What to Do When Someone is Being a Jerk-Face

                 A few days ago, I was sitting in the break room reading Stephan Hawking’s book, “The Universe in a nutshell.” I was on my lunch break and I always treat myself to a good read before heading back to work. A few pages into the book, a woman-- known for her lack of tact and rudeness-- sat in front of me and began to watch me much like a hawk watches a mouse. I could tell that the little hamsters in her head were running as quickly as they could as she thought about what she wanted to say to me, her brows furrowing with thought.
               “You smell like a dog,” she said to me with a nasty glare.
               This comment was not unexpected considering that she had treated me like a jerk-face since the first day that she began to work for this company and every time I am working with her, I try to avoid her like the plague.
             As soon as the nasty words came out of her mouth, I briefly looked up from the pages of my book and said, “Well I have a dog, and though I am wearing enough perfume to knock out a small child, I am sure that my 200 pound mastiff may have caused me to smell slightly like him. Considering I keep him very clean, I’m not too concerned.”
            "You're a bitch," she responded with, hoping that by continuing to insult me it would get a rise out of me. But since I knew exactly what she was trying to do, I decided to give her exactly what she didn't want. I continued to read my book peacefully in hopes that she would crawl back to her cave and continue to answer phone calls like she was hired to do.
             Once more she opened her mouth, spewing venom in my direction, to which my response was simply to ignore her. Finally, I couldn't take her negative energy anymore and came to the realization that even though I am on lunch break, she was not going to let me read in peace. So I got up and walked away. Did I want to do that? No. What I wanted to do was throw a chair at her head and start screaming, “I AM THE HULK AND I WILL FUCK YOU UP!” But even though I was fuming on the inside, I remained calm on the outside, refusing to show that she had affected me to the extent that she had.

So today I am writing about toxic people. No matter what we do or how positive we are in our lives, there will come a time when a toxic person comes into our life. When this toxic person enters, whether it be for a few hours, a few weeks, or longer, it is up to us on how we handle this person. So here are my suggestions:

1.     If a toxic person comes in the form of a relationship then you need to stay away from that person as much as possible. A toxic person is so used to lingering in their own “shit” that they pull everyone around them down into their “shit” so they won’t be the only one that stinks.

2.      If a toxic person tries to pick a fight with you or tries to get a rise out of you, take a deep breath in and walk away. If you go off on them, they are getting exactly what they came for. If you walk away they don’t succeed in their adventures of being a poison.

3.       Do not lower yourself to the level of a toxic person and give them a taste of their own medicine. You don’t need to lower yourself. You just need to go eat a chocolate and ignore them.

4.      Remember that you are not Karma just like you are not batman. Stop trying to do Karma’s job. Karma does not appreciate it.

5.       Just because they are being a shit head to you, doesn’t mean you have to be a shit head to them. Then there are just two shit heads in a room and that is not cool.

6.      Remind yourself that the words that come out of their mouth is merely a reflection of how they feel on the inside. They are so toxic to themselves that toxicity is released from their lips, poisoning others around them.

7.       Just because you walk away from them without bringing the smack down, doesn’t mean that you feel better. Remind yourself that their opinion doesn’t define you and then go treat yourself to something that makes you happy, like getting a pedicure so your toes look like mini disco balls of awesome or buying that super flippin’ amazing milk shake that you have been eyeing for the past week.  

8.       Set firm boundaries with the person that is toxic. Flat out say to them, “I don’t appreciate the way that you are speaking to me. Until you can speak to me in a respectful manner, I don’t want to hear it.” Then if they continue just repeat yourself and walk away from them.

Lastly, remember this, you are not responsible for the words or actions of someone else. However, you are responsible for the way that you react to those words or actions. Do not lower yourself to the level of toxicity. Do not become the poison that the other person spews. Rise above it and keep living your beautiful life. 

Things to Keep in Mind with Abuse

Yesterday was an interesting day. I found myself in a conversation with a woman I hardly knew. She was a beautiful woman with tumbling locks and a slight Hispanic accent. As she spoke to me, I couldn’t help but notice that her large brown eyes told a story not of happiness and fulfillment, but of sadness and hardship. We somehow found ourselves on the topic on the relationship that she is in. She expressed to me that the man that she is with not only treats her with disrespect but also occasionally gets angry and takes his anger out on her in a physically abusive manner. When I asked her why she stays she responded with that she stays because she doesn’t want her two girls to grow up without a father and though he hits her, he never hits his daughters... at least for right now.

I nodded my head with understanding but then responded with a question. “Would you want your children to be with a man who treats them the way that your man treats you ?” In shock she looked at me, not knowing how to respond. She remained quiet so I continued. “You are an influence to your children. If you stay with a man who does not treat you with respect, your kids will see that and will take that as their largest example of how a relationship should look like. If you say, “Enough is enough. I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect,” and you leave, your kids will see that too and learn from it. So what lesson do you want to teach your kids? Do you want to teach them that if they reproduce with a man who treats them like crap that they should just stay in it for the kids? Or do you want to teach them that it is better to be alone and wait for someone who treats you with kindness and respect, then to be with someone who physically or emotionally abuses you? The choice is yours.”

I often hear people talk about how girls or boys that grow up in an abusive family will either get with someone who is abusive or become abusive themselves. But you do not have to be a reflection of your family and although it takes work and a lot of self-love, you can break the cycle and begin a new path.

Do you remember when you were a child and you spun around in a circle until you became so dizzy that even when you stopped, the world around you kept spinning? Well when you get into these relationships, you are the child, still spinning in a circle. You continue to spin because that is what is familiar to you. But once you decide that enough is enough, you stop. And although you are dizzy and often times don’t know what direction to go, if you remain firm and make it a point to take the right steps in healing, little by little, your spinning world will slow down until finally you are able to see a calm beauty around you.

Why I won't touch Pokémon Go

                So lately everyone has been asking me, “Have you started to play the new Pokémon Go game?” The answer is “no” and it will remain “no.” Don’t get me wrong, I want to download that game more than I want chocolate around my period, but I know the way that I get when it comes to addicting video games.

 Let’s take for example the incredibly awesome game of amazingness, “God of War.” A few years ago I met a girl named Vicki at my work who let me know that she was about to become homeless because she was getting kicked out of her apartment, due to not being able to afford it, and had no other place to go. Since at that time I lived in a town house with an extra bedroom, I told her that she, her 5 cats, and a pit bull, could move in with me until she could afford her own place. Within the week, she had moved in and began to set her things up around the house.

                The next day, I get home from work and my eyes fell upon a sight so beautiful that I felt butterflies flutter inside of me… a PlayStation. And do you know what was on top of that PlayStation of glorious wonders? GOD… OF…WAR…3. I kid you not, I about shit myself.

Quickly I ran up to the bedroom where Vicki was staying at and with eyes as wide as saucers I asked her if I could play on her PlayStation. I must have looked like a three year old kid on Christmas morning when she said yes, because I don’t think I have ever flown down those stairs faster than I did on that day. Now I have an addictive personality and I know this. Which is why I am not allowed to have a PlayStation in my house—it is my Kryptonite. When I sat down on that couch, I only got up to go to the bathroom and to get 3 hours of sleep, until I beat that game. Have you ever played a video game for four days straight? You start to go crazy from the lack of sleep and aching thumbs. By the time I watched Kratos stab his giant glowing sword through his own stomach I was at the edge of my seat with tears starting to form at the corners of my eyes. Yes I gave a standing ovation. Yes I know I am a bit crazy for doing that. And yes, it was from that point on that I realized I should probably not play video games because I get nothing done.  

So now a game called “Pokémon Go” has come out and I know that if I download that game I will end up being on an episode of “Intervention” after getting pregnant and selling my unborn child to be able to afford Masterballs. I already know that technology has taken over our day to day life and this is just another socially accepted addiction that I don’t want to be a part of. I truly enjoy taking a walk in nature without wondering if I will find Cubone in the woods. 

Professional Needle Stabber

                As many of you know, I am not one prone to using Western Medicine unless I absolutely have to—and even then it takes me to feel like I am about to croak before going to that. Now don’t get me wrong, there are many good things that come with using Western Medicine. Unfortunately I haven’t made good experiences and I am weary using anything, especially after watching commercials filled with smiling and dancing people, while in the background the narrator informs you of side effects including suicidal thoughts, bleeding organs, and the occasional side effect of spontaneous combustion.

                A week ago, I decided that I need to find a natural way to take care of my hypoglycemia and I wasn’t about to try the newest latest pill that may or may not work for me while giving me a side effect of growing a second head. Looking online, I went to my favorite website ever, “Groupon.” (If any of you reading this have not tried Groupon, I want you to know that you are missing out on life. Groupon is a magical place of discount services where you can frolic through expensive places, pretending to be rich, before handing the receptionist your coupon of a 5 million dollar discount. Okay maybe it’s not that extreme of a discount, but I have saved a *gabillion dollars using this website that makes dreams come true.) I found an ad for an acupuncturist that was doing 6 sessions for only $68 dollars and although becoming a living voodoo doll is not appealing to me whatsoever, I hear amazing things about the benefits from being stabbed with needles.  

                My first session I was nerve racked and by nerve racked I mean I was in full-fledged panic mode. I am not kidding either. I have a death fear of needles so after nervously ranting for ten minutes to the acupuncturist and feeling like my heart was going to explode from my chest, I finally was able to calm down enough to get out of the fetal position and allow the stabbing to commence. After the first needle went in, I realized that I had pretty much freaked out for a mere tiny pinch and I felt silly for even going into this fright. On the other hand, it’s mother freaking needles and those little shits are scary.

Once the acupuncturist was done making me his pin cushion, he turned off the lights and left me with the words, “Just relax.” At that point I looked like I was reverse planking, with every muscle in my body stiff as a board. How anyone can relax with a zillion needles in their flesh is beyond me but I kept reminding myself that I was doing this for my health.

I admit, I didn’t feel any difference after my first session, so when I came back for my second session, I let the professional needle stabber know that I didn’t think it worked. A few days after my second session, I realized that I noticed not only was I sleeping through the night without a problem, but my blood sugar was starting to stabilize. I just finished my third session today and I admit, I am pretty excited to see my health on the “up and up.” To anyone out there that is thinking about getting this done, you should give it a try—and by a try I mean a few tries.

*definition of Gabillion- pretty much a made up word that means a hell ton

Adulting When Sick

             

                The other day I woke up not feeling quite myself--and by that I mean, I felt like a Gorilla had played wack-a-mole with a two-by-four on my body, mainly concentrating on my head. As I opened my eyes, I realized that despite being sick as a dog, I still needed to go to work so that I can afford my Trader Joe’s addiction and if you have been keeping up with my blogs you will know exactly how bad that addiction is. Groaning, I looked hatefully at the sunlight pouring through my windows, while silently cussing out God for making the sun so friggen bright.

The day went by slower than a slug race and every minute that passed by seemed like an endless eternity of my body finding different ways to express its disdain for me. The end of my shift couldn’t come fast enough and by the time that I left work waddling to my car like a pill popping zombie, a thunderstorm had come, so I had the delightful time of strolling through the pouring rain like some dramatic movie about someone’s bad day. After an endless amount of bumper to bumper traffic and a mastiff that wanted to take his ever loving time to take a shit, I finally crawled into bed and came to the conclusion that I was dying. I wasn’t sure what I was dying from, but between my lack of hunger, my body feeling like I was jumping between a frozen tundra and Satan’s asshole- due to running a fever, and my aching body, I was convinced that I was going to die.

After napping and having terrifying nightmares of Donald trump chasing me, I finally wake up to a missed call from my best friend, of which I hesitantly return the call of. (Apparently I am not very social when dying.) Picking up the phone she greeted me with the usual tone of sunshine and flowers exploding from her vocal chords, neither of which were appealing to my miserable ogre mind. Gruffly I expressed to her that I felt like death and after listening to my symptoms and lamentations, she cheerfully told me that I might have limes disease or the flu. Neither of those sounded appealing to me but both required rest so I took the remaining part of the day and watched cartoons and the Home and Garden channel.

This is where life take a crazy twist and one of the 500 reasons why I shouldn’t watch the Home and Garden channel. After watching around 3 episodes of flea market flip, I came to the realization that I too wanted to flip things and try to sell them. Though I don’t have much vision when it comes to refurbishing anything and my carpentry skills consist of watching someone saw and hammer for me, I have decided that life is all about experiences and this is an experience that I want to have. So today is the day that I become an amateur carpenter entrepreneur and as Effie Trinket said in The Hunger Games, “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Oh no...

The gym and I are pretty much mortal enemies and the one place that I dread as much as a Doctor’s office. There is something so unappealing to me about hard mats and workout gear that reminds me of a bad BDSM movie, while people sweat and grunt while lifting weights and staring at themselves in the mirror and getting small erections. But lately I have been realizing that my thighs are high-fiving each other a bit more than they normally do, so since I have been thinking about going to the gym that I joined 6 months ago, for the last six months, I have decided it was time to drop the procrastination and force myself into the torture chamber ruled by meat-heads.

                Today I got up in the early morning and got dressed for work. But just to make sure that I actually went through with going to the gym, instead of coming up with yet another pathetic excuse, I wore my work out clothes under my work clothes. Now let me explain to you by what I mean “work out” clothes. I dressed up in tight yoga pants, a spaghetti string shirt, and threw on a comfy bra, forgetting entirely that something called a sports bra exists.

After a long day at work, I banned myself from going home until I have at least spent an hour at the gym and arrived at the gym feeling kind of bad ass until I realized that my comfy bra was actually a push up bra and my shirt made my tits look like two muffins on display at a bakery. Considering that I was half asleep when I put on my workout clothes this morning before work, it didn’t come to a shock to me that I had accidentally made myself look like a twenty-something year old horny club girl without meaning to. So in order to regain a morsel of my dignity back, I tried to pull my shirt a bit higher over my “breasticals,” hoping that I in some way I can cover the fact that Victoria is no longer a Secret.

                Walking into the gym was a bit overwhelming and it was packed full of people that shot up steroids like a heroin addict shoots up their liquid version of “fun.” As expected they were grunting and grinding their teeth, while staring at themselves in the mirrors, switching from one torture device to the next and I am pretty sure that I had more fat on my butt cheek than all of their bodies combined.

After walking through a maze of clanking metal devices-- half of which look like they could throw out my back--I finally sighed in relief when I came across a treadmill. I began the treadmill at a steady walk listening to dubstep and trying to keep my steps with the beat of the music just to make things more entertaining.  Finally I took things to a steady jog and looked up, getting a glance of myself at the mirror. It was then that I realized my boobs were not only bouncing around like an exciting episode of Bay Watch, but they were bouncing to the beat of my music. This immediately caused me to start laughing hysterically which caused me to get a few dirty glances from my fellow “treadmillers.”

“Okay it’s time to call it quits on this sucker,” I thought as I began to notice that I was drawing some unwanted attention and climbed off of the treadmill, trying to come up with an idea of what to do next.

I began to roam around this twisted metal labyrinth, looking at the photos of little men with different sections of their muscles colored in red and even gained up the courage to try a few of these devices, only to realize that I looked more ridiculous than ever. After several failed attempts, pulled muscles, and the feeling of outright confusion, I realized that weights and metal are just not my thing.  

Not wanting to quit just yet, I walked over to an area where no one was at, in the corner, on some very uncomfortable fake grass and began to do some yoga stretching exercises. I figured that since my muscles were all warmed up, this was the time to do some stretches and I since I was in a corner coated in green plastic stabby thingies, that I could be left alone to work out in peace. Shortly after I began my stretching exercises I noticed that middle aged men began to gather around me and work out, glancing at me the way that seagulls look at food. I tried to ignore it and continued to stretch until I looked over and saw a bald man with his mouth gaping open, staring at me with serial killer eyes. Now I am not just saying that he was doing push-ups or whatever people do at a gym. I am saying he was just standing there, with his fly trap wide open, and eyes burning holes into my body. It was then that I began to think of Hannibal and immediately decided that my time at the gym was done for the day.

Shortly after I got home I threw off my shoes and gave my dog a bucket full of water, watching him greedily lap it down. A light knock occurred on my door and when I opened it was face to face with two police officers, one male in his 40’s and a woman with a scowl on her face so great it seemed as though I was looking right into her dead sex life. At first I thought that someone had been murdered in my apartment complex but when they began to ask me if I knew about the recent cemetery vandalism, I realized that the only dead people they were talking about, were the ones in my backyard.

For all of those that don’t know, yes, my back yard is a cemetery and no it is not as creepy as you would think that it would be. It’s actually a pretty nice place and has really old tombstones dating all the way back into the 1800’s.  

As these officers were asking me questions my 192 pound English mastiff walks up behind me and vomits water all over the kitchen floor. I am not talking about a little burp of water-vomit that can be cleaned up with a napkin. I am talking about the pacific fucking ocean version of a projectile vomit out of my dog’s mouth and rushing towards and over my feet like a freaking tsunami. Immediately the female officer’s eyes got incredibly large as she stared down in horror at this natural disaster on my kitchen floor. I of course, knew what was happening as soon as I heard the burping sound behind me, but it happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react. So I just acted like nothing happened, while standing in the vomit, before politely excusing myself so that I can disinfect everything like a plague just broke out on my floor. 

Societal Oppression

Society and media instills in our minds that if we are socially accepted then we will find happiness. Media tell us the rules to go by through the “latest trends” and then society is expected to follow these rules without protest or question. If we do not follow them, we are emotionally and verbally beaten until we do by the peers around us that blindly follow these rules. If you don’t believe me, look at the posts that you see online by women and men who choose to not follow the rules of society. In this alone, you will find people that have gone out of their way to degrade the person that they don’t even know, trying to convince them that because they are different, they are “less than” and putting it under the false label of constructive criticism.

                These rules were put in place by opinionated individuals in influential positions, then followed by the masses who at times will go out of their way to enforce these rules, even if that means causing emotional and even at times physical harm to an innocent person.

An example of a common “rule” set by society is the separation of clothing, according to gender. Women’s clothing is normally sexualized to society’s standards and cut in a certain way to better display the shape of her breasts, childbearing hips and back end. Patterns in female clothing are typically limited to what society claims is feminine which is usually flowers, butterflies, and containing shapes and designs that are softly curved or contoured to a shape simulating the curves of a female body, in addition to emphasizing on the preferred body shape that is currently in style. Occasionally you see shirts with memes containing quotes that are considered to be “cute” and containing witty comments or ones based on a pop band. Male clothing is cut looser and normally contains bold colors and shapes that are seen to be masculine. The memes that are found on shirts are either crude, alcohol based, about a rock band, sexually suggestive, humorously sarcastic, in addition to the typical cartoons which are normally based off of popular shows that are violent in nature. Male shorts tend to be longer while female shorts are sometimes cut so short that the bottom of our butt sticks out, like reverse cleavage.

                When it comes to gender, the view point of today’s society is so limited that if we see a female with a short haircut wearing the labeled “male” clothing, we automatically associate her physical appearance with her sexuality and we are shocked when they do not always correlate. If a male is seen in women’s clothing with long hair, he is automatically degraded and shamed beyond reason, to a cruel extent.  

Society tells us what is masculine and feminine and demands that we submit to them. They force everyone into these categorized boxes and demands that everyone must fit in these boxes with a smile on their face, even if that means denying themselves of expressing what they truly like. Though society parades the fantasy of individualism, unfortunately most people are too afraid of the back lash they will receive, whether large or small, for truly being themselves. So they unknowingly submit for the fear of being reprimanded.

One of the first steps to finding real happiness, is to strip away the fear of rejection and dive into your soul, figuring out who you truly are and what you truly like. Be true to yourself. Not to put a morbid twist on things, but we have a 100% mortality rate. Do you really want to be on your death bed and realize that you were never truly yourself? So if you want to dress up in a tutu wearing an umbrella on your head, do it. Fucking do it. In the end the most beautiful part of you isn’t what you show others, but who you truly are on the inside. If you are true to yourself and openly show that, you will become a beacon of light for others, inspiring them to do the same.