because reality is not always on tv

i apologize in advance for this statement.


actually wait...

no. 


i don't apologize at all!


i find it seriously disturbing that when a tragedy shows up in the media happening to people you have never met it makes you immediately stand up and shout out your anger and show your support all over social media...

but when a tragedy happens in your own family or immediate circle of friends you are suddenly silent.

there is no crying unfair...

there is no shouting about what should have been done to prevent it...

there is no banner of color added to your avatar...

there isn't even a supportive phone call to the people involved in the tragedy...


its as if that tragedy never happened at all.


your eyes are blinded...

your ears are closed...
 
your lips are not moving...

and your support is no where to be found.

you simply hope that someone else steps in so you don't have to.

meanwhile those who were hurt suffer alone...... 


perhaps it is far easier to see and hear and shout and scream and show your awesome support for those you have no connection to because you know without a doubt that they will never come knocking on your door or light up your phone to ask you for a damn thing...

 
this isn't about anything really
 
maybe i just want you to think.   
 
and understand.
 
people close to you suffer too.


it truly is your choice whether or not you choose to see hear or speak your support...
 
as long as you remember that what you do for the suffering will be exactly what is returned to you when tragedy lands on your doorstep....













if you don't want to know the real answer...

don't ask me

if i am anything at all - and i am certain i am a great many things  - i am honest.

for instance;

once my friend got an expensive bottle of scotch as a gift from an uncle to celebrate his degree... 

he poured me a tiny bit in a glass, we toasted and drank...

and then he made the mistake of asking what i thought of the scotch. 

in hindsight i really think i should have been far more tactful but i never wanted to drink liquid vomit again in my life so i told him the truth; sorry jack, but i think this stuff tastes like vomit.

did i mean it tasted like vomit to everyone? obviously not.

did i mean i had to convince everyone who ever tried scotch to believe it tasted like vomit?  not at all.

i simply meant the scotch tasted like vomit to me.

in another century in my short life i was wine tasting.  i was not a big time wine taster nor was i familiar with many different types of wine and so i asked the server what he would recommend.   two of those recommended wines were awesome but the third one honestly tasted like ear wax and after i shuddered i said;
"this one tastes awful!" 

he was not offended that i didn't like it nor did he belittle me because i didn't personally like it.  he simply said; 'hmmmm.. this is one of our best sellers. maybe this bottle is off.' 

he then tasted it himself to be sure and said; 'nope. that's what it's supposed to taste like.  i guess you just really don't like it.' 

and we moved forward.

what i am saying here is; unless your honestly is being used as a brutal weapon designed to specifically hurt someone, i respect and expect it...

how else will you know what someone really thinks?

enter a webinar i recently attended that was preceded by participating an a private facebook help forum leading up to it...

at the end of it all, in my tiny brain, i was disappointed.  it all felt like one long chat event followed by a 3+ hour webinar that was actually an infomercial with a sample healing exercise tucked in... because; unless you buy into the $195 digital download program the help group disappears.  this, to me, gave the feeling that this business was not only preying on severely wounded souls but would be leaving them without support if they do not make the purchase. 

that preceding thought was only in my tiny brain.

it was MY thought... 

MINE = belonging to me...

and then i was asked what i thought...

and i was honest...

like i said; if you don't want to know what i think - don't ask me.

boy did i get the shit stuffing kicked out of me.  i never knew i was a liar, slanderer, name caller, cruel to the core, nobody has the right to earn a living by helping people kind of girl... 

i also had no idea that i expected everyone in the world to be "motherf***ingteresa!"

seriously?  wow...

the comandant my mother taught me that honesty was always the best policy... 

she also taught me that if i was honest i would not be punished...

i think perhaps mom got that punished part wrong...

then again;  maybe my mom was right...

maybe that asskicking was meant to teach me a lesson;


and maybe that lesson was this:  
that honesty, although still the best policy,  can sometimes entice malice from those who are not ready to look further than the surface...

those who wish for something to be true and good and simple even when it isn't...

and those who are not yet ready to hear someone else's honesty even when they have asked for it...














my engine is idling at the starting line



test driving new to me vehicles should be fun...

i am fast finding out that it isn't... 

so not helpful when the used car lot i went to had several of the vehicles i wanted to try out and they were sure i wanted to buy each one…

ford fiesta…

honda crv…

toyota prius… 

i was moved away from the Chevrolet Sonic with a "that's going to cost you about $8000 more" - but maybe that's only because i drove the ford fiesta the wrong way down a one way street and tried to return it to a different car lot – both times with a salesman in the passenger seat? 


nah.... that's not it...  

it really is okay though, because the sonic was not a pretty red hatchback – it was boring black with a trunk.  unless maybe it came with a neat Men In Black Forgetallaboutit Flash Stick?  

must go back and check…

after the 3rd test drive they told me i was starting my own "has to be re-detailed" car pile… 

um... 

suck it up boys.  I don’t get paid to test drive…  



and my nice little jeep is worth more than you said it was...


i really think they didn’t expect this nice little old lady to leave without a purchase

or a new to me try it over night vehicle...

even after telling me someone just called and wanted to look at the one i just brought back and if they buy it... 

refer back to my description of self two lines ago - specifically the word "old" and read it as; been there. heard that. too MANY times to believe it's true...

sure, it could be true but you know what?  if a car sells before i decide i want it, it wasn't mine to begin with… (because that's how the universe rolls)

i haven't tried them all yet and i needed a car to make me fall out of love with the one i already have and that didn't happen... 

and since when is NO not an acceptable answer?

what to do.

what to do.

i think i shall rest my little Flintstone feet and continue test driving another day...

starting with that sonic...


ready the checkered flag!




divinity in ice

it's been cold here in my little corner of the mitten state...

VERRRY cold.

But today while the sun was shining - just to tease me into thinking Spring was near - it glittered off of an odd formation of ice the snow made as it melted off the metal guard
on the chimney next door...

I would guess that if I were catholic I might think it a patron saint, or the mother Mary herself...


but;

because I am not, I will just say it's Jesus looking over my back yard thinking;  wow, eolist, what a mess!

what do you think?  should I call the press?




he's ba-aaaaaack!!!!



“Good morning Miss.” The waiter said waving carafe of coffee under my nose.

I sat up in bed rubbed the crusty varmits from my all too thin lashes and held out my coffee mug.
As he poured I realized he was using the orange carafe with the cheerful white daisies on it…

I cringed and shivered.  

It’s never the orange carafe unless something is afoot with one of my comrades in crime - or both...

I’d have tucked back in and pulled the covers over my head but the coffee smelled so delightful that I convinced myself I was simply being silly…

And then the waiter pulled a shining silver tray of my favorite pastries from his front left pocket and placed it on my night stand with a sunshiny yellow napkin...    

Damn it.  I knew I was right!  Today was going to be filled with a lot more than coffee..

“Would Miss like anything else this morning?”  he said with an all too cheerful side eyed smile.

I barfed a sigh, held my hand out palm up and wiggled 'come here and give it too' me fingers.  “Let me have the paper man, I know it’s up your sleeve.”

“No Miss” he said; smiling that sort of smile you smile when you are ‘technically’ telling the ‘truth’ but you know very well it is a lie.  “I assure you it is not up my sleeve.”  

And the ‘game’ ensued; “pant leg?”  

The waiter’s left eye narrowed and twitched.  Even though he knew he was not going to win he made the next move anyway; “not up my pant leg either Miss.”

It never ceased to amaze me, the vast array – and size – of items the waiter could pull from inside his pockets and sleeves and pant legs and hats and hair and – okay let’s not go anywhere near crevices…  “Back pocket, right side, behind the bowling ball.”

He merely chuckled; “the bowling ball is in my left back pocket today Miss.”  

“Damn!” I held my mug out for more coffee.  “Inner breast pocket tucked into the physics book you are never going to read?”

“Nope” he said, but his lip twitched in a way that told me I was getting warmer.”

“Trouser watch pocket underneath the only napkin that was salvaged from the Euthanasia Curry House after the balloon incident.”

“Maybe…. but what’s on top of that?” the waiter smugly replied.

“The last piece of belly button lint on which Dr. T said he could hear a Who!”  I said triumphantly…


And then I realized something I didn’t need any headline in the morning paper to tell me and a nearly dropped my coffee mug.   Thankfully I held steady… I am so not fond of coffee intermixed with hints of wrinkled sheet…

“Get Indigo Roth on the phone STAT!”

“Already done Miss” he said, pulling my cell phone from under the single button on his cummerbund. 
With it he handed me the morning paper.  Just in case my petite ‘spidey’ senses were wrong.

Sure enough… there it was, big and bold, in next week’s headline:

                DR MAXIMILLION TUNGUSKA IS BACK! 
                     WITH A VERY SMALL AMOUNT OF MS. PETITE'S MOJO…..

http://www.thetunguskaevent.blogspot.com/



the REAL house of Payne

yes, us payne's really do exist, though some of us wonder why or how we managed to survive.... 

and we really aren't that funny...

we are however extremely religious, though morally idiotic/unfaithful, and highly inappropriate...  

so...  yesterday was the yearly Pain Payne Family Rebellion.  

each year at the family rebellion we have a pot luck picnic followed by a "white elephant" auction to create revenue for the next one...  yes, we are all a few cards short of a deck - even with the jokers added - and believe we all enjoy seeing people we will otherwise do our damndest to avoid.  

admittedly some of us actually did have enough brain cells to move far far away, of course that only means they are guilted by those who didn't into buying an expensive plane ticket after they have missed one or two rebellions... 

at least the food is good, sort of, and the conversation is better.  it is seriously comforting knowing none of us will be going to hell alone...

so back to the "white elephant" auction;  this is where everyone brings a random item to be auctioned off.  home brewed wine and home baked molasses cookies always create a bidding war and fetch huge dollars because, obviously, this is how we as a people cope.  

but, after those are gone very few care...
 
very few bid and fewer yet bother pay attention to the other 932 items left to auction off.  this makes the auctioneer, the money changer, the money counter, ms. "vanna white" petite (me) and ms "vanna white" in training who have been standing in the hot sun trying make a sale just a little bit (ok a lot) more cranky than we usually are...

so cranky hot and tired of the entire shabang we finally we get to the last few items... coloring books, crayons, markers, pencils and a plastic bag filled with paper folding fans. the decision is made to auction them as one item and be done with it... so ms. "vanna white" in training unfolds a few of the fans to show the bidders what they look like while i hold up the coloring books and the auctioneer starts the bidding off at $1...

and suddenly a bidder pays attention in a huge way...

and stomps up to the auctioneer screaming;  WAIT WAIT WAIT!  THOSE FANS WERE NOT FOR THE AUCTION!  I WANTED THOSE FANS PASSED OUT TO THE LADIES TO KEEP THEM COOL WHILE WE WERE BIDDING...

too late says the auctioneer, we're on the last item and they are being sold...

and a push/pull match starts involving the bag of fans the auctioneer is holding...

and heated words are exchanged... 

and small children are enlisted to grab the fans before they are sold...

and fans are being torn away from "vanna white" in training and passed out to the ladies...

and the bidder is told to sit her ass down and keep her big mouth shut...

and the auctioneer is told something i can't quite repeat...  but ends with well i never in all my life...

and the auctioneer calls bullshit and tells her she has too - and not just once but two or three times...

but in the end the auctioneer just lets go of bag of fans...

because after all, now that the auction is over the ladies will probably need them to keep themselves cool on their way home... 

and me... i am still giggling today because - as i said - we are a religious family though morally idiotic and these were the fans worth not only fighting for, but worth recruiting small children to take possession of by force - note the sentiment on them... 


personally, i have no doubt that Jesus loves me, but i also have no doubt that Jesus too shook his head in disbelief, poured himself a tall glass of home brewed wine and dunked a molasses cookie in it in order to cope... 

and by the way; the ladies didn't want the "damn fans" anyway....  (there is a perspective on war there somewhere i am certain of it)