Best, Debbie

Yes…

Great!

I hate this blog’s name and I have for some time.  I decided on the name after listening to one of my favorite songs while I was drunk.  I then registered the name and created the blog.

But I hate it so much.  It makes me not want to write on it because I can’t get behind the name of the blog.  It’s too brooding and dark.  It’s not me at all.

So after thinking on it for quite some time and realizing that nobody reads this mess anyhow, I’m moving to Debbiedoodledoo.

I love that name!

The new blog will be live in the next couple of days.  It’s going to be more than just a diary blog.  There will be recipes, favorite things, photos, book and TV reviews, podcasts, and more.

Thanks for your support and I hope to find you at my new home.

I joined a committee at work.  I won’t say what committee, but I wanted to have a say in some of the things this particular committee does because over the past few years they have made terrible decisions.  Over the past few months I have realized I don’t like anyone on the committee.  Not. One. Person.

Today we had a lunch meeting and as we were talking about something we were planning, one of the committee members basically accused a former member of fixing it so that she won a grand prize last year.  She went as far as to say the person’s name and say that it was shady that she was on the committee and won.  She did this several times.

I should have said something at the meeting, but I was waiting for the committee chair to say something like, “Um, you don’t have any proof and what you’re saying could be considered slandering…so stop.”  But nobody said anything.

I really should have called her out then and there.  I’m mad that I didn’t.

When I got back to my desk, what she said was eating me up.  There were 15 other people at the meeting and who knows what they will tell their co-workers and then what their co-workers will tell their co-workers and so on and so on…

I decided to tell the person.

This accused person is supposedly friends with another committee member and she immediately called her to verify what I said.  When the other committee member acted weird and tried to play it down, she called me and said that she believed me.  The accused was very upset and couldn’t believe that someone would do that, but then later informs me that she had a personal problem with the woman before.

In the meantime, I check my work email and in my inbox was sitting an email from the committee chair saying that what we talk about in the meetings must stay in the meetings.  In this case, I don’t agree.  What that woman accused another co-worker of had nothing to do with what the committee does, she was being a bitch.

So anyway, I’m sure they know it was me who said something and I just don’t care. What are they going to do?  I plan on quitting the committee, I just don’t want to be around people like that.

There are some things you just shouldn’t say and accusing someone of cheating or stealing or anything untoward is just wrong unless you have concrete proof.  And then, take the shit to HR and don’t act like it’s harmless gossip.  It’s not professional or courteous or nice.

Below are three examples of my being done with assholes.  It is not limited to these three stories, my vitriolic tongue is just getting warmed up.

Last weekend, I was hanging out at my friend’s house and I was sitting near a group of guys. The guys aren’t friends of mine, but I know them from our mutual friendship with the couple that was hosting the get-together. As I was sipping my sangria and relaxing (or trying to), I overheard them critiquing some women they had met the night before at a bar. As I listened to these very average and, may I say boring, men pick apart women they didn’t even know I started to giggle. The one that was the leader, big gross sideburns, asked me what was funny.

I leaned in closer to the guys and said, “You talk about women like you have a say in anything.”

Sideburns frowns, “What do you mean?”

I snort and say, “You men act like you’re the one who gets to pick. Don’t you understand that women are the ones that pick? No matter how much you tear apart a perfectly pretty women’s looks, if she decided to pick you for whatever…a quick fuck or dinner and a movie…you’d go because you know deep down that it’s not up to you. Yes, you’d probably think you’re doing her a solid by going out with her but that’s not true. She gave the green light, no matter who asked the other out. You men pant after sex like dogs pant after a bone and maybe that’s why you feel the need to rudely critique women, because you’ve been rejected so much that you fool yourself to think that it’s your choice to not go out with whatever “her” turned you down. That’s why I’m giggling. It’s fucking hilarious.”

Sideburns looks pissed and says, “You’re a bitch.”

I laugh harder, “Of course I am.”

I ruined the vibe of the night. The group of guys ended up leaving shortly after I got down from my soapbox. My friend was shaking her head and said, “You just couldn’t ignore them, could you?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know why, but it was like all of my being was rejecting what they were saying and I had no control over myself.”

I wasn’t sorry for what I said. I’m done.

On Monday, I was on the train going to work minding my own damn business. I was standing by the door because there were no seats available. As we were coming to the stop, a man closed in on me and said, “Excuse me, the next stop is my stop.”

Since there was nowhere to move and I really didn’t care, I replied, “Okay.”

He moved closer to me and sighed a stinky cloud of coffee breath, “Can you move?”

Annoyed that he couldn’t just be patient and wait until we got his stop, I said, “Where the hell would you like me to move? You’re blocking my way and the door is here. You’ll get to work, don’t worry.”

“I just want to make sure I don’t miss my stop,” he insisted.

“How the fuck are you going to miss your stop? Unless you are indeed the dumbass I’m starting to think you are, when we get to your precious stop the door will open and I’ll let you out. Chill the fuck out.” I wished I could punch him in the throat.

“I just don’t like being late for work.” He’s relaxed a bit.

“Why is that my problem? Just shut up and you’ll be fine.” I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose to keep myself from belting him in the head.

The train finally gets to his stop and the doors open. I stepped out of the train to let the asshole out and he miraculously exited the train without any trouble.

As he walked away, I said, “I hope someone shits on your day like you shit on mine.”

I wasn’t sorry for what I said. I’m done.

And then last night. Ugh…last night. I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things I needed; BioKefir, peaches, cherries, and walnuts. Yes, I’m a squirrel. I placed my purchases on the belt in the express line and waited for my turn. A woman my age got in line behind me and placed her stuff on the belt; bag of cookies, bag of fried chicken, 6-pack of regular soda, and cupcakes. When she was finished, she gave my items a dirty look and raised her dirty look to my face and said, “I hate health food nuts.”

I raised my eyebrows and nodded to the horrible shit she had before her and asked her, “How do you shit?”

With a huff, she gathered her diabetes and artery clogging fare and went to another line. The cashier was speechless and I thought, “Mission accomplished.”

I wasn’t sorry for what I said. I’m done.

Appropriately, or should I say serendipitously, Curb Your Enthusiasm’s episode this week featured Larry David acting as a social assassin. He would say things to people that others were too chicken to say. Basically, he told people what he thought and didn’t lie about it. It got me thinking about how the world would be so much better if we stopped with the stupid courtesy lies we tell people. Some people need to be told the truth. They lie so much to themselves or have their heads so far up their own asses or are so caught up in their own self-importance that they can’t see things clearly. I think this is a perfect role for me. Telling people that they are acting like a damn fool or inappropriate or annoying would be doing them a fucking favor.

I could be a good samaritan by telling others my honest opinion since that’s what I’m thinking anyhow. Think of the stress I could release telling my friend that her husband’s breath is so bad it’s difficult to talk to him. Or telling my cousin that I’m not buying his “girlfriend we’ve never met” story because I really think he’s gay. Or informing my brother-in-law that he’s lower than a piece of shit scum at the bottom of the dirtiest sewage system in the world.

The one rule I would give myself is that I’d only offer up my true opinion if asked or provoked (you can’t expect a honey badger to not bite you if you keep poking it, right?). This is my new attitude and I like it. I might actually make me like people again.

Sometimes when it rains like this after a long drought, I go outside and just let the water beat down on me. I just came in from standing in the rain for about 15 minutes. It’s one of my favorite things to do. My neighbors think there’s something wrong with me, but I wonder how they’d feel if they tried it. Standing in the rain is nature baptizing you. Wash wash wash it all away.

I’ve been without a computer for over two weeks. The thing has been acting up for months now and at first I thought it was an update I installed and then I thought it was a virus and then I just gave up and called the manufacturer to see what the hell was going on. My hard drive was malfunctioning. Luckily, I was under warranty. I just got back my sweet machine today and have spent most of it installing software and downloading my music off of my Amazon Cloud. I’m so happy I had the forethought to upload my entire music library to it a few months ago. I would have lost thousands of songs had I not.

Of course, being without a computer has put a bit of a damper on my writing. I’ve had some amazing ideas which I have written down in a notebook (what’s that?) with a pen (how primitive), however, it’s not the same. I couldn’t pull up my book and fit the pieces in or wire in and just let myself go off writing. I do look forward to expanding the scenes and finding them a place within the story.

Not much else is going on. I’m still working on my running, which is humbling as hell. I try not to drive or live life staring in the rear-view mirror, but I sometimes wish I could figure out why I stopped running a few years ago. I was doing so well and I just stopped. At the moment, I’m running 3 days a week and practicing yoga 3 days a week. I feel good.

Ex-boyfriends have been on my mind lately. It’s like everything I do reminds me of a past someone. I don’t know the why of it, but my friend tells me it means that I’m ready to start putting myself out there…you know, in the dating world. I can’t really take what she says into account though, because that’s her answer for everything I say. I plan on exploring this more. I believe that things happen for a reason, like when you see the same number or word over and over…this is sort of like that. It’s like every moment is a memory or reminder of someone. Not subtly, but like a billboard in front of me at every turn. Maybe it’s the universe’s teaching moment for me to stop blaming myself for things I can no longer change or it’s simply helping me purge these someone’s out of my mind. Maybe I need to go back out into the rain and let it wash it all away.