Random Relationship Thought #1

What's this obsession with this new use of the word "drama" as it applies to relationships? It's always followed by an implied accusation toward past partners--which I thought was a dating no-no. Has anyone ever noticed that the very person who would say "no drama" is the one causing the tension? How about they stop being a jerk to their partners, then accusing said partners of drama when they try to defend themselves.

From the outside it looks like one person is deliberately setting the other up for a fall so they can appear to be the calm, logical levelheaded one. It's illogical, because they don't appear calm they appear to manipulate and avoid. What I see is them hating anyone who would be with them so much that they would do anything to get one over on their mate.

There are two possible solutions: 1) Exorcise or at least recognize those mommy/daddy issues via therapy, or 2) Don't get into a relationship in the first place. Otherwise, they're going to end up dating nervous doormats.

TheSarcastivist has spoken.

Natural Born Atheist

The vast majority of the human race looks to spirits, deities, rituals, interconnectedness, afterlife, reincarnation, positivism, affirmations, signs, symbols, psychic forces and/or miracles to explain life, death and existence. There are a few of us who are incapable of all of the above. We can't care what happens after we die. We can't wonder why we exist. We're not lapsed. We're not angry. We don't judge others for their beliefs, we simply don't have the capacity. Good and evil become empathy and lack thereof. Prayer resulting in change or cure becomes delightful coincidence. The Golden Rule stays as it is written.

Peace be with you,

The Sarcastivist

My Family Issue

This is a direct quote from my brother:

"Never, ever, under any circumstances allow anyone else (God or man), to claim that they own the copyright on your soul or your eternity! Take it from a recovering former Scientologist."

I know, right?

The Sarcastivist Unleashed

It's come to my attention, since acquiring a dog of my own, that there are a lot of--we'll call them "animal lovers"--out there who don't understand why certain laws and rules surrounding dog ownership exist. Or they don't care, because they're self-absorbed--we'll call them "people who don't use turn signals". Allow me to explain.

Leash Law: This exists so I don't have to kick your dog in the face when he charges me or my dog. Every dog has a moment. Every owner should be aware that if that moment hasn't happened yet, it will. Don't be that moron who is screaming, "He's never done that before! Sorry!" while your dog kills someone's kid. My dog can be a little jerk-off at times, but he's always on a leash. All I've ever had to yell is, "He's being a little jerk-off! Sorry!"

Scoop Law: I pick up my dog's shit, so pick up your dog's shit. I stepped in a big pile of steaming, stinking crap this afternoon and ruined a pair of shoes. I don't want to look down at the ground the whole time I'm out walking my little poop machine for fear someone has been a lazy, rude, self-serving ass. If I find out who left their dog's shit there, I will report that person to the police. I don't care if it's a nun or my best friend, there's nothing I'd like to see more than the guilty party being publicly humiliated by a police interrogation over something as stupid as dog shit.

The "if he's squatting, ignore him" Rule: If you see my dog acting like he's forming a nugget, don't call his attention in any manner. In particular, don't walk your dog over to meet him. He'll get distracted by that, and for the next 15 minutes while I stomp around waiting for him to find another interesting place to squat? I will be making plans for the shit-in-a-bag to come. These plans will involve your face.

The "my dog is too small to train" Excuse: That will force me to give the "sorry I had to kick your chihuahua in the face because it bit my ankle" excuse, and that's a conversation I never want to have. My dog is ankle-biter height, too, but he has been trained against that sort of thing. Just in case he decides it's his moment, he's on a leash.

The "don't pet him, he's an unmarked service dog" Dilemma: If your dog is a service dog, put a service vest on your service dog so I know to keep myself and my dog away from yourself and your service dog. I don't need to be set up like that so you can get back at society for making you sick, by finding some lame excuse to lecture me or anyone else. I don't blame you for my fibromyalgia.

Now that you hopefully have a clearer understanding of what it means to be a dog owner, it's time for me to take the ankle-biting jerk-off for a walk.

The Lingo of Tenuous Relationships

Jealousy: Most commonly, this word is applied to a person who knows their man/woman is cheating on them and is upset about it to the point where they nag and cry incessantly. Also, perhaps a friend is hanging out with new friends and is ignoring their old friend. It has also been used as a replacement for envy. Conversely, "I'm not jealous," means "Go ahead and cheat on me or leave me in the lurch. You can't hurt me."

Wrong. Jealousy means cheating or betrayal is suspected, but with no proof or basis. With no proof at hand, one still behaves as though it's actually happening and cries at, clings to and berates their better half. Or perhaps they're involved with someone who is seeing other someones because no firm commitment has been made. Jealousy is not about the shape of the relationship, it's about the insecurity of the people in it.

Envy: Someone wants what someone else has, or resents them for having it. "I wish my man were like hers." "He has a nice car. Why don't I?" Not quite a replacement for hater, but close.

Hater: One who randomly dislikes someone else for what they have. "That bitch has a nice car. She doesn't deserve it." "He has a fine woman. I'd treat her better."

Betrayal: The cheating and lying and verbal unkindness has happened. One has been abandoned or emotionally harmed in some way. This is the real deal. It often leads to feeling disrespected, and rightly so. The one who has been betrayed is sometimes accused of being envious or being a hater because of how they react to pain and rejection, but a bit of backlash is normal.

Disrespected/lack of respect: Asking for respect is pointless. One either deserves it or they don't. Being disrespected means someone is doing something to or at someone else that they know would hurt. When ones partner cheats and knows how much it would hurt their man or woman, they are combining betrayal with lack of respect. This concept can also be applied to a myriad of other types of relationships, such as a friend talking smack about another friend behind their back.

Off you go to agonize about your imperfect relationships in a more accurate way.

Top Five Embarrassing Moments

5) Told heroin addict I give myself B-12 shots, and that I always run out of serum before I run out of needles.

4) Told a mail carrier I hate coupons.

3) Caught stealing a can of artichoke hearts out of a Food Bank donation box.

2) "Pisses me off when I lose a sock in the dryer. Don't you wish you could buy just one?" Said to a cashier missing a leg.

1) "I had no idea I'd lost this much weight!" Said in women's dressing room.

Beta Blockers

Today's beef: Software and online games that hide behind the word "beta". What that really means is, "Please excuse our inability to roll out new features without causing all sorts of problems." I don't buy it for one minute. Either admit you can't outsmart a computer or get yourself some good old fashioned, end-user software testers.

Remember when software testing involved using software, not having a degree in Computer Science? Banks of average citizens making $35 an hour (in 1980s dollars) sat at a computer playing with MS Word and Tetris all day, reporting any annoying glitches, non-intuitive actions and unnecessary or cumbersome options that only a programmer would use. Programs weren't foisted on an unsuspecting public before 99.9% of all oddities were removed. It was a delightful era, when cars were still made of metal and water came from a tap. Sigh.

I would like to have that job. Online games and digital fidgeting are addictive and time consuming, and I would welcome a paycheck for doing what I do naturally. Many people I play with or against aren't all that bright (sorry) so they don't know why certain things bother them. They just know they're bothered. It would be my way of making a buck while coming to the aid of those who cannot help themselves. Giving back, as it were.

If anyone out there accidentally reading my blog is in a position to hire me, please contact me by posting a comment. I'm available immediately.

Dirty vs. Home Electronics

As usual, the geniuses that are the members of my condo's Home Owner's Association Board of Directors have scheduled outside window washing during the hottest month of the year. Here's who suffers, and why, in order of importance:

1) Me. This building has poor circulation and aluminum siding, so it's warm in here even in April. Thanks to this feature I rarely have to turn the heat on in the mild Seattle winter, but the only thing that allows me to maintain a little sanity the other three seasons is to have my window-inserted, portable air conditioner on day and night. In order to have any of my windows washed, I have to remove the special insert and close my window DURING THE HOTTEST MONTH OF THE YEAR. I love sweating in a 110 degree room with no circulation almost as much as I enjoy eating live spiders or having sex with molten glass.

2) Other people who live in my building. They think it's stupid, too. They keep allowing the Board to schedule this same activity at this same time, but they're all a bunch of pussies who are deathly afraid of the angry little bag of wind who elected himself Board President. I can't fight him alone, mostly because he knows I don't like him, whereas everyone else sticks to talking about him behind his back and agreeing with him to his face.

3) The window washers. Apart from the occasional glimpse at some of the better looking people in the building forgetting to wear clothing that day, window washers don't enjoy dangling off of a tin can heated to 1000 degrees. As stated above, this building has metal siding, and though most people who do such loathsome jobs are used to heat, they're not used to third degree burns.

4) My dog. I rescued a dog this past spring from a kind but neglectful home in a cool state, where he was living after having been rescued from an abusive home in a hot state. There's a fifty-fifty chance he's never experienced what to him will be a surprise external window washing. He will, no doubt, express his surprise at an hour when I am never awake unless forced out of bed at gunpoint. The window washing will continue on my side of the building for hours, which will allow my dog plenty of opportunities to bark with alarm. Oh, goody.

There are other things that need doing around here, and getting outside windows washed is a waste of money. It only lasts a week, it costs thousands of dollars and it doesn't keep us residents safe from the throngs of violent gang members and junkies in withdrawals desperately trying to get inside and steal something to pawn. Fixing the broken garage door, and putting a security system between the garage and the rest of the building, would. But that was shot down by the Board President.

Then again, what good is my stuff if I'm dead or in the hospital unable to enjoy it? The main problem with no security in a gritty, urban neighborhood is the potential for a mugging or a raping or whatever anyone feels like doing to a man or woman. What I find is that when you say "no security" to a man--or woman who grew up in a Martian suburb--he thinks "I don't want my electronics stolen because they were expensive." When you say it to your average, urban woman she thinks "Here's my wall-mount, flat-screen TV! It's HD ready and cost $3,000! Please don't rape me!"

What lesson have I learned? Next condo, make sure the security system could foil an MI-5 agent. Make sure to buy during the summer, because we bought in winter and had no idea what "this building retains heat nicely" meant. Make sure a woman who could care less if she can see outside or not, and who grew up nowhere near a farm, gets herself elected HOA Board President.

Calling All Professional Insomniacs

A recent study found that morning people are marginally more successful than night people. Complying to convention gets you a bigger paycheck than those who set their own hours. I didn't need some stupid study to tell me this, because I'm living the dream--pardon the pun. The results are indisputable, but the impetus is completely unfair.

Why is it everyone expects the night persons of the world adhere to the crack-of-dawn schedule of stock jocks and line cooks? Nights aren't the exclusive domain of drug addicts, vampires and rock stars, are they? I lead a dull and sedentary life of disabled leisure, without the pleasures of blow, fresh blood and groupies; and I'm not the only sober alive who functions better with sleep hours of roughly 3:00 a.m.-10:30 a.m. Admittedly, I've even completely missed a noon appointment. I'm becoming unapologetic to the point of rudeness, while watching fellow night owls make themselves miserable trying to please the majority.

My mother, for instance. She often drags herself out of bed at 8:00 a.m., Thursdays, with four hours of sleep under her belt, to take advantage of grocery store senior discount day. That's when her time's a'wastin' pals want to go, as if retirees have some place they have to be after shopping. Instead of accepting that she's under slept, miserable and suffering from sleep-deprivation psychosis--and negotiating a compromise--she's more afraid of disapproval than misery.

"It pisses me off, too, but it's what we have to do to maintain our friendships, Wendi. You're the weird one." Instead of being a compatriot, she wants me to join in the misery. "I'd rather be a well rested, slightly less bitchy person when around my friends," say I. "They should thank me for sleeping through brunch. And my name is Wendina, not Wendi. You of all people..."

It's a convincing piece of evidence that our mothers have no concept of the changing of the times. Our standards of civility are different, even for morning people. We are living in an entirely different world than the one moms grew up in, when farms actually existed, and cows needed tending, and chickens dropped eggs that needed to be snatched before they formed embryos, and crops had to be harvested before sunrise so farmhands could avoid heatstroke... and their vittles had to be on the table by dawn. Gone are complex, 1952 hairdos, aprons and perfect make-up. No more turkey in the oven by 5:00 a.m. so it's ready for serving by noon.

But I completely digressed, thanks to the hot button that is the word 'mother'. What I mean to say is, I'm hell bent on disproving those study results. I'm going to finish that book I've been writing for four years and get my ass on Oprah before she retires. Then I'm going to spend my long, lonely nights counting all the cash that'll come my way. And I'm going to start a not-for-profit dedicated to getting miserable night people the sleeping pills they need to drift off by 11:00 p.m. every night, so they can go out and make a slightly better living.

Speaking of Oprah, when does that rich bitch usually get out of bed?