The Beast

DISCLAIMER: This poem is disturbing. And part of some way overdue therapy.


The Beast

He held her tight, she attempted to doze
The air was so cold, but her temperature rose
She cannot move or she’ll rouse the beast
If he wakes, he’ll turn to her for a feast.
Lying in the dark, ignoring her bladder
Wanting to run, but she knew that he’d have her
By the back of her hair if she tried it again
To the face, on the floor, hold her down and then
Don’t move, bitch. I am not done
Then close her eyes & pretend it was fun
Say my name, say you love it
In her face, he would spit
Tears and she proclaimed her love
Internally cursing the lord above
His nails digging in to her wrists
Felt better than digging between her hips
Haha cry bitch, cry you whore
That means you just want more
Her hands pinned, can’t wipe the tears
Her heart pounds, can’t hide the fears
But he sleeps now, she has to pee still
Don’t move or he’ll rouse & she might have to kill
Her spirit inside, while he’s inside her
Pretend to sleep, he mustn’t stir
Her heart pounds, Can’t wake the beast.
Her bladder screams, Or he’ll have his feast.

Christmas Letter

Dear friends and family,

2011 has been like most years, life happened & time flew by. I would really be quite the narcissist if I believed you wanted all the gory details.

My children have grown & I am very proud of the young men they are turning in to.

Lots of people got married or had a baby, I did neither (yea me). Lots of people had accomplishments & successes, again, I did neither (yea them).

I pretty much maintained. I aged, gained some weight, increased my alcohol tolerance, & got a few haircuts.

I admitted I am terrified of cotton balls & discovered coconut really doesn't go with anything and it is not yummy.

I chipped my tooth on a fork, and stained it with copious amounts of coffee. I bought a new pair of pants for myself & grew too fat for them in record time.

I trained for the Warrior Dash, which I completed in a decent time... Then quickly retreated from the gym & lost all motivation to ever do any form of running again...unless it is to the fridge to grab a beer.

I also did a flashmob that I choreographed, which was incredible. Then the moment it was over, it was like it never existed & I was exhausted.

A few days later I turned 33 and my oldest went in to high school. He discovered weed & choices. I discovered more beer and wine.

I quit smoking, started again, quit again, started and then quit... That was a few Tuesdays ago tho.

I got a cat, his name is Seven. Mostly, I can't stand him, but for some reason I take pictures of him and post them on Facebook. That's what you're supposed to do, right? He makes me furious, but occasionally he is sweet and he makes me laugh. So, who needs a man, right?

My ex successfully reached new all time lows... So he can be proud of his new record. He still has not sent me all the thank you cards I deserve for not killing him. But I know in my heart he is grateful.

I started a Twitter account, gained nearly 4200 followers, then had to give it up cause some people thought it may be mildly inappropriate. I personally feel coming up with ways to more effectively masturbate and wishing death upon Ryan Seacrest is incredibly helpful... I thought I deserved a humanitarian award quite frankly.

I lost a bunch of money, worked really hard and made it work. So while my 2011 was rather meh on paper, I'm sitting here in a house, I have a job & my boys & I are as tight as we have ever been. I am happy being Meh.

Meh-rry Christmas!

Bring it 2012.

Cookies

I was invited today to make cookies with one of the hockey moms on my son's team.

I dreaded it.

I pulled in to her neighborhood and I felt like I had no place there. My car filthy... I reaked of booze from the night before and stale cigarettes. The houses were huge, the yards flawless...and there I was. Dry faced and unshowered. Completely out of place.

I pulled up to her driveway...Christmas had vomited all over their home. I was immediately horrified. I rang the bell and she came to the door covered in frosting.

She welcomed me in, as did the small people dancing around my toes shrieking in delight for cookies. The Christmas train roared in my hungover...potentially still drunk brain. I immediately wanted to flee.

Her nieces and nephews and mother and husband and her two boys and their friends paraded throughout the home in the most peaceful chaos. She handed me an apron & some dough & I began to roll out the dough. A small person wanted to help... And by help I mean take over the entire project and not listen to any direction.

Typically, this would have made me nuts. Typically, in this situation, having a rolling pin in my hand would not have ended well.

This time, it did not.

Flour and sprinkles exploded everywhere. Miscut cookie shapes, horrifying amounts of frosting, and the most amazing excitement radiated from the kids right in to my bahumbugged heart.

The family operated like a dance. Baking and trains and hockey games and nerd fights and light saber battles and joy. Pure joy.

All of a sudden, I got it.

It wasn't about fucking cookies, it was about the joy. It wasn't about keeping the house clean, or making the perfect cookie or doing it just so or staying quiet or any of that. It was about joy.

It was about family. It was about coming together to make gifts for people in your life. It was about working together. It was about just fucking joy.

So, while I left with 87 cookies or so... I also left with something far more delicious...joy. And the quest for more.

Family

We are all family.

All of us.

Some of us black sheep that are always in trouble.

Some of us are loud and obnoxious.

Some of us are the givers, some of us the takers.

Some of us quiet, some of us loud.

Some self centered. Some completely unhelpful & lazy.

Some are kind.

Some are sad.

Some are hateful.

Some go to church.

Some talk too much.

But we are all family.

I love you all. You're all welcome & accepted, because you're family.

I'd hug you all, no matter what you've done, like it's the last time I'll see you again...every time.

Family.

I love all members.

Angry Birds (with wine) cause Angry Texts

Friend: What ya doin?
Me: Playing Angry Birds
Me: I'm on a mission
Me: Fuck I suck
Friend: You talking Angry Birds or just in general?
Friend: :-)
Me: Bitch
Friend: You know the different color ones do cool, kick the shit out of pigs maneuvers...right?
Me: NO!!!!!!!! I had no idea
Me: How??
Me: Serious. This is important
Friend: Tap the screen. Yellow ones blast/dive bomb. Blue ones turn in to 3 mini ones. Black ones explode, but they explode on impact. Green ones are like boomerangs. I think that's all.
Me: Oh my god. Hold.
Me: Fuck off. It back fired. What??
Me: Ok - like tap how? Cuz this bitch just rolled over & played dead.
Friend: On the bird. Red ones don't do anything special if that is what you are trying to do. They can't hit anything either.
Me: They are falling down costing my lives. Aggghh
Me: You need to show me
Me: This is bullshit.
Friend: What color birds?
Me: None do shit when I tap the screen
Me: One blue. Two yellow. One red.
Me: Wait.
Me: Holy fuck so once I shoot them? I just exploded a blue one
Friend: Yes. Wow Mon.
Me: Sorry, I'm dumb. I didn't know.
Me: This is amazing. I'm a nerd. Fuck u.
Friend: I neglected to tell you that part, but I am seriously laughing out loud at the thought of you dribbling birds out of our slingshot.
Me: Fucking hate you. But love you. This is so great. Oh and fuck you. LOL
Me: I am "DIE WHORE"ing out loud right now
Friend: ??? I just unlocked Mega important info for you. Where is the love? I was trying my best to be descriptive.
Me: So much love. So much. I can't believe I didn't know.
Me: How those fucker walls don't fall is beyond me.
Friend: You would be surprised how many have no clue
Me: Serious. I hate this game.
Me: I had zero clue.
Me: NEXT LEVEL SON
Friend: Let me know when you're throwing boomerangs.
Me: BOOMERANGATANGTANG MUTHA FUUUCKAAAAAAAAAA!!
Friend: You're dumb
Me: I'm king.

Elephants are heavy

There is an invisible elephant on my chest.

Elephants are heavy.

Even the invisible ones.

Priority

Today my boss cancelled our weekly meeting...again.

Being that I really had some time sensitive things I wanted to discuss with him, I was pissed.

I text the guy I was seeing & told him what happened. He said "clearly not a priority"

I complained that he always cancelled. I told him that my boss was a lot like a bad relationship with someone who always lets you down.

He said "I meant that clearly YOU are not a priority"

So I broke up with him.

In my head.

Feelings

One of the worst STDs you can get is feelings. There is no cure, they are hard to get rid of & the side effects are awful. - Me

I tweeted that this morning. I did not add that the older you get, the worse the side effects are. I also failed to mention you can give it to someone without even having them.

I honestly think that is what God gave us when Eve ate that fucking apple was feelings. I mean feelings in a relationship - not the kind you have for your kids or the compassion you have for human nature. The kind that makes you question your every fiber. The kind that drives you bat shit crazy. The kind that makes you drink just so you don't fly off the handle. The kind that makes you doubt yourself. The kind that makes you overanalyze every damn situation and lose your mind. The kind that puts your emotions in the driver seat and gets you completely fucking lost.

I don't know. Maybe it is just my vagina. But feelings overcomplicate my life. They scare the hell out of me and ruin a lot of great things.


Robots have it made. Also zombies.

Feelings are the core of my insanity.

The Facebook God Told Me So...

I have been in the funk now for just under a week. I keep trying to get out, but the gatekeeper is an asshole.

I finally figured out how to sleep, which is nice. Percocet. Did you know that Percocet is French for "all better"?

Have I mentioned how foggy it is here? I live in a fog. I thought it was Los Angeles at first.

I drove for 30 miles yesterday in silence. The deafening silence of my head driving me around in autopilot.

I got home & started looking through Facebook - reading people's statuses, pictures of their babies & 'Messages from God'. I was wondering what mine was... half expecting it to be blank... it said:

"There will be times when you are tossed around by the tempest of your emotions. When this happens, look for that still sacred place within you. Take some time to rest in that place. After a time, when you are ready, come out to face the world again."

Well, according to my Facebook God, I am in the right spot.

Stupid Facebook God.

Renting a space in funk

So, I don't want to be stuck in this funk, but I have accepted the fact that I am at LEAST a temporary resident. I have to be, it is healthy to stay a while in order for me to get things back to good. So, I backed my moving truck up and quit trying to get out of it.

You should see my place here, the walls around it reach the sky.

You sweep everything under the rug. Even though eventually it seeps out & everyone can see your dirt.

Every meal they serve around here is full of regret and sugar. Both are terrible for you.

Plenty of booze, but it's like they don't work anymore because you can still feel.

All the windows are drawn shut. But you don't sleep. Ever.

The lights are always off, but your thoughts are always on.

Hugs are the worst here cause they make you remember...and feel...and cry.

Every mirror is a distorted image of yourself, so you never feel pretty. So you stop caring.

Every morning you take your very hard to swallow pill & every day it gets stuck in your throat. And it sits there. All. Day.

You are forced to bring the giant elephant that sits on your chest all day to sit in the room with you when you try to socialize. Stupid elephant.

I hate it here.

At least I know where I am and I'll be out of here soon, I hope.