Hatred. It pokes me.

Have you ever despised a person so much that you HAD to write about them?  I have and I am.  Gonna write about it that is.  Why you ask?  Because I can.  The SAB hates this answer.  The Mini says it all the time.  (good kid)  Seriously though.  I have a blog.  It's mine.  I can.  So I will.  Write.

Now, when I hate someone?  Yes, I'm using the word hate here.  I can count the very few people I hate on one hand.  I hate them for the same reason.  They are truly evil.  I know lots of people.  I mean...LOTS.  I know drug addicts, convicts, rich people, poor people, people who own businesses, people who've robbed me, people who've lied to me, murderers (yes), child abusers, child neglecters, battered women, men who batter women, women who batter men, church goers, atheists, animal haters, animal lovers...you get the idea.  I know people all over the spectrum.  I don't hate them.  Hate is reserved for precious few. For those people who do wrong out of pure self loathing. For no reason.  To hurt others and get what they want.

 The people I hate?  The evil people?  Every move they make is calculated and it's for one of two reasons

      1 - To make themselves look better
     2 - To make others look bad. 

 They are not necessarily stupid people and for the most part they have everyone around them fooled.  THESE PEOPLE.  Everyone knows one.  Or two.  Hopefully not too many more than that.  These people are full of hate.  I will say that while I hate these people?  I also feel sorry for them.  Really sorry.  Because life for these people is miserable.  Imagine being a gigundo fuckstick every day, all day.  It would suck.  You have to live with yourself.

On with this particular person I hate.  It's a she.  I will call her Cumguzzlinggutterslut.  Well, because she is.  .  Like the really bad kind. (there could be a good kind, don't judge) For the remainder of the post I will refer to her as CGGS cause it's shorter than Cumguzzlinggutterslut.  Got it?  Good.

I'm gonna list a few (all) of the reasons this woman should be set on fire and left to burn.  Yes, this is harsh, but you'll agree.  I promise. Oh and keep in my mind, I was privy to a lot of information about this woman because for about a minute?  I tried to be her friend.  TRIED.

The first time I met her?  She bought the ENTIRE table drinks.  Over and over.  You may think this is nice but it isn't.  It was showoffy.  Like seriously showoffy.  There wasn't even the pretense of this gesture being nice.  It was strictly "business" (you'll see)

I met CGGS through a friend.  A very good friend.  He happens to be a boy.  He said I would "love" her.  I didn't.  I hated her on sight.  Not because she's extremely unattractive (she is) but because I got the vibe.  You know the one?  Everything this bitch says and does is fake.  THAT vibe. I tried.  I did.

CGGS pretended to make good friends with our lil comfy group.  Especially friendly with the wife of the aforementioned friend? The one who introduced me to CGGS.  THIS was the second time my asshole alert alarm went off.  Call me crazy...

CGGS owns a business.  She treats her employees like animals.  Animals she hates.  Screaming, yelling,  complete control of your entire life.  Yes.   She actually made her employees sign a waiver to say they would NOT visit a competing business or they would lose their jobs.  She once made an employee who worked in the outside portion of her business, stay outside.  She was NOT ALLOWED to come in the building.  Ever. Just to shame and embarrass her.  Sick.  And twisted.  Control.

Now comes some good stuff.  As CGGS has wiggled her way into our group (none of us liked her, except my friend, the boy) and got herself all up in our business, she began to make her moves. 

•  She took over the boy.  She segregated him from all his friends.  Like, they were no longer allowed in her places of business.  Except me.  I worked for the boy.  I couldn't go. And I was alone.  Trapped.
• She told several of her employees that she would have the boy and she would break up his marriage. Yes, of course she discussed her personal life with the employees she hated.  She had no friends. Professionalism at its best. 
•  While playing all cutsie tutsie with the boy's wife?  She began an affair. With the boy. Two-faced whore. 
•  She did that whole "I fell in love, I didn't mean to, it just happened" shit with me.  Don't make me sick. I'm grown.  Stuff happens.  Own it.  It's yours. 
•  She made the boy FORCE me to friend her on Facebook
• I complained about one of her employees and she told the employee.  Told ALL of the employees. (you are seeing the professionalism here, right?)
•  She was furious with me because I did a write up from MY personal FB page about the service industry and how bad service sucks and that I'd like to begin a website recommending or not recommending local businesses.  Never once was the name of her business mentioned, or her or any of her employees. Or, any one's business for that matter.  It was a general rant.   It is amazing that when shitty service was brought up?  She immediately knew her place?  Was #1.  
•  I was now segregated.  I was no longer allowed INSIDE her business.  Only outside.  (just like her employee)
•  I was invited to a "cometojesus" meetin by the boy cause I didn't "like" enough of the CGGS's FB status updates. (this is real kids)
•  She told me over and over how degrading she thought the boy's job was.  How it was beneath him.  Yes, she wanted more control. 
•  The lies - about everything.  Lied about where she went, what she did, why she did it.  Lied about and to her family, her friend (she did have 1 plus a buncha lackeys who follow her around because she's got two nickels to rub together) and her employees. Lied to me. Several times.  Each time?  I caught her.  Now, she hates ME.  Cause well, guilty conscience doesn't suit her. 
• The CGGS is a drunk.  A crazy carriedoutofabar drunk.  This would be fun, however, this happens in front of her employees and customers alike. More professionalism.
• Her and the boy?  Parade their hideous asses all over town as a couple. Pictures all over FB.  The whole to-do.  The boy?  Is still married.  They both have school aged children. The affair? Moving in on a year now. 
• This lovely woman who swears she fell in love with a married man on accident?  It has been told, she's all kindsa cheaty on the boy.  Seems fair.  Karma is a beautiful bitch. 

I could go into so many more specific stories but I won't.  Cause, well this is MY therapy and this is all I need.  For now.  The boy and I?  No longer friends.  I no longer work for him.  I no longer visit the CGGS's place of business.  I blocked them and most of their friends and their employees from my FB.  Why?  Because she is not a nice person.  She still has people stalk me and stuff.  I'm sure she'll find out about this blog post and think it's all about her.  Oh, wait.  It is.

 So CGGS?  If you are reading this?  Suck it bitch.  You are like a shit on my shoe.  I step in it and it's stuck and stinks.  I would like you to know that I do feel some serious sorry for you.  You have to live with you.  And you?  Are not happy.  Here's to you getting some meds and some serious psychotherapy.  Cause your crazy?  Ain't hiding so good.  And, then, maybe one day you can apologize to all of the people you hurt.  You know them?  The boy?  The boy's friends.  The boy's WIFE.  The boy's children.  Your own children.  Your employees.  Your friends.  Pretty much everyone you've ever come in contact with.  Yep.  That would be great.  Own. It.  

In closing, I gained a few great things from all this crazy.  My sanity.  There is a definitive place on my FB page where my attitude changed.  I was very angry and stressed during all of this.  Like super angry.  I almost closed my FB page after I quit that job because I thought I wouldn't be good to anyone anymore.  Like, I had nothing to bitch about? So I would no longer be funny.  Glad I didn't do that.  I have lots to bitch about!  Also, I gained a dear friend whom I've come to know and love more every day.  Yep, the boy's wife.  Throughout all the bullshit, we worked through and became better and closer friends.

Silver Lining...

Liebster Award

I've been nominated for the Liebster Award by Poison'd Ivy (who rocks the mostest)! 
Hot DAMN.

The Liebster award is given to smaller up and coming bloggers. Liebster is German and means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing, and welcoming.

The rules for this one state that you answer the 11 questions asked of you by the Blogger who gave you this award, leave 11 facts about yourself and list 11 questions for your nominees to answer so here goes....

 My answers for the 11 Questions posed by Poison'd Ivy

1. What is your favorite movie and why?

I can't only have one.  I must have two.  1) Pulp Fiction.  Because, It's Pulp Fiction.  2) When Harry Met Sally.  The relationship stuff goin on?  Per.  Fect.

2. If your life had a theme song what would it be?

"Creep" - Radiohead

3. What quality do you dislike most in a person?

Dishonesty.

4. What quality do you think is most important in a person?

Loyalty.

5. Would you lie to keep from hurting someone?

Absolutely :)

6. Are you a cat or a dog person? or neither?
Neither.  No pets. 

7. What is the one chore you would love to never have to do again?

All of them.  Laundry. 

8. What is your favorite way to spend a day off?

Fer sure the beach.  Relaxin with some caramel vodka and the SAB........and maybe the kids ;)

9. First concert? and last concert?

Billy Ocean at the Ocean Center in Daytona Beach.  I think.  I honestly can't remember.  But this is the first one I could think of.  The Drunken Queen and my Not So Step Daddy made me go with them.  Because my Auntie Rita liked to see bands & such with the same name as the venue.  Billy Ocean.  Ocean Center.  Get it? Issues. 

10. What is the one thing you wish you could change about yourself?

No more back pain.

11. Something random that makes you smile?

The Mini.  When she's sleeping. And my sweetass Sexy American Boyfriend. 

My Nominees...

Comfytown Chronicles

PopTabilicious

Allure - A collective

Mommy Has Issues
From the Wine Chronicles

(Yes, there's supposed to be 11.  I don't know 11 new bloggers - even these guys are really pushing it so...ooops)

Here are your questions...

1. If you could haunt someone, who would it be & why?

2. Where is your dream vacation spot?

3.  Do you like birds?  If yes, explain.  If no, move on to the next question.

4. If you could go back in time, what era would you visit?

5. Do you want to go where everyone knows your name?

6. What is your favorite insect?

7. If you were a pig, would you be the big, fat, lazy kind or the kind that runs around snorting and rooting in the mud?

8. What are your feelings about Marilyn Monroe?

9. Liquor or Beer/Wine?

10. What are the ingredients for a classic vodka martini?

11. Do you consider yourself attractive?

11 Random Facts about ME 


1. I've been married twice (Main reason the SAB and I aren't married)

2. I have traveled to 40 U.S. States and 14 countries.

3. My best friend is a boy

4. I hate people.

5. I loathe karaoke.

6. I wear only thong underwear or none at all (that's IS mighty random, no?)

7. I have never played Candy Crush.

8. I had no idea what YOLO &/or Cra Cra meant until I Googled them for a blog post.

9. I shower 2, sometimes 3 times per day. (I cannot feel dirty - I know)

10. I'm originally from Orland Park, Illinois (suburb of Chicago)

11. Jewelry? Not my thing.

Thanks to:
http://www.poisondivy.com/

Jimbo the amazing "not so stepfather"

I hate JRC.  I hate JC.  (yes, these were his initials)

That's what my diary said for about an entire year after my mom remarried in 1978.  Not because I missed my Dad (he was fairly non-existent) or anything but because he (the Step-dad) cared.  He was always asking questions, talking to me and well...being a Dad.  Yikes.  I was 7 (when they started dating), and well...weird. I wasn't used to this.  This was way beyond shit I knew about.  Awesomely, I grew out of all that and while we had our "moments", good ole' JC and I?  We were right.  (you'll learn what that means in a minute.  relax.  really)

Remember a blog or so back?  Linda-isms (shit my mom said). Well, Daddy had an entire vocabulary of his own.  Sayings, words, entire diatribes,bits of advice.  All bullshit.  But, funny bullshit.  And, you can find them nowhere else.  Nowhere else but here.  Cause Daddy's been gone for almost 20 years.  Gone at the age of 43.  Which happens to be my current age.  Weird. 

First off, a couple things you all should know about Daddy...

 He was really good looking.  I know this because he told us all.  Every.  Day.  He would sing "you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off myself" every morning in the mirror.  He would TOTALLY love that I was writing this post about him.  Narcissist?  Check.

Everyone called him Jimbo. (his family)  Except us.  Well, I called him Dad but like my Mom and our friends and stuff?  No to the JIMBO.  Stupid nickname?  Check.  

He didn't read very well.  In the beginning.  He only had an 8th grade education and probably fought his way through the last 3 of those years.  He was born & raised in the city.  Life was rough and he was 1 of 7 kids.  The only boy.  Ouch. He was crazy street-smart.  Reading?  Was not top priority.  He learned to read much better later in life, cause well, we drove him crazy.  And, he would be reading my blog if he were still here.  Cause he was cool like that.  Not too dumb?  Check.

He did awesome impressions.  The Mexican (inspired by city living and Cheech & Chong) was his most famous.  He did it really well cause he lived in a Mexican community growing up.  Course, his impressions?  Involved the word "fuck" a lot.  Comedian? Check.

Daddy-O was a serious hardcore drunk.  Oh, excuse me an alcoholic.  Cause, he didn't drink for the last 12 years of his life.  He was what we call a dry drunk.  Which means, he still had crazy behaviors and did some fucked up stuff, but he wasn't drinking. (see full definition below) Also, we all (the family & friends) went bar hopping once with underwear on our heads.  Stone Cold Sober.  Addiction? Check.

"Dry Drunk" has been described as "A condition of returning to one's old alcoholic thinking and behavior without actually having taken a drink." Or as one wise old drunk put it, if a horse thief goes into A.A. what you can end up with is a sober horse thief. Or a personal favorite: you can take the rum out of the fruit cake, but you've still got a fruit cake!

He was way all kindsa tattooed.  Like.  Way.  Skin art? Check. However, if he was wearing a short sleeved T and shorts?  No tattoos were visible.  He believed his tattoos were for him.  Nobody else needed to see them.  Except if he was in a competition.  Or a magazine.  Cause tons of people seeing them?  That was ok. He and the ole' Drunken Queen fought over these damn tattoos most of my life.  Maybe that is what caused my adverse tattoo issues. Or, it's just all the crazy.  It's fer sure one of those.
Addiction #2 (see dry drunk)?  Check. 

He loved, loved, loved Howard Stern.  He and I?  We would listen in the morning and then compare notes later in the day. Yes, it may be odd, but so?  We liked it.  That's funny shit right there.  Sadly, he (Dad, not Howard) died just before "Private Parts" (Howard's autobiographic movie for those of you don't follow) came out.  He would've like it.  I did.  I was able to get a life-size cutout of Howard (employee of mine worked part-time at a movie theater) and had it placed behind his casket for the funeral.  That right there?  Freaked the shit outta the minister.  He had enough sense not to say anything.  Good man.  Loved some Pastor Doug. Anyhow.  Addiction #3?  Check. 

For the last 4 years of his life, he was disabled.  Back injuries.  Couldn't work, couldn't do a whole bunch.  Looking back I think damn, he was only 39 when the shit hit the fan. During this time, my sister began modeling.  Guess who assembled and mailed all her portfolios?  Yep, Dad.  Daddy was EXTREMELY protective of his daughters.  Like pulling boys out of vans through the window and running people down kinda protective. Ummmm, so maybe OVERprotective?  Call it what you want.  He did it and he was awesome.    Disability? Check.

Okay, you have a lil background so here goes - things my Dad said that were awesome (crazy).  And, funny.  And if I hadn't mentioned this before?  INAPPROPRIATE.

1)  "If someone hits you?  Pick up the heaviest thing you can find and hit them". (this wasn't always helpful but there are a few kids I knew that took my purse/lunchbox to the side of the head)

2)  "Know how to lose weight"?  "Don't eat."  (ahhhh, the wisdom...He could gain and lose weight like an actor.  Damn him)

3)  "Get right" - get yourself together and "Get right with yourself" - quit lying to yourself and get your shit together.

4) "Don't let 'em get your day" - Don't let anyone steal your happiness & ruin your day.  Example - your boss is a total dick and makes you feel like a turd?  You want to feel all moody and cranky?  NO.  Don't let 'em get your day.  Got it?  Good.

5) "You will not die one minute before your time" - I wasn't sure where the hell he heard this (I was young I didn't pay attention to that shit), but after a lil help from my friends at Google?  It is from the
Quran. (Daddy dearest died well before 9/11 and all that crap, so don't freak)  He actually had it tattooed around his arm. 

 "Death is destined by Allaah and you cannot live one minute past your time and you will not die one minute before your time." (Excerpt from the Quran) 

6) Take a "dirt nap"  Good ole Dad, he really thought death was hysterical.   First time we heard it?  I don't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure it was circa 1995 right here:

From Grumpier Old Men:

(Grandpa discussing what he eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner)

Grandpa: Bacon! A whole damn plate!  And I usually drink my dinner.  Now according to all of them flat-belly experts, I should've took a dirt nap like thirty years ago.  But each year comes & goes, and i'm still here.  Ha!  And they keep dyin.  You know?  Sometimes I wonder if God forgot about me.  Just goes to show you, huh?

Oh and yep, it said lots at his funeral.  Cause, well, that's how we are.  When in doubt?  Laugh.

7) He was "si" (rhymes with "hi").  Yes, "si".  Yes, it's totally made up.  No, I don't know which one of my crazy family peeps first said it.  But, it's like this: drunk.  Like way, really drunk.  Like so over the top drunk that he was siiiiiiii.  Now you know where I get my talent for making up words.  Kickass, no?

And, just like my Mommy's "Linda-isms", there are plenty more awesome pieces of 

advice from Dad. I can't remember them all right now. And, I have to save SOMETHING for later, right? I'll leave you with this - A pic of Jimbo the amazing "not so Stepfather"

By the way...you guys are kinda getting where all the, ahem, crazy comes from?  Right?  Good.

Bad copy of a magazine article photo but you get the gist.

Linda-isms: Shit My Mother said and I believed...

My Mother.  For whom Bananaland is named.  Where or where do I begin?  She's one of a kind.  I love her dearly, I'm very proud of all she has overcome in her lifetime and also?  I want to punch her.  In the face.  This woman told me the craziest shit my whole life.  Still does.  And YOU?  Are really, really, really lucky.  I mean, really.  Cause' I'm gonna share some of her wisdom.  With you.  Ready? Oh, and don't mistake my sharing for agreeing.  I'm being open and honest here.  Some this stuff?  Will offend the shit outta you.  Really. I could go with the whole "it was a different time then" shit and it was but I just think my momma?  Is fucking crazy.  So without further ado - a few Linda-isms from the Drunken Queen of Bananaland:


1)  "It hurts to be pretty"
This is because when I turned the ripe ole age of 5, she began giving me home perms.  Yep.  I was the kindergartner with the kickass hair (so not).  The perm solution?  Burned my scalp like a motherfucker and would drip in my eyes and burn them too.  It hurts to be pretty was momma's answer to all that whining.   I was also sent for oral surgery at this age.  Know why?  I had a split between my teeth.  My baby teeth. Yes, I had to have stitches in my mouth so I wouldn't look bad in photos.  "It hurts to be pretty"  Yay. Even as I type this, it makes me kinda happy cause well I may be just a lil on the vain side myself.  Well, can you blame me?  Come. On.

2) "The first one's practice"
In regards to marriage and all things husband.  I don't exactly recall the first time I heard this gem, but it was PRIOR to my getting married.  Cause, well, this is some important information.  Mom always said, don't worry about the first person you marry because that's just practice.  I believed that shit.  Fer sure.  Why else would I have married that asshole?  Right?  She never had any great Linda-isms about the 2nd marriage but I'm assuming she thought I should have one.  I mean, I did.  So it must be okay, right?  She had no rules, there was no precedent set in reference to the 2nd so I think I'm good here.

3) "It's the fun lane"
This right here is awesome.  Mom likes to drive 60mph in the passing lane.  You know the left lane?  Or the fast lane?  Or whatever the hell you wanna call it.  You know what it ISN'T?  The lane in which you drive 60mph.  That?  It isn't.  The fun lane was named in beautiful downtown ATLANTA.  You know Atlanta, right?  6 lanes of crazy motherfuckers driving 90mph through curves of the city.  Yep, THAT Atlanta.   I almost lost my bowels.  The names and the finger flying from the other drives were what really pushed the whole experience over the edge.  It was...memorable.  Yeah, memorable.

4) "Sick Duck"
Oh, this is a really good one.  It's actually two.  My dearest Mother and her 3rd husband liked to well, drink.  Apparently, one night at the bar, Mommy Dearest got a lil frisky and offered to take the ole hubby out back and take care of his "sick duck" (apparently the words "suck dick" weren't working for her).  Sadly, I had to hear this story from that 3rd husband (ewwwwww) and at the time they were kinda on the rocks so I had to ask her?  WTF? Why you gettin' busy at the bar if you're gonna leave him?  Her reply?  You don't have to like someone to give em' a blowjob.  True.  Good information. Thanks Ma.

5) "No white shoes after Labor Day"
Still, to this day.  If someone is wearing white shoes after labor day?  She makes fun of them.  And, let me tell you.  Mommy is NOT a fashion guru.  She's a fan of all things sparkly.  And shiny.  And low-cut.  But white shoes in the off season?  You will go straight to hell for this infraction.  Don't do it.  Just don't.  And, yes, this RULE has been ingrained in my being.  I STILL follow this and we have lived in Florida for 27 fucking years.  It's summer all damn year long.  Still?  No white shoes, kids.  Not off season, k?  I also STILL change my closet for the season.  In Florida.  Yep.  That shit sticks with ya. 
                                                                                                     
6)"No Italian food on the Holiday"
This is totally fucking bizarre.  My mother was not, by any means, living in the lap of luxury while growing up but there must have been some huge class separation going on...know why?  One time I suggested we have Lasagna for Christmas dinner.  Why not, right?  We lived in Chicagoland, my Mother's very favorite food was Italian so what'sthefuckingproblem?  Oh no, we CANNOT have Italian food on Christmas because when she was growing up?  The poor family in the neighborhood ate pasta on Christmas.  SERIOUSLY?  I was young when I heard this.  Like a kid young.  Like 7 or 8.  I thought poor people ate pasta for holidays.  Child abuse, I tell you.  Child abuse. Shhhh...I've made Lasagna more than once on Christmas.  Don't tell, k?

I have so many more lil stories from the DQofB but I can't tell them all now.  Why?  Cause, well, I have to save some for later.  No worries.  Linda-isms will be revisited.  Many times.  You can't make this shit up.  It's awesome.  Am I worried about her seeing this and getting mad?  Nah.  She doesn't read my FB page or my blog.  "It's too many words" she says.  Ayup, I'm safe.  Unless you tell her, so don't, k?  If you do?  I won't be able to share any more of her stories and that would suck. 

 So don't.  Tell her.  Thanks.  - PP