Most people that meet me in the city would never guess I grew up on a farm. Yes, that's right, I grew up 11 miles from Holbrook on 7 acres of land, which didn't really matter since there was hardly anyone else out there. The bus would come pick my brother and I up, but it was still a good 1 to 2 mile walk from our house to the bus stop. I was laying in bed, thinking about the farm and sometimes I forget how unique of a childhood I had: we had a very elaborate koi pond, an actual duck pond, pheasants, a huge chicken coop, pigeons (I know, we hate them here, but growing up, I didn't know that they were pretty much little demons), rabbits, dogs, horses, at one point over 30 cats, a huge barn, ducks, geese, and turkeys. Here are some highlights I remember from those days on the farm. I don't remember a lot and maybe somethings are out of order, but for some reason I can't stop thinking about the farm.
Our house was two stories, three bedroom, two bath, huge living room, and we eventually added a green house to bring in certain plants when it got cold. When most people think of Arizona, they think nice weather all year round. In Phoenix, we have two months of good weather, the rest we melt. However, there are mountains in Flagstaff and higher elevation. So, we'd have extremely cold winters, tons of snow, and the worst was the wind. We had a brilliant, green yard that Hank Hill would have been proud of. We would let the horse out to roam the land, but they would always go for the yard, which wasn't good. So, my parents got logs, didn't even take off the bark, and built a fence around the yard with two open places. When we let the horse out, we'd place a log on top the openings and the horse would stay out. I remember one day, my friend Lucky and I had woken up and were ready to play. (Lucky and I have been best friends for over 22 years). I just remember her running right towards the barn and I noticed the log was up to keep the horse out. I gasped as WHACK! Lucky smacked right into the log, fell over backwards and knocked the log off of the fence. I thought for sure she was dead and I was horrified. She just laid there, face up. Suddenly, she sat up and looked at me. I burst into laughter and so did she. She may have grown up beautiful and gorgeous, but I hold all of her embarrassing memories.
Another memory was Renegade. He was brown and white painted horse. He was the best horse ever. He loved me and I loved him. I'd wake up, get dressed, and go to the barn. I'd jump up on the fence and he would come over to me and let me pet him. He then would parallel himself to the fence and I'd climb on him bareback, (insert your naughty jokes here. RUIN MY CHILDHOOD!). He'd the take me to the gate and I'd open it and we'd roam around the property. He never bit me, kicked me, or showed any aggression. I have a picture of Lucky and I on him, us wearing the same outfit with fringes, (Don't deny our coolness). Unfortunately, he got sick and one day my brother and I was told to stay in the house. I went out on the porch and I heard the gun shot and knew Renegade was dead. My mom and dad buried him near the barn and often I would go over to his plot and try to imagine where he went. I never knew how lucky I was to have a horse growing up, but I never took him for granted.
Oh, the chickens. I hated most of those bastards. Our chicken coop was huge and long. My job was to collect eggs and feed them every morning. I would go in, open the huge plastic bin of feed, more often than not to be greeted by a huge rat. He would jump away and I scoop up the feed and feed the damn chickens. I feared nothing as a kid. Almost, but I'm getting ahead of myself. There was this one small rooster than had definitely had issues with being short. He made up for it by being the worlds biggest dick. He'd fly towards me, scratch and peck me, and torment me. I cried to my parents and they that I needed to show him he's not king of the coop. Next time I went in with my egg basket, I was getting the eggs when I felt his beady eyes on my back. Okay, Jess, this is it. Don't feel bad: you are king of the coop. I turned around and he was in mid flight of attacking me. I swung my foot back and thrust it right into that assholes chest, sending to the other side of the coop. He laid there for awhile, probably trying to catch his breath. He slowly got up and I stood a stance, ready to rumble again. He never bothered me again. This would come in handy later on.
I did have chicken I loved. She was born on the farm. I remember one day making a cake and it called for some eggs. I got the eggs out of the fridge, cracked it into the bowel, and out came a chicken fetus, almost ready to hatch. I just scooped it out, walked it out onto the porch and put it in the cats food bowel, where they gobbled their treat. I then went inside and cracked another egg, this one non-abortion. Really, not a surprise when I started looking up death photos for awhile. But, I'm off subject here. Henny Penny was born on the farm and I loved her. She was red and fluffy. I would hold her, hug her, and dress her up. She hated the shit out of me. One day I was cradling her in my arms with her on her back and suddenly she went limp. Her laid her head back, eye smalls eyes closing slowly and her chest stopped beating. I gasped and slowly laid her down on the ground.
"Henny?" I asked meekly, the tears swelling up. Nothing. I had killed my best friend in the whole world, (I think this was after Renegade past away). I started crying and sobbing and turned to go in the house to tell my mom. I looked back once more and saw Henny laying there. She then popped her head up, looked around, saw me and ran away. What a fucking bitch.
Now, there was really nothing to do at the farm. But there was a lot to explore. Imagine Calvin and Hobbes without the trees. My friends and I would get our bikes out in the morning, my mom would pack us a lunch, and we'd ride out for the rest of the day, coming back at twilight or even after dark. Nowadays, you can't do that and looking back, I don't know how we didn't get hurt. It's the desert. But, we'd ride our bikes down the dirt road and get to the barbed wire fence. We'd toss our bikes over the fence, crawl under the fence, then continue riding to the haunted shack and water tower. This house was in shambles, abandoned, and probably had been in a fire. It was creepy being there. Then we'd climb up the ladder on the water tower and look into the green and slimy water. There was nothing else around there. Just desert and mountains and plateaus. We'd get back to the house, after dark, and be sweaty, hungry, dirty, and happy.
To be continued next post. There's the watering hole, where my phobia of snakes came from, the infamous turkeys, and the not so good times.
Really, how did I NOT turn out like this.
-Crazy Eights
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
The Social Network
There's somethings about me that I hate. Actually, there are several things about me that I hate, but there's a difference between hating something out right, (my turkey neck, being bi polar, that I cry a lot), and hating something inwards. The Inward Hates is what will kill you because they are the things that you hate so much about yourself, you cannot admit to them to anyone, almost not even yourself. Maybe on here I'll tell all my Inward Hates, but this blog I'll admit to a couple of things I hate about myself so much I don't tell anyone.
I am an alcoholic. That's not an Inwards Hate, it's something I outwardly hate about myself. And like all alcoholics, I recently thought I could control my drinking. Tuesday my friend Ica called me from the bar and I went down. I did a good job not getting horribly drunk, just kept that nice buzz going. I drove home, sobered up, showered and ate and went to bed. Not bad for an alcoholic. But last night, the ugly part of my alcoholism came out. First of all, being on Zoloft, I know that alcohol fucks with the way the drug works. And maybe it was my Bi Polar, maybe it was my meds being off, or maybe I was just tired of being blown off, but when my boyfriend said he wanted to grab a drink with his friend when he was suppose to hang out with me, a flip switched in me. I drove to three different bars and sat in the car in the parking lot, just battling myself not to go in. Eventually, I went to Circle K and got a six pack of Budlight in a bottle. I came home, turned off all the lights in my room, and popped the first bottle open. I then put on my itunes and my depression got worse and worse and it started going towards someplace I hate going.
Here's a couple of Inward Hates: I hear voices when I'm having a really bad episode, manic or depressive. They whisper in my ears and I literally think someone is over my shoulder. I don't know what they say sometimes, sometimes I do. But I do know they don't want good things for me. And the leads to the other Inward Hate. I am a self harmer. I don't cut or burn myself, (although sometimes I do make myself vomit for the fuck of it). Instead, I will beat the shit out of myself. Last time this happened was a week after my surgery and my anxiety was so high, I squeezed my rib cage to the point of bruising. I also kept punching myself in the chest as hard as I could to see if that would make the anxiety go away. The bruises last awhile and they remind me of dark times, but I can't help it. And I was heading down that road last night. It's worse when I drink because it's harder to feel and so I hit much, much harder.
I was curled on the floor by the corner of my bed, just the glow of the computer playing music. I had just hung up on the phone with my boyfriend and another friend was telling me how he thinks I truly am: an attention wanter. This isn't true, but I did someone the night. And he didn't want me that night, nor do I blame him. Being Bi Polar is hard, but sometimes even harder on the person whom is with them. In my drunken stupor, I decided to send a message to The Bloggess. If you don't know who she is, she is one of my heroes. She battles depression and other health issues and makes light of them but is also very honest with them. She wrote a book that is coming out soon and I have it preordered on my Nook already. She also cares about her fans.I've wrote to her before about my Endometeriosis and how I can't have kids. She sent me a very hopeful message back and made me smile. This is what I sent her the other night:
@thebloggess Please tell me there's a light at the end of the depression tunnel. I just want to self harm or end it.
@thebloggess Wear a silver ribbon for me please. Depression won this round.
If you don't know what the Silver Ribbon is, it's the ribbon for people whom battle depression. The Bloggess wrote a wonderful post about it and I will post it at the end of this post. Anywhom, shortly after, as I was getting ready to self harm, I happened to look at my phone and see my boyfriend calling. He apologized for blowing me off and asked if he could stay the night. I admitted that I had been drinking and crying and I wanted to self harm. He came over, sat in the dark with me, held me until I could feel the darkness get a little less dark. He then took me to bed and showed me how much he loves me. Afterwards, we went to get food and when I got back, I saw The Bloggess had not only replied, but also asked others to help me. This is what she said:
.@comealongtoots Depression lies. It WILL get better. Don't give up, sweet girl. We're all rooting for you.
She then sent this to all of her followers, (She has over a thousand):
My friend@comealongtoots is having a rough night. If you're awake, can you send her good thoughts?
I came home to over 200 messages of hope, good thoughts, hugs, love, and messages of hope from complete strangers. My heart that had been filled with darkness was now swollen with love. I've made a couple of new friends and I now am more determined than ever to beat my Alcoholism and Bi Polar. The internet is a powerful tool. It can be used to boost your business, look at porn, meet your soulmate, etc. But that night is also showed that is can save someone from going down the depression hole even further. The news always talks about internet bullies, but they never talk about how thousands of strangers helped me crawl from the darkness and see the light a little better. My boyfriend knew I needed him and I will cut him so much more slack because he knew I needed him and he was there. And so were strangers whom all know the holds depression has on your brain and body.
I started writing this the day after but my boyfriend came back over and took me out on an amazing date and our passion is finally back. His group and several people in my life think we shouldn't be together. But he was there last night and he will be there when I need him again. And now I know I have an army behind me to fight the depression.
This is dedicated to everyone that night that took time out of their lives and wrote me a message of hope. And to my boyfriend for being there to hold me and keep me from hurting myself. Most of all, this is dedicated to The Bloggess for caring about me. I'm just one in her millions of fans, but she still reached out and cared. You are an amazing woman and a beautiful person.
We all rock in this fight. We will fucking win.
http://thebloggess.com/2012/01/the-fight-goes-on/
-Crazy Eights
I am an alcoholic. That's not an Inwards Hate, it's something I outwardly hate about myself. And like all alcoholics, I recently thought I could control my drinking. Tuesday my friend Ica called me from the bar and I went down. I did a good job not getting horribly drunk, just kept that nice buzz going. I drove home, sobered up, showered and ate and went to bed. Not bad for an alcoholic. But last night, the ugly part of my alcoholism came out. First of all, being on Zoloft, I know that alcohol fucks with the way the drug works. And maybe it was my Bi Polar, maybe it was my meds being off, or maybe I was just tired of being blown off, but when my boyfriend said he wanted to grab a drink with his friend when he was suppose to hang out with me, a flip switched in me. I drove to three different bars and sat in the car in the parking lot, just battling myself not to go in. Eventually, I went to Circle K and got a six pack of Budlight in a bottle. I came home, turned off all the lights in my room, and popped the first bottle open. I then put on my itunes and my depression got worse and worse and it started going towards someplace I hate going.
Here's a couple of Inward Hates: I hear voices when I'm having a really bad episode, manic or depressive. They whisper in my ears and I literally think someone is over my shoulder. I don't know what they say sometimes, sometimes I do. But I do know they don't want good things for me. And the leads to the other Inward Hate. I am a self harmer. I don't cut or burn myself, (although sometimes I do make myself vomit for the fuck of it). Instead, I will beat the shit out of myself. Last time this happened was a week after my surgery and my anxiety was so high, I squeezed my rib cage to the point of bruising. I also kept punching myself in the chest as hard as I could to see if that would make the anxiety go away. The bruises last awhile and they remind me of dark times, but I can't help it. And I was heading down that road last night. It's worse when I drink because it's harder to feel and so I hit much, much harder.
I was curled on the floor by the corner of my bed, just the glow of the computer playing music. I had just hung up on the phone with my boyfriend and another friend was telling me how he thinks I truly am: an attention wanter. This isn't true, but I did someone the night. And he didn't want me that night, nor do I blame him. Being Bi Polar is hard, but sometimes even harder on the person whom is with them. In my drunken stupor, I decided to send a message to The Bloggess. If you don't know who she is, she is one of my heroes. She battles depression and other health issues and makes light of them but is also very honest with them. She wrote a book that is coming out soon and I have it preordered on my Nook already. She also cares about her fans.I've wrote to her before about my Endometeriosis and how I can't have kids. She sent me a very hopeful message back and made me smile. This is what I sent her the other night:
If you don't know what the Silver Ribbon is, it's the ribbon for people whom battle depression. The Bloggess wrote a wonderful post about it and I will post it at the end of this post. Anywhom, shortly after, as I was getting ready to self harm, I happened to look at my phone and see my boyfriend calling. He apologized for blowing me off and asked if he could stay the night. I admitted that I had been drinking and crying and I wanted to self harm. He came over, sat in the dark with me, held me until I could feel the darkness get a little less dark. He then took me to bed and showed me how much he loves me. Afterwards, we went to get food and when I got back, I saw The Bloggess had not only replied, but also asked others to help me. This is what she said:
.
She then sent this to all of her followers, (She has over a thousand):
My friend
I came home to over 200 messages of hope, good thoughts, hugs, love, and messages of hope from complete strangers. My heart that had been filled with darkness was now swollen with love. I've made a couple of new friends and I now am more determined than ever to beat my Alcoholism and Bi Polar. The internet is a powerful tool. It can be used to boost your business, look at porn, meet your soulmate, etc. But that night is also showed that is can save someone from going down the depression hole even further. The news always talks about internet bullies, but they never talk about how thousands of strangers helped me crawl from the darkness and see the light a little better. My boyfriend knew I needed him and I will cut him so much more slack because he knew I needed him and he was there. And so were strangers whom all know the holds depression has on your brain and body.
I started writing this the day after but my boyfriend came back over and took me out on an amazing date and our passion is finally back. His group and several people in my life think we shouldn't be together. But he was there last night and he will be there when I need him again. And now I know I have an army behind me to fight the depression.
This is dedicated to everyone that night that took time out of their lives and wrote me a message of hope. And to my boyfriend for being there to hold me and keep me from hurting myself. Most of all, this is dedicated to The Bloggess for caring about me. I'm just one in her millions of fans, but she still reached out and cared. You are an amazing woman and a beautiful person.
We all rock in this fight. We will fucking win.
http://thebloggess.com/2012/01/the-fight-goes-on/
-Crazy Eights
Monday, February 20, 2012
Devil's Advocate
*Note: The following argument isn't necessary what I believe in. I may or may not believe some of it. What I believe in isn't important to the argument. What is important is that it gives your brain something to think about. Something for you to chew on and maybe give a little understanding to people who do think like this. Whether I'm one of them isn't important and possibly none of your business.*
Pretend you are in the best relationship you've ever been in. Every time you and your partner see each other, you have a great time. You laugh, you discuss, you challenge each other, you have amazing sex: you are head over heels for each other. Now, pretend that you and your partner have your own social lives, separately, like most normal people do. You go out with your friends, they go out with theirs. Now, pretend that when your partner goes out to the bar, they flirt with the opposite sex. They go as far as to have made out with several people and possibly fucked a couple. They do not love these other people, nor do they ever contact them again. They are madly in love with you and when you are both together, they have only eyes for you. But you never know they are cheating on you. You go through your whole lives together, loving each other. You are happy, happier than you have ever been. Now, you not knowing your partner is cheating on you obviously makes you happier because you do not know this. However, does this mean you have a more healthier relationship than a couple that are together, monogamous, but they are not nearly in love nor happy as you guys are in your relationship? And if your partner confessed to you their behavior on their death bed, but they assure you that you are the one true love of their life and that you made them happier than anyone ever has. Then, they die. Does this make you think your relationship was a whole lie?
Let's look at the first question: is your relationship any better than a monogamous couple whom aren't as happy or in love as yours? In some ways, it does. It shows your partner has self control, they are able to control themselves and be faithful. However, does this make them less happy? Is this the reason why they aren't head over heels for their partner because they can only fuck one person? This person is constantly battling against their primal urges to mate with as many people as possible and on some level, this makes them somewhat miserable. But because they can fight this urge, does this make them better than your partner, that releases that urge, thus making them happier and them being happier makes them happier to be with you and that makes you happier? Morally, I suppose, the other couple would be a better relationship. But why? Because they show self control? Because we've all been brought up to believe that when you love someone, you are only suppose to be with that one person, sexually, only. That your religion says you must be with one person and one person only. But let's redefine faithful, for the purpose of this argument. Faithful; adj. meaning to be emotionally devoted to one person, that they are the only one that brings you true happiness. Nothing in that definition says you have to be sexually faithful to your partner. So the person in the other relationship isn't fully satisfied with their partner. They are content with each other, but never fully happy. By our new definition of faithful, that person isn't being faithful. They are lieing no more than your partner is to you.
Now, let's look at the second question: if your partner confesses what they have been doing, but assures you that you are the love of their life and you made them happier than anyone else ever has, does this make you think your relationship is a lie? On some level, you will feel betrayed. Nobody likes to be lied to. But, why should that make the fact that that person made you so happy, gave you the best life possible, and you made them so happy: you were truly in love with each other? I argue that a person cannot make someone else happy unless they themselves are happy with themselves. This is true. So that person did what it took to make them happy, but those other people they were fucking were only little things that made them happy. It's no more different than someone else who has to go hiking every weekend to be happy. It relieves the stress your partner has, it satisfies their self confidence, and they come home to you, eager to be with the one thing that makes them feel complete. It may sound selfish, but you have to take care of your needs and wants to be happy first before you can make your partner happy. This isn't saying you are less important to your partner, quite the opposite: they want to be the best they can be for you. And, this is stressed, you are the main thing that made your partner happy. So, why couldn't they just be happy with you and no one else? You would never get that answer because your partner died right after they confessed. Everyone has their needs and wants met and your partner just had to have that thrill of the hunt and closing in to satisfy those needs and want. And, if you truly and deeply loved your now dead partner, wouldn't you want them to do what makes them happy outside of you? You don't want to be their whole world and vise versa. But would you have felt better had your partner came to you in the beginning and told you, "Look, I am so fucking in love with you. You make me smile like no one else. You make my heart skip beats. You are smart, sexy, amazing in bed, and you are my true love. However, like a normal person, I have a hobby and that hobby is to hunt other people, flirt, and make the kill, so to speak. This doesn't mean I love you any less, in fact, it makes me love you more. I have to tell you this because I have to be honest. Are you okay with this?". Face value, you'd be like, "Hell no!". But that's because you haven't been in the relationship long enough to know that this is the best relationship for you. In a round about way, this person would know that and they hid this from you to protect you and your feelings. They knew what was best for the relationship and they did it.
So, what are the answers? Depends on the person and people, I suppose. But, since I'm playing Devil's Advocate, here are the answers: You and your partner have a much better relationship than the monogamous couple. And no, your relationship isn't a lie, although it would have been better if your partner had never told you because it will, in a small way, taint your perfect relationship.
Ignorance, after all, is bliss.
-Crazy Eights
Pretend you are in the best relationship you've ever been in. Every time you and your partner see each other, you have a great time. You laugh, you discuss, you challenge each other, you have amazing sex: you are head over heels for each other. Now, pretend that you and your partner have your own social lives, separately, like most normal people do. You go out with your friends, they go out with theirs. Now, pretend that when your partner goes out to the bar, they flirt with the opposite sex. They go as far as to have made out with several people and possibly fucked a couple. They do not love these other people, nor do they ever contact them again. They are madly in love with you and when you are both together, they have only eyes for you. But you never know they are cheating on you. You go through your whole lives together, loving each other. You are happy, happier than you have ever been. Now, you not knowing your partner is cheating on you obviously makes you happier because you do not know this. However, does this mean you have a more healthier relationship than a couple that are together, monogamous, but they are not nearly in love nor happy as you guys are in your relationship? And if your partner confessed to you their behavior on their death bed, but they assure you that you are the one true love of their life and that you made them happier than anyone ever has. Then, they die. Does this make you think your relationship was a whole lie?
Let's look at the first question: is your relationship any better than a monogamous couple whom aren't as happy or in love as yours? In some ways, it does. It shows your partner has self control, they are able to control themselves and be faithful. However, does this make them less happy? Is this the reason why they aren't head over heels for their partner because they can only fuck one person? This person is constantly battling against their primal urges to mate with as many people as possible and on some level, this makes them somewhat miserable. But because they can fight this urge, does this make them better than your partner, that releases that urge, thus making them happier and them being happier makes them happier to be with you and that makes you happier? Morally, I suppose, the other couple would be a better relationship. But why? Because they show self control? Because we've all been brought up to believe that when you love someone, you are only suppose to be with that one person, sexually, only. That your religion says you must be with one person and one person only. But let's redefine faithful, for the purpose of this argument. Faithful; adj. meaning to be emotionally devoted to one person, that they are the only one that brings you true happiness. Nothing in that definition says you have to be sexually faithful to your partner. So the person in the other relationship isn't fully satisfied with their partner. They are content with each other, but never fully happy. By our new definition of faithful, that person isn't being faithful. They are lieing no more than your partner is to you.
Now, let's look at the second question: if your partner confesses what they have been doing, but assures you that you are the love of their life and you made them happier than anyone else ever has, does this make you think your relationship is a lie? On some level, you will feel betrayed. Nobody likes to be lied to. But, why should that make the fact that that person made you so happy, gave you the best life possible, and you made them so happy: you were truly in love with each other? I argue that a person cannot make someone else happy unless they themselves are happy with themselves. This is true. So that person did what it took to make them happy, but those other people they were fucking were only little things that made them happy. It's no more different than someone else who has to go hiking every weekend to be happy. It relieves the stress your partner has, it satisfies their self confidence, and they come home to you, eager to be with the one thing that makes them feel complete. It may sound selfish, but you have to take care of your needs and wants to be happy first before you can make your partner happy. This isn't saying you are less important to your partner, quite the opposite: they want to be the best they can be for you. And, this is stressed, you are the main thing that made your partner happy. So, why couldn't they just be happy with you and no one else? You would never get that answer because your partner died right after they confessed. Everyone has their needs and wants met and your partner just had to have that thrill of the hunt and closing in to satisfy those needs and want. And, if you truly and deeply loved your now dead partner, wouldn't you want them to do what makes them happy outside of you? You don't want to be their whole world and vise versa. But would you have felt better had your partner came to you in the beginning and told you, "Look, I am so fucking in love with you. You make me smile like no one else. You make my heart skip beats. You are smart, sexy, amazing in bed, and you are my true love. However, like a normal person, I have a hobby and that hobby is to hunt other people, flirt, and make the kill, so to speak. This doesn't mean I love you any less, in fact, it makes me love you more. I have to tell you this because I have to be honest. Are you okay with this?". Face value, you'd be like, "Hell no!". But that's because you haven't been in the relationship long enough to know that this is the best relationship for you. In a round about way, this person would know that and they hid this from you to protect you and your feelings. They knew what was best for the relationship and they did it.
So, what are the answers? Depends on the person and people, I suppose. But, since I'm playing Devil's Advocate, here are the answers: You and your partner have a much better relationship than the monogamous couple. And no, your relationship isn't a lie, although it would have been better if your partner had never told you because it will, in a small way, taint your perfect relationship.
Ignorance, after all, is bliss.
-Crazy Eights
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Stylin' Baby!
I can say a few things with confidence. I am one of the best pharmacy technicians ever, I am a Head Doctor, and I'm very good with being social. One thing I've learned over the years, something I didn't know I had, but I have heard over and over again: Jess, you have amazing style! One of my first boyfriends when I moved to Glendale had no style whatsoever. I mean, the guy wore sandals with socks. SANDALS WITH MOTHERFUCKING SOCKS PEOPLE! He's lucky he looked like a low-rent Paul Walker. However, over the time we were together, I taught him fashion. By the end of the relationship, he was wearing cool shirts, good looking jeans, and I even got him amazing shoes. Of course, this gave him confidence. And with that confidence, he left me. Should have trade marked that shit.
Then my friend Jazzhands. She never really had style before. But then she started noticing the outfits I was wearing and she then started tagging along when I went shopping. She then started picking stuff out and asking my opinion. It got to the point where she would send me picture messages over the phone, asking for my approval. She said I had a great sense of style and fashion. She even wanted to hire me as her fashion consultant.
My current boyfriend, when we met, he had okay style. He's very self conscious. He's never had good self esteem about himself and wore things that just didn't fit right. Now, if you could see my boyfriend, you'd wonder how anyone could think he's anything other than handsome. He's very good looking. Same thing happened: we hang out together, he caught on to my understanding of fashion, and now he has great clothes and shoes. But he will not buy anything unless I approve. We talked about it today as I tried on a new shirt and asked him if he liked it. He said, "Baby, you look good in everything you put on. I have never seen you look bad in anything. You just have so much style!".
Now, let me explain why I think this is weird. My best friend of 22 years, Lucky, is just gorgeous. She is tall, naturally blonde, pretty face and smile, and an amazing body (Note to Lucky if she reads this: YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BODY!). If I didn't have bigger tits than her and a ghetto booty, I would have to kill her. But she is someone that can literally put on anything and it looks good on her. I have sat and watched her put on clothing after clothing, all of it looking amazing on her. But she's not always confident in what to wear, so it takes time, but she naturally has style. She's very modest about her sense of style, but she's just one of those people that look good in anything. She's built like a super model.
Me? I'm not built like a super model. Now, since my disease thing, I've lost 30 pounds, and before that I lost 20 pounds (being poor I lived off of jello, yogurt, and beer). But at my biggest I was 240. Now I'm down to 177. I'm also 5'8", so I'm not morbidly obese. But I'm not built like most girls in Arizona. It's fucking hot here. All the time. So girls work extra hard to have that tight little body because you wear short-shorts and bikinis. I'm an hour glass figure with a ghetto booty, thick, and I am proud of it. I don't look like any other girl. I learned from someone who actually betrayed me to place my tattoos in different places. She had the most amazing tattoo of the villain from Sleeping Beauty on her thigh, but she never wore shorts. So, unless she was swimming or you were about to get naked, not a lot of people saw it. Now, granted, having a huge tattoo on my chest isn't discreet, but I've seen a million of girls with tattoos on their chest and they just don't carry it as well.
I digress. I'm not someone that you would expect to know fashion and style. But I can spot a fashion trend before it explodes. I remember in high school, I saw a picture of a girl with her hair in front twisted and held together with little clippies. I remember thinking "This is what everyone is going to be doing soon". I was right. I unknowingly studied style while working at Walgreens as there was always People and US Weekly in the break room. So, I have actual knowledge of fashion. But what makes me styling? I was talking to my boyfriend tonight and he said I have confidence when I dress. Then he said, "Baby, I dress for me. I like to look good for me." I've said this so many times and now it clicks: I dress for me, so I unknowingly spit out style. And it's true. Since he started dressing for him and his self esteem, he looks so much better. So, now, my imaginary readers, you know the secret to dressing better: confidence and dress for yourself. You'll be stylin' in no time at all!
I just hope my current boyfriend doesn't leave me like the one in the first paragraph. I'm getting this one trade marked.
-Crazy Eights
Then my friend Jazzhands. She never really had style before. But then she started noticing the outfits I was wearing and she then started tagging along when I went shopping. She then started picking stuff out and asking my opinion. It got to the point where she would send me picture messages over the phone, asking for my approval. She said I had a great sense of style and fashion. She even wanted to hire me as her fashion consultant.
My current boyfriend, when we met, he had okay style. He's very self conscious. He's never had good self esteem about himself and wore things that just didn't fit right. Now, if you could see my boyfriend, you'd wonder how anyone could think he's anything other than handsome. He's very good looking. Same thing happened: we hang out together, he caught on to my understanding of fashion, and now he has great clothes and shoes. But he will not buy anything unless I approve. We talked about it today as I tried on a new shirt and asked him if he liked it. He said, "Baby, you look good in everything you put on. I have never seen you look bad in anything. You just have so much style!".
Now, let me explain why I think this is weird. My best friend of 22 years, Lucky, is just gorgeous. She is tall, naturally blonde, pretty face and smile, and an amazing body (Note to Lucky if she reads this: YOU HAVE AN AMAZING BODY!). If I didn't have bigger tits than her and a ghetto booty, I would have to kill her. But she is someone that can literally put on anything and it looks good on her. I have sat and watched her put on clothing after clothing, all of it looking amazing on her. But she's not always confident in what to wear, so it takes time, but she naturally has style. She's very modest about her sense of style, but she's just one of those people that look good in anything. She's built like a super model.
Me? I'm not built like a super model. Now, since my disease thing, I've lost 30 pounds, and before that I lost 20 pounds (being poor I lived off of jello, yogurt, and beer). But at my biggest I was 240. Now I'm down to 177. I'm also 5'8", so I'm not morbidly obese. But I'm not built like most girls in Arizona. It's fucking hot here. All the time. So girls work extra hard to have that tight little body because you wear short-shorts and bikinis. I'm an hour glass figure with a ghetto booty, thick, and I am proud of it. I don't look like any other girl. I learned from someone who actually betrayed me to place my tattoos in different places. She had the most amazing tattoo of the villain from Sleeping Beauty on her thigh, but she never wore shorts. So, unless she was swimming or you were about to get naked, not a lot of people saw it. Now, granted, having a huge tattoo on my chest isn't discreet, but I've seen a million of girls with tattoos on their chest and they just don't carry it as well.
I digress. I'm not someone that you would expect to know fashion and style. But I can spot a fashion trend before it explodes. I remember in high school, I saw a picture of a girl with her hair in front twisted and held together with little clippies. I remember thinking "This is what everyone is going to be doing soon". I was right. I unknowingly studied style while working at Walgreens as there was always People and US Weekly in the break room. So, I have actual knowledge of fashion. But what makes me styling? I was talking to my boyfriend tonight and he said I have confidence when I dress. Then he said, "Baby, I dress for me. I like to look good for me." I've said this so many times and now it clicks: I dress for me, so I unknowingly spit out style. And it's true. Since he started dressing for him and his self esteem, he looks so much better. So, now, my imaginary readers, you know the secret to dressing better: confidence and dress for yourself. You'll be stylin' in no time at all!
I just hope my current boyfriend doesn't leave me like the one in the first paragraph. I'm getting this one trade marked.
-Crazy Eights
Friday, February 17, 2012
Boys and Girls
The never ending debate: can guys and girls just be friends? I don't get whats to debate. They can't. It's not possible. If you're one those who disagree and will point out a couple of friends as examples, you are wrong. Either one person is head over heels and the other doesn't feel the same, so they maintain a masochistic/sadist friendship or one person doesn't realize the other wants to have sex with them and it goes back to being the masochistic/sadist relationship. People debate the wrong issue with this situation. It's just not possible to just be friends with the opposite sex. It's not the issue I want to debate about. People are asking the wrong question. It isn't CAN guys and girls be friends, (they can't. Don't argue.), but WHY can't guys and girls be friends? Is it animalistic? Or is it as humans we've evolved that any positive emotions we have for the opposite sex must equal love which leads to sex?
Let's look at the animalistic viewpoint first. As humans, our need to procreate is great and huge. We want to carry on our genes. We are no different than cats and dogs running around humping one another to spread our legacy. This is why welfare people and trailer trash can't stop reproducing. They don't think: they just do. While smart people stop, evaluate and look for a suitable mate. But not even the smart ones can't stop that feeling their groins when they become friends with that female coworker at work and as they go out for late nights of innocent drinking and fun, the male instinctively wants to fuck this girl because she is a good mating partner. And he will go back to the office and fuck her. He is following his instinct. People like to think we're greater than other animals like monkeys and birds, and we are in some senses, but we all share that instinct. This doesn't make us any better or any worse as people. It makes us animals.
On the flip side, can guys and girls not be friends because as humans we've evolved that when we have intimate emotions for the opposite sex, we mistake this for love and that love becomes a need to fuck. To connect with someone on several different emotions we have, over the years, started to mush these emotions into believing it's love and lust. This person understands me like my mate never will or they are so in tuned with my emotions. This leads to thinking you love them and that love leads to sex. We now associate love with sex. This wasn't always the case. Back in the 1930's, (I'm totally throwing out an era here.), a guy would not have a girl as a friend. Sure, he may look at his best friends wife and think "Damn! She has a very nice hiney!". But he wouldn't be friends with his best friends wife because it looked bad and she was a tramp. Now we're so free with our emotions and wanting to become open to new things that now a persons mind is just as a turn on as a chicks tits.
This is the part that I would tell you which I think is right. I don't know the answer to this debate. My boyfriend called while I was writing this and I told him the basics of this post. He gave the theory that men are animalistic and girls fall for the emotions turn into sexual attraction. And while it's a valid point, I've been in "friendships" with guys where I just wanted to (and did) fuck because it was the animal in me. On the flip side, a guy friend of mine fell deeply in love with me and it led to fucking. So, whats the answer?
I don't know, I just know guys and girls can't be friends.
-Crazy Eights
Let's look at the animalistic viewpoint first. As humans, our need to procreate is great and huge. We want to carry on our genes. We are no different than cats and dogs running around humping one another to spread our legacy. This is why welfare people and trailer trash can't stop reproducing. They don't think: they just do. While smart people stop, evaluate and look for a suitable mate. But not even the smart ones can't stop that feeling their groins when they become friends with that female coworker at work and as they go out for late nights of innocent drinking and fun, the male instinctively wants to fuck this girl because she is a good mating partner. And he will go back to the office and fuck her. He is following his instinct. People like to think we're greater than other animals like monkeys and birds, and we are in some senses, but we all share that instinct. This doesn't make us any better or any worse as people. It makes us animals.
On the flip side, can guys and girls not be friends because as humans we've evolved that when we have intimate emotions for the opposite sex, we mistake this for love and that love becomes a need to fuck. To connect with someone on several different emotions we have, over the years, started to mush these emotions into believing it's love and lust. This person understands me like my mate never will or they are so in tuned with my emotions. This leads to thinking you love them and that love leads to sex. We now associate love with sex. This wasn't always the case. Back in the 1930's, (I'm totally throwing out an era here.), a guy would not have a girl as a friend. Sure, he may look at his best friends wife and think "Damn! She has a very nice hiney!". But he wouldn't be friends with his best friends wife because it looked bad and she was a tramp. Now we're so free with our emotions and wanting to become open to new things that now a persons mind is just as a turn on as a chicks tits.
This is the part that I would tell you which I think is right. I don't know the answer to this debate. My boyfriend called while I was writing this and I told him the basics of this post. He gave the theory that men are animalistic and girls fall for the emotions turn into sexual attraction. And while it's a valid point, I've been in "friendships" with guys where I just wanted to (and did) fuck because it was the animal in me. On the flip side, a guy friend of mine fell deeply in love with me and it led to fucking. So, whats the answer?
I don't know, I just know guys and girls can't be friends.
-Crazy Eights
Fated
"Do you ever wonder if we'd be better off as friends?" That's the question my boyfriend posed to me today. I fucking hate it when he does the "What ifs". I'm a worrier by nature, I constantly worry. I worry about being dumped, I worry about money, I worry about my job, I worry about friends, I worry about the world, I worry about the retard kid I saw the other day and if they are happy. Everyone has always said I have the highest anxiety out of anyone they ever knew. I worry about things I cannot control. I know all of that and that's usually where the xanax comes in. It doesn't always help, but most of the time, it brings me back down to normal. But it only gets rid of the anxiety, never the worry. I have to sleep with the TV on or my brain takes the opportunity to fill itself with as much worry as possible. My boyfriend always hopes for the best and plans for the worst. It's a good way to look at things I suppose as far as crazy people go. Then people get into "if it's meant to be, it's meant to be". Something my boyfriend says as well. Which he follows up with "But how do you know if it's meant to be?". And that is a great question. Is it a feeling in your gut? A feeling in your heart? Do you write down the Pros and Cons? To know if something is meant to be is an ability that no human will ever be able to posses. Why? Because we have a high thinking power than animals. We think things over and over and over. Explore every option. Animals just know and do it.
That's where fate comes in. Some people think you should believe in fate and let the chips fall where they may, (Tyler Durdan, you wonderful bastard). Others say that you have to make your own fate and that you are in charge of your life. So who's right? Both in my opinion. The hard part isn't relying on fate and hoping that everything works out or making your way through life with hard work and toil. The hard part is knowing when to leave it to fate and when you need to step it up and make things your way. Fate does exist, but it isn't always the answer. You still have to put in the hard work for your life and what you really want.
Let me give you some examples. When I was getting ready to move out of my apartment, I had until the end of the month to get out. I had all my things packed up and the big questions was: where do I go? The days were drawing near and I had three options: move in with my friend Jazzhands, move in with a couple that I knew from college, or move in with my stepmom. I realized that I couldn't live with Jazzhands as she and I would grow to hate each other. I didn't want to live with my stepmom because her and my dad were going through a very nasty divorce and she wasn't in a good place. So, I was going to live with the couple I knew from college. So, my boyfriend and I moved all my shit up two flights of stairs and went out to eat. Not even 45 minutes after we moved my stuff, the couple called and decided they didn't want to live with me. So, that left me with my one option: my stepmom. It was fated because not even two months later, my Stage IV Endometriosis flared up so bad that I couldn't hold down a job. My stepmom, who loves me like her own daughter, let me live here pretty much rent free and has been very supportive. If I had moved in with Jazzhands, I would have been left with an apartment I couldn't pay for as she left for The Navy, and the couple would have kicked me out since I wouldn't be able to pay rent. That was fate.
So, here's an example of not fate, but me making my own life. When I first moved to Glendale, I worked at Walgreens. I excel at every job I do. I did the register, was moved into photo and made lead photo. But eventually, I realized I wanted to work in the pharmacy. So, I told my boss, who said no because I was the only capable person in photo. I didn't relent. I made friends with the people back in the pharmacy. When they needed help ringing people up, I was the first one there. One night, we got robbed and we had to close the store down. The pharmacy closes earlier than the store front. So, as I was trying to finish getting the customers rang out and lock the doors, the pharmacy manager came strolling towards the doors, whistling and swinging his keys. I told him he couldn't leave because we had just gotten robbed. He looked at me ringing people out, keeping everyone calm, and doing my job. The next day he told his employees, "We have to get her back here". It wasn't long until the assistant manager came up to me in photo and said, "You still want to work in pharmacy?". I said I did. He said it was done. And I am one of the best pharmacy technicians there ever has been. I say that with confidence. But I had to make that happen, not sit around and twiddle my thumbs and hope fate made me a pharmacy technician.
So now you see the difference. That's the hardest part is seeing the difference. I don't claim I know that difference all the time. But when it comes to relationships, both fate and hard work apply. It is fate you meet that person, that you talked to that person that night, that you felt those emotions that eventually led to a relationship. That's fate. And people keep relying on fate to keep the relationship going. They are wrong. You then have to put in the hard work and make it your own. That's why when people break up and say "It just wasn't meant to be" pisses me off. They were lazy and didn't want to put the work in because fate brought them together, but that is where fates job ends at relationships. You know when fate's job is done when the magic and the passion start to wear off. Then you have to put in the hard work. Because relationships are hard work. People need to realize: your partner is going to let you down once in awhile. And you are going to let your partner down once in awhile. That's where you put in the hard work and fight through the pain and the hurt together.
So, when do you know when the relationship really isn't meant to be? I don't have the answer, but I have a theory. After you weather the storm, and things have settled down and you look at your partner. They are beaten, tired, and you probably look the same. If by the end of that you still look at that person and you feel that love, that same love that you felt that first time and you still are looking at this person and you just want to be with them still, that's how you know you're in a good relationship. If at the end, you suddenly see a different person, someone that you don't feel that love anymore, then you know the relationship should end. I have a failed marriage, but I fought the good fight. The problem was he didn't want to fight the fight. He didn't want to put in the work. He thinks he did by joining The Navy, but he didn't put in the work to stop hurting me. I'm not happy I have a failed marriage. Nobody likes to admit defeat. But I came out of it with a new look on relationships. And it helped me learn the difference of when to rely on fate and when I need to bear down, get my hands dirty, and get work done son. I won't always know 100% of the time, but I have a better understanding of when to know the difference.
So, call it fate or God's will or whatever you want, but sometimes you need to get off that wagon and push it yourself.
-Crazy Eights
That's where fate comes in. Some people think you should believe in fate and let the chips fall where they may, (Tyler Durdan, you wonderful bastard). Others say that you have to make your own fate and that you are in charge of your life. So who's right? Both in my opinion. The hard part isn't relying on fate and hoping that everything works out or making your way through life with hard work and toil. The hard part is knowing when to leave it to fate and when you need to step it up and make things your way. Fate does exist, but it isn't always the answer. You still have to put in the hard work for your life and what you really want.
Let me give you some examples. When I was getting ready to move out of my apartment, I had until the end of the month to get out. I had all my things packed up and the big questions was: where do I go? The days were drawing near and I had three options: move in with my friend Jazzhands, move in with a couple that I knew from college, or move in with my stepmom. I realized that I couldn't live with Jazzhands as she and I would grow to hate each other. I didn't want to live with my stepmom because her and my dad were going through a very nasty divorce and she wasn't in a good place. So, I was going to live with the couple I knew from college. So, my boyfriend and I moved all my shit up two flights of stairs and went out to eat. Not even 45 minutes after we moved my stuff, the couple called and decided they didn't want to live with me. So, that left me with my one option: my stepmom. It was fated because not even two months later, my Stage IV Endometriosis flared up so bad that I couldn't hold down a job. My stepmom, who loves me like her own daughter, let me live here pretty much rent free and has been very supportive. If I had moved in with Jazzhands, I would have been left with an apartment I couldn't pay for as she left for The Navy, and the couple would have kicked me out since I wouldn't be able to pay rent. That was fate.
So, here's an example of not fate, but me making my own life. When I first moved to Glendale, I worked at Walgreens. I excel at every job I do. I did the register, was moved into photo and made lead photo. But eventually, I realized I wanted to work in the pharmacy. So, I told my boss, who said no because I was the only capable person in photo. I didn't relent. I made friends with the people back in the pharmacy. When they needed help ringing people up, I was the first one there. One night, we got robbed and we had to close the store down. The pharmacy closes earlier than the store front. So, as I was trying to finish getting the customers rang out and lock the doors, the pharmacy manager came strolling towards the doors, whistling and swinging his keys. I told him he couldn't leave because we had just gotten robbed. He looked at me ringing people out, keeping everyone calm, and doing my job. The next day he told his employees, "We have to get her back here". It wasn't long until the assistant manager came up to me in photo and said, "You still want to work in pharmacy?". I said I did. He said it was done. And I am one of the best pharmacy technicians there ever has been. I say that with confidence. But I had to make that happen, not sit around and twiddle my thumbs and hope fate made me a pharmacy technician.
So now you see the difference. That's the hardest part is seeing the difference. I don't claim I know that difference all the time. But when it comes to relationships, both fate and hard work apply. It is fate you meet that person, that you talked to that person that night, that you felt those emotions that eventually led to a relationship. That's fate. And people keep relying on fate to keep the relationship going. They are wrong. You then have to put in the hard work and make it your own. That's why when people break up and say "It just wasn't meant to be" pisses me off. They were lazy and didn't want to put the work in because fate brought them together, but that is where fates job ends at relationships. You know when fate's job is done when the magic and the passion start to wear off. Then you have to put in the hard work. Because relationships are hard work. People need to realize: your partner is going to let you down once in awhile. And you are going to let your partner down once in awhile. That's where you put in the hard work and fight through the pain and the hurt together.
So, when do you know when the relationship really isn't meant to be? I don't have the answer, but I have a theory. After you weather the storm, and things have settled down and you look at your partner. They are beaten, tired, and you probably look the same. If by the end of that you still look at that person and you feel that love, that same love that you felt that first time and you still are looking at this person and you just want to be with them still, that's how you know you're in a good relationship. If at the end, you suddenly see a different person, someone that you don't feel that love anymore, then you know the relationship should end. I have a failed marriage, but I fought the good fight. The problem was he didn't want to fight the fight. He didn't want to put in the work. He thinks he did by joining The Navy, but he didn't put in the work to stop hurting me. I'm not happy I have a failed marriage. Nobody likes to admit defeat. But I came out of it with a new look on relationships. And it helped me learn the difference of when to rely on fate and when I need to bear down, get my hands dirty, and get work done son. I won't always know 100% of the time, but I have a better understanding of when to know the difference.
So, call it fate or God's will or whatever you want, but sometimes you need to get off that wagon and push it yourself.
-Crazy Eights
Thursday, February 16, 2012
A Letter to a Doctor
Dear Dr. G (Not the medical examiner),
You see my boyfriend once a week for his weekly meetings. In the beginning, I was a great thing for him. I'm his first healthy relationship, I make him happy (most days), I encourage him, and most of all, I love him. Do you know how hard it is to love him? He's not an easy guy to love, but I accept him as he is. Do you remember how supportive you were of us? How you encouraged him to stick it with me when I had Stage IV Endometriosis? How you said you would discharge him from your group if he ever broke up with me? What changed, Dr G? Now you want him single and you don't think I'm good enough for him. Guess what? I encouraged him to make friends, the friends you are so happy he's finally making. I'm the reason he started calling and texting these people to go out and have fun, that you're so giddy for him. Fuck, I even told him where the best places to go where. He told you I have trust issues, and you said those are my problems, not his. Guess what? It is his problem, but I've been working very hard on those issues. You fail to realize that you know so much about my boyfriend, but you know nothing about me. You think I'm a gold digger? Honey, let me paint you a picture of me coming home to a filthy apartment after working 9 days in a row to a husband that didn't work and did drugs and cheated on me behind my back. I supported that asshole for over a year. This is payback bitch. Gold digger, huh? I just bought my boyfriend, your client, a tank of gas and took him out to lunch. I have bought him several games, blu rays, gas (which in his van, isn't fucking cheap), and even a Nintendo DS. Does that sound like a Gold digger to you? Sounds like someone who is getting her dues from her shit head of a husband. It's convenient right now for both of us to stayed married: he gets more money, I get badass insurance and when we file for taxes, we're getting a shit load.
But let's go back to my trust issues, shall we? You have no idea how often I have been lied to, cheated on, or fucked over. And my boyfriend has a horrible past of cheating on every single one of his girlfriends and now he's going out, drinking, and surrounded by girls. He's a very handsome and charming guy, you know this Dr G. But I don't go through his phone, I don't ask who he's texting, I don't go through his email, nor do I ask him about the girls at the bar. We all have are issues, Dr., but I'm working on mine. If he slips up, all I can hope is that he is man enough to tell me, ashamed enough to hold his head down and beg for forgiveness. And I will. Because I have never had someone be honest with me. Oh, but you do know about the girls he's been talking to. Guess what? I know too. I only freaked out about one because I thought he should have told her he wasn't single, but I have to trust his judgement. I've fucked up a couple times on trusting him and let him down, but you know what Dr Perefect? So has he.And we've forgiven one another because that is what true, loving couples do. And the fact you say he's so young to be in a serious relationship? Why didn't you tell him that from the beginning you dumb cunt. Look, he's had his fun. He's scammed money, he's fucked more girls than most guys every will in their life, he's been in jail, etc. He's 26 years old. He needs to start settling down and figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. I see how his life has been up until now and wouldn't you say he needs to start doing the opposite of what he was? No one is there to encourage him, no is there to tell him how handsome he is, what a great guy he is, to talk about all the things we both love and share. At least, there wasn't. But I'm here now. I'm not trying to save him, but I'm trying to help him in his way through life because even though his mom is there, she isn't there emotionally. He stood by my side when I went through my disease. A disease I couldn't help having and it was painful. So painful I couldn't hold down a job. Well, Guess what Dr Cunt: I'm better now and going back to work soon.
So, fuck you and you telling him he should be single because he's "so young" and "your girlfriend is a gold digger". Want my advice? Get to know who your client is in love with first before you decide to make fucked up advice like that.
But I'm not telling you what to do. Stupid Cunt.
-Crazy Eights
You see my boyfriend once a week for his weekly meetings. In the beginning, I was a great thing for him. I'm his first healthy relationship, I make him happy (most days), I encourage him, and most of all, I love him. Do you know how hard it is to love him? He's not an easy guy to love, but I accept him as he is. Do you remember how supportive you were of us? How you encouraged him to stick it with me when I had Stage IV Endometriosis? How you said you would discharge him from your group if he ever broke up with me? What changed, Dr G? Now you want him single and you don't think I'm good enough for him. Guess what? I encouraged him to make friends, the friends you are so happy he's finally making. I'm the reason he started calling and texting these people to go out and have fun, that you're so giddy for him. Fuck, I even told him where the best places to go where. He told you I have trust issues, and you said those are my problems, not his. Guess what? It is his problem, but I've been working very hard on those issues. You fail to realize that you know so much about my boyfriend, but you know nothing about me. You think I'm a gold digger? Honey, let me paint you a picture of me coming home to a filthy apartment after working 9 days in a row to a husband that didn't work and did drugs and cheated on me behind my back. I supported that asshole for over a year. This is payback bitch. Gold digger, huh? I just bought my boyfriend, your client, a tank of gas and took him out to lunch. I have bought him several games, blu rays, gas (which in his van, isn't fucking cheap), and even a Nintendo DS. Does that sound like a Gold digger to you? Sounds like someone who is getting her dues from her shit head of a husband. It's convenient right now for both of us to stayed married: he gets more money, I get badass insurance and when we file for taxes, we're getting a shit load.
But let's go back to my trust issues, shall we? You have no idea how often I have been lied to, cheated on, or fucked over. And my boyfriend has a horrible past of cheating on every single one of his girlfriends and now he's going out, drinking, and surrounded by girls. He's a very handsome and charming guy, you know this Dr G. But I don't go through his phone, I don't ask who he's texting, I don't go through his email, nor do I ask him about the girls at the bar. We all have are issues, Dr., but I'm working on mine. If he slips up, all I can hope is that he is man enough to tell me, ashamed enough to hold his head down and beg for forgiveness. And I will. Because I have never had someone be honest with me. Oh, but you do know about the girls he's been talking to. Guess what? I know too. I only freaked out about one because I thought he should have told her he wasn't single, but I have to trust his judgement. I've fucked up a couple times on trusting him and let him down, but you know what Dr Perefect? So has he.And we've forgiven one another because that is what true, loving couples do. And the fact you say he's so young to be in a serious relationship? Why didn't you tell him that from the beginning you dumb cunt. Look, he's had his fun. He's scammed money, he's fucked more girls than most guys every will in their life, he's been in jail, etc. He's 26 years old. He needs to start settling down and figuring out what to do with the rest of his life. I see how his life has been up until now and wouldn't you say he needs to start doing the opposite of what he was? No one is there to encourage him, no is there to tell him how handsome he is, what a great guy he is, to talk about all the things we both love and share. At least, there wasn't. But I'm here now. I'm not trying to save him, but I'm trying to help him in his way through life because even though his mom is there, she isn't there emotionally. He stood by my side when I went through my disease. A disease I couldn't help having and it was painful. So painful I couldn't hold down a job. Well, Guess what Dr Cunt: I'm better now and going back to work soon.
So, fuck you and you telling him he should be single because he's "so young" and "your girlfriend is a gold digger". Want my advice? Get to know who your client is in love with first before you decide to make fucked up advice like that.
But I'm not telling you what to do. Stupid Cunt.
-Crazy Eights
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