Posts filed under ‘psycho!’
Here I am at my mother’s house. I’m trying to find some scissors. I look in the kitchen junk drawer, and I can’t see anything because there are playing cards stuck in every possible place. They are well-worn cards, each with a picture of some scenic thing from Greece on them. One of the jokers has the J and the picture scribbled out with Sharpie and “QUEEN OF CLUBS” written in in child’s writing. I count the cards to see if the deck is full. The 8 of diamonds is missing.
ME: I’m going to throw these cards away. The 8 of diamonds is missing.
MOTH: Don’t do that!
ME: there’s a card missing. You can’t play cards with one card missing.
MOTH: (derisively) yes you can. There are PLENTY of games you can play…
ME: NO THERE AREN’T.
MOTH: we might find the other card… you never know when it will turn up.
ME: when was the last time you played cards?
MOTH: what was the name of that refrigerator I was looking at? Whirlpool?
ME: don’t change the subject. I’m throwing them out,
MOTH: (getting more frantic) But Angela brought those back to me from Greece… like 11 years ago.
–background info– Angela is my sister’s friend, whom she doesn’t really keep in touch with anymore.
ME: I’m throwing them out.
MOTH: –pointed silence– (she is never silent unless she’s making a passive aggressive point)
And so it goes. Moth invites me to clean out her kitchen drawers, so I do, but she freaks out when I attempt to throw away one of her business cards that has an out of date email address printed on it, and has a circle cut out of the middle. Then I am admonished to save a small piece of sandpaper which has been used so many times you could probably use it for regular stationery at this point.
See? I’m not a compulsive hoarder, at least by comparison!
It’s been so long since I’ve had any Lil Bitch related drama, last weekend was almost a trip down memory lane. OK, it would have been if I hadn’t been so freaking annoyed.
I bought tickets for Lil Bitch and I to go see Mission of Burma at the Brighton Music Hall months ago. I was positive it would sell out. I mean, who would miss up a chance to see MoB in an awesome tiny venue like the former Harper’s Ferry? Apparently lots of people because it didn’t sell out. But anyway… It had snowed the night before, so Lil Bitch came up in the afternoon to hang out so he wouldn’t have to drive in the snow at night. Or something. He brought burritos and tequila as well as a bottle of what he thought was Margarita mix, but actually had tequila already in it. After mixing it with tequila it was pretty strong, to say the least. I had had the lovely norovirus all week and so I didn’t drink so much. At some point Lil Bitch and Dee got the idea that they wanted to go to Deep Ellum (a local bar) and get some hot cocktails. So, we went down to the bar and drank hot buttered rums which were delicious… but alcoholic. Lil Bitch insisted upon buying us shots of Jameson on the way back since he didn’t think he could make it all the way back to my place through the snow (we were walking), so we stopped at The Draft and had shots.
When we got back home, LB was in that special surly phase of drunkeness. He started talking about how his stepsister got raped in France and how she deserved it because she had narced on her classmates in high school or something. After about the 15th exclamation of “The bitch DESERVED it!” I tried to change the subject to no avail, but it was time to leave for the show so whatever.
LB has been already pretty tanked for some time now, yet still we get beers at the show– $4 for a 16 oz PBR, which LB rants on about being criminal. He even texted Pete a poorly spelled and even poorly worded rant about how it’s all his fault PBR is so expensive damn hipsters. I wasn’t quite sure of his logic, but this is Little Bitch we’re talking about. Logic is not one of his strong points on the soberest of days.
The opening band were called Shepherdess, and while they weren’t exactly my thing, LB decided they were the worst band in the history of music and proceeded to tell me this in between yelling “YOU SUUUUUUUUUCKK!” at them. I tried repeatedly to shut him up, which of course just made him rowdier. Eventually the bouncer came over and cut him off from further drinking. Thus, he tried to get me to buy him a drink. The conversation went like this:
LB: Buy me a drink. I can’t get one myself.
ME: there’s a reason you’re cut off.
LB: I want a drink
ME: sucks to be you!
LB: I want beer.
ME: I want a pet unicorn.
LB (shouting): UNICORNS CAN SUCK MY DIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!
When he realized that I was not going to buy him a drink, he yelled “THIS IS FASCIST BULLSHIT! I’M OUTTA HERE!” and stomped off. I was a bit relieved, to tell you the truth, and pushed up closer to get a better spot to see Mission of Burma. This is the one time being short is awesome– you can pretty much shove your way to the front of a concert and nobody cares because pretty much everyone can see over your head anyway. it almost negates the fact that if you’re short, you can’t see a damn thing at concerts unless you are in the very front anyway!
Anyway, the band starts and, as always, they are awesome. They get 2 songs in when I start getting texts.
“Where are you? I’m scared and alone.”
I tell him to go wait for me at my house. He replies that he doesn’t know how to get there. I text him directions (it’s less than a mile home). He saysto come get him, he’s still confused. I text him the house number and tell him to get a cab.
“But I dint [sic] do anything! I’m cold and lost.”
Finally it dawns on me that if he really does manage to find his way back to my place, he will get into his ginormous SUV and drive home, probably killing himself as well as mow down a bus full of nuns chaperoning orphans to a party with kittens or something. I leave after the third song and all the way home he rants about how it’s a conspiracy and he has every right to heckle crappy bands and it’s because of the Obama administration that everyone is forced to be polite and how he’s going to vote Republican and he’s never going back to that fascist place and fuck Mission of Burma, they’re not really punks if they let bouncers kick rowdy drunks out of their shows etc. I stick up for the bouncer, and, after calling me a “dumb bitch” and a “stupid cunt” several more times, he says possibly the best line of the night:
WHY DON’T YOU GO FUCK NEWT GINGRICH, SINCE YOU LOVE THE DOMINANT PARADIGM SO MUCH!
I don’t know, the unicorn line was pretty good too, but it didn’t contain the phrase “dominant paradigm” used without irony.
We get back to my place and I physically wrestle his car keys away. He calls me many more bad names and insults my political views, my hypocrisy and mentions how “slaves like [me] exist to suck the cocks of the dominant paradigm.”
“Well the dominant paradigm is telling you to get your fucking ass into bed and sleep it off!” yes, I couldn’t think of a better witty comeback. I was fairly furious at this point.
Cursing, he climbs onto my bed and, after muttering about fascism and stuff a bit more, falls asleep, snoring loudly. I go downstairs to sleep on the couch. Sometime in the early morning, LB finds the keys I left for him and leaves. I go back up into my bed, since I’m sleeping on the small 2-person couch because Tanya is sick and crashing on the big couch. I notice that the pillow is upside down– it’s the pillowcase I decorated myself of a menorah, and it’s menorah-side-down.
That’s what it looked like after I finished it (it came with crayons)– The punchline to the night is… it no longer looks like that because when I turned it over I discovered that it was covered with used burrito. Yes, LB had turned the pillow over rather than clean it up. W.T.F.!?!?!?
I wish I could say
That’s when I reached for my revolver.
July 8, 2011 at 5:40 pm Enter your password to view comments.
I decided that the time had come to get new pillowcases. My Hello Kitty pillowcase was worn and almost completely threadbare. My Batman one was a little worse for the wear; somehow getting paint splattered on it as well as being faded and old. So… I thought about Darth Vader, contemplated farm animals and other such things… and decided to get Real Grown-Up pillowcases! Yes, I went to Target and spent $15.99 (an unheard-of, ridiculously huge amount for such things in my world) on two greenish PLAIN pillowcases. They have no design whatsoever on them. The color is understated (they were the only ones that weren’t a lame color like white or beige). It looks nice with my sheets (either pink or orange) and my blanket (I just retired the lightweight quilt I made and am using the winter fuchsia down comforter)– everything is a nice rainbow sherbet-hue.
I got them home and agonized over whether I should take them back or not for about 2 days. Finally, I decided that these pale mint-green pillowcases would stay. They are made from bamboo and are like 300 thread count or something insanely decadent like that. But… they are way too huge and baggy for my ancient floppy pillows. I don’t like pillows that arent totally limp and made with feathers (as opposed to foam), so the poor things are these flaccid lumps. Oh well. At least Batman isn’t present. I suppose the whole maturity-thing is totally negated by the fact that like 50,000 stuffed animals are in permanent residence on my bed, but it’s a step, right? baby steps. baby steps.
Here they are!
i’m getting a cold. It’s not a terrible one, but it’s enough to make things a little unpleasant and throw things a bit out of whack. Add to that that I’m crashing off my meds because the state was supposed to tell me about insurance by now, but hasn’t bothered (I went off the insurance from Four Seasons since i’m only a part-time employee there now). Of course the Little Dude doesn’t want to sleep, preferring the excitig past time of screaming uncontrollably. So, I’ve spent the last hour wanting to die with a screaming baby attached to my ear.
Oh yeah, I made tzimmes with beef, butternut squash and prunes on Saturday. Oh life is wonderful today for my Rosh Hashanah party. it was actually really fun! I had all these prunes left over, so I put them on my cereal this morning. BIG MISTAKE. I will be paying for that all morning at least! I am so over today.
Life is good. WHAT THE FUCK is this phenomenon, anyway? I see those little slogans that say “life is good” all over SUVs and college students. Ah, I see. it’s a local company that sells basically, stuff that says dumb stuff. Great. Sorry, I’ve gotten the urge to scoop people’s eyeballs out with sporks every time I see one of those shirts. I guess life is good if you’re a bland bourgeois 20-something for whom inane slogans can sum up your meaningless life.
Anyway, fuck today. I am so not in the mood to deal with reality.
here are some baby animals in case that will cheer me up:
awww widdwe baby lemur? The post says it’s a wombat, but it doesn’t much look like one…
Here’s a baby wombat
Aww, baby fruit bats are adorable. This may be working!
Aww, prosimians are so cute (not actually a baby but still)!
What’s more adorable than a little 3-toed sloth?
I’m hoping this will get me in the mood to find baby humans more adorable today, because I’m having a bit of a tough time on that!
I’ve seen a lot of scary movies. I’ve seen genuinely creepy movies. For example, The Blair Witch Project was one of the scariest movies I’d seen. I saw it right after it was released, well before the backlash started. Seriously, that film broke new ground in suspense! I’ve seen films by David Cronenberg, Dario Argento, all sorts of slasher movies, creepy Japanese movies etc…
Nothing has disturbed me as much as the Planet Earth series. Here’s a scene:
We’re in caves in Borneo or Papua New Guinea or someplace. The caves are dark, so no vegetation can grow. The only nourishing thing there is bat poop. 100 meter high piles of bat poop. Who lives on the mountains of poo? Cockroaches! Millions of them! Millions of them swarm on the piles… and one bat falls into the pile accidentally and the roaches swarm around him and eat him alive. ::EEEEEEESSSHHHHH::: I’m getting creepy goosebumps!
Somehow it’s all the more sinister with David Attenborough narrating. You can do the Dracula voice, you can intone like the rednecks in Deliverance, there is nothing scarier than a really uptight British accent. It’s the voice of ultimate “we’re lying to you to make you think everything’s OK” Maybe I read 1984 too many times. I could probably chalk it up to watching too much Doctor Who as a child, where all the evil villains in space were trained in Shakespearean acting. I don’t know, the way he rolls the “r’s” in “cockroach” makes my skin crawl.
The Voice Of My Nightmares
Another thing that makes me shiver when I think about it is the bit on cordyceps. Cordyceps are a type of fungus that gets inside insects, controls their brains and then grows mushrooms on them from the inside out. This was all shown in exquisite detail with time-lapse photography.
I’ve always had a problem with dead bugs for some reason. When I was a kid, I really didn’t care one way or the other about living bugs, but insect corpses freaked the crap out of me. i remember seeing a bunch of dead wasps in my grandmother’s dusty back room and screaming and running away and not wanting to go into that room forever (which was painful since it was the room where she stored all her antiques and dusty boxes of random stuff that called me to explore them). The cicada shells you find on trees still freak me the fuck out. However, I haven’t had a bug corpse incident in a long time; I didn’t even remember that I had a problem with dead bugs until I saw this episode! Don’t you love it when something triggers your childhood fears and gives you nightmares? Let’s hear it for the subconscious!
Note how this segment start with ants. I HATE ANTS! Ants are the only creature great or small on god’s green earth that I unequivocally despise.
OK, I just posted that segment and I can’t watch it. I’m getting the willies just writing about it. So, if you ever want to know my weakness, like you’re trying to extract information from me about that secret government alien implant… just show me pictures of bloated insect corpses with mushrooms sprouting out of them with David Attenborough on an endless loop saying “cockroaches.” Believe me, I’ll cave.
…at least not today! I’m maturing or something. or perhaps burning out… Today I chose to go home and sleep rather than go out drinking with homeys from 4 Seasons! Why is this? I think I’m just getting old. Also, my stomach has been acting like a little bitch for the past 2 weeks– I’m not sure what’s up with that; it doesn’t matter what I eat or drink, I always just feel queasy. Also, I’m not on my meds (one of them anyway), and it doesn’t look like getting some anytime soon will be easy thanks to all the red tape in the insurance industry. I think I’ll have to just fork over the $200 or whatever it will cost to get more so I don’t go crazy again! Plus, going off meds cold turkey screws up my digestive system even more as well as makes me nuts.
Everything’s an ordeal. I should just go off meds for good and be miserable and crazy. Maybe I’ll kill myself. Whatever, at least I won’t have to go through this roller coaster of bureaucracy every couple of months! Are there any Canadians out there who want to get married? I cook a mean rhubarb pie!