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I have found the world's best mac & cheese!
You can follow my adventures on Twitter @AROTBEblog
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Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Little Sister

I’ll never understand why I got screwed in the family department.

I’ve told you about the sad excuse for a father I was cursed with, but I haven’t said much about the sad excuse for a sister I was cursed with.

Growing up, I watched my friends around their older sisters, and they were all best friends. They hung out, they hugged, and they smiled when they saw each other. Mine did none of that. In fact, she did the exact opposite. She shut me out, yelled at me if I tried to hug her, and glared if I was even in the same room as she was. Everything I did was wrong. Everything. My existence, alone, irritated her.

About four or five years ago, she shows up at the house, no notice, and starts talking to mom. I had paused the movie mom and I were watching, but the blu-ray player was new, and I didn’t know that it shut itself off after 30 minutes. This, obviously, turned the TV back to live shows. When it did that, with zero help from me, she gave me a look, like I’d just did her a great injustice. Oh... I’m a horrible person for not knowing in advance that this would happen. I should be in jail!

Now, let’s go back seven or eight years...

Something had happened, yet again, with the (insert profanity of choice) at home. I had to get out. I wound up driving the solid forty-five minutes to where she was living in her in-law’s basement. One of their daughters let me inside, and I went downstairs. I knocked on the door, and she started yelling at me for not calling before coming. Up and down, yelling, because I was inconveniencing her. She was watching TV. Oh... the horror. I’m no better than Dahmer.

Since she and her husband moved out twelve or so years ago, not once has she called before coming here. Not. Once. But do it to her, and she blows a fuse. How do you say “hypocrite”?

Family, especially me, has never meant a single thing to her. On occasion, she’ll contact my mom. Usually when she needs something (food, money, or most commonly, a sympathetic ear to listen to her rants). Despite mom sending her a text every morning, her responses are few and far between.

It took me far too long to decide not to care about her or anything she does. Believe me when I say it was difficult. I’ve always been the good sister. Anything she wanted or needed, I was on top of. She exploited my generosity and devotion as much as she could. 

**Example: I worked at Barnes & Noble for a while, and we had a Starbucks café. She’d call and ask me to get her coffee no less than once a week. I did, without complaint. The next Thanksgiving, she wanted to go get coffee, and I asked her if I could join her. She asks, “Do you have money?” Are you serious? You can’t afford $2 after I spent no less than $50 for you?**

Even still, every day, not caring is a conscious action. But I’ll tell you what... keeping her out of my life and thoughts has made my self esteem get to a somewhat normal level. 

The way she bullied me my whole life will take the rest of my life to recover from. (Profanity) was my first bully, paving the way for her to follow suit, which then allowed me to make myself available for Britch and everyone else.

I’ve been able to work through a lot of the abuse that went on at school, but what happened at home will be a constant shadow out the side of my eye.

I have no dad, and I have no siblings. I have bullies. Sad, empty inside, bullies.

Saturday, August 1, 2020

Lights

There’s so much darkness going on. Finding the light can be difficult.

Every time I open social media, turn on the TV, or drive down the street, I’m punched in the face with hateful politics. The Marxist movement, fueled by domestic terrorists who think destruction and murder are justified based on political differences, is absolutely insane. But that’s all I’ll say about that...

With all the dark, I’ve been trying harder and harder
To find the light. Sometimes, it’s harder than others. Sometimes, it’s easier. But every day, I try to find something bright. Here’s some of my favorite things...

- First and foremost, my faith keeps me going, no matter what.
- I’ve been reading more. I’m currently reading The Scam by Janet Evanovich, A Gathering of Shadows by V. E. Schwab, and The Hobbit by the legendary J.R.R. Tolkien.
- We recently had to get a new TV, since our faulty-from-the-start one died. The new one is a Samsung. If you have a Samsung, you probably have Samsung Plus TV. Welp... I’ve discovered Drybar Comedy. Funniest channel ever! 1334, if you’re wondering.
- There’s also videos of puppers and cattos on Instagram. I watch those way too much, sometimes.
- I’ve been blessed with some very good friends. We may all be in different states, and sometimes, we’re in different countries... But we still talk, regularly. 

Find your escape, your light, your feel-goods. 

Thursday, July 23, 2020

An Introduction

Ladies and gents, my father:

**These are actual things it has said and done. Sadly, no exaggeration is needed.**



"I can only eat half a taco." Well, if you hadn’t binged all morning on brownies, popcorn, crackers, and other junk food, you might have been able to eat the whole thing.


“I’m gaining weight, and I don’t know why.” Refer to previous statement.


“I’ll nibble on it.” This means it’ll sit in the fridge until it’s so moldy and gross that it’s unrecognizable.


“How do I know you’re talking to me if you don’t say my name?” Oh, I don’t know... Could be that you’re the only other person in the room. Moron.


“Well, today I watched a couple John Wayne movies, read the news, and watched Nova.” That’s nice. I vacuumed the entire upstairs, scrubbed YOUR bathroom, cleaned up YOUR mess, and made YOUR food. Wanna trade tomorrow?


“Our neighbors are great people.” 40 minutes pass, several other topics are discussed. “They’re really good people.”


“All the tups (Tupperware) without lids, I WANT!” Literally because he has a panic attack when I throw anything out. Even actual garbage.


“I need the fan (over the stove) on.” So, you can’t stand the smell of bacon, but your thoroughly burnt popcorn, choking the entire upstairs, is fine?


“It smells fine to me.” Said the man with no sense of smell, about the 3-week-old leftovers...


“Is the stove top hot?” No. We cooked an entire dinner without heating the stove.


“My program starts in 120 minutes.” That’s like saying you’re 893 months old. 2. It’s 2 hours away.


“Are you going to sit and talk, or go watch something?” Then... mom says something to me, incurring the childish, tantrum-motivated manipulation. “Well, if you’re not going to talk, go watch something.” Manipulation level 💯 


**Nobody was physically punched in the making of this blog post**

Sunday, July 19, 2020

Pet Peeves

We all have ‘em, so let’s taco bout ‘em... 🌮 

I’m typically one of those people who let things slide. Well... some things, anyhow. Like when the woman at 7-eleven called me “sweetheart” six times in our thirty-second transaction. People that say things like that, bug me to no end. “Hey, hon!”, or “Hello, sweetheart!” are like nails on a chalkboard, only worse. I’m not your child, or a child in general, so stop talking to me like you’d talk to a toddler. Exclusions apply when a friend greets me as “hon”. That, I don’t mind.

Then there’s people who eat so loudly, that eve I can hear it. The sucking and smacking... no. Even the sucking noises when someone’s making out. Ew. If it’s on TV, I mute it. It’s gross.

Grammar is something that needs to be a pet peeve of more people. There is exactly zero excuse to be typing things like, “Your welcome”, “I'll call there office”, or “We should of went their” (a 3X for you). We all graduated sixth grade, most of us graduated high school. The worst are people who are high up in their company, and still can’t figure out the most basic grammar and spelling. While we’re at it, let’s stamp out “finna”. It’s not a word, and the spelling doesn’t make a lick of sense for the current definition.

Oh! And let’s not forget the “love you” at the end of every sentence texted, messaged, or posted to me. No. You are not family, you are not one of the three people I consider my closest friends, and I’m most certainly not in a romantic relationship with you. Even at that, those three closest friends don’t say it. To me, when someone says “love you”, it means one of two things: they have no idea what the word “love” actually means, so they throw it around at everything, or they’re trying to get attention. It will, in fact, ensure that I ignore whatever it is, and possibly get you blocked. 

I get that people are all different, and have different ways of talking, but some of these are beyond inappropriate. If you aren’t best friends, don’t call that person “sweetheart”, and don’t keep saying  “I love you”. And if you insist on being a loud, obnoxious eater, eat alone. Also, if you simply don’t care about appearing as an educated, functioning adult, be prepared for the educated population to correct your comments and posts online. 

These things are not just irritating to me. I’ve heard so many people complain about the exact same things.

If you are one of the people who do these things, stop and think about how it affects others. You may think that everyone thinks you’re just a super nice person when you greet them with a “Hello, sweetheart!”, but I can guarantee that at least fifty percent of those people don’t like it. Same as telling everyone that you love them. It makes people uncomfortable.

And this concludes my rant on pet peeves. This round, anyhow.

Friday, July 17, 2020

My father

Yes, I always capitalize my post titles. Yes, this one is an intentional statement.

Narcissistic Personality Disorder 101:

Since this whole COVID mess started, and mom started working at home, this useless invalid has become even worse. It’s done exactly nothing to help out around the house this week. Unless you count bringing in the garbage cans after basically being needled and nagged into it. It never runs errands, and so rarely leaves the house that I’m sure it has trouble knowing what season it is.

Today: Mom has been super tired all day long, literally falling asleep, upright, at times. Well, the dishes were piled up past the point of needing just one load. The jackass is literally watching while mom fills the dishwasher. No offers to help, no “I’ll get this later”. Nothing that a considerate human, living in a house with other people, would do. Why don’t I do it? I vowed to never load the dishwasher in this house again, because the narcissist always pitches a fit on how I do it, and I refuse to put myself in a situation where it can make me feel that way. I won’t give it that satisfaction.

Now, we all know it’s a hypocritical POS, but there’s one thing that’s just beyond juvenile. We have a massive kitchen table. It can seat six, and there are two and a half of us living here. Yes, half of it is usually covered in mine and mom’s crap, but it’s in nobody’s way. Jackass takes this to mean that it can keep all sorts of crap in its spot, too. These things include, but are not limited to: a hospital mug full of water that it rarely drinks from, two Costco-sized muffins that it says it’ll “nibble at”, a box of candy that it insists on calling “mint sandwiches”, a box of nuts, and my favorite, six used toothpicks that are kept together in a lid from something or another. There are also frequent appearances by used napkins that a three-year-old wouldn’t touch.

This cluster mess is on top of the roughly ten-year-old flooring that’s been sitting in the dining room (in the living room since February 26), and the four or five giant bottles of outdoor poison it occasionally uses in the yard, two big boxes of food storage containers that we’ve had for around three years, and newspapers from a week ago— all of which is sitting in the dining room, next to the basement door, which is also behind its chair, making it impossible to walk through. Oh! And let’s not forget the top of the fridge! It has its own reserve of dishes (two bowls, two to three plates, and countless pieces of silverware), as well as who-knows-what.

But it’s mine and mom’s stuff that’s a problem. Leave something on the counter? You can expect a “Where do you want this?” or “What do you want done with this?” within ten seconds of putting it there. I won’t even get into the basement in this post...

So, all afternoon, I’ve been saying things like, “Mom, you’ve done everything. Come sit.” or “Why do you have to do everything lately?” All, of course, while it can easily hear. And, of course, it gets offended and acts like the victim. And people wonder why I call this sad excuse for a human an “it”. When it grows up, starts acting like it has a family, and is considerate of others in the house, maybe it can graduate to a “that”. That’ll never happen, of course, but for my mom’s sake, I’ll cross a toe or two. I have, however, lost all hope of it respecting anyone it doesn’t have a major man-crush on. “Respect” isn’t a word in the NPD dictionary. Nor are “responsibility” or “love”.

In other news: If you’re in Salt Lake County, and you know of a good job hiring part-time, I beg you, let me know! It’s a daily battle to not punch it in the face.

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Small Victories

Something that appears to be nothing, can, in fact, be something big.

Ok, back story: I grew up completely terrified of dogs. Yes, now, I’m dying to have a fluff butt of my very own, but it wasn’t always a love affair. 

My mom just loves to tell me a story (repeatedly...) about one time we were out, and this tiny white fur ball was on the other side of the road. I was freaking out, screaming, and the more freaked I got, the more excited the fluffer got. Yeah... my fear was that bad. 

The only reason any of us can think of as to why I was so afraid of them is that, when I was a baby, my crackerjack babysitter left me in a room, alone, with her two big dogs. This woman wouldn’t feed me, or even bother to pick me up. Then she complained to my mom that I never stopped crying. Funny how that works...

Anyway... I’ve been ok around most dogs for many years, now. The more active or agressieve ones still get me nervous, but generally, I’m ok.

Now for today: I was out on my walk when my neighbor’s dog starts charging me. Straight-on charging. Barking like mad, too. I always take my pepper spray with me as a precaution for any situation that may arise, so when I saw the dog, that was my first thought. Kristen (my neighbor who is also a fabulous human) was walking toward me, after doggo. Not running and yelling... walking. I took that to mean her pup wasn’t dangerous. So, despite my lizard brain (it’s a thing, look it up) screaming to use my pepper, I put my other hand out in as non-threatening way as I could think— back of my hand out for fluff butt to sniff. He was still barking, but I went ahead and gave him a little scritch behind the ear, and like magic, he was nothing more than a derp enjoying the attention.

It’s taken decades to get to this point, but the fact remains: I did it. So, no matter how long it takes to overcome something (something that actually can be overcome, that is), if you work at it, you’ll get there. Phobias, traumas, even physical things like strength or weight loss... it’s not impossible. It’s never going to be 100% gone. Things like that leave permanent imprints on us. Just don’t let it define you, and don’t let it run your life.

I know this is so much easier said than done, but I challenge you to look at your life one year ago. Are you in the same place? I mean the exact same place. Those battling severe agoraphobia... can you open the front door? That’s a step. Those battling trauma... have your panic attacks decreased by just one each day? That’s a step. The list goes on, as do the steps. Like I said, I’m 33 years old, and I’m still nervous around many dogs, but I’m functioning at a level I never thought I could.

Your journey is your own. Do you, your way. Healing isn’t a race. 

Friday, July 10, 2020

Revolving Door

Make up your mind!

So, all my life, I’ve managed to find a ton of people who use my life like a revolving door. They come into my life, create unnecessary drama, then leave. But it doesn’t end there, no... They come back in when the timing seems convenient for them. The most common reasons are: 

1- Their relationship is going down the crapper
2- They need someone who understands them and will listen to their nonstop complaining

The reasons they walk out of my life are always somehow my fault. So... if I’m so horrible that you no longer want to be friends, why do you keep coming back? 

This started with a “friend” in elementary who, to this day, holds the world’s most childish grudge. More than twenty years she’s refused to talk to me because of something that happened in elementary school. Ok, she’s the exception to the “revolving door” type, but still.

There’s a couple from Jr High and high school who just pop in and out as they like. But things are about to change. 

Fair warning: Should you choose to leave my life, even those who hold a place on FB but never bother to talk to me, you’re out for good. I’m too old to care about how many FB friends I have. You don’t want to even say “hello” once or twice a year? Bye!

There will, inevitably, be those who call me juvenile for doing this. Guess what... I don’t care what you think. My life isn’t your convenience store. I’m not a sounding board that you can just use when you need. I don’t do that to you, and I’m not going to continue to allow you to do it to me.

I’m not angry with you. People grow apart, it happens. But you won’t be allowed back. Not without some serious convincing, that is.

So, if you haven’t messaged me, or shown some form of interest in our friendship in the last year, you gotta go. I’m done with one-sided friendships.

You’ve obviously built yourself a new life, and that’s great. Live it, well! Just don’t expect me to kiss the carpet if you come walking by.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Defeated

Queue quippy opening line...

Today is just... yeah. This morning, I had my follow up with the doctor about my sudden hearing loss. An hour and a half in the office, two hearing tests, no change. I get to do an MRI, and see a specialist. Oh, and let’s not forget about the blood test my doctor insists on because he won’t take my word that I don’t now, nor have I ever had, syphilis. Yes, syphilis. He wouldn’t let it go, so I had to give in.

After that super fun experience, I hopped on DoorDash to pick up some deliveries. All I have to say is: Emily, I hate you. If you can’t afford to leave your drivers an appropriate tip... DON’T ORDER IN! Especially when these people typically go above and beyond to ensure your order is correct and on time.

I wound up losing more money than I made. Again, Emily, I hate you.

This feeling of irritating defeat just gets to me. It’s draining, so exercise isn’t a thing, today. That makes me feel even worse, because I’m a freaking whale. Yes, I’ve lost about twenty pounds, now, but every day I don’t work on it, makes me feel useless and hopeless. I’m also hyper-aware of the fat engulfing me, so I’m extra uncomfortable.

Worst part about all this is the straight up hunger created by this feeling. I’m not out for munchies... I’m actually hungry. All day long. Thus creating the circle of self-hatred.

All in all, today has sucked. If I could burn calories by ranting about people who suck, I’d be a solid hundred pounds down in a week. 

Be kind to those serving you. They’re trying to earn a living, just like you. If you’re too selfish and/or poor to properly pay those you have hired to do a job for you, DON’T ORDER IN!


Monday, July 6, 2020

Heavy, Man

It’s been a day...

All day long, I’ve felt... heavy. Everything was slow, today. My movements, my speech, everything. I did manage to do some heavy cleaning in the house, so that brought me up, if only for a little while.

For those in the know, I’m on yet another dose of prednisone to try and bring back some kind of hearing in my right ear. Prednisone is a steroid. Steroids cause mood fluctuations. I also had to take what typically equates to poison for me. The dreaded decongestant. Both of these meds tend to have an upper effect, which leaves me wondering why I’m feeling so... blah.

I went out to do some deliveries this evening (Jeff, my hero for the day!), but had to stop after just an hour and a half. My energy was just drained. 

All day, even something as small as a smile has been a struggle. I’m not depressed... I just don’t have the energy to do anything. My mood is just fine, so, again... why am I feeling this way? 

Short post. Thanks for reading.

Saturday, July 4, 2020

Americans

Happy 4th of July!!!

This is something that has been irritating me for months, now.

Americans have the unique right to freedom. However, some are taking it to mean that, their rights matter, but nobody else’s do.

Today, at the grocery store, massive (insert profanity of choice) was going the wrong way down a one-way aisle. When I pointed it out (because, me), he says, “America”.

Yes, we are free. No, that doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. Laws and rules keep us free. Plus, how selfish can you get? Are you really so important that these laws and rules don’t apply to you? What about traffic lights? Laws say that you must stop when the light is red. But, if we’re free, don’t you have the right to just keep going? Laws say you can’t murder someone, but I mean, if they’ve really done you wrong, shouldn’t you have the right to do so?

These sound stupid? They should. Laws and rules protect us, they don’t inhibit us as a whole. If you care about nothing other than your rights, please feel free to go to those autonomous zones to see what lawlessness really is.

Oh! Not to mention... Are you aware that, in America, private businesses have the right to tell you what to do while in their business? Those “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service” signs aren’t just catchy, they have a meaning. If you don’t abide by the rules of a business, they have the right to deny you service, and even remove you from their premises. 

America will cease to be America if (insert plural profanity of choice) continue to care about nothing but themselves. We are either united or we fall. That’s all there is to it.