Need to cancel an outing. Thought I’d be nice. But when you’re made to feel like you owe someone because they were nice to you, nope. Bully. Rather be alone than wish I were. Rather be alone than be a victim and yes, I am that concerned.
Bloom where you’re planted
February 16th, 2017, 9:37 AM by GoddessI drive by a church every day that always has inspirational posts like the one in the headline.
It’s almost as good as Harry’s Banana Farm, which usually pokes fun at local politicians. Now that Shit for Brains (SFB) has gone from local yokel to “45” (since I can’t say or type his name without retching), he’s fair game.
Apparently living down here means having something to protest every weekend, since SFB insists on dragging his wife out of New York and coming here to their resort and conducting national business IN PUBLIC. Sigh.
I wish they could ship me up to D.C. for the weekend, since I’d feel safer going into it without him there.
I’m blooming, all right. Surrounded by blooming idiots where I’m planted.
Added to my daily gratitude list …
February 14th, 2017, 9:39 AM by Goddess1. That Cinderella got out of the castle yesterday (although that particular pumpkin almost got squashed by a stepsister who clearly doesn’t want the chimney unmanned).
2. That Cinderella spent half the night sweeping the damn chimney and thank God because that stepsister wants a whole bunch of time today rather than letting Cinderelly get back to the new chores that have since piled up.
Type-dancing
February 12th, 2017, 7:58 PM by GoddessI accepted a friend request I probably shouldn’t have.
The timing of its arrival was odd, since I broke up with him on a Valentine’s Day 20-some years ago.
Most years, I blame my lack of good Valentine’s Days on that unfortunately timed breakup. Which was accelerated by my being stuck at work till near-midnight and me not having anything resembling restraint toward this guy who nicely changed the dinner reservation THREE TIMES so he could take me out when I was finally free.
But being back in contact has brought it all back, why separate ways were the only ways.
I worry about decisions before I make them. And by worry, I mean agonize. So that when I make them, I am good. No regrets. So I have never thought about it since. Until now.
I got to thinking about why the universe brought us together in the first place. What lesson was I to learn, other than that I really don’t like to date men all that much? (I get that it’s “certain men.” Or ones with master’s degrees from my alma mater. Or anyone else who has stolen my air from the room. Which is all of them.)
It got me to thinking about a friend who says he has a type. Skinny, exotic-looking chicks are his thing.
But what’s my type?
This guy was probably a good example. Tall — over 6 feet. Sagittarius, give or take a few days. Dark hair. Democrat all the damn way. (And Dems do it better. I have irrefutable proof.) And apparently men who get their undergrad at the same school because I would go on to meet THAT person a couple years later.
And THAT person? Ruined me for the rest. I mean, not on purpose. But I know to beware tall, dark and handsome Democrats who spent four years in Morgantown, W.Va.
I got to thinking about types when it came to people to hire. You know, with suitors right at your door and you’re like, hmm, never went out with this kind. I could experiment or I can go back to what I know “works.”
Wish I had a few more princes to pick from. I’m sure my type is out there somewhere. And he’ll take my breath away, like the others did.
And maybe there’s happiness to be found with more of an archetype, as it were, than a type. (I know they aren’t antonyms. But I feel like I have to say it because America’s IQ is dropping and I’m afraid Cheeto Benito will have all the dictionaries and literature burned. Then us pink-hatted witches are next.)
In any event, I am getting the idea I am going to be alone for a while longer during the day and unfortunately the night. But I’d be lying if I said I minded all the space, glorious space. And that unquestionably started 20 years ago when I wanted (and eventually, after multiple tries, got) my freedom … and only once wanted to let it go.
As we all know, that didn’t stick.
And if anything were truly meant to be, I think the massive amount of space between me and everyone else is it.
One day
February 10th, 2017, 8:15 AM by GoddessOne day I will call my momma to tell her that I got a promotion or a raise or a special recognition or a bonus trip to Dominica.
In the meantime, I just thank God she picks up her phone for the other kinds of calls.
Mom deserves great news too. I look forward to her still being here for me to be able to deliver it.
3 a.m. Worries
February 9th, 2017, 4:08 AM by GoddessNew Orleans residents are cleaning up from the aftermath of tornadoes. Six Red Cross workers were killed in Northern Afghanistan. A white dude shit up a Canadian mosque. Yemen is kicking our out Special Forces after Twitler’s Benghazi. And what is that steaming pile of shit for brains #socalledpresident tweeting about? Something called #easyd. And he’s screaming at $JWN for dropping his daughter-wife’s clothing line. Meanwhile his wife costs us $400k because she won’t live with him and SHE is suing someone because she can’t make money off her role as FLOTUS (while the White House is closed for tours since she wants to live in New York). Oh and these welfare queens are coming back to Palm Beach for another $3 million weekend AND we also footed a $100k trip for his son to do non-government business in Uruguay. Oh and the local rag says plans are ready for these fools to spend every weekend through May here, if his impeachable ass chooses. Oh and the supreme leader of Iran thanked him for all his bungles that are showing his people what self-absorbed shits we westerners really are. And the chatter in terrorist conclaves is that the Moose-Lamb ban is the best recruiting tool for ISIL sent from Allah above. And we just followed the first black president and AG with big fat fucking racists. And don’t get me started on the education secretary who will produce more generations of uninformed Trump voters. It’s like 1984 in Sourh Park because I’m Kyle screaming “shut up, Cartman!” every time this fool busts out his unsecured phone and his staff uses a private email server after he lambasted hillary for her secure email server. Oh and Elizabeth Warren was silenced by a exist prick as she tried to read a statement from MLK’s widow about new racist POS AG and basically told to sit her girl ass down on the floor. Fuck everyone who voted for this chaos and thanks to the asshole-in-chief. Without your willful and destructive ignorance, America wouldn’t have so many reasons to learn our rights so we can fight for them. See you on the Southern Avenue bridge this weekend. I’ll only be waving at Shinzo Abe since at least I respect him. More than I’ll ever say about you.
The more things change
February 8th, 2017, 9:24 AM by GoddessI’m sitting here trying to attend an all-day financial conference. (It’s not going well. I don’t multitask too well and there are many tasks to “multi.”)
I wanted to tee-hee a minute about a talk I had with a friend the other day. He was saying how he worked at Polo, and I was recalling my days at the flagship Kaufmann’s store.
I sold Donna Karan. (I happened to be wearing DKNY on the day we had this discussion.) Calvin Klein, Jones New York, Dana Buchman and Ellen Tracy were also sold in my department. So I have an appreciation for these labels.
But my story is that I was the only person not on commission, yet I often had the highest sales.
If retail paid more, I’d probably still be doing it on the weekends at least. But I don’t do well with people on commission — they would return my sales and re-ring them up so they’d get the credit. It was pretty awful, working with those women.
But … customers loved me. Like, “came in on Sundays when I was working by myself” loved me. Because I would help them and not shame them if they didn’t like something. I wouldn’t lie and say they looked great if maybe a different size, color or style would have been better. I wouldn’t cut a bitch to steal the sale out from under the one who had made 30 trips to the dressing room with more merchandise. (Which I as the kid would have to hang up and restock.)
I was about 22 years old, give or take. (I was there for a few years.) Wore my Lerner New York and Gap and Old Navy clearance-rack clothes. I looked like I was 12 years old most days. But I was energetic and kept my clothes steamed and worked way too hard for my (then-amazing) $5/hour.
It was then that I learned I loved being around wealthy people. Different problems, for sure. But never fretting about how to spend that last dime in a way they wouldn’t regret. Like I did every single day. And, to some extent, still do.
My friend said isn’t it funny how nothing has changed — I work lots of hours, I am available when you can’t find anyone else for miles, and I quietly produce a lot while no one is looking.
Good friend, and good memory.
‘We want a leader, who’s not a creepy Tweeter’
February 5th, 2017, 11:31 AM by GoddessI have no plans to confirm or deny my whereabouts last night. All I will say is I love the men and women of Palm Beach.
Most of them, of course. Not the Post and the people who crabbed about what a shitty person Trump was until he won the election. They lick his balls now that they are afraid of being shipped off to Siberia.
(“The Siberian Candidate” would make a hell of a movie sequel, BTW.)
But in reply to those who penned missives that 200 people marched in Pittsburgh (yeah!) and disrupted your commute for 15 whole minutes … and who said we should find other charitable things to do with our time (but I didn’t see them saying anything they were doing that was worth noting) …
Let me tell you what I did on Saturday. I got my taxes done. Which means I did something your president won’t do — pay what the government determines to be my (and mom’s!) “fair share.”
Which I know is barely a drop in the bucket for the $100K gov’t-funded Eric Trump trip to Uruguay on behalf of the Trump Organization.
Or for the $3 million taxpayers are on the hook for this weekend for their president to host a Red Cross ball to benefit some of the very types of people he wants to keep out of the country. (I’m not putting it down. Just pointing out that same $3 million would have been a wonderful, needed cash donation.)
But none of it can help NYC, which is spending $2 million more a month on protecting the absent First Lady than it is on Section 8 so homeless families can have far-less-luxurious shelter. ($30M vs. $28M.)
In any event, I paid my taxes … bagged up clothes to give to charity … spared my last buck for a person in need because I am lucky enough to (God willing) have another paycheck arriving on Thursday … and fed no fewer than 30 homeless animals, which mom and I do nearly every night.
Fighting fascism and fake news is what I do in what’s left of my free time.
And I didn’t even insult the Australia PM, or tweet about a “so-called judge,” or tell Bill O’Reilly that we are just as evil as Russia.
So BY ALL MEANS, armchair critics, what did YOU do yesterday?
March on Mar-a-Lago
February 4th, 2017, 1:33 PM by GoddessJust having some fun with a few thousand floridians before today’s big event.
We were asked to share our sign ideas. I’m sure you can see mine in there …
Heavy petty
February 3rd, 2017, 9:28 AM by GoddessLost amid (rightful) travel-ban outrage (how about Saudi Arabia, tangerine jackass? oh wait you profit from it) … and DeVos and Tillerson being snuck through … and the LGBT-attacking trial balloon … and the nationalist missive aimed at the FOMC … and all the other shit that provokes any sane person’s righteous indignation …
Is the popular vote loser’s personal Benghazi in Yemen and his blonde Medusa’s made-up terror attack on Bowling Green.
HELLO ALT-UNIVERSE, PEOPLE.
I don’t care about any good that motherfucker might do. He’s going to destroy us from the inside-out. Or desensitize us. And I don’t know which is worse.
In any event.
I had a personal Festivus this week. Like there are two people who often work my nerves, and I was totally Team Them this week. Not just because everybody else (the entire WFH set) pissed me off, but because I really admired things they said and did.
And it doesn’t hurt that I learned one voted just like I did. That might help me to forgive A LOT in the future.