humor – She Has Intuitive Thoughts

A while back, I saw some silly meme on the interwebz that said if you put “and shit” at the end of almost anything, it sounds gangsta:

“I’m rollin’ a blunt and shit”

“I’ll pop a cap in yo mama and shit”

or in my world:

“I’ve got a cold and shit”

“I”m bringing your pan back over and shit”

“Pass that gravy and shit”

So today, I’m here to discuss Thanksgiving, Christmas…and shit.

I’ve always been a big fan of this holiday. From my childhood memories of (very few functional) Thanksgivings – to being the contributor or the master chef of my own festivities – I love the idea of a house full of people, kids playing, the smells of butter, onions, celery, turkey, pie, etc., the soothing sounds of football on in the background, a warm fire…. that feeling of togetherness and love…..and shit.

As I’m currently in a serious relationship with a therapist – I really didn’t think much about his schedule this week, seeing that my own was pretty much a clean slate with little work involved. His, on the other hand, has been back to back appointments daily – going as late as 7 or 8 o’clock in the evenings. Ah… yes… family time. How could I fail to see how many people would require a good dose of therapy the week of spending “quality time” with their family?! I may not see my own during the holidays, but I can guarantee you that if I did – my once a month would turn into once a week… and shit.

Personally, I don’t have much family to speak of. Not in the way of holidays, anyway. Yes, there are many of them scattered across the country (primarily in the south), but few with which I have spent holiday time with on any level at all. This may sound a bit sad to some of you – but having been single for the better part of 8 years – it has made me very marketable in that no one has to put up with any crazy bullshit except from their own families.

Family and shit = therapy and shit.

I’m SO pro-therapy. If you find the right one, it can make all the difference in the world. I know people who have attempted to go with no result. They poo-poo the idea of therapy because it didn’t work for them. Therapists don’t come in a one-size-fits-all box. You’ve got to find your person – the one that you can be yourself, fully and completely. That being said, if any of you goes to therapy or have gone, and have not been COMPLETELY honest with your therapist or yourself – just save your money. You’re not doing anyone any favors here. Just pony back up to the bar, order a shot and forget about it for a while. Cheaper and much more fun that being honest with yourself or a stranger…. and shit.

Thanksgiving and Christmas…. two of what are considered to be the most joyous times of the year here in the USA – are far from it in many cases. What is the happiest time for many, turns out to be the most depressing season of all for the rest. I have an analogy I like to use when discussing people in general, that I like to call “Highland Park Christmas”. If you are unfamiliar, this is a very upscale, FABULOUS, and wealthy part of Dallas, Texas. Jerry Jones lives there…. need I say more? Anyway, each year my kids and I go down there to ogle the lights, the multi-million dollar homes, the clip-clopping of the horse-drawn carriages. It’s easy to look at these stunning residences whose carport Christmas trees are bigger and more expensive than all the trees I have ever had put together, with the window coverings to their homes opened and welcoming, the occasional human seen walking around inside…. and think to ourselves “Wow! I could live like that!”. So beautiful and welcoming on the outside for the whole world to see!

BUT…..

The dad has a mistress in all the states/countries he travels to for work, the youngest kid is a cutter, the oldest one a confused, possible transgender, who sells molly on the side, and the mom is doing Jesus – the pool boy, not the prophet. Sure does look pretty on the outside. A complete and utter shit-show on the inside.

What I’m trying to say here folks, is that what you see isn’t always what you get. Embrace YOUR shit. Don’t let the Norman Rockwell depiction of what this time of year is supposed to look like, cloud what your soul wants and needs, based on the outer misconceptions of what is really going on….. a shit show…and shit. Spend it with your grandma, enjoy dinner with friends instead of crazy family, go feed hungry people, sit on your couch alone and binge watch Netflix while eating a Marie Callendar’s turkey pot pie, go buy a molly from that kid in Highland Park and forget about it all together – I really don’t care what you do! Just enjoy your Thanksgiving, Christmas and or therapy… and shit. Your way.

I never thought I’d be like my grandmother. I used to get SO pissed back in the 80’s when she couldn’t figure out how to operate “call waiting”. I had important shit to do, places to be, parties to go to. She was stifling me. I was never going to NOT be able to flow with technology. I mean, how simple is/was that? It beeps, you switch lines and answer, and then make a swift determination on who is the most important person of the two. That being said, I now have to call my 14 year old downstairs (and out of his cave) on a semi-regular basis to figure out what’s going on with my phone. There you have it. I can’t imagine how she’d have possibly existed in this day and age – cell phones, automated answering systems, no humans to talk to…. ETERNAL HOLD.

As I type, I have been on hold with American Home Shield, waiting for some dingus to actually answer the phone and address my questions. About 3 of those minutes were talking to the pleasant sounding automated lady asking me what my problem was so she could direct me to the right place. Here’s the issue with that “right place” – it’s never the right place! It’s some bozo reading a script that typically has no knowledge of what the hell you are talking about. They probably can’t even solve your problem – and in most cases, they can rarely speak English these days.

indian phone

There’s something to be said about how nice I am that I don’t yell at these people. They hate their jobs worse than I hate them having their jobs. It’s not their fault they had to resort to this level of self loathing just for rent and beer money. Who am I to tell them that by simply being an innocent bystander (or loathsome employee) has ruined my day, my life, my schedule, etc. This is an immense level of self-restraint on my end, friends. I am indeed softening in my old age.

You know what my grandmother would’ve done? I’ll tell you what – she would’ve yelled “GO TO HELL” and then slammed the phone down. We can’t even get that kind of physical satisfaction now. How hard can you mash the “end call” key to be satisfied? Not nearly hard enough…

So here’s my advice: put in headphones/on speaker, stick you phone in your pocket, purse, etc. and keep moving. Find some shit to do. Multi-task. Be productive. LIVE DAMNIT, LIVE! This is the ONLY way to sanity in this particular realm – trust me. Because you will hold… possibly forever… or at least until it’s time to color your roots again. And when they DO answer, they can’t help you – not fully anyway. But you can still feel good about yourself after having wasted those precious minutes/hours, because you… YOU did something (else) in the interim & the day is not wasted.

….. and remember, you can always give yourself the simple, old-fashioned satisfaction of just telling them to GO TO HELL.

Ciao ~

AshGenX