Tag Archives: relationships

A little like Romeo and Juliet (Maybe)

There is a time and a place to lose your shit in a bad relationship.

But early morning at Starbucks is not the place.

Let me introduce Rudy and Tam.

Do we all remember the story of Romeo and Juliet? 

The star-crossed lovers that had a love so strong that the apparent lack made life not worth living?

Yeah, this has nothing to do with them.

Rudy and Tam have a different story.

Depending on how you view this, they are either in the middle of a really horrible breakup or this is just another day in the middle of one of the most dysfunctional relationships I have ever seen.

Lets meet Rudy and Tam, shall we?

Ladies first.

Tam is 2 women in one. 


She is double the width and weight of your average woman. 

I don’t view that as fat-shaming as much as being mildly observant. 

She is also a mix of various clothing styles. 

Ugg boots are always nice, but striped rainbow thigh-high socks throws off the look badly.

Also, and this is just a personal choice, a tight tube top loses its charm when its 3 sizes too small and pushes the muffin top out to the point of needing a new name.

The Mushroom Cloud.

I have reread and edited the last few sentences several times to try and get it under the “Being Mean” wire and I finally have just given up. 

Some of you will read it and get your panties in a twist over it, and I will have to somehow live with that. (Let’s be honest, I have said worse and you were ok with it for a variety of reasons. If you are going to be a regular here, you are going to need to roll with an extra set of undies.)

Anyway, now that the wardrobe description is out of the way, like any movie set, the last step is hair and makeup.

The hair is a progressive mix of old school chola hair spray high mixed with black and a sickly strip of grey. 

The makeup has raccoon style black eyes and enough lipstick to make a professional clown say “Damn”!

This description is harsh and intentionally mean mainly because I don’t like her. (Plus, this is my world and I get to be a prick if I want to.)

As if this little visual treat is not enough to catch my eye, she is alternating between whispering hideously angry shit at Rudy, but ending each sentence with a 2 syllable scream.

“Mumblemumblemumble, FUCKING RUDY!!!” 

As far as vulgar public displays go, its not bad, I have seen worse, but it’s been awhile. 

Rudy, for his part, sits like a soldier experiencing severe PTSD, and maybe he is. 

This woman is the closest thing to the Vietnam war I have seen.

And how long has Rudy been dealing with this conflict?

Its like the relationship version of the “1000 yard stare”.

And he doesn’t move, like at all.

He just stares straight ahead and sips his coffee. 

And eventually, his strategy, or lack of, pays off. 

She stops. 

Breathing heavy, with a twitch in her left eye she just sits and glares at him. 

And then, in a most unsatisfying way, its over.

Rudy just gets up and walks out, trudging like the weary soldier he is.

And Tam follows. 

To her, the movement is like the bell in a boxing match. 

It’s back on. 

Outside, she seems to be screaming for the whole sentence now. (Loud enough to be heard thru the big bay window. 

Good luck, Rudy. 

You’re going to need it, son. 

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Posted by on March 2, 2020 in Uncategorized


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Have some freedom.

This is a don’t ask, don’t tell blog.

The two ladies coming into my favorite breakfast place appear to be a couple. (“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Seinfeld circa 1993)

I wear my hair short and one of them even have me beat.

One lady is wearing mom jeans and a tshirt, shoulder length hair.

Lets call her Julie. (Why not?)

Her partner is close to 6 foot. Broad shoulders. Super short hair. Scowling.

Khakis, steel toed chuckaboots, and a faded Springsteen “Born in the USA” tshirt.

Let’s call her Mike.

They stand in front of the menu, looking at the breakfast goodies.

Julie says, in a soft voice, “Breakfast burrito sounds good.”

The cashier takes that as a sign to start taking orders.

“Breakfast burrito, would you like ham, bacon or sausage on that?”

Julie takes 1.9 seconds to open her mouth to answer.

And that is too fucking long for Mike.

Angry mouth 2 inches from Julie’s ear, Mike has had it with her shit.

“Are you going to fucking order?”


0 to 60 1.9 seconds has to be a record of some sort.

There are 2 more explosions from Mike before the order is taken.

The cashier looks a lot like a horse in a forest fire, eyes rolling, stuttering and looks like she might bolt at any moment.

The weird part is that it is a large open room that seems to absorb the tension so that no one around them seems to notice.

Except for me.

But only because I notice everything.

The Fates are kind at times and today is one of those days.

Mike and Julie take a seat at the table behind me.

I can hear pretty clearly.

And it is a conversation that makes ADD look stable by comparison.

Here is a 5 minute sample:

  • Shitty comment.
  • Inquiry about upcoming 4th of July Party.
  • Inquiry about the time thru angry clenched teeth. (Still don’t get that one.)
  • Compliment about patriotic tshirt purchase.
  • Shitty comment that included the use of the “C” word.
  • Mention of interracial porn likes/dislikes.
  • Shitty self deprecating comment.
  • Desire to see a movie tonight.
  • Shitty comment.

It was exhausting to follow and keep in mind, I talk to the homeless on occasion.

In the end, it was simply a couple in a bad relationship, having a bad morning.

And the take away for all of you is, no matter what your choice of relationship is, avoid the toxic ones if you can.

But it was entertaining.

There is a joke that plays on the observation that a lot of lesbians get serious way too quick.

What gift does a lesbian buy for a second date? A Uhaul truck. (That joke was told to me by lesbians that I hold in high esteem and in the right circles, that joke kills.)

The take away for me, is the image of Mike, angrily eating pancakes and muttering fuck into her coffee.

And that is what America is all about.

Happy 4th of July.

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Posted by on July 1, 2016 in Uncategorized


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I hate to be the one to tell you

I have begun to notice a disturbing trend.

Grown women who loudly proclaim to be “Sick of the drama” but always seem to be hip deep in drama.

Its like they never left high school.

They live on Facebook for the most part.

Well over 50% of their posts are motivational posters proclaiming variations on the two main themes of:

  1. How a “Real Man” will treat them.
  2. How a “True Friend” will treat them.

Lets tackle “Real Man” first.

First off, anyone born with testicles is a real man, as opposed to what you might identify with. (I mean, I identify with being an asshole, but the concept of a human sized sphincter walking around is both scary and the science doesn’t support it.)

To loosely translate, paraphrase it, or just be the first person to say this shit out loud, the person posting this stuff has had really bad taste in men in the past and has not learned from their mistakes.

Does anyone have an ounce of shock left at the thought that a “Bad boy” who is dangerous and likes to party is not the odds on favorite for being a kind and supportive partner?

The sad reality of it is that the boring, consistent, “nice” guy that you don’t want is exactly the guy you claim to want.

Same message, said nicely and said mean:

Figure out what you need from a long term relationship and don’t settle.


If you are tired of being screwed over by the bad boys, quit screwing the bad boys.

(ADD sidebar: Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls is possibly one of the better love songs from the 80’s.)

Before you snort derisively and read on, go back and soak up those two little bits of advice.

Let the wisdom permeate your head.

Got it? Good. I think we are all better people now.

If those lines really hit home for you, don’t worry, I will feed you, baby bird.

(By the way, the line about screwing the bad boys actually got me hung up on by a female acquaintance who decided that I might be a sympathetic shoulder one night. Truth can be a bitch, people.)

Now for the whole friends illusion.

Here is a really sad truth.

The only true, life long friends you will have are the people that you grew up with.

Everyone else you meet after puberty are simply acquaintances that will show up and leave without warning.

This is not to belittle their temporary friendship, not at all.

But unless you have an emotional foundation that is based on the sentimental attachment formed before experience forces reason down your throat, you don’t have a chance in hell of putting up with someone you are not married or screwing (Sometimes mutually exclusive).

So whining and crying that someone you have known for less than a year as a legal adult has suddenly done something that was for themselves and inconvenienced you is kind of silly.

Adults have agendas and baggage, and those two things kind of make your agenda 3 on that list in their mind.

Not their fault, you are doing the same thing, but in your head, you like to think you don’t.

It doesn’t make you or them bad people, by the way.

It just makes you humans.

And that is the problem.

The overwhelming majority of humans are idiots.

My own extended family excepted, not to be biased or anything.

Mmmm, coffee.


Posted by on April 22, 2016 in Uncategorized


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We’re all gonna die. Just saying.

I try not to work on Friday the 13th, as a general rule.

This is not new, we’ve discussed this before.

Its not because I’m superstitious or anything.

I just have a healthy respect for tradition and also, I am convinced that bad luck and an old gypsy woman’s curse will kill me horribly on that day.

Call me a pussy, I don’t care.

If you ask me, there is not enough respect for fear-driven urban legend.

And I am not talking about the “Don’t flash your lights at another car that have their’s off at night, its a gang initiation, they’ll turn around and kill you.” Kind of modern day crap.

I am talking about the ones that are several hundred years old, well, like Friday the 13th.

No wonder they made it into a scary movie.

Scary movies exist to scare us, that much is true.

On the surface.

But underneath, there is a whole other psychological game being played.

Scary movies exist to rub our noses in the primal fear of death.

That is what they are really about.

Primal fear is a gift you acquire at birth and it follows you thru life, like a combination lost puppy/grim reaper that you cannot shake.

Not to be confused with Catholic guilt, which is another type of guilt entirely, self inflicted and even harder to shake.

Primal fear and Catholic guilt are both irrational fears.

Catholic is only slightly easier to navigate.

Primal fear encompasses everything in the world that could kill you.

Catholic guilt encompasses everything in life that you might do wrong.

Subtle difference, but a discernible one.

Sometimes, they crossover and are the same fear.

Except, especially at those times, fixing one doesn’t necessarily fix the other.

That concept of fixing a problem and it still not being fixed is a tough one to get the first time it occurs to you.

Mainly because it is an unsatisfying answer, and unsatisfying answers are never easy to swallow.

They are the “Cod Liver Oil” of answers. They may do the job, but they make you feel sick while doing it.

Its a little like being in a relationship and having an argument.

You may win the argument, and you are still screwed.

Like winning the battle but losing the war.

Except this is worse, you are sleeping with the enemy as it were.

Myself, much like all vermin, I thrive on conflict and confrontation, preferably as a witness.

I would use “Fly on the wall” but I find them repulsive. (The whole eating thru vomiting thing is tough to get around. Imagine two girls one cup National Geographic style.)

What does any of this have to do with Friday the 13th?

Today is the day when I avoid human contact.

If I avoid dealing with people and/or machines, they cannot blow up and try to kill me.

That sounds paranoid, right up until you look at insurance company statistics.

More insurance claims are made for accidental death and dismemberment list today as the day of infamy.

I don’t need that kind of pressure.

I am perfectly capable of maiming myself without nature lending an evil hand.

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Posted by on June 13, 2014 in Uncategorized


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The dawn of the Crazy Bitch.

“That bitch is crazy.”

This is the line from the table next to mine.

The girls, mid-twenties, dressed like their parents have a few dollars but they haven’t figured out that skill yet.

The line itself is a fairly interesting one.

Crazy bitch is a staple in modern America.

Everyone knows a crazy bitch, or they have that special little darling in their own life.

But there are varying levels of crazy to be dealt with.

I did a quick study of crazy bitches online, and after you filter out the porn sites, and there are a LOT of them, whats left is some scary shit.

It seems that there is a seriously wide range of crazy bitch behavior out there.

Much like snowflakes, no two crazy bitches are alike.

But I have broken it down into the 5 basic degrees of crazy bitches.

1. Mildly crazy bitch. This is the beginning of the range and often the craziness is not obvious. You often marry and have kids with this one. Her craziness will manifest itself at holidays, company picnics and formal dinners. The red flag is that she refers to every guy she has dated in the past as “That asshole”.

2. Fairly crazy bitch. This girl is in the drama at all times. Emotionally, she is still in high school and it shows. She plays a lot of farmville and has a tendency to drink a bit too much. This is what facilitates her dramatic, over the top performances. You tend to date this one, if she is in her twenties, she will be actively trying to get pregnant and the last thing you need is to be tied to this chick forever. To quote a friend that is a stand up comedian, you can screw this pussy, but don’t trust this pussy.

3. The thinking man’s crazy bitch. She is convinced she is intelligent. In fact, people that know her will tell you how smart she is. This is your red flag, when others, typically women. instinctively offer nuggets of info as to why you should like her. In the end, they collect men like shoes and you can never be sure if you are kissing what some other guy had for lunch.

4. The “Bat-shit Crazy bitch”. This girl is sex on a stick, built like a playboy bunny on a binder. The sex is incredible and she is THE party. However, the third time you wake up to her holding a steak knife to your testicles? Thats when you find out how hard it is to put geni back in the bottle.

5. The seemingly perfect woman. She is a professional, has a great job, money, looks, seems to have all of her shit in order. The relationship is awesome, right up until its not. The crazy part comes in when you begin to notice that you are slipping into crazy when you are with her. She is a catalyst for bad in your life. She will not try to cut off your balls, but she will be there when you figure out that cutting off your own balls is a good idea. This is that chick that fucks up your relationships for a long time.

In the long run, its a natural instinct to find someone and either procreate or at least hang out.

So basically, as men, we are screwed.

Unless you want to go the asexual route, which I don’t recommend.

Michael Jackson was asexual and we all know how that went.


Posted by on December 30, 2013 in Uncategorized


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