Fruit, Flatulence, and F**k-You’s.

So, yes I did recently get back together with Adam but, no, this is not a story about a “love story”.

Today I drove by a Moby Dick restaurant, (if you can call it that so much as it is a serving establishment of “edible” inedbiles) and saw the kiosk out front simply reading: “YOLO”. Not the expected:  Fish Sandwich $1 or 2 for $2 Squid Bites. Why would Moby Dick want to tell me YOLO?  This made me roll my eyes and also angry, as there are two things in the world I simply cannot stand: ephemeric platitudes like “You Only Live Once” and then those ephermeric platitudes being SHORTENED INTO TEXT SPEAK. I was over YOLO as soon as it started, and have added anyone with a YOLO tattoo to my list of people who are not allowed to procreate when I am the Manager of The World.

I couldn’t get over this, as I further wondered, “Is this a warning? Does this really mean, ‘You Only Live Once (So Eat at A Better Place?’)” is this an encouragement to employees as they pull up, saying ‘You Only Live Once (And You Might Want To Consider Community College!’). Either way, I hate Moby Dicks. And I don’t want their food or their advice.

Later today I got to settling scores with some people I’ve been putting off settling scores with because I have no sense of urgency over anything except bidding in time for dresses on eBay. Things can wait, life goes on, there are drinks to be had…. I just put things off. Even important things. And especially hard things. Today I have finally mustered the courage to ask for some things I need, and the response from EVERY person was outright “Fuck You.” I was shocked. I’ve never heard those words in such amounts with such rapidity in such a short time and with such fervor, and I have been in a long lines at both the Post Office and DMV. It was enough to make me cry. People I thought I was helping, people I thought cared for me, people I got into a mix with and think it only fair to split the cost with; people aren’t so great when they owe you something… and you remind them.

So, immediately after receiving these shocking messages, I had to take a client. She was and older lady with a contorted body and a gentle countenance. Though I had just dried my eyes from evidence of victimization, I immediately thought, “Wow, she’s got it worse.”

She laid on my table and as I was massaging her scalp my finger literally got STUCK IN A HOLE. This poor, mangled bag of bones had a freaking HOLE in her skull that my finger got stuck in.

“Oh,” she said sweetly, “this feels so wonderful! I have had three brain surgeries.”

All I could think was: Damn.

As the session progressed, I was attempting to not harvest my frustrations and anger in that present moment. I am awesome at being a tormented soul and feeling bewildered, and I am getting very, very good at crying over completely solvable things. Usually when I get upset I just call everyone I know and yell. Adding lacrimations to this tactic is making me certifiably pitiable. Woe really is me.

Then all of the sudden this poor, old, hole-headed grannysmith let out a couple of HUGE farts. This happens during many sessions, and is no big deal to me. I’m way used to it. But she followed the flatulence up by saying, “Oh I’m sorry. Too many cherries.”

If you know me well, you can likely envision the true look of confusion that crossed my face although there was no one else in the room to see it. Wait, what? When I fart, I don’t know the reason other than I needed to fart. Explaining my farts has never crossed my mind, it only just happens. But I guess everyone has their own reason for everything.

Cherries, man. Why not.

Something about the earlier YOLO made me think of the saying, “Life Just a Bowl of Cherries”. And I thought about that. And I thought about all the amazing things happening in my life right now, especially concerning marrying the love of my life. I thought about how in just this short time I’ve loved a man more than I ever thought possible, and how GOOD he is to me. I thought about how he, over 9 years, has never once hurt me or taken advantage of me or said one unkind thing. And then I thought about all the assholes I’ve mixed in with over the past 9 years and how I have been hurt and taken advantage of and been told unkind things to. And then I thought about all the people over the past 30 years, my lifetime, that I have hurt and taken advantage of and basically said “fuck you” to.

And I thought about this lady farting and explaining it by cherries. And you know what? Screw a bowl;  Life really is just a Fart of Cherries. Sometimes you are the one enjoying the cherries, and sometimes you are the bystander smelling the shit of someone else’s. That’s it. We all do what we hate to get. We’re all good and “bad”. We all benefit and suffer. Sometimes you smelt it, sometimes you dealt it.

It really is that simple.

Today I had veritable cherries, and today I was both literally and figuratively farted on. And I guess I have to just chalk it up to Life.

( And to my sister: I’m sorry I farted on you.)

Too Much Is Enough.

So, I started a new job recently and so far it doesn’t suck. It helps that I am getting paid enough to be rich, which is a lie as I am not even getting paid enough at this point to be considered poor. According to my current tax bracket, I am qualifiably destitute; a situation befittingly contrasted by my wearing a $300 Diane von Furstenberg top to the office today. I own a top that cost more than I will make this entire week… which is all the evidence one needs to make a sound judgement about where my priorities in life have, until now, laid.

Today I walked into the break room and was talking to some other staff members. One of the girls was eating the type of little brittle round cookies you get at the grocery store, like Chips Ahoy or Bits Me Matey ( I made that up as an example of, and suggestion for the name of, an off-brand of Chips Ahoy) and she was spooning gobs of peanut butter on top and eating them. I found this delicious because I love cookies and I love peanut butter, yet repulsive because… well… I looked at her and her disgusting fatbody shoving oily goop atop the nutritional equivalent of polyester down her throat.

Not one to be judgmental (which is a lie because I am HUGELY judgmental of all things and people from a distance) I waved off this grotesquerie and went about my own business.

Later, I walked in to the break room to find that same girl spooning peanut butter, but not onto cookies this time… something much smaller. Pretending to fiddle with a more proximal task, I leaned in and took a glance to see what the proverbial cracker to this spread could be. I was shocked to find her reaching into a bag of trail mix. Now I’m no robust mountain hiker, but I’ve been to enough vending machines to know that trail mix is mainly, yes, PEANUTS. I looked at her hands to find her pincer-grasping a SINGLE PEANUT and proceeding to spread PEANUT BUTTER on top of it and eat it. I literally had to stop and take a moment to be confused with my entire body. I mean, really, you wouldn’t put a sweater on a sheep. Who does this? That’s not even just like putting a sweater on a sheep, that’s like putting a sweater on each individual strand of the sheep’s wool. This act could not be any nuttier if it occurred on the set of A Clockwork Orange (double pun intended). Straight up topsy-turvy.

This is the kind of woman that tells me humankind will not indefinitely survive.