee of the Month from Heaven Corp., LLC. Maybe the next seat over from Jesus’ at the right hand of God.

And that’s it. That’s all I really know about the Bible. I have to say before I started trying to write it out, I never thought about the Bible starting before Jesus. Then I realized that I’ve always equated the Bible to being something like Jesus’ biography. So it never made sense to me that he wasn’t there right at the beginning or that it went on after his death.

I will read the Bible. Or at least a good summary version. Maybe a pop-up book.

Myself Assessment

Every tried to take a self-assessment? They suck rocks. Hey look – here are all of your flaws! Here are the reasons you aren’t likeable!

I managed to ruin my own morning. In addition to all the not so fabulous things the assessment points out, I’m also dumb for taking it. So what good is the assessment? Apparently they’re made for other people. You get to read what I’m like in a way that I can’t articulate. Then you can use it to judge me. Maybe even cite it in arguments. It's an assessment tool for you.

Either way, personal/professional development right? Buddha says that you cannot become a good person without the knowledge of bad things. He also gives out lottery numbers. Take it or leave it.

If you looked up only child in the dictionary, my picture would be there. It would also be next to cliché.

Only children tend to be confident, perfectionist, organized, ambitious, logical and scholarly. Ooo, that’s me TOTALLY. Doesn’t sound so bad does it? Though only children can be self-centered, it is not to the extreme that the existing stereotypes indicate. So I’m self-centered but not stereotypically so? Is that a good thing?

Furthermore, only children take some of these traits, namely perfectionism, into their interpersonal relationships. This results in high expectations for anyone an only child comes in contact with. I believe this would be called “psychological projection.” I’m not exactly sorry I expect the best from others, yet I can concede that asking the impossible is unfair.

To feel socially self-conscious, and value privacy, from growing up being the sole focus of unrelenting parental scrutiny. I am not socially self-conscious. I think I’m funny and interesting. I am clumsy so I do worry about falling down. And I do value privacy; even with over things that should not matter to keep secret. But shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

To be sensitive to disapproval and be self-critical when evaluated standards of conduct and performance are not met. I’m harder on myself than you or anyone else could be. I’ve already thought of it so your comments are just mean. Obviously this doesn’t work in the realm of constructive criticism does it? Note taken.

To like social attention from being the center of family attention at home. Well that doesn’t sound like a socially self-conscious freak does it? Damn straight.

To be emotionally sensitive from being used to the emotionally sensitive and sensitized relationship with parents. Yep, we used to have emotionally sensitive night. Everyone get together and be downright sensitive at least twice a month. Maybe I’ll have an emotionally sensitive family reunion. Everyone has matching Kleenex boxes.

To prefer order and constancy to surprise and change from parents who often organize family life based on planning and predictability. It’s a control issue. I like to be in control. Who are these people who live in chaos? Hippies.

To prefer the company of a "family" of a few close friends to being a social butterfly, from being used to the close and satisfying companionship of parents. Actually, I like to convince myself that all of my friends don’t like me at least every few months. That sounds a lot like manic paranoia. Let’s pause while I take some pills…

To be strong-willed (stubborn and persistent) from being given to and being given into from parents who want to support and empower the child when they responsibly can. Oh whatever! It really is too darn bad my parents didn’t just not love me and demoralize me more. Then I could get along better with everyone else. If that’s what it takes, no thank you.

To be deeply knowing of parents from the family intimacy they have shared, their good sides and not so good. Quite frankly…I was apparently a stupid child. Or at least not very aware. Can you grow out of autism? I might be some sort of miracle. Seriously, I don’t remember stuff like this.

To feel strongly attached to parents, often carrying a sense of obligation and responsibility for their care. This can’t be exclusive to only children. What? Do middle children drop their parents off at the old folks’ home at the first sign of dementia? I’d rather be stubborn and selfish than be like those evil middle children.

To be uncomfortable with conflict from not having the rough and tumble, push and shove competition with siblings, or much serious disharmony with parents. I’m not uncomfortable with conflict. Refer back…I think I’m right all the time. I don’t mind helping you understand how right I am. Bring on those fightin’ words.

To have a strong sense of what is "right" and "wrong" from closely identifying with parental standards and values. Which then I apparently force upon others who cannot live up to my impossible standards of right and/or wrong. It’s a wonder only children haven’t been shipped off to a remote island where we torture one another and finally cannibalize.

To be ambitious to achieve from wanting to live up to parental expectations and to invest in themselves to do well for themselves. And the problem here is? Oh right, there’s not one. GO ME!

To be as seriously responsible and conscientious and careful as the parents who, in their parenting, have been that way with the child. True. I want that from others too. Projection.

To be possessive of significant belongings (from not having to share) but also possessive of sufficient space and time alone for themselves. This is 100% true. I can’t even defend it. I don’t like sharing. Screw sharing, especially now that we’re adults. Get a job and buy your own if you want it so badly.

To have a low susceptibility to peer pressure from being highly committed to self-interest. First of all, my mom will COMPLETELY disagree with this point. She blames all my “wrong crowd” friends for my behavior as a teenager. I am a secure adult. I like me. I do what I want. You should too. No pressure though…but do it. Really.

To have and pursue a strong sense of personal agenda for themselves and be independent in that way. So I want to be perfect and successful. Can’t hold me down.

To be obedient to social authority from the mattering of parental approval and from learning early how to get on well with adults. Honest Abe.

To be prone to stress from self-imposed pressure for right conduct, responsible behavior, and high accomplishment, not being relaxed and laid back on that account. Someone called me laid back recently. They were obviously a retard. Do it, did it, done. FUPM.

To be high controlling from being anxious about making mistakes and not measuring up to high performance standards she or he has set. This is something I know is a problem. I know it is. As far as I’m concerned I have the vocabulary of a squirrel and the social grace of Helen Keller. Perfection is inspirational. Inspiring is success. Squirrels are rodents.

To be reluctant to share joint decision-making in relationships where the outcome could affect his or her well being. OBVIOUSLY! Only children have control issues. Joint decisions are joint control which is half of the control I am comfortable with.

To know how to be content with his or her own company from spending a lot of time in the family alone. Somehow this has translated into me not wanting to be around others. I don’t feel the compulsion to go and do. Other people have that gotta get out of the house. I think…I ponder…I muse. My inner voice and I bicker.

Just One Second While I Get Out My Soapbox

QUICK! Find me a stump! Something! I NEED SOMETHING TO STAND ON!

Apparently I need diagrams and signs. Maybe even a puppet show. Hypnotist? Stiff drink too.

YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! That's right. Read it twice Mister! Come with me to the mountain top and hear the words. Today you need to hear and learn. Or so help me God I will push you right off this figurative mountain top and then stomp all over you when I hike back down!

This is not where you belong. You, Sir, do not belong with people. Or animals. Or insects. You don't belong with flowers or beauty. In fact, you probably only really belong in Hell but I'm pretty sure they'd kick you out for being such a proposterous ass.

How can you hate people? Especially here. I mean...aren't you a people too? It's almost more than hate. You have some uber-evilness that rolls off of you. You're an automatic evil dispenser. Wouldn't it hurt you if you were treated so poorly by others?

I don't care if your mommy didn't love you enough when you were little and you were a latch key kid. GROW UP. I wouldn't love someone like you if I was your mommy either. I probably wouldn't even give you little ass keys to the empty house!

Go work where you can't hurt people. This isn't your calling. No one has called you. Certainly not a higher power. SOMEONE SHOULD SMITE YOU! Thrice.

You're a charlatan. My God - of which you are most certainly not a man of - would never seek out someone like you.

11:00 AM Service, Noon Incensed

I don't even need a good reason to skip going to church. I'm a member of a church in Buckhead so it's kind of a commute to drive there every Sunday. So finding a church closer to home seemed like an excellent idea.

First, we try to drop Lillian off in the classrooms prior to the 11 am service. The girl with the lisp and at least 8 non-working pens tells us she'll be in the classroom right down the hall. Hmmm...did you see all those people with Down Syndrome?

10:50 rolls around, we try to drop Lillian off but apparently there's no class in that room at 11. We have to go to some other building to drop her off in that classroom. Too bad no one told the lisp that. Why are there so many people with Down Syndrome here?

So off we go up the hill to find some mysterious door hidden behind a tree truck (seriously, that's what the lady said) to drop Lillian off. It really was behind a tree trunk. Up yet another set of stairs (this being staircase #5) thru the dining room (where they were having a blood drive!)and to the desk for signing in your kid. BUT THIS LADY SAYS that we have to go back to the other building to the classroom where we just came from.

Ever yelled at someone in church? I came really close right then. But it only gets better.

Lillian gets to stay in that building so off we go back through the blood-letting dining room, down and up several sets of stairs and past the 5th or 6th person with Down Syndrome. Hmmm...

Like I said, this is the first time at this church. We didn't really know anything about it...like that there would be general confusion over where the kids are kept, that there would be a noticable amount of people with mental retardation or where to sit so that we were not in the midst of them.

I'm hot from all the stair climbing, annoyed at the kid situation and utterly unaware that I just sat myself down in the "Retards Only" section.

So look, I'm a traditionalist. I don't like the jumbo screens in church or a choir that sits down while singing the Lord's Prayer. Stand up! I don't want to sit and listen to how much money your youth group raised to do something in Africa. Especially if you're not going to mention Jesus, God or where the hell all these people with Down Syndrome came from at least ONCE during the whole "sermon."

And I surely don't want to do all that listening to the money you raised and the good you're doing while flipping through your GIANT, full-color church bulletin WHILE smelling the farts of my retarded pew partners!

Nor do I want to watch a bunch of people with chronic drool issues try to take Communuion!

When I went to pick up Lillian she said they learned about how God had all the money and he didn't want to share and how to fight off bad guys.

I actually left church on Sunday angry.