Divine InnerBitchin’

I couldn’t help but laugh, and then think of Rob when, while researching my new stray’s neurotic behavior, I came upon this site.

Rob, you are by no means alone in this world so long as there are others with a distaste for the feline species.

Oh, and don’t forget to browse the other petitions while you’re there.

A very, merry Christmas to each and every one of you.

God Bless you today, and everyday throughout the coming year.

I have no idea what’s going on with my comments.

I’m still trying to find the problem.

Please, stand by.

Thank you.

Human beings are, by nature, curious beings; analyzing, probing, exploring. I am, perhaps, an exception to the rule in that I am in a constant state of over-analysis. And, because of this, every now and then, I cross the line from introspective, to a more aggressive form of all out ass-probing.

This has been that kind of week.

Usually, when I enter into this particular circle of hell, I emerge battered and singed, but better for the experience. I have, in years past, found myself performing an inventory of those in my life, and have walked away from relationships which were in some way lacking. The decision to purchase a home of my own was brought about through one of my periods of self-evaluation.

Most of the time, whatever the outcome, I can walk away feeling clean once the deed is done. I can walk away from ‘friends’ or sign on the dotted line without difficulty because…

I feel like I’m in control.

This time, however, my metamorphosis has been less than that of a butterfly emerging from the cocoon.

I feel unfulfilled.

Worse.

I feel lost.

Those who know me at all will attest to my willingness to step up to the plate, express and opinion, and back it up. I usually have no problem in standing up for myself, and have even less difficulty in standing up for someone else.

Which, actually, as it turns out, is part of my problem.

For example…Last year, when the company I work for was screwing with me, and I was passed over for a promotion to a job for which I had previously been hand-picked, and had been training for more than a year…I did nothing. Well, nothing but bitch and moan, that is. However, a month later, when the same thing happened to a co-worker, I was enraged, and took action. Of course, I found myself standing alone, again, and the fury eventually died down.

Again…when out at a nightclub with a gal friend of mine, a stunner who always has a huge smile upon her face, I watched a man towards whom she had expressed no attraction attempt to browbeat the will out of her, and get her to cough up her phone number: “How can I contact you? What’s your last name? Are you in the book? No, really, what’s your home number?” After about ten minutes of listening to her say politely “I’m sorry, I can’t get calls at work. If you want my last name you’ll have to try and guess it. No, thank you, I don’t feel like dancing right now.” I turned around, and in attack posture, screamed “Damn! Can’t you get the friggin hint? She doesn’t want to give you her phone number! She DOES NOT pick up men in bars!” Suddenly, dazed, the guy spun around on his heels and made a mad dash for his by then hysterical buddies, watching from across the bar.

They didn’t send anyone else over to take a shot at her.

Come to think of it, my protective streak runs all the way back to my childhood when my over-protective, hyper-serious thinking made me the girl from whom everyone sought advice. My sister, however, was the one who got the party invitations.

And now…

Just last week, something happened that made me sit up straight and take notice of what I’ve allowed myself, as of late, to become. It was a small thing, really, but it was the way in which I handled the situation which has made me so uncomfortable with myself, for I realize, it is becoming a habit.

Last week, while waiting in line at Wal Mart to return a ceramic heater, I allowed a woman to cut in line ahead of me.

It started off innocently enough. The line was crooked and had meandered into the main walkway when, after repeated “excuse me”s, I had attempted to move the line back up against a wall to make way for those leaving the register. A few minutes later, a couple of women walked up and stood beside me. As the line progressed, I noticed that the women persisted in standing alongside me, and after a few more inchings forward, I heard one of the women say, “Don’t let her jump ahead of you.” I turned and said, “Pardon me?” to which I heard, “Oh. I was talking to her.” We continued to move forward in the line, my mind racing…

Had I been the one to jump in line?

Didn’t I just watch them walk up after me? Wait! Am I sure that I actually saw these two women walk up to the line?

No! I was there first. I knew I was.

So, wearing my shiny new passive-aggressive attitude, I stuck. Every step they took, I took one too. If they tried to inch ahead, I inched ahead. Then, as the moment of truth approached, I found myself pulling a full-on con job…on myself.

It’s not really worth it…

Hey, if they can live with their rudeness, I certainly can live with it…

Let them have their moment, it’s likely one of only a few they’ll ever have…

I’ll just screw with them…and then let them have the register when the time comes. I’ll make them sweat it out…

I’m not going to lose any sleep over this…

And then, we were at the front of the line, and with two registers in front of us, I secretly hoped that both would come available at the same time so that they would ‘learn a lesson’ about how playing unfairly doesn’t really win in the end.

But, no.

I stood there and waited while they stepped ahead to the first available register, and was still standing there when they walked away; No doubt proud of themselves for having not allowed the pushy gal with the designer bag to get a leg up on them.

I felt a terrible sinking feeling. And, so, I continued to con myself.

Well, if they really believed that it was I who had rudely skipped ahead in line, then it was a simple misunderstanding.

Really, it just wasn’t worth the hassle.

The truth is, I knew that they had skipped, whether they knew it or not. And, I allowed it to happen.

…Just as I’ve allowed Cingular Wireless to push me into another month of charges by telling me that the problems with my service would be addressed.

…Just as I’ve allowed my roofer to get by with inferior work because, after all, he’s just a small, little, family-owned company. I don’t want to ruin their Christmas.

…Just as I allowed the p.c. bullies to make me uncomfortable with saying “Merry Christmas” when ringing the Salvation Army bell last week.

Being a doormat is becoming a none-too-welcome part of my everyday life.

And I don’t like it one damned bit!

I would never allow a friend to sit by and take crap off of someone else. I would never respect a person who constantly allowed others to walk all over them. So…how in the hell did I become the anti-me?!

I’ll tell you how: One day…one little indignity at a time.

My willingness to compromise in order to maintain harmony has zapped my energy, and worse yet, my self-esteem. I know, I know…no one can take your self-esteem if you don’t hand it over to them. Yeah. I know. But, that’s where it gets tricky, for all it takes is for you to let someone get the best of you… just one time, and the self-doubt begins to set in.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

And, I’ll be the first to say…

Shame on me.

So, now begins the hard work of getting back to a place where I feel comfortable with myself. …getting back to a place where I value myself more than just anybody else I pass on the street.

It’s a bit scary, and I’ll likely piss off a few people along the way, but it has to be done, because…

Damn!

I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

And I do not like the person I see in the mirror each morning.

This is my fourth attempt to contact you regarding the still not completed repairs to my roof.

When my new roof was installed, just one year ago, I selected your company from the several which I interviewed, not because of your rate, but because of your reputation. At that time, your profile with the Better Business Bureau was near spotless (such, as I now find, is no longer the case), and you came recommended by a co-worker. Furthermore, as is typical in such dealings, I selected a small, family-owned company because of the more personal level of customer service I had hoped to receive.

I now question that decision.

Twice, your company has performed repairs to the flashing around my chimney, and yet it is still not satisfactorily repaired. And now, additional, significant leaks have been located.

I will remind you, at this time, that when you quoted my new roof, a complete tear-out and replacement of my flashing was included. Yet, relying upon your expertise and advice, when the job was performed, I did not question your decision to leave the existing flashing in place. Your advice, after the fact, was that it would be better to leave the “good flashing” that was already in place. Clearly, this was bad advice. Furthermore, I remind you, that a refund for those costs was not offered nor provided.

This will be my final attempt to contact your company.

The following are required in order to satisfactorily address the issues with workmanship:

1. A complete and proper replacement of the chimney flashing.

2. Replacement of any and all rotten wood which is found in the areas surrounding and adjacent to the leaks.

3. A home assessment should be provided, at your cost, to determine whether damage to the structures; chimneys, plaster, walls, flooring, electrical, etc… has occurred as related directly to the work performed on my roof or due to the subsequent and persistent leaks which have followed.

4. Remediation of all mold resultant of the leaks.

This will be my final attempt to contact your company prior to proceeding with the following actions effective Friday, December 23, 2005:

1. Filing written complaints with the Better Business Bureau and licensing boards in Tallahassee

2. Filing a claim with the courts

Finally, if these regretful actions are met with less than satisfactory results, I will seek, through our local consumer advocate, to inform the consumer public of the potential risks associated with conducting business with your company.

It is my hope that an agreement between us can be reached so that we may continue, amicably, our business relationship throughout the remainder of our contract period.

Respectfully,
J. Michele Flynn

Perhaps my mind is in the gutter.

Okay…

My mind is in the gutter, but am I the only one who sees more than just “a reclining figure“?

Damn!

I need to stay away from the pay-per-view.

“Brokeback Mountain Breaks Records”

A film, a, eh, love story, is released, in a very limited set of venues, and draws record crowds for a ‘limited release’ movie.

Pardon my ignorance, and perhaps I am completely off the mark here, but it occurs to me that those numbers, or for that matter, the numbers for any given movie, could be rather easily manipulated through the ‘limited release’ process?

Let’s say someone makes a film about gay cowboys…

Let’s say that in order to legitimize the movie with main stream audiences, and create wider appeal, they decide to portray it as a movie which many people are eager to see…

Let’s say that it is suggested that to not see the film would immediately render one narrow-minded…

Let’s say that they, then, release the movie in only a handful of venues in San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York…

After five plays, Variety touts Brokeback as breaking the record for “highest ‘per-screen take’ of any pic this year.” Memoirs of a Geisha, meanwhile, came in second in ‘per-screen take’, in eight plays, with an overall take more than $100g higher than Brokeback.

What are the chances that in the cities which represent a predominance of the gay and lesbian population, that the film could easily pack the few houses in which it debuts?

How many people will they succeed in persuading with what appears to be (in my eyes) a tactic?

Not many I suspect.

Sure, there will be those eager to be recognized as ‘enlightened’, and who will go to see it just so that they can point their fingers at the rest of us God-fearing Koolaid drinkers and feel superior. But me…

I am not ready to see two men making out. And, I suspect, neither are the majority of American adults. However, for the sake of full disclosure, I do admit to having watched girl-on-girl porn, and enjoyed it. So, does that make me a hypocrite?

Probably.

And, beyond a superficial explanation as to why there is a difference, I have no defense.

Perhaps, if they had promoted the movie as a great drama…or a great love-story…or a great western, I could have watched the movie and accepted the man-love as simply part of the storyline.

It was they who opted to make this a ‘gay cowboy film’.

It seems a bit sensational…and manipulative. Yet, unskillfully so.

I recall a decade or so ago another movie which was debuted to shocked audiences, and which contained a rather brutal twist to the story mid-way through.

The difference…

The focus of the movie: An interesting and original plot line and an outstanding performance by Forest Whitaker. And, in The Crying Game the ’surprise’ was part of the story, it was essential to the story, and while shocking, it was not offensive in and of itself.

Another huge difference, those who went to see it, kept the secret to themselves so that that their friends would be suckered into the theaters too.

Now, that’s manipulation.

Now go…enjoy.

The ‘chaps’ are waiting.

Me?

I’m Netflixing 9 1/2 Weeks.

Because nothing is more shocking than the site of Mickey Rourke seducing a pre-Baldwin Kim Basinger.

Update: As suspected, the gay cowboy charm isn’t enough to hold the attention of an audience who seeks more than a mere tagline. And, as usual, Ace has done a superior job in stating a point which I can only clumsily grasp.

While watching the Jaguars-Colts game, I hear one of the announcers remark on the view of the St. Johns river, “One of only two rivers, along with the Nile, which flow south to north.”

Is that a fact?

It reminds me of when, during the coverage of the Superbowl, there were at least a half-dozen different statistics cited for the size, in square miles, of Jacksonville. Even accounting for the odd political geography of Jacksonville; Jacksonville city limits, Jacksonville and Jacksonville Beach, Jacksonville and all beaches, all of Duval County, there were several extra quotes to spare.

No thought is given to the tossing about of information, or misinformation, in the media.

And, in the scheme of things, what do these particular examples matter in and of themselves?

Nothing, really.

Not a hill of beans.

But is does reflect the loosy-goosy attitude of ‘reporters’ these days. Which is to say that they aren’t, in many cases, reporting at all.

I mean…they’re only sports commentators, right?

Does that excuse the ease with which statistics are tossed about?

No.

Not in my opinion.

If you’re tossing about facts…the least you can do is perform a ‘google’ search. It’s not as if they have to send out a crack team of researchers to scour the national archives for information. It’s a few freakin keys on the desktop.

Frankly, when you get down to it, it’s just plain laziness.

And, none of which makes any friggin difference as to whether the Jags had their asses handed to them today.

No difference at all.

A bumpersticker:

I Played D&D Before It Was Cool

Oh, really?

Now I know where all the ‘cool’ guys have been hangin’.

If you missed the premier of Bravo’s new reality show ‘Party, Party’, you must catch the rerun. And, knowing Bravo, it will aire at least a dozen times in the next week.

I cannot believe that parents behave in such a manner, and with seemingly no understanding of just how fucked up they really are.

Oh wait! Yes I can!

The difference… my mother wasn’t so friggin stupid so as to allow herself to be videotaped for the entire nation to see.

A blackout drunk mom, another who spikes her kid’s punch, teenagers who tell their parents to “shut up!”…

Ahhh.

The joys of parenting.

Person 1: “Over 100 People Have Been Killed Over There Today!”

Me: “Where?

Person 1: “In Iraq”.

Person 2: “Yeah. My husband’s nephew is coming back in January, and we hope he makes it.”

Person 1: “Is he in the military?”

Person 2: “Yeah. And, it’s getting worse over there all the time!”

Person 1: ” Did you see where that transport plane crashed? It killed almost 100 on board and more on the ground!”

Me: “What plane? I didn’t hear about any transport plane crashing in Iraq. When was this?”

Person 1: “It was just this morning. I just got the CNN alert in my email.”

Me: “Geez. I don’t know how I missed it.”

Person 1: “There were also thirty people killed by two women.”

Me: “I saw that. They believed the women to be students who were able to pass by undetected. It’s terrible.”

Person 1: “Over 100 people in one day!”

Person 2: “It just keeps on getting worse.”

Me: (Suddenly feeling the urge to scream, and desperately fighting the urge to suggest they do their research) “You do realize that the plane that crashed was due to mechanical failure?”

Person 1: “Oh. Was it?”

Me: “And it was in Iran, not Iraq.”

Person 1: “Oh! So I had the wrong country.”

Me: “Yes. And the wrong military.”

Person 1: “What?”

Me: “They were Iranian military.”

Person 1: “Were they?”

Me: “Yes. They were Iranian military on an Iranian transport plant which crashed in Iran due to mechanical failure. Of course, it’s still a tragedy.”

Me: ” But, I read the bulletin.”

Person 1: “Oh.”

This is a typical exchange which, I’m certain, takes place in every office, every day. And I, half-assuming that CNN had pulled a fast one, pulled up their site and verified the story. This time, CNN can’t be blamed for misleading anyone.

Too many people with no real idea of what’s going on, reducing significant events to soundbites. Worse…bending the story, through ignorance or intention, to suit there own purposes.

And, funny. I haven’t heard another word about the ‘only’ thirty or so that really did die in Iraq. I guess they don’t count. There’s nothing inherently shocking in the number ‘30′.

I mean, c’mon, it’s not like it was “100!” now is it?

Very few people actually love what they do. That’s why they pay you to show up. If you loved it, you would show up for free.

And, it would be called a hobby.

I’ve often heard said that all companies have problems; that all companies appear, at times, to play unfairly, and, I believe that. All companies are made up of individuals, each with their own personal history, prejudices, and agendas. You learn, with age and experience, to roll with the punches. It’s a fine line…roll too far, and for too long, and you’ll end up lost.

You become indoctrinated.

Then, you become institutionalized.

You begin, slowly, over a period of years, to lose your voice, and worse, your spirit.

I work for just such a company.

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