Does Anybody Else Have Bleeding Nasal Lining?

It's like the 80's on Wall Street up in here.

Florida: capable of producing allergens so potent, that you don't even have to be allergic to them to suffer. You just have to breathe. I imagine whatever pollen is in the air right now probably looks like a morning star or razorwire under the microscope.

I also have a theory that some new pollen/fungus/mold this season is contributing to the sudden hike in GERD incidence.

Overstaying Your Welcome

I'm having a Steve Perry solo artist moment:

WELL I SHOULDA BEEN GONE
KNOWING HOW I MADE YA FEEL
YEAH I SHOULDA BEEN GONE
WHY ARE MY PANTS SO TIGHT?????

Or something like that.

I should have been out of this burg months ago. Months. At least. I could sketch a little tale about promises made and goals envisioned, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Everything has a shelf life and it's inconsiderate and unwise to test people's generosity. Even when they mean well, people can only give so much. And some of us can only take so much.

It's hard not having your own space. No matter how long you manage to sit still somewhere, it can still feel like Too Soon when you, inevitably, have to shove over. Everything feels negotiated, temporary, and doomed to end badly. You're a guest in your own life. It doth sucketh, verily.

I have no one to blame but myself. I'm not quite sure how it's been so many decades and I have jack shit to show for it. All around me, people who should be getting to relax and rake in the cash are unemployed and struggling. Some people are doing okay and that gives me hope. But if I'm being honest, I'm always waiting for the bottom to fall out.

For the record, because it probably doesn't seem like it, I hate having to ask anyone for anything. I hate having to be reliant on the kindness of others. I hate being a "problem" or a "concern." I hate not being able to help my friends and family. I hate being a drain. I hate having nothing but bad news. I hate not being independent. It eats away at some deep, vital part of me.

This is a less than stellar way to start the day. Now to go off to work. Yay.

For a person who has no life, I'm pretty worn out, y'all.

"Never ascribe to malice that which can be explained by incompetence." 145, 131

O Yaweh, give me the strength of this conviction. Because earlier today I had some communication and experienced the following reaction.

Oh, I shouldn't take things personally because I have nothing to do with this.

Oh, fokken L, I do have something to do with this shite. Fook.

At first I'm like:

Then I think:

 

Then I'm all:

And I get really:

But finally, I'm like:

Scores in the title.

A-Team Liveblogging: Asking The Hard Questions

Occasionally I wonder---do they know they're being ridiculous? Like, all the way? Sometimes I can't tell anymore, and that scares me.

• Okay, what is up with Dwight Schultz' ass in this program? He's a skinny dude, but he looks like his butt is screnched into a one-size-too-small pant. There are trouser creases, man, trouser creases. Them hip pockets flare, is what I'm saying. I've checked out all the other asses, thinking maybe I was subconsciously using Dirk Benedict's ass as a standard for the whole team. But nope, Peppard's ass has looked fine in several types of pants---and he's def carrying extra weight. I don't look at Mr. T's ass because he will beat me up, but I am sure it is beautiful.
• Seriously, I'm on my second bullet now and I'm still talking about Dwight Schultz' ass. And I would just like to take a moment and apologize, Mr. Schultz, if by some absolutely horrible act of serendipity you come across this rambling. I'm not trying to disrespect you. I'm honestly concerned that your...part is not getting fair representation. You probably won't believe that I say that in earnest.
• Anyways, so what the hell? Is Murdock being done in by a mean wardrobe department? Are Murdock's too small pants for comedic effect? I know it's the 80s and a lot of shit was just sucky looking, but Hannibal and Face be representing. What gives?
• Are those pleated front trousers? What's up with that back pocket? FOR CHRIST'S SAKE WON'T SOMEONE HELP THAT MAN?

A little later and calmer:

• Wow. Face and Murdock just symbolically joined the Mile High Club. No, seriously. 
• BA aint even skeered on this plane! Anymore.
• Is this bad guy the good dad-husband from Hellraiser?
• Does Murdock always talk about old movies?
• Poor BA. Murdock is blind and Hannibal is helping to fly. It really is his worst nightmare.
• OH SNAP! The FTA will send your (accurately respresented as completely incapable of being talked down to a safe landing) ass into the ocean!
• Wait a minute, why isn't Hannibal just being Murdock's eyes and letting Murdock's muscle memory do the work?
• Omg...they are not even trying. That's the stock footage from Airplane!
• Waitaminute, is this Season 1 Finale car chase cobbled together from all the chases before? Are they serious?
• First Vietnam flashback! Stooooooooock fooooootaaaaaaaage.
• Dirk Benedict en beret looks more like Sharlto than BCoop. Strange. Also, Dirk probably shouldn't narrate anything again.
• OH SHIT THOSE FUCKERS JUST WRECKED THE VAN!!! WTF????
• "Just because he's gone, that don't mean that we don't owe him." Preach it, T. Hey, is this an example of a double negative actually meaning what it means to mean?
• And we finish out S1with a somber look at what Joanna Kerns did before she became Mrs. Keaton.

Serenity Now!

Grant me the ability to be an independent bubble, whose climate and attitude are reliant on only internal intention and feeling.

Neither a sponge nor a mirror shall I be, absorbing and reflecting, but instead impervious to the influences of xeno-forces, allowing in only that which nourishes and supports me.

Grant me the strength to be aloof, so I might be kind; the ability to be self contained, so I might be healthy;  and the wisdom to withdraw, that I may stay free.

Keep my composure when I am exasperated, hold my tongue when I am angry, stay my hand when I am threatened.

Allow me the boon of self acceptance, trust in my intentions, and awareness of my convictions, that I may exercise my self-hood trusting that I do the best I can and am always ready to do better--and that should be enough.

ps

Same As It Ever Was

Woke up at 6:30 am. Watched dust motes in the sunlight filtering through the blinds. That's something I haven't observed in a long time. So beautiful, they seem like the secret shiny parts of sunlight, the hidden gold that sparkles and with which one might gild themselves.

I toss around the terms Zen, acceptance, letting it go, et cetera, a bit. Those are things I usually have to work towards. But every once in a while it just happens. Sometimes at the best time possible.

I have a friend and things got a little rocky for a bit and really devolved in a 24 hour period. Oh, email, how you let people hide. I was pretty worked up and desperately trying to calm down about the whole thing, when I received two more messages from the friend. One was very sweet and personal. The other was a blatant slap in the face and offended some of my most steadfast sensibilities.

In the moment of reading that email, I had a split second of clear choice: I could either react to this email and possibly end a friendship, or I could suck it up and maintain the friendship.

For once, it was a no brainer. Despite my profound offense, I chose to let it go. Just like that. It's like my brain did a flash computation and delivered unto me this summation: Fuck that, man--not worth it.

There is hurt and anger there, but I'm not going to pursue it. People are capable of all kinds of fucked up shit, especially given the right leverage, and expecting to be sacrosanct is inviting heartache.

It was only yesterday that I realized this marks the anniversary of my maiden No Fucks Given tour. Which is fabulous, because being in love means never having to give a fuck.

Wheeeeeee!

Liveblogging the A-Team Marathon, Pt. 2

Well, we're still in season one. Let's see what the guys are up to.

• Hannibal calls his big gun "Baby."
• Face is dressed as a priest. He manages to look even sleazier in a collar. Amazing.
• BA just put together a two man motorized glider with duct tape.
• Guys, I'm still messed up from that episode with Hannibal in blackface. Daaafuuuuq?
• Hillbillies like to set people on fire. Why? I don't think they ever explained the motivation for this one.
• Murdock is singing German....opera?
• "It all depends on. . . . how ripe the melons are." That's not even an innuendo.
• Awww, Face understands all about Murdock's imaginary dog, Billy, and the profound psychological need it fulfills for him. They are BFFs. Also, PTSD is hi-larious.
• Hannibal loves taking off his costumes. In front of people. Hmm.
• What the hell is this?

Homegirl's new car is fuuuuuuuugly.

• Oh, thank god. Makeover.

Modified cow-catcher makes all the difference.

• Hannibal is in drag. On a motorcylce. Face is riding bitch. They just jumped over a car. George Peppard is one facially disadvantaged woman.
• Ha ha! Drink your milk, Mr. T!
• They just threw an unconscious BA out of a plane wearing a parachute. BA needs new friends.
• "Look Hannibal! Are those empty gas cans next to that ammo dump?" Deus ex incompeta. 

Well, I've made my roomie endure enough. Next time, Face pretends to be a bridegroom. That may be even less convincing that the priest.