Why I’m Crazy

I know I'm not sane, but I try not to let it get me down.

I guess it's just one of those things that I have come to accept over the years.

Usually, I try not to talk too much in public, or around strangers, for fear of saying the wrong thing and coming across as 'odd'.

That's one of the reasons why I don't drink.

Last time I got REALLY drunk, I cornered some guy at a party and gave him a long lecture about his subconscious mind, and how he needed to think positive thoughts.

I kept telling him that he was beautiful, and that he just needed to love himself.

He told me that I was the nicest drunk girl he'd ever met.

Unfortunately, he also thought I was after him, when really I was just trying to give him some therapy.

Still to this day, every time I see him he gets this big grin, like, 'Yeah, drunk girl thinks I'm cute.'

Actually, drunk girl thinks you need better self esteem, thank you.

I've made myself look pretty stupid while I was drunk, and that's the truth.

I also have a slight fear of returning to see my dentist, since I made myself look pretty stupid there too, while I was high on nitrous oxide.

They just sent me a post card to tell me that I am now due for a tooth cleaning.

But I don't know if I want to go back there after what happened last time.

One of my old fillings had popped out and so I had made an emergency appointment to see the dentist.

When I got there, they were already slightly disgusted with me because I had exaggerated the condition of my tooth in order to get an emergency appointment.

I told the receptionist that I was pretty sure there was no tooth left, and that it was oozing green stuff.

In all actuality, all I had was a little hole in the side of my tooth, so the dental hygienist didn't seem to think I was as bad off as I thought I was.

I still needed a filling, but I panicked really badly when the dentist tried to give me the shot of novican that he seemed to think I needed for my tooth.

I told the dentist that instead of giving me a shot, I'd much rather just go it with no pain killer, or maybe I'd accept a little nitrous oxide.

The dentist told me that that was the 'man's way' of getting your teeth filled.

I told him that I didn't care about that, but there was no way I was getting a shot because shots hurt too bad.

So he gave me nitrous oxide. And I don't know what happened to me, but I had just finished reading, 'The Tao of Physics' so I felt inclined to ask the dentist questions about the nature of personal reality.

I asked him stuff like, "If everything was really is energy, where does the gas mask end, and my face began?"

The dentist said he didn't know.

Then, since I was high I think, I asked him if he ever thought about what thoughts were.

"Are thoughts energy?" I asked, "And if so, if they are, they must add to the collective energy of the world. Don't you think? And if so, clearly, thoughts help to shape your personal reality."

I was so high; it was like I was drunk.

The dentist asked me if I would be ok to drive home.

I told him I thought I would be, but that the nitrous oxide incident would remind me always of why I shouldn't drink.

I'm too weird sober. I don't need to drink. I just get really strange.

I Don’t like The Randomness of Life

Well, I just watched the most disturbing episode of 'Forensics Files' ever.

This guy named Bob got married to this evil woman whose name I can't remember.

After they had been married for two months, Bob made his new wife the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy in the event of his death.

The very next day, his wife began adding rat poison to Bob's tea.

The hair analysis that the scientists did on poor Bob's hair indicated that he had been slowly poisoned for over a year before he was finally made so ill that he had to go to the hospital.

There, in the hospital, his wife came to visit him, and while she stayed in his room, she added a large amount of rat poison to his soda, in order to finish him off.

Then, when they pulled the plug on Bob, his wife insisted on staying in the room in order to watch him die.

The most disturbing part of the whole show was the fact that this woman decided to kill her husband so soon.

She didn't even wait to see if she liked him, she just cut right to the chase and killed him at the very beginning.

I think two months is still the 'honeymoon' stage of being married, too.

The whole time, I just kept thinking to myself, "Why did this have to happen to Bob? Was it just bad luck? Or was there a point?"

Do you think there was a higher purpose, or a greater plan, that God had for Bob regarding the rat poisoning death? Or do you think it was just totally random and Bob just married the wrong person?

It's very frightening to think that Bob was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when he met his wife.

After I saw that disturbing show, I then watched another one where these people were trying to hire a hit man to kill their son.

Unfortunately, these people did not contact a real hit man, but rather, an undercover police officer.

Once again, I was reminded of the randomness of life.

How is it that some people can contact a real hit man, and then other people accidentally contact the police when they want to put the hit on someone?

Is life just totally random?

Is there a point to anything?

And is it safe for anyone to take a life insurance policy out on themselves?

I'm not just talking about married people, if you're married then a life insurance policy is obviously some sort of a death sentence, so I would never get one.

But is it safe to take a life insurance policy out on yourself at all?

I am beginning to think that you should never trust anyone with large sums of money in the event of your death.

I think when it comes to life insurance, anything more than what is needed to cover funeral costs is a really bad idea.

Life insurance really isn't the point though; it's the creepy randomness of life that is the real issue.

If you knew who the real hit man was, or if your wife would feed you poison, then you'd make better life choices.

You wouldn't take risks that would never work out for you if you knew how to make safe decisions.

If you knew, 100%, that if you married Betty or Sarah, or Dave, or Joe, that they wouldn't kill you at a later time, then it would be safer to get married.

If you knew where to go in order to find real help, real services, and real advice—and not just con artists and the cops, this world would be a much better place.

What Are You talking About?

I just read in Star Magazine, page 94, that the singer Lilly Allen has been banished from the United State because she lost her passport.

What are they talking about?

We don't "banish" people from the USA.

If she really wants to come into this country, all she has to so is fly into Mexico and then walk up.

That's what I'd do if they ever tried to banish me if I was a famous foreign person.

They've even got water stands all set up in the desert for people like her.

She could walk through the desert while MTV filmed her journey.

I'll bet it would be great publicity for her tour.

Then, once she gets here, all she has to do is nip on over to that state (I can't remember which state it is now) that's giving ID's and voters' registration cards out to illegal immigrants, and get herself all signed up as a resident.

Once she can vote, then they can't kick her out. There's no possible way.

Lily Allen can become the face for all the Illegal aliens in our country.

She's rich too, so I'll bet she could afford to run ads on TV devoted to her cause.

I mean, I really just don't understand how Lily Allen could possibly have been banished.

We have illegal aliens marching for their rights, and yet, they're not going to let a famous singer come into the country to go on tour because she 'lost' her passport?

You know what I really think about this issue, don't you?

I think whoever told this Lily Allen person that she couldn't go on tour here because of her passport issues just doesn't like her singing.

And you have to admit, to have the power to refuse to allow Lily Allen into the country because you don't like her, is just awesome.

If I had the power to banish famous people, and tell them that they are 'illegal' for whatever reason I made up, I'd do it.

I'd ban Madonna, that's for sure. I think she's pretensions. She's living in England now anyway, but I'd get her if she ever came back.

If Madonna ever tried to come back here, and I was in charge, I'd just rip her social security card right up in front of her and then just be like, "Too bad. I guess you aren't a citizen here anymore."

For all you Bush haters out there, I'll bet we could plant phony evidence claiming that Bush was actually born in Canada, and then get him deported as well.

It would be fun to watch him get deported on the news.

I'll bet he'd be madder than hell.

"I'm an American. My dad was the president!"

Then we could all just be like, "That's not what it says on your birth certificate, you cannuck."

Maybe we could get rid of Britney Spears the same way?

Why doesn't anyone ever think of these things but me?

There's quite a few 'actual' foreign celebrities I think we should kick out too.

'Posh Spice' from the Spice Girls, and her husband David Bekham, the soccer player, they need to be deported.

I think we should get rid of Russell Crowe too.

Man, I wish I was' Dictator For Life' of this country, there would some major changes around here, that's for sure.

The Saddest Movie Out there.

I just watched, 'Blow' which is the saddest movie I think I've ever seen.

In Blow, there's this drug lord, played by Johnny Depp, who just keeps getting screwed over.

First, he made a fortune selling marijuana, but then his horrible mother called the cops on him and had him sent to prison.

While in prison, this guy made friends with another convict, and they got the idea of selling the cocaine they got from Columbia in the States.

The movie is really sad because every time the main character turns around, somebody screws him over.

His fiancée dies, tragically, from cancer. That was really sad.

Then, after that, he marries this horrible Columbian woman, who just wants his money.

Then, his friend betrays him, and he gets cut out of the drug dealing loop.

And he started off looking like Johnny Depp, and quite attractive, until he was beaten by these Columbian drug lords, and then he just starts to look bad.

His nose got all twisted, and he got really fat.

That movie makes me cry every time I watch it.

There are only two movies I've ever seen that have made me cry.

One was 'Braveheart', when they killed William Wallace. And the other sad movie is 'Blow'.

I just get weepy every time I watch that damn movie.

Towards the end, this poor guy loses all the money he was keeping in a bank in Columbia, and then he gets busted by the Feds too, and has to go to prison.

When he finally gets out, he tries to make some money by doing only one more major drug business negotiation so that he can somehow get full custody of his daughter and then move way.

But instead of it working out for him, his friends just set him up and then sent him to prison for the rest of his life.

You know, I don't care if someone is a drug lord, if they are your friend, you can't screw them over like that just to save your own ass.

By the end of the movie, Johnny Depp looks like hell. All he wants, in the end, is for his daughter to visit him, but she won't do it.

You know, I'd go see my dad if he was in prison right now. Especially if all he went in for was being a drug dealer.

I'd go visit my dad no matter where he lived.

That movie just makes me so sad.

It's one of the most depressing movies out there, for sure.

Oops!

So I went to my step cousin's wedding reception, and while I was there, I made a giant error.

Not only did I accidentally knock several glass lids onto the floor (luckily they didn't break) I also forgot an important fact.

There is this lady who I know, who was married to her cousin at one time.

However, I forgot that important fact this afternoon.

So, I was sitting at the table, eating a burger and talking to this woman who seemed nice enough.

She informed me that she was the bride's great aunt.

I was like, "Well that's nice. Good for you. Blah, blah, blah, etc. . . etc."

Then, later, the lady in question and her new husband, informed me that the woman who I had been talking to is 'odd'.

She is rather off, they said.

Not nasty, but not all that nice.

Not sane, but not insane.

So I was just like, "Well, she seemed alright to me."

Then the lady in question leaned in and told me that woman was her ex husband's mother.

So I was just like, "What are you talking about? I thought she told me she was your aunt."

"She is." The lady said, and then looked away.

And I was just like, "Oh yeah, right, I forgot, your cousin is your ex. Moving right along. . . . "

I was just trying to keep who was who in check. You know, in order to determine who's the aunt, who's the grandma, and things like that.

But sometimes, it's important to remember that you can offend and make people feel mighty uncomfortable on accident doing things like that.

You have to remember the details. How people are related, and in what ways is no laughing matter sometimes.

I should keep an index card of all the things I need to remember so that I can have better manners in the future.

Your diaper is not a pocket

Nikki came over and tried to give me a piece of bread this afternoon.

I instinctively told, "No, thank you!"

She looked kind of hurt.

"Are you sure?" She asked me.

Feeling a little guilty, I accepted the bread, and with some misgivings, I ate it too.

However, there was a time when I learned the hard way not to accept food from little children.

When was Nikki was about two (She's four now) I was her 'eating buddy'.

Every time I'd come over to visit, she'd see me, squeal, and then run to the refrigerator to get a pudding.

Then she's find two spoons, and she and I would eat together, as best buddies.

This went on for quite some time, and I'd pretty much eat anything she brought me.

Until one day, when she had just turned three, she came over to me and said,

"Hi Barbie, would you like a cracker?"

"Of course I would," I said.

Then, she pulled a cracker from out of her diaper and handed it to me.

My mind flashed back to all the times I'd eaten things she'd handed to me without even thinking twice about it.

I stared at the cracker for a long while, before finally asking her what else she had stored in her diaper.

She proudly pulled out a necklace, half a bag of M&Ms, six peanut butter crackers, and a small doll.

Never again after that particular afternoon did I accept food from Nikki.

Sure, if she brings me a bag of chips, I will eat chips with her.

If I watch her open a bag of candy, I will eat the candy with her.

But never again will I blindly accept a cracker, or anything else for that matter, from a very small child.

I personally think too, that if your kid thinks their diaper is nothing but a large pocket for them to store things in, it's time to start thinking about potty training them.

And that's the truth.

Bad Drivers

Thinking about all the bad drivers in the world gets me to thinking about Margaret.
I was in the car once with Margaret when she hit a gas pump.

All these people came running out of the gas station, so Margaret just threw her car into reverse, and then got the Hell out of there.

We just went to a different gas station.

Margaret is a better driver now than she once was. She used to be so bad, we all thought she'd die driving, for sure.

Once, she was trying to back out of her driveway, and she accidentally hit her husband's truck.

She also kept leaving her glasses on the hood of her car, and then backing over them.

She went through four pairs of glasses because she kept running them over.

Once, she had so many points on her license for speeding and swerving around that she almost went to jail.

For a while, she had to go down and pay a speeding ticket fine at least once a month.

Whenever the cops pull her over, they always check to see if she is wearing shoes, because they have it written down somewhere that she drives barefoot.

The greatest thing about Margaret is that she gets in the car with me when I'm driving, and she bitches about how I brake the car, and what speed I'm going, etc. . . .

I don't complain when she's driving.

I just repeat my mantra, and try to go to my 'special place'—the garden of my mind.

Sometimes, I imagine that I am on a beach, drinking Iced Tea, and watching the waves roll in.

The best story about Margaret's driving, I think, is the time the cops pulled her over for drunk driving when she was sober.

I guess she was doing about 20 miles under the speed limit, and swerving from one lane to the next.

She claims that she was trying to drink hot tea in a travel cup, and that's why she was swerving so badly.

I guess the cops turned on their siren, but she just kept driving because she didn't think they were trying to pull her over.

They followed her for a long time, until another cop car came to block her. Then she pulled off to the side of the road.

The cop had her walk a straight line, and she passed because she wasn't drunk. Then he made her sing her ABC's, and touch her nose.

The cop became more and more upset because he was sure that she was drunk.

"How can you drive that badly sober?" The cop asked her, becoming irate.

He asked for permission to search her car, and went digging through her vehicle looking for drugs and alcohol.

When he found nothing, he got even more upset.

Margaret said he was screaming and his face was turning red.

She became afraid that he was going to plant drugs on her, just so he could arrest her for something.

The cops who had been called for back up told the other cop who wanted to arrest Margaret to let her go, and that she really was just a bad driver.

Margaret came to my house to tell me about this incident, stunned at what had happened.

"Do you really think they would have planted drugs on me, Barbie?" She asked me.

"If that's what it would take to get you off the roadways, I think so." I said.

She got mad at me for my lack of empathy, but really, some people should not be out driving.

There is no shame in taking public transportation.

If you drive that badly, save everyone some trouble and just take the bus.