Month: November 2020

When It Rains, It Certainly Pours…

I feel you there, Morton Salt girl…

I need a hug…

Seriously, yesterday was one of those days where things couldn’t have gotten any worse if they’d dropped a fucking nuke on my house. I know, I’m probably exaggerating, but that’s how it felt at the time.

It was one of those days where, if it could go wrong, it most certainly did. It actually started the afternoon before and it just kept going further and further downhill from there until it was going at warp speed.

I’m sure most of you, dear readers, will listen to my inane ramblings and say, “What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?! Your day wasn’t that bad! Don’t be a whiny bitch!” So before I get into this, I’m going to answer the inevitable question as to what the actual fuck is wrong with me… I’M FUCKING BIPOLAR!!! That really is the only explanation I have and it’s a legitimate reason for my sometimes seeming to make mountains out of molehills. So, that being said, let’s move on.

I know quite a few people who need to hear this…

Not to reuse images, but the caption on this one is befitting today…

Anyway… My bad day actually began the day before. I had a hair appointment… That in and of itself was a sore subject. I had received a text from the salon when we went into lockdown, canceling my appointment and stating they would call to reschedule when they reopened. I had never gotten such a phone call…

Well over a month ago, I ran into the salon owner, who is sort of a friend of mine (albeit one who is getting stuck up with her new found success) and told her what had happened. I even showed her the message I’d received and told her no one had called me yet. This was probably about 3 months after they reopened. I figured someone would have called me by that point, but they hadn’t. So she told me that she would talk to the girls that took care of scheduling and have them call me. Seriously, over a month after that and no call. So I said screw it and called them. My friend was booked through December, but I desperately needed a cut and color.

This is what ombre looks like

I opted to take one of the other stylists who I think come after they reopened. What did I know, I hadn’t been there in 8 months!

So this look (though not as short) was what I wanted. I wanted the ombre style and I wanted it aggressively purple. This is what I had done in March and I showed her a picture of what I’d had done and what I wanted. Should have been easy enough to understand, right…? And my normal stylist was there, so I figured I was safe. If the girl doing my hair was puzzled, she could just ask my normal stylist, who happens to be the owner. I felt pretty confident that this girl was on the right track since my normal stylist said she had explained how to mix my color up. But, when she started doing my hair, I was confused. She was putting purple on my ends and, when I asked if she wasn’t going to lift it first, she told me my normal stylist said she didn’t have to because the processor that was added to the dye would lift it. Okay… sounds time saving anyway.

This even looks better than what I got…

As the process went on, she was doing things weird. She didn’t only lighten the ends, she went way up to almost my roots. A lot of hair she didn’t do anything with and when I asked about it, I think she realized I knew she was fucking up, so all th hair she’d done nothing with, she used the dark color on those long sections. It looked so bad… She kept asking if I liked the color and I kept dodging the question. Worse, my normal stylist saw me before I left (from like 8 feet away) and told me she loved the color. Did she suddenly become color blind?! This was not the same as the last several times I had my hair done. She didn’t even come to look at it, though I wish she had…

Afterward, I went to my regular diner and the two waitresses I know well had mentioned something along the lines that they could see the red in my hair. Yeah… I could, too, unfortunately. My hair, at the lightest areas, looked to be the same color as a red violet crayon. That is so not what I asked for… And it’s too dark…

This will be me soon

I always rewash my hair after I get home (you know, the germaphobe issue) and use my products which are for dry, frizzy hair. I figured I would wait until morning, fix my hair and see how it looked.

I literally bawled for about 40 minutes while trying to fix my hair… It’s not ombre by any means. Again, the color is a red violet, where you can actually see color. Some sections look like a brick red crayon. I don’t have much of an ombre look and I have streaks that run from near my root all the way down. The rest looks like a color halfway between dark brown and black. And it’s so dry! My curling iron wouldn’t even run through it smooth because it feels like that straw-like plastic Barbie hair! I also have spots where there are light and dark patches alternating all the way down the section so I look like I’m a fucking leopard and there are spots she missed completely where my brown shows through as well as the wispy blonde baby hairs. And the cut is equally bad! I spent $215 on my fucking hair! Then that little bitch put me on the spot about tipping her! Yeah, I got a tip for you; go back to beauty school! She reminds me of that song in Grease, “Beauty School Drop-out”. That’s her alright… I’m seriously considering shaving my head because I don’t think this can be fixed in all honesty…

What the actual FUCK?!?

I spent a lot of time in tears yesterday. But, on the bright side, a stuffed dragon I ordered from Build A Bear Workshop was going to be delivered. I had wanted that one for a long time (because I’m a big kid) and had finally ordered one. I knew my new stuffed friend would bring a little comfort to an otherwise shitty day.

Or I did until it came… As you can see, the dickhead FedEx driver that has my route is a lazy fuck. Can you see how drenched this box is?! I’m sure you can. How the hell he didn’t is beyond me. Seriously, look at this thing! And it’s not like he couldn’t tell something was amiss considering that it smelled worse than a two-bit hooker! Jesus Christ! Whatever spilled on it (which I’m thinking may have been a gallon of hand sanitizer) reeked so fucking bad, it could knock you over! I carefully opened it and found that what little was in the box was nowhere near my dragon, but he reeked to high heaven, too! I was livid! This is an acceptable way to deliver a package?! My car was out front; you couldn’t have knocked to ask if I wanted to accept it?! Nope, just toss it between my doors and now it’s my smelly ass problem, right?! Fucker…

No kidding…

So after calling FedEx and speaking to someone who barely spoke English (why…), I received a return call from some guy who sounded like a wiener. Long story short, he told me to call Build A Bear and have them file a claim. When I asked if he could find out what had soaked my package so I’d know if it was something caustic, he said no. I was not happy… He did, however, tell me that I could file a complaint against the driver. I asked what was the point in that. Seriously, they don’t seem to want to take responsibility for poor package handling, why file a complaint? Nothing will come of it anyway. And at that point I was just too emotionally drained to bother with something lengthy and time consuming only to have it mean nothing anyway.

Lots of cuddles…

Besides… why should I call Build A Bear when you guys were the ones who fucked up? Huh?!

But I did… As always, the customer service people (yes, you can get an actual human when you call with no issues) are super nice. I want to know what they give their employees to keep them so cheerful all day… Anyway, they apologized for my issue (apparently they’ve been getting a lot of complaints about FedEx) and said they’d send me another one. Which means waiting even longer… I was so upset, I almost told them to just cancel it. Besides, who do you think will deliver the next one? Yup, the dreaded FedEx man.

In the end, I didn’t cancel my order. I did, however, go on Twitter, posted the picture of the box and flipped shit on them about everything. I was in a literal state about everything yesterday. First a shitty color and cut, then a smelly package that damaged my dragon with god knows what and idiot customer service jerk-offs. I was and still am emotionally exhausted from all this.

Marmalade

On a slightly better note…

Eventually I became semi rational and threw my new dragon, Marmalade, into the washer. He had aired out and no longer smelled, but still… He was all fluffy and dry by this morning and, as you can see, is sitting on my lap and laptop, smelling only of detergent and Downy fabric softener.

Don’t judge my mountain of stuffed animals…

So at the very least, I have a little bit of comfort for today. I need it… I’m still feeling emotionally exhausted. Last night, my jaws ached and my eyeballs hurt because I spent about 90% of my day crying. It’s amazing how much something like that can take out of you. I know I should call the salon today, but I don’t think I can. I’m still in a bad place emotionally and mentally. One of my friends offered to go up with me to get my money back for the shitty job that little asshole did. I’m thinking of taking her up on the offer. But not today… Today I just need to rest and fix my state of mind. This may take a while…

Bwahahahaa!

The only good thing about today is that Morticia didn’t call me this morning.

She had called me yesterday with her normal whining of having no money to pay bills and whatnot (though you can still afford to buy booze, which I find interesting), how her son and his girlfriend are planning to move out and, with her lack of funds, she’ll have to move in with Gomez and be miserable. She started to tell me about yet another fight and I managed to sidetrack her, thank god…

She’s so incredibly stupid that she amazes me sometimes… Mostly because she continues to stay with Gomez even though he treats her bad and now she’s planning on using him. But she’s also stupid if she thinks the kids will move out. They have it too good there. They pay next to nothing to live there. They’re in for a rude awakening if they get their own place, especially with the high rents here.

My current state of mind…

Obviously I’m really stressed…

This morning I literally laughed uncontrollably for five straight minutes at the stupidest joke: “Atheism is a non-prophet organization”. Seriously, I just could not stop laughing! I guess my body really needed those endorphins pretty fucking bad to laugh so long at such a bad joke.

So I think it’s time I take leave of you for now, dear readers (all two of you, hahahaa). I’m going to get my malas out, get comfy and have some nice, quiet meditation. Because, if I don’t, I swear to god I’m going to take a fucking hostage. I really need to bring back some inner peace that’s been slowly oozing out of my pores for some time, now. Yesterday it came out in a flood like someone busted open Hoover Dam. So, “namaste” away from social media, phone calls and texts and just fucking breathe…

Get The Funk Out My House… Bitch…

“Retro 70s Funk” (c) yours truly

You know, I made this illustration some years ago because I wanted to try dark skin tones and extremely curly hair. Looking at it now, I should have made her hair bigger. A huge afro on a woman was in style then…

Anyway… Did I have a point to that? Not really. It’s just an observation. I only chose this because it best represented “funk” to me.

But I’m not here to discuss the “should haves” of an old drawing that I could do a much better job on now than I could back then. However, I am here, apparently, to make horrible puns of old 2 Live Crew songs. Is that who did that song…? I think it was… That particular song contained the lyric, “Get the fuck out ma house… bitch”. So I just interchanged fuck and funk. See what I did there…? Yeah, it’s one of those kinds of days…

Some things demand sacrifice…

Ah, one of my favorite old original characters, Obitsu the Necromancer. Creepy, isn’t he…?

Anyway…

I sometimes wonder why I bother talking or posting status updates on Facebook. I mean, it’s obvious no one reads them anyway. Case in point, this morning… You guessed it, my 5:30AM text from Morticia saying, “Good morning”. Yeah, it really wasn’t good considering she sent me that… I purposely went on Facebook yesterday to inform everyone that I would not be on today, I wouldn’t be taking phone calls or responding to texts because, whether you candidate won or lost, I simply didn’t want to hear any gloating or bitching. And, considering the fact that the newest Commander in Idiocy has not yet been crowned, I really don’t want to talk to anyone. I grow tired of conversations like that, especially when I have to have them with idiots like her. Nope… not at 5:30AM, not anytime. Find a fucking hobby. Leave me the fuck alone for once…

“The Puppetmaster” (c) yours truly

Besides… I had work to do…

As I’ve mentioned, I’m revamping a story I originally wrote over two decades ago (that sounds better than saying 20 years). I realized the other day that I have a long way to go in finishing this story and I had better start wrapping things up in order to reach a crucial part of the plot. There’s a character that needs to be killed off and I have to do it relatively soon. Not that I want to, mind you. In fact, the first time I killed the poor guy off, I cried like a baby. I assume this is why I’ve been in such a depressive funk and a bad mood lately. Things sometimes get way too personal when I write. So it’s not just that my other main character is losing him; it’s as if I’m losing him as well. And I don’t want to do that…

R.I.P. – The late, great Dennis Wilson

This gentleman here, the late, great Dennis Wilson, was the inspiration for one of my lead characters. Unfortunately, the one I have to kill off…

Even as a little girl, I had the major hots for Dennis (though he was old enough to be my father). That’s why I decided to fashion my character’s looks off of him. I mean… LOOK AT HIM!!!

I need to stop that… Anyway… It’s not as though I’ve never killed off characters before, even ones I really liked and felt a strong attachment to. But killing off this character, knowing that I’m closing in on the inevitable, has put me in such a depressive state. Perhaps it’s because, out of all my characters, he’s the one I feel closest to, the one I’m most attached to. Or maybe it’s because the real person I modeled him after sadly died at a relatively young age. I remember that day with no fondness… Or maybe it’s simply because I’m killing off a character who I made out to be the sweetest man and I’m going to kill him off in a horrible fashion. Who knows… It’s just a downer, that’s all.

“Filth In The Beauty” (c) yours truly

Maybe it’s not just the story… Maybe I’ve been feeling like this for other reasons. I’m just feeling lethargic, depressed and, worst of all, antisocial…

Honestly, I think a lot of it has to do with this election bullshit. Always just a bunch of bullshit… One makes ads telling you what they plan to do for the people, the other telling lies about the first guy to make himself look good but never actually telling you what the actual fuck he intends to do for the people. Yet there are still those who buy into the shit the second guy is slinging, right? And this time around, you just couldn’t escape it! It was all over television, Facebook, Twitter… Hell, you couldn’t even escape to watch stupid cat videos on YouTube because guess what? They were on there, too… Just why?! Christ, give us at least some fucking escape from al the hate and ugliness! Some of us need to have that!

Poor necrotic Rosie…

This is my current state of thinking… We’re all fucking doomed…

I just don’t understand the world today… I really don’t. You know what the fuck is wrong with it, so fucking fix it! Why do you always try to fix things that aren’t broken and causing a commotion?! Why can’t everyone get their heads out of their asses, get down off the pedestal you put yourself on and act like the civilized human being you’re supposed to be?!? GAH!!! Do I seem a bit fanatical today…? Perhaps… But I’ve been around a pretty long time, okay? I’ve watched the world go down this steep, steady decline for decades. I just can’t do it anymore. All I want is to live what’s left of my life in peace. Is that too much to fucking ask for?!

“Wear Your Love Like Heaven” (c) yours truly

Calm down, Jackie… find your happy place…

I don’t like going off on tangents, I really don’t. My main reason for this blog was to be random, not a crazy hippie bitch. But here we are…

I really hope that, when all this election bullshit is over, my mood will improve at least a little. Hey, I don’t expect miracles. We’re still in the grips of COVID after all. And if we have to keep wearing these annoying fucking masks, I swear, I’m going to take a hostage. I want my world back. No… it’s not just that… I need my world back! Maybe, if we can go back to normal, my depression and anxiety will begin to fade off again. One can only hope…

For The Love Of All That’s Peaceful!

Me when my phone rings at 5:30AM…

So this morning I sit down, all ready to rock and roll on the story I’ve been revamping. It’s 5:30AM, an ungodly time to be awake, I know, but the hood is really quiet at that hour of the morning and will be for hours to come. I’m pumped… My creativity is going crazy and I literally need to pour this out onto my laptop. I typed all of one sentence (I’m not even sure it was a full one) and then I hear it… My cell is ringing. I didn’t need to look; I knew who it was. I looked up at my ceiling, asking the powers of the universe, “WHY?! JUST WHY?!” at the top of my lungs. I’m sure the neighbors didn’t appreciate that, but I couldn’t help myself. I really just couldn’t help myself…

I ask myself this every time I pick up that fucking phone…

For those who have been following my blog (or actually reading the entries) I’m sure you know… it was Morticia that called me. Yep, she’s going back to calling me several times a day again, most days, anyway. Granted, I’m always up and have had at least one cup of coffee by 5:30 (if I didn’t, my phone would go sailing if it rang), but that doesn’t mean I want to be bothered. Early mornings are my time, and I don’t appreciate anyone encroaching on my time. Not even my mother… Honestly, I don’t know why I answered. I shouldn’t have… Same shit, different day. “I don’t feel good because _____ (insert imaginary symptoms here)”, “I was really pissed off at Gomez last night and we had it out” (though she never sticks to her guns), “I have no money, Jackie, what am I going to do”, “I hate my job”, “Everyone is against me”… Gee, I have no idea why you’d feel that way… She’s even wondered why some of her “friends” stopped taking her calls. Gee, I wonder why. Stop bitching maybe?

This was actually pretty close to home…

She also made mention to the fact that she had to make sure she votes today…

I think she wanted to elaborate on that, but I kept sidetracking her so she wouldn’t. She and I don’t share the same views on who should be president… and she knows this. Yet, every fucking time she gets on the subject, she tries to sell me on someone I think is a complete and utter douche for a multitude of reasons. It’s like trying to convince me there’s a God… Morticia is one of those people who thinks she knows me better than I know myself. Really… If she did, she’d know I’ve been an atheist since I was 7 years old and, after this many decades, if I haven’t changed my mind I probably never will. And when it comes to politics… Well, I have my own ideas on that. Personally, I think we’re screwed either way this time. Not that it matters. Congress runs the show. The president is merely a figure head anyway.

“Hey, I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!”

And so, as is usual when I get interrupted during the creative process, I lost my groove for a while…

The exact same thing happened early Saturday morning when an ex, who I’m still friends with, messaged me around 5AM, “Hey stranger” (as we hadn’t spoken in a while). I messaged back a simple, “Hi” and was then asked what I was doing up so early. I told him I was always up early and I was writing because it was nice and quite in the hood. I didn’t think I was that subtle, but apparently I was. He began blowing up my phone with messages. “I just found out my ex is dating again… It really hurts… I’m lonely… If you know anyone who is single…” UGH! First of all, his ex was a crazy psycho that he should be grateful he dodged a bullet on. Second… why the hell does everyone vent to me?! I’m not a shrink or a therapist! I’ve seen a lot, but I’m not one! And they never like what I have to say because I’m brutally honest. So here’s the thing, shut the fuck up and go see a real therapist or I’m going to start charging you, okay…?

My thought process when interrupted

And that annoying conversation Saturday was my downfall… For, what, 15-20 minutes worth of annoying messaging? My creative flow just flew right out the window and I couldn’t get it back. I was so angry…

Yes, I realize that I can just put my phone on silent, but then I wouldn’t know if an emergency came up or some other important call I had to answer. Besides, it will still vibrate or, at the least, I see the screen light up. Worse, it’s an iPhone, so not only does it ring on my phone, it also rings on my iPad and MacBook! The only thing it doesn’t ring on is my iPod, thank god… Somehow I got it to stop disturbing me with notifications when I was listening to it and working on something. Now I just need to figure out how to successfully do that with all my other Apple products and I’ll be golden. I hope… I’m just irritated that I keep getting disturbed while writing this revamp of an older story. It’s quite an involved tale and I need to concentrate to get everything just so. But what do they care about the creative process… Philistines…

“The canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see…”

I seriously need to find some peace and serenity… I thought I had my grasp on it for a while, but then Morticia began calling on a regular basis to bitch again and I lost it.

You’re probably wondering what’s up with the sailboat… Well, for some reason, the ocean and sailboats seem to give me the peace and serenity I’m looking for. Honestly, I wish I could go for a sail or somewhere to watch them gently drifting along, but it’s November and, where I am, it’s starting to get cold. Not that the cold bothers me because it doesn’t. It just means there won’t be anyone out on the water in their boats for me to watch. It’s one of my dreams to have my own one day, but it’s just that… a dream.

Maybe someone should invent an app that gives you a realistic view of sailboats cutting through the ocean waves with the sounds of the surf an seagulls… Yeah… I’d download the shit out of something like that. I really need that bit of serenity at my fingertips.

A Public Service Message Brought To You By The Letter “M”…

Smoke up if you really want to understand…

Well… I’m not sure if this is a public service message or simply just me rambling on like I do… And this time, I’ll be rambling about a somewhat controversial subject. Whether you call it pot, weed, Mary Jane, reefer… what we’re talking about is Marijuana.

Marijuana, as people are finally learning, has a lot of amazing properties and uses. It clears up glaucoma, helps alleviate pain for cancer patients and can actually help, in some cases, to put it into remission. It helps those suffering from mental illnesses for whom big pharma chemicals do absolutely jack shit.

I’ve been an advocate for marijuana use since I was 17. I had figured out at 16 that the trouble afflicting me was bipolar disorder (which was called manic-depression then). When I was 17, I tried pot for the first time and it was a mind blowing experience, though not for the reason some of you think. I remember clearly one prevalent thought in my mind that afternoon: Is this what happy feels like…? Literally, until that day, I had no idea what happy felt like.

Now this is fucked up…

The reason for today’s post is because, for the umpteenth time, I watched the movie Reefer Madness last night. If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching this propaganda film that is more like the funniest fucking comedy you’ll ever see in today’s age, I’ll give you a quick rundown.

The film literally starts out as any other propaganda movie, giving you warning about the subject of offense, the deadly thing they’re trying to keep you safe from. From there, it begins the tale of a brother and sister. Nice, clean-cut, level headed teens of 1936. The brother gets involved with a reefer dealer and begins attending wild parties at the apartment he shares with his girl. Eventually, he invites his sister’s beau to join in the fun. Soon, both are hooked on reefer, the sister’s beau at one point getting so high he ends up fucking a girl he hardly knows, betraying his girl. He comes out of the bedroom and he finds his girl being pawed by one of the other patrons. But he sees it differently in his drug-addled state. He begins a fight with the patron, the man of the apartment comes out with a gun. He and the beau struggle, the gun goes off and kills the young man’s girl. He’s told he killed her, which he believes, and gets convicted at trial. However, the girl he slept with as well as the patron pawing the dead girl finally speak up and get him cleared. A semi-happy end…

Bwahahahaa!

So… let’s delve into why this is the funniest fucking propaganda film in the history of film.

First of all, you can tell that not one person who worked on this film had ever smoked pot or knew anyone who did. They had a twisted view of the effects of marijuana (which, supposedly, they spelled as they did in this burb because it was made before the invention of the letter J, which I find hard to believe). Okay, yeah, you may get one hell of a case of the giggles. But these people were laughing like maniacal maniacs. They smoked as is they we greedy, fiendish people. They danced wildly, played piano at top speed, hit people with their cars and took off without even thinking about it. They warn that people began laughing and acting wildly, hallucinated then became prone to violent, angry outbursts… and consequently ended up shooting and killing sweet, innocent young women. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you but, aside from the occasional fit of the giggles when something stupid struck me funny, I never had any of these other effects, especially killing people. Hell, I’m usually so fucked up I couldn’t swat a fly.

See this jackass? Yup, you can blame him.

Marijuana actually got such a bad rap partly due to this jackass, Victor Licata. According to IMDB, the movie Reefer Madness (as well as a few others) were inspired by his story.

In the early 30s, Victor snapped the fuck out and killed his entire family by burying an axe into their heads. As he was a marijuana user, the media immediately jumped on the “Drugs are bad, m’kaaaay” bandwagon and deemed pot as more addictive and dangerous that heroine and cocaine. Um… yeah. I have serious doubts on that… In any case, that was what they blamed his killing spree on until he finally received a psychiatric evaluation that found he was schizophrenic. In fact, his brother and a few other family members were diagnosed with the same mental illness. But it didn’t seem to matter. The press made mention of this in subsequent articles, but the main focus of his issues were marijuana use. And this was why it was decided that marijuana had to be made highly illegal. So yeah, this is the guy you can blame for that…

These movies are more accurate

I don’t know about you guys, but my experiences with pot were more like a Cheech and Chong movie rather than the propaganda movies. Otherwise known as fucked up and happy.

It took such a long time for people to realize that marijuana was more than just a way for people to get high and escape their troubles for a little while. Finally, scientists and researchers have realized that marijuana is actually a very effective all natural drug that can help people suffering from mental illness. Well shit, I could have told them that decades ago when I first started smoking it! Provided you get the right kind (some can exacerbate your issues), pot can help ease depression and anxiety, help with severe OCD… all without the need for chemicals that can cause annoying, serious or even life threatening side effects. Which would you prefer? Taking dangerous chemicals or a plant that’s all natural and still grows wild all over the world to this day?

Story of my life even when I’m not high…

And thus ends today’s public service message…

Listen, no matter what your views on marijuana use are, you have to admit that Reefer Madness is more an old comedy from 1936 and less the propaganda anti-marijuana film it was meant to be. I have no idea how it was viewed at the time, but I do know that today it’s one of the funniest fucking things you’ll ever see. So, if you want a good laugh, give it a watch. I know I do whenever I’m feeling a bit down and need to laugh my ass off.

And, with the US election coming up in a few days, who doesn’t need a good laugh? Between COVID-19 and the crazy ass election, we all could use a good laugh right about now. So stop reading this, go find that movie and give it a watch. As for me… I’m going to go back to working on some artistic endeavors, watch The Twilight Zone and enjoy this cold, windy Monday morning.