I was heading downtown to get my monthly Brazilian wax when I stated thinking about soul mates and if it is really possible to have such a thing. Does everyone have one?
Does that mean that for every person that dies alone, another person out there dies alone? I guess one or both of them could have died married to someone they hated the whole time they were together. In fact, I think that is what happens a lot of the time. I would bet that 30% of Americans would admit that they hate their spouse. Another 30% of them, liars. The rest? Single people that never got married.
How does this soul mate bit work anyways? What if my soul mate was born in Japan and didn't speak a bit of English? That would be fucked up. Even if we did somehow meet we would never be able to communicate and realize that we both love baseball, beer, imported pornography and psychedelic rock.
What if through some error your soul mate turned out to be like 50 years older than you? That seems to happen to a lot of poor unfortunate women out there. Luckily for them their elderly soul mate usually happens to be rich so that they get a consolation prize of having all of that money while they live out there remaining fifty years without their beloved soul mate.
What if my soul mate turned out to be a dude? Would I have to turn gay? Would fate at least allow for him to be rich to make up for me having to spend my golden years with a person that has the same equipment as me? No thanks.
The whole soul mate bit is bullshit. It isn't real; and if it is, it doesn't work. If I have a soul mate out there somewhere she does not want to run into me. If I was standing at a party and an angel descended from the sky and said, "Hello Ira, That beautiful woman over there is your soul mate, she has all of the qualifications to be compatible with you for a lifetime of bliss". I would say, "you better keep that bitch away from me or I will be forced to take drastic actions to ensure that she in no way finds me attractive. I came here to have fun and the last thing I want to do is leave at 9:30pm because she took offense to something one of my friends said".
We all know I would already be screwed though. After about five beers I would start thinking, "well, she is my soul mate, if we are that compatible I know that I could get down her pants tonight". Then a month later I'm missing football games because her family has dinner together every Sunday so we can sit around and listen to her two bitchy two faced sisters talk shit about every family member who isn't in the room while I get text messages from my brother telling me about how the Lions just kicked a sixty yard field goal in the last second of the 3rd overtime.
So basically, if you are female, and you are having a conversation with me at a social function and I suddenly start making fun of your shoes and calling you fat. Don't take any offense. It's nothing to do with you. It just means that we were getting along to good and I got scared that you might be the one. I know we were hitting it off good but then I figured out that you might be my soul mate so guess what? You have to spend your life alone because your soul mate wants nothing to do with your controlling ass. I would love to keep writing but the game is coming on and I hate to miss even a minute of it.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
I am pissed off and you get to read about it
I am so fucking pissed off about this. This isn’t as big a
deal as the war in Iraq, or our fucked up economy, but if you read this whole thing you will see that it is a way bigger deal than some people think. Let me start from the beginning.
Major league baseball is well over 100 years old. It is deep
with tradition. No milestone in baseball or all of sports is more cherished
than the lifetime home run record.
It basically became the milestone that it is in 1935 when
babe Ruth retired with 714 home runs. In 1980, well before steroids became a
problem in baseball, only 3 out of the infinite number of baseball players in
the history of the game had hit even 600 homers.
In 1947 Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball
forever changing the game and forever making talent and hard work the only official
requirements to be a professional baseball player.
In 1954 a man named Hank Aaron began his career that would
end with him breaking Babe Ruth’s home run record and forcing people who still
believed that the black man didn’t belong in baseball to shut their ignorant
mouths and accept that we really are all equal. Actually, they may not have
accepted it, but they did shut their mouths.
Hanks journey was not an easy one. He had to deal with a lot
of ugliness as he grew closer to Babe Ruth’s coveted record. He ended the 1973
season just one home run shy of the Babe’s record.
Through the following winter he received numerous death
threats from people who did not want to see a black man hold our nations most
important sports record. It was later revealed that the Atlanta Journal had
secretly written an obituary for Hank after they had received many of these
letters from Klansman who didn’t know where else to send them and probably
assumed that the newspaper would print these letters in their opinion
column.
He dealt with teammates who wouldn’t sit by him. He dealt
with his own team’s fans booing and taunting him. He endured racial slurs from
every aspect of the game but he did nothing more than ignore all of this ignorance
and played the game with the class and dignity that I would use as an example
to my children when teaching them lessons about any aspect of life.
Hank Aaron sacrificed himself in many ways to help us
overcome the racism that has plagued America for so long. And because of
it we live in a more tolerant country.
That is why I get so pissed off when someone like Barry
Bonds can walk into major league baseball, cheat his way into the record books,
and then call anyone who challenges his accomplishments a racist.
Barry broke Hank Aarons record in 2007. There is numerous
evidence that he used steroids to get his home run numbers where they are. I
will keep this short and as un-boring as possible.
At the end of the 2000 season he had gained 15 pounds of
muscle and improved his yearly home run numbers fairly substantially over the
previous two years. It is only a tad suspicious that a 36 year old man would
suddenly find a way to add the muscle and the numbers that he did, but not
incredibly unreasonable to claim that he did this honestly. At this point he
had never hit more than 49 home runs in a season and was just considered one of
the best hitters in his generation.
Then, in the year 2001, over the span of one season, at the
age of 37, he added 18 more pounds of muscle, and hit a major league record 73
homers in one season breaking Mark McGwire’s record of 70 (Set three years earlier). McGwire is another one that has endless evidence of steroid use.
Barry Bonds will swear up and down that there is nothing
strange about the fact that at an age when most men are nearing retirement, he
improved his numbers from his previously most productive season by almost 50% and did so without cheating.
Before the steroid controversy began, only two people had
hit over 60 home runs in a season (Babe Ruth with 60 and Roger Maris with 61).
Now we have these mutants with huge heads hitting over 70? And both of them
doing so at an age when most players are well past their prime?
I wish I could find the video I saw of Barry insinuating
that those who question his feats are doing so to help their racist agenda. I
am sure that Hank Aaron is glad that he went through all that he did so that
someone like Barry could hide behind the racism card whenever he is called out
for being the asshole that he is.
There is so much more to this but I have tried to keep from
sounding like a boring history teacher. Many people don’t see what the big deal is. “So what if these people want to destroy their own health to entertain us. It’s a
victimless crime right?” FUCKING WRONG!!
Our children look up to these people. Some of our children
aspire to grow up and compete on the same field as these people. But what is
going to happen to our children when they get to college and realize that they
will have a hard time making the team because half of their competition are
using steroids and showing twice the production as the clean players.
Is that a choice you want your 18 year old child to face in
his first year away from home? How many kids do you think have felt that drive
to be their best and looked to these scumbags for inspiration and seen that
some of their heroes found a magic a shortcut to success?
What they don’t ever get informed about though, is the
drawbacks. Steroids can lead to cancerous tumors, elevated blood pressure,
drastic changes in cholesterol levels, serious heart problems, violent mood
swings (Roid Rage), and very commonly in younger people, suicide.
The fact that the records in my sport are tainted forever is
tragic. But it is not life or death. It is just something that makes me sad as
a die hard baseball purist. But the fact that these people have the influence
on our youth that they do is something that still plagues our country to this
day. And everyone with kids who love sports should be angry as hell about it.
I thought that Alex Rodriguez was the answer. I believed
that he was clean. I was sure that he was going to shatter the home run record
in the next 6 years and allow it to be back in the hands of someone honest. A
role model. I believed him 100% when he looked us in the face on national
television last year and said that he never did steroids. I was happy that he
was going to set a good standard for our kids to live by.
But that was all a lie too. He belongs in the same category
with other cheaters like Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, Jose Canseco,
and Roger Clemons (one of the worst liars of them all).
Don’t look at A-rod as being any better than these people
because he told the truth in the end. He lied his ass off until that positive
drug test was discovered by Sports illustrated and he would have lied his way
right into infamy and the baseball hall of fame had he never been caught.
Telling the truth after you get caught does not make you
honorable. Coming clean before you get caught because it’s the right thing to
do does gives you some honor, but still not nearly as much honor as playing the
game right in the first place and never taking something you didn’t earn.
Some of these cheaters are starting to see that they may
have been better off playing the game right. Every year a panel gets together
to vote on what retired players get to be included in the baseball hall of fame. A
player becomes eligible after 5 years of retirement. McGwire has come up for a
vote twice now and didn’t even come close the first year and received even less
the second. Normally a player with over 500 home runs is a shoe in for the hall
(McGwire has 583 making him 8th all time on the list with 47 more
homers than Mickey Mantle) but the panel is showing that cheaters do not
deserve this honor.
It will be very interesting to see what happens in 3 years
when Barry Bonds becomes eligible. I bet he doesn’t make it in. That my
friends, will be an excellent lesson for our youth.
I would love to hear some people’s feedback on this matter.
Especially from anyone who disagrees. Please post below. I promise to be nice.
deal as the war in Iraq, or our fucked up economy, but if you read this whole thing you will see that it is a way bigger deal than some people think. Let me start from the beginning.
Major league baseball is well over 100 years old. It is deep
with tradition. No milestone in baseball or all of sports is more cherished
than the lifetime home run record.
It basically became the milestone that it is in 1935 when
babe Ruth retired with 714 home runs. In 1980, well before steroids became a
problem in baseball, only 3 out of the infinite number of baseball players in
the history of the game had hit even 600 homers.
In 1947 Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball
forever changing the game and forever making talent and hard work the only official
requirements to be a professional baseball player.
In 1954 a man named Hank Aaron began his career that would
end with him breaking Babe Ruth’s home run record and forcing people who still
believed that the black man didn’t belong in baseball to shut their ignorant
mouths and accept that we really are all equal. Actually, they may not have
accepted it, but they did shut their mouths.
Hanks journey was not an easy one. He had to deal with a lot
of ugliness as he grew closer to Babe Ruth’s coveted record. He ended the 1973
season just one home run shy of the Babe’s record.
Through the following winter he received numerous death
threats from people who did not want to see a black man hold our nations most
important sports record. It was later revealed that the Atlanta Journal had
secretly written an obituary for Hank after they had received many of these
letters from Klansman who didn’t know where else to send them and probably
assumed that the newspaper would print these letters in their opinion
column.
He dealt with teammates who wouldn’t sit by him. He dealt
with his own team’s fans booing and taunting him. He endured racial slurs from
every aspect of the game but he did nothing more than ignore all of this ignorance
and played the game with the class and dignity that I would use as an example
to my children when teaching them lessons about any aspect of life.
Hank Aaron sacrificed himself in many ways to help us
overcome the racism that has plagued America for so long. And because of
it we live in a more tolerant country.
That is why I get so pissed off when someone like Barry
Bonds can walk into major league baseball, cheat his way into the record books,
and then call anyone who challenges his accomplishments a racist.
Barry broke Hank Aarons record in 2007. There is numerous
evidence that he used steroids to get his home run numbers where they are. I
will keep this short and as un-boring as possible.
At the end of the 2000 season he had gained 15 pounds of
muscle and improved his yearly home run numbers fairly substantially over the
previous two years. It is only a tad suspicious that a 36 year old man would
suddenly find a way to add the muscle and the numbers that he did, but not
incredibly unreasonable to claim that he did this honestly. At this point he
had never hit more than 49 home runs in a season and was just considered one of
the best hitters in his generation.
Then, in the year 2001, over the span of one season, at the
age of 37, he added 18 more pounds of muscle, and hit a major league record 73
homers in one season breaking Mark McGwire’s record of 70 (Set three years earlier). McGwire is another one that has endless evidence of steroid use.
Barry Bonds will swear up and down that there is nothing
strange about the fact that at an age when most men are nearing retirement, he
improved his numbers from his previously most productive season by almost 50% and did so without cheating.
Before the steroid controversy began, only two people had
hit over 60 home runs in a season (Babe Ruth with 60 and Roger Maris with 61).
Now we have these mutants with huge heads hitting over 70? And both of them
doing so at an age when most players are well past their prime?
I wish I could find the video I saw of Barry insinuating
that those who question his feats are doing so to help their racist agenda. I
am sure that Hank Aaron is glad that he went through all that he did so that
someone like Barry could hide behind the racism card whenever he is called out
for being the asshole that he is.
There is so much more to this but I have tried to keep from
sounding like a boring history teacher. Many people don’t see what the big deal is. “So what if these people want to destroy their own health to entertain us. It’s a
victimless crime right?” FUCKING WRONG!!
Our children look up to these people. Some of our children
aspire to grow up and compete on the same field as these people. But what is
going to happen to our children when they get to college and realize that they
will have a hard time making the team because half of their competition are
using steroids and showing twice the production as the clean players.
Is that a choice you want your 18 year old child to face in
his first year away from home? How many kids do you think have felt that drive
to be their best and looked to these scumbags for inspiration and seen that
some of their heroes found a magic a shortcut to success?
What they don’t ever get informed about though, is the
drawbacks. Steroids can lead to cancerous tumors, elevated blood pressure,
drastic changes in cholesterol levels, serious heart problems, violent mood
swings (Roid Rage), and very commonly in younger people, suicide.
The fact that the records in my sport are tainted forever is
tragic. But it is not life or death. It is just something that makes me sad as
a die hard baseball purist. But the fact that these people have the influence
on our youth that they do is something that still plagues our country to this
day. And everyone with kids who love sports should be angry as hell about it.
I thought that Alex Rodriguez was the answer. I believed
that he was clean. I was sure that he was going to shatter the home run record
in the next 6 years and allow it to be back in the hands of someone honest. A
role model. I believed him 100% when he looked us in the face on national
television last year and said that he never did steroids. I was happy that he
was going to set a good standard for our kids to live by.
But that was all a lie too. He belongs in the same category
with other cheaters like Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire, Barry Bonds, Jose Canseco,
and Roger Clemons (one of the worst liars of them all).
Don’t look at A-rod as being any better than these people
because he told the truth in the end. He lied his ass off until that positive
drug test was discovered by Sports illustrated and he would have lied his way
right into infamy and the baseball hall of fame had he never been caught.
Telling the truth after you get caught does not make you
honorable. Coming clean before you get caught because it’s the right thing to
do does gives you some honor, but still not nearly as much honor as playing the
game right in the first place and never taking something you didn’t earn.
Some of these cheaters are starting to see that they may
have been better off playing the game right. Every year a panel gets together
to vote on what retired players get to be included in the baseball hall of fame. A
player becomes eligible after 5 years of retirement. McGwire has come up for a
vote twice now and didn’t even come close the first year and received even less
the second. Normally a player with over 500 home runs is a shoe in for the hall
(McGwire has 583 making him 8th all time on the list with 47 more
homers than Mickey Mantle) but the panel is showing that cheaters do not
deserve this honor.
It will be very interesting to see what happens in 3 years
when Barry Bonds becomes eligible. I bet he doesn’t make it in. That my
friends, will be an excellent lesson for our youth.
I would love to hear some people’s feedback on this matter.
Especially from anyone who disagrees. Please post below. I promise to be nice.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The San Francisco Diaries- "The bus"
I had to make a trip across town today, I still have that "country boy wondering through the concrete jungle" thing going on, and so I knew this was going to be interesting. I felt very fortunate to find a seat on the bus and just sat there looking out the window as the familiar surroundings of the three block radius of my apartment turned into sights that could be anywhere to me. I new I had to watch for my street in which it would be time to get off. When you travel far in a big city, chances are you will have to switch buses a few times. This can be very confusing when you aren't familiar with the streets.
So I get off of the first bus and within 5 minutes I am on the second bus many blocks from anything that I recognize. By this point I couldn’t even tell which direction we were heading. All I knew was that I was looking for 18th street and that I was confident in my ability to count that high.
Two minutes into the trip though, the bus driver pulls over, and says, "This bus is a piece of shit, and I ain't drivin' it, everybody off"! He pulls over the bus, opens the door, and just sits there waiting for us all to slowly walk off. I figured, “what’s the worst that could happen?” “I am in public and it’s not like anyone is going to mug me in broad daylight”. So I get off the bus at 5:45pm. Right in front of a fucking homeless shelter. And guess what homeless shelters do at 6:00pm. They open their doors to the homeless. And guess what homeless people are doing at 5:45pm. Standing in line for the homeless shelter.
I am sure that this was all in my head due to the culture shock that I am enduring right now, but every one of those scary looking dudes was staring at me like I was Dick Cheney giving a speech at the Apollo. They all looked hungry. Hungry for crackers!
I thought about walking to the next bus stop, but screw that! I'm Ira motha fuckin' Winfield! I don't run from nobody!
So I'm running down the street throwing all of my change on the sidewalk and screaming for my mom when I see the next bus. Over my shoulder I could see a couple of these guys walking with very little urgency towards me as if to say, “What’s the hurry? He’s just going to wear himself out running and then he will be easier to rape”. But the bus stopped right as I reached the corner. I jumped on it, and sat in the front seat next to the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.
I'm not just talking about physical beauty (but she did have that too). She had charm, grace, and sincerity that you can't fake. We made eye contact, we both smiled as if we were old friends, I found it real easy to ask her for advice on how to get to my destination as I pressed a middle finger to the window at those homeless, mugger, rapist, non bus ticket having mother fuckers. She told me how many blocks I needed to go before getting off. Now the stage was set for a casual conversation that would end with us trading phone numbers so that we could begin the courting process.
What I didn't realize was that the bus driver had noticed the same thing about her (ever see "there's something about Mary”?). I could tell that he had quite the head start on me. He was laying it on pretty thick too. Telling her stories about riding his Harley to Arizona and how his friends couldn't handle the long ride so next time he was going to ride alone so he didn't have to stop so often. He was talking about volunteering at children’s’ hospitals and reading to blind people.
Yep, he was pulling out all of the stops. I’ll tell you one thing though; he was one “my wife died last year” story away from getting called out on his bullshit by me. One thing about us bullshit artists, we can smell our own, and this guy stunk to high hell. I never got to say another word to her. We stopped in front of the Yoga Den. She walked off of the bus, into her yoga class, and out of my life.
Dickhead, Cockblocking bus driver dude didn't even ask for her phone number. It was pretty obvious that he only kept talking to her so that I couldn't get my own foot in the door. He never looked at me for the rest of the trip, but I could see a smug smile on his face in the mirror. He thought he was so damn cool, with his bus driver coat, and post officer hat. After we went about two more blocks, I heard him say (like he was just thinking out loud), "that sure was a hot looking piece of tail", then he leaned over and turned up the Nicklback song on the radio. I was so fucking mad that my blood began to boil. I wanted to punch him with every ounce of strength that I had. I fucking hate Nickleback! And I don't know how, but I think he knew it.
This guy was almost in full dance mode while sitting in his seat. Everything about this guy said that he had never heard the song before, including the fact that he didn’t know any of the words yet he was trying to sing along. Clearly he was trying to antagonize me. And it was working. After about two blocks of his company, I'd had enough of this guy. I rang the bell, and got off in front of a Burger King that had more obscenities spay painted on the wall than any story I have ever written. I had gotten away from that smartass bus driver but now I had a new problem. I was walking down the street just before dark in a very rough looking area about 15 blocks from my home. Not only was it getting dark, but the wind was really starting to pick up. It's always windy in San Francisco, but on this evening it was blowing so hard that it made it difficult to walk.
I had already made up my mind that this trip across town was to be cancelled indefinitely. My large frame and menacing stare was no match for my timid personality and the fact that street people were becoming more and more intimidating to me. The farther I went, the more I stood out from everyone else.
Finally, I started to think that I maybe should have stayed on the bus.
I was also thinking that I definitely should have stayed in my apartment.
No more going outside after dark for this cowboy. I will be implementing a strict curfew of 5pm for myself every night with no exceptions. Somebody offers me the job of a lifetime that pays more money in a week than I am used to making in a month? It better be the fucking morning shift! The biography of Ira Winfield will not end in a dark alley with a rape scene that makes the deliverance look like a PG rated movie. No sir, I already have my death planned out thank you, and it doesn’t involve knives or gang rape. It will be a shark attack after I jumped into the ocean while running from a bear. The way real men die.
As all of these somewhat irrational thoughts were running through my head I started thinking that maybe I should start paying attention to where I am going so I don’t get lost. Then I saw it, my savior, an army surplus store. I quickly walked in there and bought a can of pepper spray. I walked out of that place with a strong feeling of confidence. Ira will be a victim no more.
So now I am walking down the street with a new air of confidence, almost hoping someone will try to mug me so I can hold out my arm, mace in hand, and unleash the fucking fury! I'm walking and daydreaming about spraying that shit into the air, and temporarily blinding some asshole thug. I walked around the corner and came face to face with two of the homeless guys from that fateful stop in front of the shelter.
The dominant one had most of his teeth, an eye patch, and somehow, a beer gut. The ugly one had no teeth, the most zits I’ve ever seen on a 40 year old man, the word “buttfucker” tattooed across his forehead, and somehow, a lipstick smudge on his cheek. It should be noted that the better looking one was wearing a small amount of lipstick. They both smiled at me like they had been looking for me the whole time.
I had my hand on the big can of pepper spray in my pocket as we stood there staring at each other. "Here it is", I thought, "do or die"! But then I thought, "Fuck, I'm standing down wind from these guys." "Once that boomerang of pepper spray comes back and hits me in the face, they're going to kick the shit out of me and steal my shoes"! Then from out of left field, the better looking of the two says, "You dropped some quarters back there", and handed me a $1.25 in change. So I looked at him and said, "Where’s the rest of it"? They both started laughing their asses off, and slapping their knees. Apparently they thought I was kidding. Whatever, I was too tired to argue about it.
I stood there listening to their laughter trying to come up with a good plan. How can I get them to draw me a map to my apartment without giving them the change back? It’s obvious they know these streets well. It’s even more obvious that they could use my $1.25. Of course, they had a chance to keep it and they gave it back. But I am sure it was just one of those “karma” things where they figured if they gave my the $1.25 back that I might give them a $5.00 reward or something to the like.
So how can I get these guys to give me directions without having to do anything for them in return? I could just go into one of the stores and ask for directions, but those guys are always dicks when you’re not spending money in their store. Then I came up with a somewhat feasible, yet horrible idea.
There are 3 or 4 regular prostitutes that work on my block. One of them owes me a huge favor (long story, I am sure I will write about it someday). I could tell the homeless dudes about the favor owed to me by a “lady of the night”. It isn’t like she is ever going to be able to return the favor any other way (I know what you are thinking. I thought of that too. It’s just too gross. Prostitutes are not my thing, plus, she is always wearing a scarf or a turtle neck to cover up what I can only assume to be an adams apple, double gross).
As I explained the situation to the dudes they seemed a bit interested until I told them what area I lived in. You see, certain types of prostitutes hang out in certain areas. And apparently, I live in the he-she district.
So I was counting out my change to the one that could count while the literate one was drawing me a detailed map to my neighborhood and teasing me for “paling around with transvestite prostitutes” when The very bus I needed pulled up to the stop. We said our tearful good byes and I got on the bus.
Once I got home, I sat there thinking about my day. Then I got out the phone book, looked up a number, and called the yoga den to make myself an appointment for the following week at the same time my future wife got off of the bus on Vaness Street. You didn't think I was going to let her get away that easy did ya? On second thought, scratch that future wife part. We'll probably just live together for a couple of years until she gets sick of paying all of the bills.
So I get off of the first bus and within 5 minutes I am on the second bus many blocks from anything that I recognize. By this point I couldn’t even tell which direction we were heading. All I knew was that I was looking for 18th street and that I was confident in my ability to count that high.
Two minutes into the trip though, the bus driver pulls over, and says, "This bus is a piece of shit, and I ain't drivin' it, everybody off"! He pulls over the bus, opens the door, and just sits there waiting for us all to slowly walk off. I figured, “what’s the worst that could happen?” “I am in public and it’s not like anyone is going to mug me in broad daylight”. So I get off the bus at 5:45pm. Right in front of a fucking homeless shelter. And guess what homeless shelters do at 6:00pm. They open their doors to the homeless. And guess what homeless people are doing at 5:45pm. Standing in line for the homeless shelter.
I am sure that this was all in my head due to the culture shock that I am enduring right now, but every one of those scary looking dudes was staring at me like I was Dick Cheney giving a speech at the Apollo. They all looked hungry. Hungry for crackers!
I thought about walking to the next bus stop, but screw that! I'm Ira motha fuckin' Winfield! I don't run from nobody!
So I'm running down the street throwing all of my change on the sidewalk and screaming for my mom when I see the next bus. Over my shoulder I could see a couple of these guys walking with very little urgency towards me as if to say, “What’s the hurry? He’s just going to wear himself out running and then he will be easier to rape”. But the bus stopped right as I reached the corner. I jumped on it, and sat in the front seat next to the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.
I'm not just talking about physical beauty (but she did have that too). She had charm, grace, and sincerity that you can't fake. We made eye contact, we both smiled as if we were old friends, I found it real easy to ask her for advice on how to get to my destination as I pressed a middle finger to the window at those homeless, mugger, rapist, non bus ticket having mother fuckers. She told me how many blocks I needed to go before getting off. Now the stage was set for a casual conversation that would end with us trading phone numbers so that we could begin the courting process.
What I didn't realize was that the bus driver had noticed the same thing about her (ever see "there's something about Mary”?). I could tell that he had quite the head start on me. He was laying it on pretty thick too. Telling her stories about riding his Harley to Arizona and how his friends couldn't handle the long ride so next time he was going to ride alone so he didn't have to stop so often. He was talking about volunteering at children’s’ hospitals and reading to blind people.
Yep, he was pulling out all of the stops. I’ll tell you one thing though; he was one “my wife died last year” story away from getting called out on his bullshit by me. One thing about us bullshit artists, we can smell our own, and this guy stunk to high hell. I never got to say another word to her. We stopped in front of the Yoga Den. She walked off of the bus, into her yoga class, and out of my life.
Dickhead, Cockblocking bus driver dude didn't even ask for her phone number. It was pretty obvious that he only kept talking to her so that I couldn't get my own foot in the door. He never looked at me for the rest of the trip, but I could see a smug smile on his face in the mirror. He thought he was so damn cool, with his bus driver coat, and post officer hat. After we went about two more blocks, I heard him say (like he was just thinking out loud), "that sure was a hot looking piece of tail", then he leaned over and turned up the Nicklback song on the radio. I was so fucking mad that my blood began to boil. I wanted to punch him with every ounce of strength that I had. I fucking hate Nickleback! And I don't know how, but I think he knew it.
This guy was almost in full dance mode while sitting in his seat. Everything about this guy said that he had never heard the song before, including the fact that he didn’t know any of the words yet he was trying to sing along. Clearly he was trying to antagonize me. And it was working. After about two blocks of his company, I'd had enough of this guy. I rang the bell, and got off in front of a Burger King that had more obscenities spay painted on the wall than any story I have ever written. I had gotten away from that smartass bus driver but now I had a new problem. I was walking down the street just before dark in a very rough looking area about 15 blocks from my home. Not only was it getting dark, but the wind was really starting to pick up. It's always windy in San Francisco, but on this evening it was blowing so hard that it made it difficult to walk.
I had already made up my mind that this trip across town was to be cancelled indefinitely. My large frame and menacing stare was no match for my timid personality and the fact that street people were becoming more and more intimidating to me. The farther I went, the more I stood out from everyone else.
Finally, I started to think that I maybe should have stayed on the bus.
I was also thinking that I definitely should have stayed in my apartment.
No more going outside after dark for this cowboy. I will be implementing a strict curfew of 5pm for myself every night with no exceptions. Somebody offers me the job of a lifetime that pays more money in a week than I am used to making in a month? It better be the fucking morning shift! The biography of Ira Winfield will not end in a dark alley with a rape scene that makes the deliverance look like a PG rated movie. No sir, I already have my death planned out thank you, and it doesn’t involve knives or gang rape. It will be a shark attack after I jumped into the ocean while running from a bear. The way real men die.
As all of these somewhat irrational thoughts were running through my head I started thinking that maybe I should start paying attention to where I am going so I don’t get lost. Then I saw it, my savior, an army surplus store. I quickly walked in there and bought a can of pepper spray. I walked out of that place with a strong feeling of confidence. Ira will be a victim no more.
So now I am walking down the street with a new air of confidence, almost hoping someone will try to mug me so I can hold out my arm, mace in hand, and unleash the fucking fury! I'm walking and daydreaming about spraying that shit into the air, and temporarily blinding some asshole thug. I walked around the corner and came face to face with two of the homeless guys from that fateful stop in front of the shelter.
The dominant one had most of his teeth, an eye patch, and somehow, a beer gut. The ugly one had no teeth, the most zits I’ve ever seen on a 40 year old man, the word “buttfucker” tattooed across his forehead, and somehow, a lipstick smudge on his cheek. It should be noted that the better looking one was wearing a small amount of lipstick. They both smiled at me like they had been looking for me the whole time.
I had my hand on the big can of pepper spray in my pocket as we stood there staring at each other. "Here it is", I thought, "do or die"! But then I thought, "Fuck, I'm standing down wind from these guys." "Once that boomerang of pepper spray comes back and hits me in the face, they're going to kick the shit out of me and steal my shoes"! Then from out of left field, the better looking of the two says, "You dropped some quarters back there", and handed me a $1.25 in change. So I looked at him and said, "Where’s the rest of it"? They both started laughing their asses off, and slapping their knees. Apparently they thought I was kidding. Whatever, I was too tired to argue about it.
I stood there listening to their laughter trying to come up with a good plan. How can I get them to draw me a map to my apartment without giving them the change back? It’s obvious they know these streets well. It’s even more obvious that they could use my $1.25. Of course, they had a chance to keep it and they gave it back. But I am sure it was just one of those “karma” things where they figured if they gave my the $1.25 back that I might give them a $5.00 reward or something to the like.
So how can I get these guys to give me directions without having to do anything for them in return? I could just go into one of the stores and ask for directions, but those guys are always dicks when you’re not spending money in their store. Then I came up with a somewhat feasible, yet horrible idea.
There are 3 or 4 regular prostitutes that work on my block. One of them owes me a huge favor (long story, I am sure I will write about it someday). I could tell the homeless dudes about the favor owed to me by a “lady of the night”. It isn’t like she is ever going to be able to return the favor any other way (I know what you are thinking. I thought of that too. It’s just too gross. Prostitutes are not my thing, plus, she is always wearing a scarf or a turtle neck to cover up what I can only assume to be an adams apple, double gross).
As I explained the situation to the dudes they seemed a bit interested until I told them what area I lived in. You see, certain types of prostitutes hang out in certain areas. And apparently, I live in the he-she district.
So I was counting out my change to the one that could count while the literate one was drawing me a detailed map to my neighborhood and teasing me for “paling around with transvestite prostitutes” when The very bus I needed pulled up to the stop. We said our tearful good byes and I got on the bus.
Once I got home, I sat there thinking about my day. Then I got out the phone book, looked up a number, and called the yoga den to make myself an appointment for the following week at the same time my future wife got off of the bus on Vaness Street. You didn't think I was going to let her get away that easy did ya? On second thought, scratch that future wife part. We'll probably just live together for a couple of years until she gets sick of paying all of the bills.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
When reality trumps idealistic thinking
I bet some of you believe in Karma. The idea is a pretty cool one. It is the thought that when you do good things, good things will just happen for you. If you go to the old folk’s home and read to people, then you should also go to the casino or buy a lotto ticket because good things are coming your way.
Whenever I say this it tends to piss people off, but, it really seems quite silly to me. I used to believe in Karma. I believed for two reasons, 1) because I hadn’t put much thought into it and 2) because it seemed like a really neat concept that all of my hippy friends believed in anyways so I wanted to believe in it too.
There is just one problem with it. That problem being that it doesn’t exist. If karma was real then don’t you think that all of those brilliant yet greedy politicians and lawyers would be in the in the philanthropist business, putting in 14 hours a day raising money for less fortunate people rather than doing what actually makes them rich? Ironically what actually makes them rich is very often immoral things that harm others and serve their own greedy agendas, something that would cause “bad Karma” for someone who believes in it.
I am not trying to brag by any means here but I have always gone through life with good intentions, and a willingness to help people who need it. I think I have done a good job at being a parent, a son, and friend to everyone I know. Not perfect by any means, but good. Where is my good Karma? Why don’t I have a new car and my own house? I will tell you why, because I never did the stuff necessary when I was young to achieve these things. I opted to spend my time having fun and slacking rather than attaining and keeping a good job with room for advancement, and because of that, all of the good deeds in the world aren’t going to cure my gout (a treatable form of arthritis that I get in my foot) until I find a way to get good health insurance that will pay for me to have it treated properly. That is not going to happen until I figure out a way to make it happen. It will never happen if I sit around just being “good” waiting for karma to do it for me.
I don’t want my statements to come off in a negative light; I am not saying that you shouldn’t do good things. You should always do good things whether they are in your best interest or not. The part where I have a problem is it seems like some people do good things and say they are trying to build up good karma. I find this somewhat disturbing. You should do the right thing because it is the right thing to do, not because of some cosmic balance out there somewhere in our atmosphere waiting to reward you for all of your good deeds.
Success is almost always a direct result of something you did to make that success happen anyways. The people out there who have all of life’s riches are the ones who made it happen by going to school, working hard, and showing people the respect that they would expect in return. Now that last part might sound like Karma if you don’t think it through. Treat people nice and you will be treated nice, but there is an explanation for that. When you are talking to someone who is always nice, you’re going to be nice to them. And when you see someone who is always treating people like shit, you’re going to be a dick to that person. It’s more like common sense than it is Karma.
I feel kind of dumb explaining all of this stuff because it seems so obvious to me and I feel like I am explaining why you can’t store a bowling ball on the peak of your roof but there are people out there who swear by Karma. Lots of them, some of them are my closest friends. To me it is just idealistic thinking that hasn’t been thought out because we want to believe that the world is good. But lots of great people die young everyday and plenty of horrible excuses for human beings live long lives with great amounts of success.
Just take a look at Pol Pot (Cambodian leader whose rule, through the combined effects of slave labor, malnutrition, poor medical care, and executions resulted in the deaths of an estimated 750,000 to 1.7 million people, approximately 26% of the Cambodian population*) lives to be 70 years old and dies of natural causes. But someone like Princess Diana who did so much good in the world was killed by a bunch of greedy bastards on motorcycles who chased her down so they could exploit her to the tabloids for money?
I am sure this comes off as pretty brutal to some of your belief systems and I am not trying to insult anyone’s philosophy. I just think your ideas are stupid and you should agree with what I say.
*Wikipedia reference
Whenever I say this it tends to piss people off, but, it really seems quite silly to me. I used to believe in Karma. I believed for two reasons, 1) because I hadn’t put much thought into it and 2) because it seemed like a really neat concept that all of my hippy friends believed in anyways so I wanted to believe in it too.
There is just one problem with it. That problem being that it doesn’t exist. If karma was real then don’t you think that all of those brilliant yet greedy politicians and lawyers would be in the in the philanthropist business, putting in 14 hours a day raising money for less fortunate people rather than doing what actually makes them rich? Ironically what actually makes them rich is very often immoral things that harm others and serve their own greedy agendas, something that would cause “bad Karma” for someone who believes in it.
I am not trying to brag by any means here but I have always gone through life with good intentions, and a willingness to help people who need it. I think I have done a good job at being a parent, a son, and friend to everyone I know. Not perfect by any means, but good. Where is my good Karma? Why don’t I have a new car and my own house? I will tell you why, because I never did the stuff necessary when I was young to achieve these things. I opted to spend my time having fun and slacking rather than attaining and keeping a good job with room for advancement, and because of that, all of the good deeds in the world aren’t going to cure my gout (a treatable form of arthritis that I get in my foot) until I find a way to get good health insurance that will pay for me to have it treated properly. That is not going to happen until I figure out a way to make it happen. It will never happen if I sit around just being “good” waiting for karma to do it for me.
I don’t want my statements to come off in a negative light; I am not saying that you shouldn’t do good things. You should always do good things whether they are in your best interest or not. The part where I have a problem is it seems like some people do good things and say they are trying to build up good karma. I find this somewhat disturbing. You should do the right thing because it is the right thing to do, not because of some cosmic balance out there somewhere in our atmosphere waiting to reward you for all of your good deeds.
Success is almost always a direct result of something you did to make that success happen anyways. The people out there who have all of life’s riches are the ones who made it happen by going to school, working hard, and showing people the respect that they would expect in return. Now that last part might sound like Karma if you don’t think it through. Treat people nice and you will be treated nice, but there is an explanation for that. When you are talking to someone who is always nice, you’re going to be nice to them. And when you see someone who is always treating people like shit, you’re going to be a dick to that person. It’s more like common sense than it is Karma.
I feel kind of dumb explaining all of this stuff because it seems so obvious to me and I feel like I am explaining why you can’t store a bowling ball on the peak of your roof but there are people out there who swear by Karma. Lots of them, some of them are my closest friends. To me it is just idealistic thinking that hasn’t been thought out because we want to believe that the world is good. But lots of great people die young everyday and plenty of horrible excuses for human beings live long lives with great amounts of success.
Just take a look at Pol Pot (Cambodian leader whose rule, through the combined effects of slave labor, malnutrition, poor medical care, and executions resulted in the deaths of an estimated 750,000 to 1.7 million people, approximately 26% of the Cambodian population*) lives to be 70 years old and dies of natural causes. But someone like Princess Diana who did so much good in the world was killed by a bunch of greedy bastards on motorcycles who chased her down so they could exploit her to the tabloids for money?
I am sure this comes off as pretty brutal to some of your belief systems and I am not trying to insult anyone’s philosophy. I just think your ideas are stupid and you should agree with what I say.
*Wikipedia reference
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I really hate working with stupid insecure people who think they have to try to boss everyone around to compensate for their own short comings. What kind of idiot bitches at one of his bosses about not keeping the break room clean enough? If the boss isn't that worried, then you surely shouldn't be either. It wasn't even that messy, and the only reason it smells is because your stupid ass smokes cigarettes in there every chance you get you fucking hypocrite! Then you have the nerve to bitch at a guy who doesn't even smoke about how nasty it smells in there?
Dude, get a life. There is no reason for a person to have been working here four years without ever being promoted. Your misguided attempts at authority are actually undermining your need for power by allowing our bosses to make fun of you when you are not around. But you’re the kind of douchebag who would claim that you have been offered a managerial position on numerous occasions but turned it down because you didn’t want the headache or the responsibility.
There is however, a reason why you got transferred to a different job today. It's because I told our boss how much of a dick you are to the customers when they break one of your 20 rules that you give them when they first arrive at our tube park.
We don't need to give them a 5 minute orientation to keep them safe on a fucking tube.
Tell them the two main rules they need to know to be safe, and let them have fun. That is what they are here for. That is why they pay all that money to be at the tube park. Not to entertain some power trip that no person making $8 an hour should ever be on in the first place.
If they break one of the rules, which you should expect a few of them to try to do from time to time, don't yell at them like you do your kids when you catch them playing in the road. Remind them that the rule they are breaking is very important to their own safety and that of others and the problem will be solved. I have never had a customer continue doing dangerous shit after the first polite warning.
You actually yelled enough to make a five year old kid cry. It was her mom’s fault that they went down the lane with the jump on it while tied together in the first place you fucking dick!
And then you have the nerve to tell me you want to do most of the hooking of the tubes (the hardest part of the job), but bitch to the other employees when I am not around about how I didn’t do anything all day and made you do all of the hooking? You spineless little weasel.
You still aren’t smart enough to know that they are all going to run to me and tell me everything you said? Nobody likes you because of this very shit that I am describing yet you are doing it because you think it impresses people.
The other irony is that I was actually very busy at the other end of the park apologizing to our customers because one of my co-workers was being an asshole to them about stupid shit that is never an issue when you aren’t around.
You should have seen the look on your face yesterday when I called you out on that two faced bullshit that you tried to pull. You didn’t look like you are used to people standing up to you. Well get used to it motherfucker because I have worked here long enough now to start saying what’s on my mind when somebody messes with me, one of our customers, or one of our co-workers. You have done a lot of all three this winter.
I would like to thank you for one thing though. I was a pretty popular guy in the tube park today for being the final straw that got you moved somewhere that you don’t get to interact with our guests or all of us guys that get along quite well when you are not around stirring the pot.
So tomorrow when you are sitting in that shed pushing buttons and thinking up lies about other people, remember this, the next time I catch wind of you talking shit behind my back, I am gonna go over to your house on my day off and do your wife.
Dude, get a life. There is no reason for a person to have been working here four years without ever being promoted. Your misguided attempts at authority are actually undermining your need for power by allowing our bosses to make fun of you when you are not around. But you’re the kind of douchebag who would claim that you have been offered a managerial position on numerous occasions but turned it down because you didn’t want the headache or the responsibility.
There is however, a reason why you got transferred to a different job today. It's because I told our boss how much of a dick you are to the customers when they break one of your 20 rules that you give them when they first arrive at our tube park.
We don't need to give them a 5 minute orientation to keep them safe on a fucking tube.
Tell them the two main rules they need to know to be safe, and let them have fun. That is what they are here for. That is why they pay all that money to be at the tube park. Not to entertain some power trip that no person making $8 an hour should ever be on in the first place.
If they break one of the rules, which you should expect a few of them to try to do from time to time, don't yell at them like you do your kids when you catch them playing in the road. Remind them that the rule they are breaking is very important to their own safety and that of others and the problem will be solved. I have never had a customer continue doing dangerous shit after the first polite warning.
You actually yelled enough to make a five year old kid cry. It was her mom’s fault that they went down the lane with the jump on it while tied together in the first place you fucking dick!
And then you have the nerve to tell me you want to do most of the hooking of the tubes (the hardest part of the job), but bitch to the other employees when I am not around about how I didn’t do anything all day and made you do all of the hooking? You spineless little weasel.
You still aren’t smart enough to know that they are all going to run to me and tell me everything you said? Nobody likes you because of this very shit that I am describing yet you are doing it because you think it impresses people.
The other irony is that I was actually very busy at the other end of the park apologizing to our customers because one of my co-workers was being an asshole to them about stupid shit that is never an issue when you aren’t around.
You should have seen the look on your face yesterday when I called you out on that two faced bullshit that you tried to pull. You didn’t look like you are used to people standing up to you. Well get used to it motherfucker because I have worked here long enough now to start saying what’s on my mind when somebody messes with me, one of our customers, or one of our co-workers. You have done a lot of all three this winter.
I would like to thank you for one thing though. I was a pretty popular guy in the tube park today for being the final straw that got you moved somewhere that you don’t get to interact with our guests or all of us guys that get along quite well when you are not around stirring the pot.
So tomorrow when you are sitting in that shed pushing buttons and thinking up lies about other people, remember this, the next time I catch wind of you talking shit behind my back, I am gonna go over to your house on my day off and do your wife.
When it rains it pours
So far today has been a crappy day. Isn’t it odd how when your day starts out badly there is an excellent chance that it will get worse? Why is this? Is it because of the way the stars are lined up? Not likely. If that were true then all of those horoscope people would be able to send a mass text message to all Pisces about certain dates that they shouldn’t even get out of bed for.
The true reason can be based on one basic statement that has been around for many years. It was popular in the 80’s along with that smiley face, and it had a short resurgence in 1994 when Forrest Gump hit the big screen. “Shit happens”. But how does that explain having one day out of a good week be filled with bad occurrences? It’s simple. When something bad happens early in the day it affects your attitude. When you have a poor attitude you are more likely to react negatively in certain situations in which you normally would have just “rolled with the punches”. The more negatively you act, the more you will get negative results.
So first thing in the morning you get a text message from your ex girlfriend pretending to be thinking she is sending it to a friend of yours accepting a date from him. Even though you know the part about there actually being a date is true, you also know that there is no point in her going out with a guy she has said negative things about in the past unless she can make sure that you know about it. Everybody has done that thing once or twice where you send the text message to the wrong person and occasionally it happens to be the last person you would want reading it, but it is pretty amazing how often she does this, and it always just happens to be about meeting some dude for a drink, or just about anything else to get your mind thinking about shit that was never even going to cross it unless she put it there. Yes, she knows how to push your buttons and today she has decided that said buttons have not gotten the proper attention they deserve recently.
So now you have a bad attitude. And rightly so, you have been fighting with your emotions for years on how to get over someone that you love, but she knows you well enough to know all of your weaknesses and she also just happens to be evil enough to exploit those weaknesses when she doesn’t get her way.
So now you are driving down the road with one eye on the windshield and the other on the screen of your cell phone so you can send her all of those texts full of empty promises like “you went too far this time, I’m never talking to you again”. That’s when you get a phone call from a number that you don’t recognize and you send it directly to voice mail because “I have way to much on my mind right now to deal with whoever is trying to call me from a phone number that I didn’t deem important enough to program into my phone” and you forget about it as soon as you push ignore so you can get back to driving through five lanes of traffic with your knee while typing “ I never wanted to make out with you because your breath always smelled like egg salad with too much mustard in it”.
Even when you are this mad you always know enough to put the phone in your pocket as soon as the cop turns on his lights. You know that it could be multiple different things that you about to get a ticket for but you also are thinking “doesn’t this asshole have better things to do than mess with people who are taking their kids to school?”
I don’t have to give any examples of how being in a bad mood can affect the outcome of a traffic stop. It’s not like your going to call his mother names or try to out run him, but it is not so easy to be polite to a guy who wants to fine you a few hundred dollars for doing stupid shit that you shouldn’t be doing but you are doing it because you are pissed off over the first bad thing that happened and it ends up being the cause of the second bad thing that YOU did.
Yet you still drive away with a speeding ticket and a passing on the shoulder ticket with a warning about paying attention to the road when driving while you are thinking “why me?”
So you get home from dropping off the kid and you have already decided that the morning has been shot to hell and you just need to eat some breakfast and try to relax for a few to regain your composure. Then you realize that you never checked your phone after the traffic stop and there is going to be about 7 missed text messages on your phone.
But no, you aren’t going to let her make your day any worse so you just erase all of that negative crap without even reading it so you can focus on getting into the proper mood to have a productive day, but then you notice that you have four unheard voice mails and the last one from your mom. It doesn’t matter how bad of a mood you are in, you can’t ignore your mom, so you have to listen to the voicemails knowing at least two of them are going to be your vindictive ex girlfriend explaining why it’s OK for her to sleep around and then rub it in my face so you prepare yourself to erase every voice mail as soon as her voice comes in just so you can listen to the one from your mom.
But your mom didn’t leave you a voice message; she was just calling to say hi and knew that you would see that she called on the caller ID. But guess who left multiple messages. You got it! The psycho hose beast, but she had only left three messages. The other message was from the lady calling to remind you about the very important meeting that you had that morning at 9:30am.
So you are standing there, no shower, paperwork that you gathered for what you thought was tomorrows meeting is “somewhere” in the house, you’re twenty minutes away from the site of the meeting, and the clock on the wall says it is 9:06am. You get a slight feeling of relief when you realize that the clock is four minutes fast which gives you a little more time but optimism is soon going to be replaced with “so it’s just going to be one of those days today I guess”.
You find a shirt in the dirty clothes basket that is cleaner than the one you are wearing and go to the meeting with all the paperwork you need except for the only one that is really important. That one is somewhere back at home but you were so pissed off at this point that you just grabbed what you had when you found the stack and walked out the door without even considering that you may not have all that you need. Then you stand there wondering why you are having such a bad day, “why me?” Or you get that pitiful feeling in your soul that says “when it rains it really pours”.
But that is all bullshit. If you would have been paying attention to the road instead of texting that stupid slut while you were trying to drive you never would have gotten pulled over, and if you would have answered the phone or at least checked your voice mail right away you would have been prepared for the meeting and not gotten turned down by the adoption agency (relax, I’m just kidding. The true nature of the meeting is irrelevant to the story so I opted to not waste my time with the details so mind your own business and worry about your own meetings). But instead of staying on track of all the stuff you need to do to have a productive day you let one bad event turn into several bad events by letting the prior distract you from the latter, and that is why we have bad days.
Sure, there are times when random bad things happen in the same day and they are unrelated, but it doesn’t happen as much as people think. People spend way to much time trying to explain coincidence with fairy tales. A lot of the time it is just you getting a shitty attitude when you have something bad happen and you let it affect the rest of your day.
You don’t really believe that there is something out there deciding how the dice are going to roll for you everyday, do you? I hope not because then what is the point in even trying if the outcome has already been decided.
The best thing to do when life kicks you in the bag is to just take a few minutes to evaluate what happened and think about rational solutions rather than storm through the rest of your day like a bull in a china shop who can’t seem to figure out why all the nice plates keep breaking.
The true reason can be based on one basic statement that has been around for many years. It was popular in the 80’s along with that smiley face, and it had a short resurgence in 1994 when Forrest Gump hit the big screen. “Shit happens”. But how does that explain having one day out of a good week be filled with bad occurrences? It’s simple. When something bad happens early in the day it affects your attitude. When you have a poor attitude you are more likely to react negatively in certain situations in which you normally would have just “rolled with the punches”. The more negatively you act, the more you will get negative results.
So first thing in the morning you get a text message from your ex girlfriend pretending to be thinking she is sending it to a friend of yours accepting a date from him. Even though you know the part about there actually being a date is true, you also know that there is no point in her going out with a guy she has said negative things about in the past unless she can make sure that you know about it. Everybody has done that thing once or twice where you send the text message to the wrong person and occasionally it happens to be the last person you would want reading it, but it is pretty amazing how often she does this, and it always just happens to be about meeting some dude for a drink, or just about anything else to get your mind thinking about shit that was never even going to cross it unless she put it there. Yes, she knows how to push your buttons and today she has decided that said buttons have not gotten the proper attention they deserve recently.
So now you have a bad attitude. And rightly so, you have been fighting with your emotions for years on how to get over someone that you love, but she knows you well enough to know all of your weaknesses and she also just happens to be evil enough to exploit those weaknesses when she doesn’t get her way.
So now you are driving down the road with one eye on the windshield and the other on the screen of your cell phone so you can send her all of those texts full of empty promises like “you went too far this time, I’m never talking to you again”. That’s when you get a phone call from a number that you don’t recognize and you send it directly to voice mail because “I have way to much on my mind right now to deal with whoever is trying to call me from a phone number that I didn’t deem important enough to program into my phone” and you forget about it as soon as you push ignore so you can get back to driving through five lanes of traffic with your knee while typing “ I never wanted to make out with you because your breath always smelled like egg salad with too much mustard in it”.
Even when you are this mad you always know enough to put the phone in your pocket as soon as the cop turns on his lights. You know that it could be multiple different things that you about to get a ticket for but you also are thinking “doesn’t this asshole have better things to do than mess with people who are taking their kids to school?”
I don’t have to give any examples of how being in a bad mood can affect the outcome of a traffic stop. It’s not like your going to call his mother names or try to out run him, but it is not so easy to be polite to a guy who wants to fine you a few hundred dollars for doing stupid shit that you shouldn’t be doing but you are doing it because you are pissed off over the first bad thing that happened and it ends up being the cause of the second bad thing that YOU did.
Yet you still drive away with a speeding ticket and a passing on the shoulder ticket with a warning about paying attention to the road when driving while you are thinking “why me?”
So you get home from dropping off the kid and you have already decided that the morning has been shot to hell and you just need to eat some breakfast and try to relax for a few to regain your composure. Then you realize that you never checked your phone after the traffic stop and there is going to be about 7 missed text messages on your phone.
But no, you aren’t going to let her make your day any worse so you just erase all of that negative crap without even reading it so you can focus on getting into the proper mood to have a productive day, but then you notice that you have four unheard voice mails and the last one from your mom. It doesn’t matter how bad of a mood you are in, you can’t ignore your mom, so you have to listen to the voicemails knowing at least two of them are going to be your vindictive ex girlfriend explaining why it’s OK for her to sleep around and then rub it in my face so you prepare yourself to erase every voice mail as soon as her voice comes in just so you can listen to the one from your mom.
But your mom didn’t leave you a voice message; she was just calling to say hi and knew that you would see that she called on the caller ID. But guess who left multiple messages. You got it! The psycho hose beast, but she had only left three messages. The other message was from the lady calling to remind you about the very important meeting that you had that morning at 9:30am.
So you are standing there, no shower, paperwork that you gathered for what you thought was tomorrows meeting is “somewhere” in the house, you’re twenty minutes away from the site of the meeting, and the clock on the wall says it is 9:06am. You get a slight feeling of relief when you realize that the clock is four minutes fast which gives you a little more time but optimism is soon going to be replaced with “so it’s just going to be one of those days today I guess”.
You find a shirt in the dirty clothes basket that is cleaner than the one you are wearing and go to the meeting with all the paperwork you need except for the only one that is really important. That one is somewhere back at home but you were so pissed off at this point that you just grabbed what you had when you found the stack and walked out the door without even considering that you may not have all that you need. Then you stand there wondering why you are having such a bad day, “why me?” Or you get that pitiful feeling in your soul that says “when it rains it really pours”.
But that is all bullshit. If you would have been paying attention to the road instead of texting that stupid slut while you were trying to drive you never would have gotten pulled over, and if you would have answered the phone or at least checked your voice mail right away you would have been prepared for the meeting and not gotten turned down by the adoption agency (relax, I’m just kidding. The true nature of the meeting is irrelevant to the story so I opted to not waste my time with the details so mind your own business and worry about your own meetings). But instead of staying on track of all the stuff you need to do to have a productive day you let one bad event turn into several bad events by letting the prior distract you from the latter, and that is why we have bad days.
Sure, there are times when random bad things happen in the same day and they are unrelated, but it doesn’t happen as much as people think. People spend way to much time trying to explain coincidence with fairy tales. A lot of the time it is just you getting a shitty attitude when you have something bad happen and you let it affect the rest of your day.
You don’t really believe that there is something out there deciding how the dice are going to roll for you everyday, do you? I hope not because then what is the point in even trying if the outcome has already been decided.
The best thing to do when life kicks you in the bag is to just take a few minutes to evaluate what happened and think about rational solutions rather than storm through the rest of your day like a bull in a china shop who can’t seem to figure out why all the nice plates keep breaking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)