Let It Fly

Greetings, earthlings. Your favorite little ray of sunshine is back.

I didn’t have the greatest day. I blame it on a phone call. I hate making phone calls. Most people don’t understand what it’s like living with social anxiety. The stress. The paralyzing fear of having to speak. Today, during an exchange with an especially miserable employee at the Social Security office, my friend watched in near disbelief as I crumpled so easily under the woman’s attitude and disrespect. What the hell was wrong with me? Why didn’t I fight back? But it’s almost impossible to explain to those who don’t experience this particular brand of torture. My chest constricted. My mind went blank. I was doing my best to keep the tears from spilling over. In the end, I failed. And I felt like a cowering fool.

It’s always afterwards that I think of the things I should have said. I should have reminded the woman I wasn’t the one who killed her mood, that I distinctly remember peeing in the toilet this morning and not in her bowl of Fruity Pebbles. I should have suggested she find a job better suited to her unparalleled charm.

What I really should have said was “fuck off.” I wish I had the courage. Just once. Though far from classy, unleashing a nice big “fuck off” on special occasions probably does wonders as a means of catharsis.


Happiness Takes a Hike for the Day

What are you supposed to do when you’re in the midst of a war you can’t win?  Don’t go down without a fight is Continue reading

A Conversation between Adults

Casey: It’s here! 😀 (the ice cream maker I sent him for his birthday)

Melissa: Enjoy. 🙂

Casey: I’m sure I will, once I learn how to work the damn thing.

Melissa: Emailed you the manual.

Casey: That was nice of you. Did you happen to email the ingredients?

Melissa: It’s probably just milk and sugar. Bada bing, bada boom. I couldn’t have bought those for you anyway. (because we live a thousand miles apart)

Casey: If you think all you need to make ice cream is milk and sugar, then go to the kitchen and mix some milk and sugar and see what happens.

Melissa: Might need some ice also.

Casey: Thank god you don’t cook.

Melissa: I resent that!

Casey: If your recipe for ice cream is milk, sugar and some ice, I don’t wanna know how you think gravy should be made. Is your recipe for mashed potatoes a bag of potatoes and a sledge hammer?

Melissa: Yeah, but I think you have to microwave the potatoes first.

Melissa: As for gravy, beef juice and flour.

Casey: I’m never coming to visit you unless you swear on a stack of DVDs that nothing we eat came from your recipes.

Melissa: You flatter yourself by thinking I would even cook for you.

Casey: I know you wouldn’t cook for me, but you’d have to have someone cook a meal and I would want the promise that they did not use your recipe.

Casey: So tell me, with ice cream, which ingredient, the milk, ice or sugar makes it taste like vanilla?

Melissa: That’s why you have to throw some vanilla wafers in there.

Casey: So you’re going to have sugar milk soup with wafers for crackers. No wonder you think coffee tastes good.

Melissa: You have to put the concoction in the freezer obviously.

Casey: Oh, so you get a big solid block of milk ice.

Melissa: LOL @ milk ice. Sounds good to me.

Casey: So if that’s all you have to do, why the hell did you buy me a $70 machine?

Melissa: That’s what you wanted!! I don’t question your crazy ideas.

Casey: Except I wouldn’t have wanted it if you hadn’t pointed it out to me in the first place?

Melissa: Maybe I was intoxicated at the time.

Casey: Too much milk ice?

Melissa: I call it ice cream

Casey: Next time you want pizza, I’m going to suggest you get some flour, tomato juice, expired milk and beef scraps.

Melissa: Where does the milk come in??

Casey: Expired milk = cheese. Duh.

Melissa: Oh yeah!

Casey: At least it does in the same universe where milk, ice and sugar makes ice cream.

Melissa: No no, you’re right.

Melissa: But I think it’s supposed to be spaghetti sauce, not tomato juice. That doesn’t make any sense.

Casey: Spaghetti sauce is made from a recipe, and your recipe would be tomato juice and water, so therefore all you really need is the tomato juice.

Melissa: Spaghetti sauce is not made from a recipe. It’s called Prego.

Casey: On your trip to New York, how many times did you drive by fields of Prego jars growing as far as the eye could see?

Melissa: I think they were in Tennessee, not New York. We also passed a couple of Cheez Whiz fields.

Casey: I have to say, I’m going to miss you when whatever drugs you’re on eat away the rest of your brain and you have to be committed.

Later –

Casey: I read the manual and recipe book. All of the ice cream recipes call for more than milk and sugar, and none call for ice cubes.

Melissa: That’s a major mistake, them leaving out the ice. You should probably call them and tell them to fix it.

Casey: The major mistake was a recipe for pumpkin spice ice cream.

Melissa: That sounds delicious!

Casey: No, it doesn’t.

Melissa: You don’t know everything.

Casey: I know enough.

Melissa: Not when it comes to delicious ice cream flavors apparently.

Melissa: So what are you going to make anyway?

Casey: I’m not sure yet. There’s a recipe for cherry vanilla frozen yogurt I want to try.

Melissa: Yuck. See what I’m talking about?

Casey: Yes, I do. You’re gross.

Melissa: Cherry vanilla is gross. I prefer cake batter ice cream.

Melissa: Why the hell are you talking about me on Facebook?

Casey: You already know why. I do it for the same reasons that I eat the foods I eat, drink the beverages I drink, watch the sports and shows I watch, read the books I read and listen to the music I listen to.

Melissa: I’m not talking to you anymore.

Resentment, part two

Oh, you want my share of the phone bill?
Well, sometimes in life we have to take a loss.
Just like I had to take a loss when you killed my dog two days ago.
Just like she had to take a loss when she died, terrified and struggling in the waters that claimed her.
She was blind in both eyes, and you couldn’t be bothered to watch her for five minutes.
So about that money, that $70 for the phone, you might just have to take a loss on that.
But that’s life. What can you do?


Isn’t it funny how you’re slowly shedding everything he never liked about you?
Your kids.
Your wardrobe.
Your identity.
I used to be so proud to know you, the definition of strong and independent.
Now you’re just a submissive little housewife who lets dogs drown.
Soon you’ll look around you,
Your past life nearly erased,
And realize it’s forever you and him, living on the street he shared with his dead wife.
Have fun with that.

Little Victories

About six weeks ago, I noticed that I was having difficulty speaking and swallowing. After a CAT scan and an MRI, it was discovered Continue reading

Oh, Happy Day

Checking in. Life has been crazy lately, but today was the first day in a long time that I was sing-from-the-mountaintop-happy. Continue reading