did you catch it?

i got all choked up, did you notice?  it was horrible, a sudden out of nowhere wave of sadness, even i didn’t see it coming…you said something all too familiar that i hear all the time and then, ack, it knocked the wind out of me on this one occasion.  i tried to cover it up, though, so you wouldn’t catch it…but once we weren’t talking anymore, i admit it took me almost an hour to pull my shit together.  geez.

you’re a gossip mongering bunch of tattletales

you know who you are. 

if he’s your friend, you’ll mind your own damn business and stop trying to stir the pot.  that’s cruel.  it’s mean.  if you had any idea how much it upsets him, you wouldn’t even bring it up, you wouldn’t go out of your way to discuss it.   or maybe you do know how much it upsets him, in which case, deliberately upsetting him is hateful.

there’s no kindness or gift in being a gossip; you’re not doing him any favors.  seeking out things to tattle is heartless; stop kicking a man when he’s down.  you’re upsetting him and that is just truly uncalled for if you are his friend.  mind your own fucking business, really.

Arg.

I have this ongoing conflict with Mr. Kat 2.0 about his dog (his dog before we were ever married, not a pet we got together), and I guess I just have to suck it up and accept that this is my dog now.

One of the 9012 reasons Mr. Kat 2.0 and I are not together would be that he is not responsible for anything…even if it actually is his responsibility, he will play the victim and lay on the “oh, I guess it’s just one more reason for you to hate me, one more thing I can’t do right.”  Arg.  Whoever you are in my life whether you are friends, family, coworkers, soccer teammates, whatever: take responsibility for yourself, your choices and your actions and you earn my respect, even if I don’t agree with your choices—at least own them and own the fallout that comes with them.  Playing victim makes me wanna puke on you.

When Mr. Kat 2.0 and I parted ways, he moved in with a buddy of his and he couldn’t take his dog right away.  I was understanding of that situation, knowing he needed time to get some funds together and come up with a plan of action, so I kept the dog for him.  He did not pay for dog food or anything else for his pet during this time.  When Mr. Kat 2.0 finally moved into a place of his own after more than a year of being shacked up with his pal, I approached him about taking the dog.  He blew it off with oh not right now, haven’t even got my stuff unpacked, etc.  Ok, still I was understanding, gave him more time.  Asked him again, and again… Stopped asking, started telling him to come get his dog.  When it comes right down to me being ready to drop the dog off on his porch and drive away, I find out he’s living somewhere where he’s not even allowed to have a pet.  He chose to move somewhere that has a no pets policy.  Lovely, lovely fellow, that Mr. Kat 2.0, so responsible!

Called Mr. Kat 2.0 this evening and asked what he was going to do about his living arrangements and his dog.  He starts in on the “oh, well I’m not there anymore to take care of him, wish I was there to help” passive aggressive victim shit that makes me want to scream.  I point out that he deliberately selected a place to live where he couldn’t have his dog, so he should either move or find a family member to take his dog.  His reply is the usual “I guess I can never do anything right, you just find more reasons to hate me, I can never fix this” yadda yadda.  My reply (at a volume so loud that a phone probably wasn’t even necessary at this point) was something to the effect of if he wanted to do something right, he could take responsibility for something as small as his dog, take the full responsibility and burden of that one situation and if he did something like that, then maybe for one second I could stifle the urge to kick his testicles into his tonsils.  This was met with more helpless victim yammering, so I hung up on him.

Arg. Arg. Arg.  I am mad at myself, because I knew before I even picked up the phone that he wasn’t going to be an adult…if he were an adult, he would’ve already driven over here and picked up his dog months ago or at the very least, offered to pay for the dog’s food.  So mostly right this second, I’m frustrated with myself for thinking that someone who always behaves the same (the helpless victim when not busy being the badgering complaining fight picking bully) is going to behave any differently today.  What the hell was I thinking?

I guess I was thinking that I’m tired.  I’m tired.  I’ve wrangled kids, worked all afternoon and the frustration of that senile little old dog trying to bite me for the 745th time today when I’m just trying to put him on a leash for a walk to keep him from pissing in my house again pushed me right over the edge.  And being so damn tired to the bone, I just wanted some help with a problem that shouldn’t even be mine to manage in the first place, so I foolishly called Mr. Kat 2.0 looking for that help and here I am now, even more tired to the core than I was before I called him.  He’s not going to help.  Ever.  Doesn’t matter that the dog was his before we were married.  He left the dog, he won’t take the dog.  I have to accept that the dog is mine now because I won’t send it to the shelter, won’t give it away to some random stranger in the newspaper—–Mr. Kat 2.0 in this instance is certainly taking advantage of my kind heartedness toward animals, and that, too, makes me angry, that he knows I just can’t make the dog disappear, I can’t do that, he’s managing to still use and manipulate me and that pisses me off.  Arg.  Mr. Kat 2.0 is not going to step up and be a man, be a grown up, take responsibility because that’s not who he is.  I can’t expect people to be who they aren’t.

SMACK IT!

So I had a little more work done recently on one of my tattoos, and I’ll try to blog more about that soon.  Post-ink, there’s about 2 weeks of healing where you can’t swim or soak in water (omg, no bubble baths, no wonder I’ve been cranky) and somewhere in that span of time as the area heals, it will get itchy.   Crazy itchy.  A million ants crawling all over me itchy.  Today, I itch horribly.

You can’t scratch your new tat, don’t want to accidentally make it bleed or anything like that that would pull out the color.  Can’t put any kind of anti-itch ointment on there that might react in a crazy way with the ink. 

When it itches, you can smack it.  Slap it.  Smack smack smack it.

I’ve been smacking myself so much today I look like I’m having a seizure, some sort of psychotic episode…but gawd, it feels so good!

I passed

Thanks for rooting me on, I was super uncertain of my footing on this exam…but I passed!  I can wallow in the glory for just a couple more days before I have to move on to the next class…but a couple days of no studying feels pretty decadent so far.

Send me healthy thoughts

It’s that magical time of year where my asthma and allergies combine to keep me teetering precariously on the edge of wellness and sickness.  I’m teetering today, and I’m trying hard to push up and over into the land of wellness.  I’ve got my Emergen-C, water, echinacea, OJ, zinc.  Send me healthy thoughts, because with the timing of some other stuff, I really really really gotta be on my toes.