The Touch of Rust

I don’t have much today pretty people. As you know the weekend sucked, thanks to yours truly. I thank you all for your comments. You guys rock!

Also, Friday morning, my computer at work decided to evidentially get the virus from the pits of hell, and blew the fuck up.

It’s less than a year old, but I must have the power to kill things. You know computers, feelings, etc.

Anyhoo, I can post from home, but I cannot log on to comment to anyone at work, just read. I have to wait until I get home to respond to anyone, so don’t think I’m ignoring you.

The computer I’m using has password protect bullshit on it. Who the fuck does that? Oh, you computer savvy people do? Well, La De Da.

So I thank you all, and hope to get back to the funny, instead of the fucked up real soon.

Zooooves!!

Preemptive Strike

Have you ever loved someone so much, that you keep pushing them away because you’re scared?

Well I have, and I continue to do so.

I met my soul mate eleven years ago. I didn’t know you could actually have one of those.

Yet I, being an asshole, shut him out.

Why? Good question.

I do it because I’m afraid of being hurt. Strike first, apologize later.

The apologies aren’t working anymore. And well, they shouldn’t.

You can only say you’re sorry to someone who loves you so many times before it becomes ineffective…a bad salve if you will.

I need to open my heart more, instead of shutting if off. Yes, I am afraid, always have been, but I am the one who said I love you first. I have to live up to my game.

I love you Matt.

I know you are skeptical. You have every right to be.

Know this, I will never have to say I’m sorry again. Unless I fuck up your fantasy football thingy while trying to “help” you.

Zoooooves!!

With Friends Like These...

I have two “friends” that make fun of me all the time. They say they aren’t, that it’s all fun, that they love me, and all that disingenuous, craptastic bullshit.

I mean, with friends like these, you don’t need enemies.

Everyone knows them. They’re famous. One lives with me, and one lives in this box they call a computer.

That’s right, my two “friends” are Matt-Man, and Jayman from the I’m With Stupid radio show, and blog.

I should be used to being abused like this. I’ve never been what you’d call bright. I got picked on a lot. Especially when I got boobs in the 4th grade. By boobs, I don’t mean that I needed a training bra. I was 10 and needed a BRA.

Hell, my oldest brother would always tell me growing up that I was adopted. He sometimes still does. Or better yet, tells me I’m the milk man’s daughter.  My own sainted Mother would sometimes play along with it too. Or was she playing?

My brother David used to have neighborhood kids pay a quarter when I was a baby because I was a large baby, and my arms, and legs looked like twisted circus balloons. No joke.

Where the hell were my parents?

Who am I kidding. Dad was at work or at the bar, and since I was the sixth kid, Mom didn’t give two hoots. Joke people, I was her favorite, but obviously not at this time!

Sorry, I got off on a tangent....A tangent of pain. Where was I?

Oh yeah, my so called friends.

I don’t have many friends, so I just assumed the ones I did have liked me for me, quirkiness and all. I guess I was mistaken, and I am once again a small child reliving all the taunts, and being a pox on society.

I really don’t understand. I think they are the funniest, most talented, good looking guys out there in blog/radio land.

Ah well, back to hiding in the shadows of my severe mediocrity. Sigh.

Laugh clown, laugh.

Just kidding! These guys are assholes!

PS: I was totally not kidding about the family/childhood thing.

Zoooooves!!

I Got Nothing But Drivel

I went back thru an old journal this week. Have you ever done that? 

Seriously, what drivel. I mean...the angst, the stupid, the…in my case, idiocy.

Was this journal from my teen years? No, my thirties. Mid to late thirties.

I read this stuff, and thought, what are you fifteen? Hell, I think fifteen was easier. Outside of the eighties hair, and the peg leg jeans. What? You had them. Unless you’re younger than me, and in that case, suck it!

Excerpt…

“I was thinking today would be a good day, but I was wrong. What is wrong with my life? Why do I let things affect me so?”

For real?

I’d rather read the teenage years. Now that was angst! That was drama!

For God’s sake, I’m an adult, I have bills, I have love, I have an apartment to clean.

I want your stories. Why? So I don’t feel anymore stupid than I already do.

Give them up.

Zooooves!!

Take This Job and Shove It, but Let Me Keep It

Have you ever been so motherfucking angry, that you wanted to walk away from a job you so desperately need to pay your bills?

That was me Tuesday. Oh, and Monday.

I normally keep everything in. One, because I’m used to the situation, and my boss. Two, because I have to have this job. In this economy I’d be hard pressed to find another one, especially at my age.

Three…I’ve been here for ten years.

This is all kinds of fucked up.

It’s not like I make a fortune. Hell, I haven’t had a raise in nine years, but the man helped me out a lot when I got in trouble with money, but…

I should know by now that he just he just cares about himself.

You think I’m kidding about finding his shit? You would be wrong.

I’ve been in Administration for over 25 years. I know what I’m doing. Why must he question every step? Why do I let him make me so mad?

Truth be told, who do I let him make my cry? I’m not a crier people. Old fucking Yeller doesn’t make me cry, but damn. So frustrating.

I know he does this every once in a while, you know like once a month. Huh, now, that I think about it…he has PMS! No he doesn’t.

He’s turning 67 on Thursday, he wants total control, even though he says he wants to turn shit over. 

I guess this time…he just got to me.

I just wanted to say, “Look, I’m going home now. Let’s see how you fair by yourself for the rest of the day.”

My home phone would be ringing off the hook. The man just does not realize what the fuck I do for him.

He did tell me today that when he dies, he wants to be in the casket with his cell phone, so he can bother me! I didn’t laugh.

This is why I drink. Well, no, no it’s not, but you get my drift, right?

Well, I feel better now. Fuck this shit, right? Right!?

I’m good.

Zooooves!!

Hot Damn, I Feel Lucky Tonight!!

I’m very, very anal about money ever since I had to file bankruptcy last year.  Who knew all those fuckers wanted paid.  Idiots.  Any type of spend-a-thon would never be in the cards for me, unless…

(Cue the dream sequence music...)

I’m sitting at my desk here at work and find out that I just won the Lottery!!

I could tear down the wall between our apartment, and the two bedroom next door.  We’d get one huge ass place that I could remodel to my specifications.  OCD much?  Why yes.  

Sorry Matt, posters of naked woman do not count as décor.  Oh, ok, you can have Michele Bachmann.

Also, we’d get rid of the crazy eyed, talk to myself chick, and her lazy, full grown, asshole son.  Twofer, and SCORE!!

I would have separate bank accounts for everything.  Home, taxes, family, me and Matt-Man.  I’d even have a lawyer.  But no accountant…

They’re shifty.  Also when they start talking about numbers, my eyes glaze over.

I’d buy my Honda CRV, but it wouldn’t have to be new.  Oh, who the fuck am I kidding.  Mama needs heated seats, and a remote starter!

We could actually have a full size fridge, and stove.  That, you know, are LEVEL.  Whoo, that would be a perk in itself.

Wouldn’t it be great to go to the grocery, or any store for that matter, and not have to check all prices?  Or robbing Peter to pay Paul?  That is stressful.

I won’t go into all the details of everything I would do to a new place.  It would be tedious to anyone but me.

What would you do if you suddenly found yourself with a large sum of money?

Zooooves!!

Our House

Living in a box.

I, for one, like apartment living. You might even say, I love it.

Many years ago, I had a house. Um…well it wasn’t mine, as I was told many, many times, but a house it was.

I took care of everything. From the lawn, trash, dog poop pickup, and the house maintenance. Oh, and I painted the inside, and the outside. Who’s stupid? This girl.

Anyhoodle, I got out of that situation many years later, in a most hasty fashion.

Since then, I’ve had an apartment in a “secure” building on the other side of town.

I love it here. If something breaks, I call the apartment manager. If I need service of any kind, I call the apartment manager. Hell, if I want to chat, I call the apartment manager! She is fantastic.

No lawn to take care of, no painting the outside of the building, not six cans of trash full of beer bottles at the curb every week. I used to hide from the trash man.

Now I drink cans;)

Personally, I don’t see any reason to own a home. I don’t have kids. I’m completely estranged from most of my family. What happens when I die? Who would take care of the estate? No one.

I certainly wouldn’t burden Matt-Man with something like that. Nor would he burden me. I do wish I had a lawn for him to putter in, as he loves it so, but I don’t.

I would really like to have a two bedroom place one day. I’d like to have a space for an office, or a studio if you will. A spot for all the equipment we’d one day like to have. 

Oh, and a futon. I’ve always wanted a futon. I think I just like to say futon.

It’s nice here (don’t look in the closets). It’s not completely scrubbed, but it’s clean, and neat. Matt-Man likes it here. We are comfortable, and happy.

It may be small, and not “ours”, but it’s home.

That is what matters. Home.

Zoooooves!!

Sometimes, I Suck

Freak Show Part Uno...

One thing I have learned over my lifetime…never trust a fart, and never, ever...diss a friend.

I had a BFF in high school…Yes believe it or not, Beth had a friend.

She died last week.

Her 45^th birthday would have been on August 27^th.

I haven’t seen her in 25 years. We had no contact, and yet, she stayed with me.

Did I go to her viewing? No. Could I have? Yes, it was right up the street from me.

Matt-Man went to school with her cousins. 

He’s older than me by one year, which puts him in the realm of the elderly. Shhhh…he doesn’t know. (his AARP card came in the mail, I’m not telling him).

I’ve had a new BFF for the past 11 years. Last night, I hurt him terribly. Did I mean it? No. I suck. Does that make everything better? No.

I can’t erase what I said, nor can I erase the tears that he cried.  Few people can do that, but evidently...

I have the power to hurt; I did not know I could.

This will be short, as I really don’t give a fuck about typing this, but…learn a life lesson from me.

Don’t fuck the person who loves you unconditionally, or you might just end up screwed.

No Zoooooves today…

I Am One Hot Mess

I suffer from depression, and anxiety. I have for many years.

The last few years, I’ve been able to maintain, but some days, I’m holding on by a thread.

I remember it all started when I was 25 years old. I was sitting in the break room at work having a hard boiled egg for breakfast.

All of a sudden, the room started to spin, and everyone sounded like they were talking from inside a tunnel. Then…I choked. Then came the heart palpitations, sweating, and chest pain.

Needless to say, I freaked the fuck out. I thought I was having a heart attack, or a stroke. So I did what any sane person would do. I called my Mommy. I also went straight to the ER. After I picked up my Mommy.

They drew blood, and all that happy shit, and the doctor told me that my veins were swelling. My reaction? “I’m dying, right?” His reply, “No moron, you’re having a panic attack.”

Oh well, is that all? When he said “a” panic attack, and I’m “not” dying, which of course, was all I heard, I thought whew, glad that’s over. Who loves their run on sentences?

I was stupid. No, they just kept coming. No rhyme or reason. It got to the point where driving was becoming a little hazardous. Right turns made me dizzy.

If I had to wait too long at a traffic light, I had to pull over in the nearest parking lot, and wait for it to pass so I could go on.

This is thru town people, I don’t travel the interstate. That would’ve have been fucking hilarious!

Swallowing became difficult, unless…get this, I was standing and no one was watching me eat or drink.

I could not eat in restaurants, or with co-workers, friends, MY MOTHER, anyone. She used to have me come to her house, and she’d fix me soup.

Sorry I worried you so much Mom. We won’t discuss my 3:00 am drunk shit, ok Mom? Mommy? God I miss that woman.

Anyhoo, it got pretty bad for several years. Then I left an abusive relationship, and things got better. Attacks are few and far between now, and have been for years. I still get them, but not like it was.

Fuck! I think I just jinxed myself. Shit.

Depression still grips me, but my bouts with it are not everyday like it used to be. I do still sleep a lot, but I always did do that. It’s a hobby.

I know I could have gotten meds for this long ago, but I was more afraid of them, than the attacks. Oh, and a side effect? I can’t swallow pills anyway.

I can eat in restaurants again, but it’s still hard. I can eat in front of people sitting down, but it’s hard. Sometimes, I freak out in crowds. Driving is much better, but still no interstate.

I know this is long, but I just wanted to tell my story, so that you out there that have this problem, won’t feel so alone.

I think next up, will be my obsessive, and control tendencies.

People…I’m a total freak show, and you’re all invited.

Zoooooves!!

Love, Loyalty, and Friendship

You came into my life, when I so desperately needed a friend.

You didn’t know it at the time, but you gave me strength to go on when I was uncertain if I could.

We had both been beaten down so badly; it’s a wonder we survived.

The world is cruel, and sometimes unforgiving.

You’ve made me believe in myself, and I hope I’ve done the same for you.

No judgments, no regrets.

Times have been hard, and they have at times, been lean. 

We’ve made mistakes along the way, but always, always the good outweighing the bad.

Life is a journey my friend…you taught me that. I hope to spend the rest of this journey together…you and I.

One day, all of our dreams will come true. You’ve made me believe in that.

For now, let us revel in the dream that we have created thus far.

My love, my best friend...

I love you.

And to you all...

Zoooooves!!

When Hell Freezes Over

It was cold. It was nighttime…It was February, and the roads and sidewalks sparkled ironically with inches of icy death when I got the call.

I lived alone at the time, and a call at 11 PM was totally unheard of. I wasn’t expecting a call, even though the circumstances of the times tempted one. Just…not…this way.

He was getting nasty in his old age, or as some would say, nastier. I blame some of that on the afflictions that were taking away his quality of life.

Sure…He had brought most of it upon himself over the years, but it still sucked.

At this time in his life, he couldn’t really do anything for himself, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for Mom to care for not only him, but her elderly mother as well.

We all tried to help. Most of the time when we did, he would simply yell at us. It seemed to him, that we were sucking up all his air. 

I realized it was mainly the pain and helplessness doing the yelling, but it still hurt.

He was getting sicker by the day…by the hour…by the minute, but…

That never stopped him from playing with his fishing rods. It didn’t prevent him from watching fishing shows on TV (God, how I LOATHE fishing), nor did it prevent him from asking me for a sip of my beer.

“Don’t tell your Mother.", he'd say.

I‘d give him a sip, and never tell, for at this point there was no harm in it. He never asked me for a cigarette (in his case, Camel non-filter), but had he done so, I probably would have given that to him as well.

Anyway…

On the night I mentioned earlier, I had come home earlier than usual from my then boyfriend’s house. I use that term loosely, by the way. God, he was a dick. With him, the red flags were everywhere, but I was young and dumb, and stayed with him for 13 years…but…I digress.

I had gone home early because as I said, it was getting really bad out. I arrived home, and fell into a coma like sleep, and then…

Like a banshee screaming in the night, the phone rang. It was my oldest brother, and he spoke…

“Hey Bethy, this is your brother. Don’t go outside, it’s really bad, but…”

In a quasi-slumbering haze, I interjected…

“Why are you calling so late?" and he replied....

“Your father is dead.”

I sat in silence. I sat stunned. And twenty-three years later, I remember the breathlessness and the vacuum of the pause, and the exact words that followed from my brother…

“Beth, he shot himself.”

And just like that, his suffering was over.

Think I’ll have a beer and a smoke now.

Zoooooves…

Between Heaven and Hell, Lies Dirty Laundry

So I guess the reins of this here Bagwine blog are now truly mine.  So, tell Mahone to get HIS tired, stale shit off of MY sidebar....Jeez.

Hmm…

Well, how was that for a post? No? But I’m cute, doesn’t that count for anything?

God, all y’all suck. Okay, let’s try this…

Saturday is laundry day around these parts, and I always take the laundry up to my brother Dave’s house to do it.

This past Saturday, I was doing just that, and as typical, after the first top is popped, a philosophical discussion ensued.

Dave and I were talking about dying and well hopefully, going to heaven. D (as I call him) pipes up and asks…

“So what if you end up in heaven after you die and all the people you have ever hated in life were there? Do you have to live with that shit all over again?”

That is some heavy stuff right there, people. Or not…He continued…

“Do you just sit around up in heaven, or is there stuff to do? Are there neighborhoods up there?”

All very valid questions, so how do I respond? By giggling and grabbing another beer, however; D wanted answers and he persisted so I finally responded…

“D, who the fuck cares? God is not going to let us in anyway.”

D replied with an inquiry…

“Where do you think Dad is?”

I reply…“Ummm, you damn well know where Dad is dumbass, and yeah…HIM we’ll see.”

And there you have it, another Saturday morning existential journey for truth completed.

I know that I said last Friday that funny would return this week, but c’mon, I didn’t say on which day this week.

Anyway…It’s my blog now, so I can do anything I want with it, boo yah!! 

If I want to suck, I will suck. Wait…that didn’t come out right. Ha!! Neither did that!!

Oh well…

I guess, I use this blog to crack my own damn self up, and you all can worry ‘bout yourselves. But truly? I love all of you pretty people.

Make sure you wander over to the new I’m With Stupid blog that Jay and Matt-Man have launched. 

You can listen to their show, see hot pics of babes, and have some laughs because they are some witty motherfuckers.

The website address is:

www.iwsradio.blogspot.com 

See ya tomorrow my pretties…

Zoooooves!!

Self-Asphyxiation

Hi pretty people. Schmoop here with something completely different…

Suffocation.

Drowning in a river of tears that never get shed.

Sleeping away the anxiety and the sorrow, instead of facing it.

Covering my head to block out the real world.

I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to hear it.

Drinking to stop the pain and the voices, for awhile.

Doesn’t always work, but...it will suffice.

Stuck in the middle, seeing no path out, walking on eggshells.

Taking whatever is given. Even when it’s nothing.

It’s what I know.

Maybe I want too much, or perhaps..?  I ask too little.

Oh well…

What’s that you say, voice in my head? Do I want another beer?

Why yes, yes I do.

I’ll bring back the funny next week, and until then…

Zoooooves!!

There's No Crying At Work

So…

Here I am sitting at work. Bored to death. It’s summer, and my industry is really slow now that schools are out.

I’ve done what I can today…I drank enough coffee to float the fuck out of here, and…

I found my boss’s keys, as well as my boss himself. Three times. Oy, and bleah.

What to do? What to do? Oh I know, write a blog post!!

Does this seem wrong to anyone? 

I mean, I am stealing company time, but in all actuality, I’m still technically working, right? 

Since Matt-Man doesn’t pay me for this, shouldn’t someone?

In all honesty, I’ve been here a long time and pretty much do what I want anyway…as long as the important stuff gets done, that is.

What I’d really like to do is work from home, where the only keys I have to find are my own. Where I don’t have to answer to someone else or talk someone off the ledge. 

That happens more times than I care to admit.

A place where I can drink. My damn boss still refuses to install a wet bar here. 

Of course, alcohol might be a deterrent if I was doing something really important…you know, like transcribing and/or interpreting medical records.

“Whoopsy!! Sorry, Mr. Jones, you were supposed to have a tonsillectomy, not an anal probing. I apologize.”

Yeah…Not sure that I could have a home office with beer. Now working without pants? Boy Howdy, I am soooo there. But…they don’t let me do that here either.

Where the hell are my motherfucking perks? Mayb---Oh gotta go…My boss lost the deposit bag…AGAIN!! 

Anyhoo…

Listen to the I’m With Stupid show that took place yesterday.
 

Listen to internet radio with Im With Stupid on Blog Talk Radio

Jay and Matt-Man may not be bright, but they know their politics and in their own minds, are well hung.

Don’t forget…Big announcement by Matty-Boy six days from now…He better get his lazy ass into gear.

Zoooooves!!

The Louder You Scream, The More I Learn

So…

I walked into the house that I used to own this past Thursday in order to pick up my 16 year old son Ryno and take him to school.

I enter the house whistling a happy tune, and then…BAM!!

Between Ryno, his Mom’s body language, and lack of sarcasm directed toward me, I could immediately tell that things were not well.

It seems that our son, who has been doing much better academically, had recently fallen off the wagon of paying attention, and again doing what he had done in the past.

I’m down with that.
 
I mean, not down in a sense that that is okay, but rather he’s 16, digs chicks and basketball, and like his dad, has the attention span of…well…somebody’s who name escapes me. Anyhoo…

His mom is being nasty towards him.

He, in all his soon to be 17 year old glory, is holding back his tears, and I, sitting on the couch (of which I got a great deal back in the day) am feeling like B List actor Lloyd Bochner in an episode of the Twilight Zone, saying to myself…

“What the fuck?”

Ryno is a great kid. He’s funny. Respectful (for a 16 year old), and smart. The boy is lazy academically, and always has been until he needs to step it up.

Here’s the thing…

His Mom berates him because he does not get all A’s. She is constantly nagging him for not taking advantage of the private school he goes to…she doesn’t like his “misfit” friends.

First of all…

Much like his Dad, Ryno will never get A’s in Math. He can get perfect scores on English tests, but that matters not.

He has to be first in everything, or…he is last.

I know the feeling. I went through the same thing with her. I was never good enough. Other people had better houses, more money, and more importantly, more status…

What a joke. 

She literally berated me with nailed finger at my nose, pushed me around, and spit in my face. In spite of all the things I did to her, there’s no excuse for that.

 
I left that environment because well, Ryno was young and cried often because we fought. I’ve learned from that. But evidently, she hasn’t…

As he was tearing up on the way to school that day, Ryno said to me...

“Dad, I am never good enough; she yells and gets in my face with her finger and scares me freaking out.”

It has been too late for Ryno’s Mom and I to fix those things for years, but let’s hope she can fix things between her and Ryno before another man, namely Ryno, leaves her life, and she is left alone with her anger and her bigotry.

Her bigotry you ask? The “misfit” friends of Ryno’s who his mom referred to? They go to his private school because they have vouchers.

According to his Mom, they are a bad influence on Ryno, because as we all know, poor kids and kids of color are losers.

Yeah…That’s the kind of social bullshit and racial bigotry crap he lives with, but….He’s already beyond all that, I just wonder if someday soon, he will say...

“Mom, shut the Hell up, and leave my friends alone.”

I’m pretty sure he will, although unlike me, he'll be polite about it.

Cheers!!

Make sure you listen to I’m With Stupid on Blog Talk Radio tonight at 6:30 PM EDT. We are having a Memorial Day Weekend Extravaganza and want you to join in.

You can listen to us by clicking HERE and/or calling in at 661.244.9852