Be Positive!
As we’ve discussed, blogs are one-part confessional and another part… well, whatever we want them to be, right? This would be the one-part confessional.
7-days into 2010, is akin to having my head shoved up geriatric, hemorrhoid addled, musty smelling rectums. Like a famished dog, I’m waiting for the moment when embracing the New Year washes over me, igniting feelings of hope and enthusiasm for what this year will bring. So far, I’m disgusted, outraged, irked, nauseas and overwhelmed. I’d rather vomit then wake up to another shit day.
I thought the last decade was the worst of my life and it was. My biggest fear is reliving that debaclecade over. So far so good, huh?! I digress Trying to stay positive is like asking a born again Christian (not a Christian), to accept other religions or watch Sarah Palin talk, or watch an episode of Toddlers and Tiaras. What’s not painful about that? You don’t want to see it or do it, but you kind of have to. Of course, you keep your vomit bucket within arm’s reach. Still.
I hate people. I hate how shitty many people have become. I hate how disillusioned I am about certain people. I know better, yet the blow is still a hard one to take. Slamming my head against the wall won’t help, I tried. Kidding.
A fight broke out this afternoon in the building next door to me girl-on-girl I know, straight peens are jerking off at the idea of a crotch fight. Anyway, they’re sisters (I realize this is hotter for the straight peen reading this blog. Calm yourselves). Their fight was over their mother’s Will when, when, when she’s dead. The broad still has a pulse. Dude, seriously?! They were screaming like greedy whorellas, slamming doors and hitting each other. WOW. Disturbing, no?
Drivers have lost their ever loving minds. While plodding along, minding my own business, they cut me off and curse me out for being in their way. Nice. Real classy. Being called an (unjustified) cunt makes a lot of sense.
Not one person I know and love isn’t struggling or hurting, or frustrated, or revolted. It kills me. What can I say? Find a bridge and do the drama diva swan dive. I’m drowning myself. Who isn’t?!
At my last doctor’s appointment for my lady balls (blurred vision, double vision, I can’t fucking see without tinted or super dark glasses), my ophthalmologist’s prescription, I kid you not, was Be positive. I told him, “You might want to turn off your tape recorder now, and proceeded to tear his ass gland wide open. I’m sure there’s room for new tent cities should anyone need to resurrect one.
Life is shit. And, no, a pulse isn’t enough.
On that shituation of a note, let’s discuss the lame ass emails I keep getting. Why not, it’s entertaining.
Someone signed another Katie Schwartz up for Twit with Ease; that was nice. Being a 140 character addict, I can see the menschiness of that act. I just feel bad for the other Katie Schwartz. I’m also curious as to why we have similar email addresses. Don’t mimic Jew x 4.
Caitlin keeps emailing me. Her last email was really short and to the point “Jocelynâ€. Super informative, right?
Someone signed me up for a Neo Pet, so fucking great. My username is “Sing Star Samâ€. So me, I can’t stand it. I’m ready to Neo Pet myself into a frenzy (boychicks heads-gutter-remove).
Another sweetie signed me up for Pets Next Door. Bitch, my dog is dead. You want to pet next door, fondle your neighbor. Clearly, I still haven’t resolved my issues with death.
Phang just got back from Phucket and sent me a Christmas card. How many levels of wrong is that sentence?
Katieroxol, that’s my new username for Foo Pets. Dog. Dead. Deal.
What the fuck is with people and online pets? Is this a kid thing? I’m so not their demographic. I guess my email address is.
I received a Santa in a Speedo picture; he works a Speedo like nobody’s business. Santa’s got mad crotch thrusting skills.
Did I mention that my Outlook isn’t showing my sent mail as of this afternoon? Fucking fantastic.
Happy Fucking New Year,
Katie
I’m sorry you’re not having a good year, Katie. What helps me is having a sense of humor about things and my family. You do so many good things for those of us with thyroid disease. It cheers me up when you post on Facebook and ask how we are doing. Most of my friends don’t care. Not to mention all the things you’ve taught me about thyroid disease. I’ll be thinking about you and hoping that things get better soon.
Cindy
Hi Cindylicious;
Thanks for stopping by. My darling, you are so sweet. Please don’t worry. I just needed to vent. That’s what I do here, I vent and rant until my fingertips bleed :)
I do care — please know that. How you feel matters to me a lot!
Don’t you worry about me. I just needed a venomous rant.
Thanks for reading. I will definitely take your advice.
xo
I am calling you tomorrow. Oy, my baby.
Frannygirl!
Yes, let’s dish our hearts out tomorrow, if you have time. Would love to.
Big hugs. Love the new avi.
xo
The shit male doctors say to female patients! I promise you they don’t speak that way to us.
Great point, Rye-Rye. On Dear Thyroid, that conversation came up, especially in response to today’s letter. http://bit.ly/4qefhB
I wish they took vaginas as seriously as they do penises.
Sigh
Katie..Katie..Katie…I just love you to death. I’m not saying that because you were all pissed at the world when you wrote this, and likely still are today, but Im saying it because you’re the real deal baby!
I actually spit out my gluten-free pizza when I read “Phang just got back from Phucket and sent me a Christmas card. How many levels of wrong is that sentence?”
And that doctor…holy shit. Of course after you got home I am sure you thought of a million ways to show the doc how stupid that comment was. Such as letting the air out of all 4 tires of his car and leaving a note, ‘be positive!’
What a D-bag. And as you know, i have two other websites, and for the past two weeks I havent even looked at, contributed to, opened email, moderated the forum, of the Therapy website. Because as you said, “Find a bridge and do the drama diva swan dive. I’m drowning myself. Who isn’t?!” and I find my self not having any sympathy for them or my own crap.
But what you wrote is different, its venting…not crying for help or not seeing the big picture. THIS, I can read and sink my teeth into because you react…and that’s what I love about you ;-).
Woody;
I adore you to bits and pieces. Love ya, honey lips. Har.
I wish you weren’t in a hellsphere, too. The world is turning to shit in a wrap-up. I’m over it.
Thank you for your wonderful, generous and amazing words. Coming from such a prolific writer, they mean a lot.
xo
K
Doctors HATE IT when you present something that is hard to diagnose or when your body doesn’t react to treatment in the usual way. You’d think they’d like the challenge, but instead it just pisses them off. Since THEIR head can’t figure it out, it must just be in YOUR head.
Here’s to hoping I’ll be less cuntish (not in the good way) re: communication this year. You are rockin’ Dear Thyroid hard. I had a friend getting a biopsy I was able to refer over, and what a great resource. I wish I had the ovaries to grab a jerk Dr. like that by the balls and squeeze hard for saying a shitty thing like that to you.
My mom has a hard to diagnose terminal immune disease and the jerk doctors that told her it was all psychological despite fevers and bleeding lungs can bite me and die for costing her years off her life by delaying her diagnosis. Statistically speaking, her disease is much more highly early diagnosed in men than women, precisely because sexism dictates that women are overly emotional and should just control that shit.
I love you, dear.
“I hate how disillusioned I am about certain people.”
I never promised you a rose garden or that I was actually in the balloon.
“(boychicks heads-gutter-remove).”
I can’t, it won’t lift!
take a couple of seconals, wash it down with a little Jack &coke. You may not really feel better, but it might help the forget process. & what’s this new year stuff everybody keeps talking about? I ain’t seen nothing new in so long….. it’s all thrift-store vision to me.
Katie doll,
Fuck “be positive”. Forget that asshole. He has no clue.
What we all need is Real. You Are REAL!
Keep Keeping It REAL! That’s Bellissimo (lovely) to me, for sure!
lori
I feel ya.
The last decade was absolutely horrible for me, so much so I’m crouched in a defensive position hoping this new decade will suck a little less.
However, I have found a miracle drug that treats aches and pains, depression and insomnia.
It’s called Zabar’s raspberry and apricot rugelach and it’s available without a prescription.