Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Why I hate myself today...

I have a suggestion for the CIA if they want to torture people without getting in trouble for it. This form of torture would also be good for any type of sadistic power assertive type of men who want to inflict pain on all sorts of levels, but would prefer to stay out of jail.

This is WAXING. Specifically waxing in places that have NERVE ENDINGS everywhere!

During typical lunchtime girl-talk, it was suggested to me that a BRAZILIAN would be the answer to my ire of shaving. I have been depressed somewhat over these many months because Heracles is gone, but I have enjoyed a certain vacation from shaving! I love not shaving. I don't care what it looks like down there, I don't look and life is easy!

But as is typical of men these days, Heracles really believes women are pretty much hairless. We can debate all day long about why/how/when they ALL started believing this bullshittery, but it's happened. We women are no better. Such competition for man's favor has caused us to buy in as well.

I asked if getting waxes hurts. All three of my companions chuckled and affirmed that it hurts "at first" but over time it "gets better." Hmmmm. I guess it can't be that bad since everyone does it, riiiiight???? WRONG. Read on.

I arrived at the salon, nervously scoping out the gays on staff. That's a very efficient way to deduce the level of bitchiness present in the atmosphere towards customers. Luckily the gay guy was NOT a bitch. The waxing technician (is that what they are?) was professional, kindly, and I liked her immediately. I thought, oh this will be a breeze. Nice clean salon. Nice people. I'm going to be glad I did this just like everyone says!

So I have no complaints about the technician or the salon.

My complaint is about the torture. Someone might say, well you must have hairs with tree-stump-like roots. That might be true. There is that possibility. Guess what. It's still torture. With all of our wonderful technology today, is it possible that someone would give a crap enough about the pain and indignities women are expected to endure, and invent some INEXPENSIVE, relatively pain-free and long-lasting way to remove that undesirable natural occurrence? Of course not, nobody gives a fuck. Eh, it's only women.

There I was, thinking such thoughts as I displayed my cold naked hairy butt for the procedure. Why??? I asked myself. I couldn't furnish an answer but of course it got worse. The tugging and ripping of the tree stumps around the most sensitive part of my body. And I'm paying for this?!

Just goes to show how stupid we are. We women who engage in this masochism are totally fucked. We can't STOP the hair removal/ripping out/laser, et al because we wouldn't be able to attract or keep a man. So we PAY for torture.

Like I said before. If the CIA wants to engage in torture, nobody can say anything to them about it if they start waxing Taliban balls because American citizens PAY for it. And don't use the hard wax, use the SOFT wax! Yeah! Post it on Youtbe. The evil killers would be there, just like ME, on all fours, humiliated and wondering how fuck they got there?

Thursday, February 18, 2010

My Wonderful Mortgage Company

Mortgage Company Guy: This is an attempt... please verify... bla bla bla
MH: Yes, Yes etc et al
MCG: Ms. H, and has anything changed since you last spoke with a representative of SunTrust?
MH: Nope.
MCG: And Ms H, have you considered taking out any personal loans against your investments, assets, 401-K, or asked family or friends for help.
MH: Um, yeah already took out the loan against my 401-K and until that one is paid back, another loan is not an option. I have no other assets.
MCG: And Ms H, do you have any other personal debt that you can defer payment on until you bring your mortgage current.
MH: If you mean my student loans no I cannot get a deferment because I received the maximum when my husband was undergoing surgery and treatment and later physical/occupational/speech therapy for a brain tumor, so unless I just stop paying them, I won't be missing any student loan payments. Or payments for my 401-K loan. I have no other debt.
MCG: Ms H, I see you worked with one of the credit counseling agencies which we recommended to you last year. Were you able to follow any of their advice so you could pay your mortgage on time?
MH: Their advice was nothing more than to spend less money on FOOD. I am not sure how much excess food I consume when I have never weighed above 125 lbs, but I am always open to whatever advice anyone has, like how about asking your mortgage company to reduce the principal of the mortgage since the property is worth $100,000 less than you pay. Actually since I have you on the phone, any chance you guys are going to consider reducing the principal here? You would never get anywhere near what I am truly able to pay for the house, and I would be willing to make a deal.
MCG: Uhhhhh you would have to deal with someone else, I am not in a position to...
MH: Ok well it looks like this conversation is over. Have a nice day.
MCG: Have a nice day.

I feel sorry for these guys. Of course they can't help me, nor is it what they are paid to do. Crappy job!!! I'd really hate to do that for a living. I don't think there is a soul on earth who has a job in which they reduce principals of mortgages for their own employer (mortgage company).

I think I have another month before I get the notice posted on the door. At that point I'll start actively looking for a suitable place. I'm pretty happy with the choices available to me, only I will need to get rid of an awful lot of stuff. That kind of sucks. Man! I know I don't need a Fire King delphite blue milk glass splash and oven proof mixing bowl from the '40s. It serves very little purpose compared to what is available today, not that I mix or bake right now anyway. Fuck! I just love it. I want to keep it. I want to keep my Pyrex Flamingo Pink band milk glass gold trimmed dinner service for 12. I want to keep my Noritake Cook 'n Serve Cielito Lindo and my Franciscan Nut Tree and my Hall's for Westmoreland yellow and turquoise refrigerator dishes. And my sassy mental hygiene public health books for teens and young adults from the industrial revolution until the demise of its popularity around the time of Kennedy's inauguration, when fucking around and getting VD became sassy! And my... oh whatever. I have to get rid of stuff I don't need. I have to laugh at myself because I have had opportunities to do so. Several years ago, I made out like a bandit on an estate sale, but I hardly had enough room to accommodate the treasures I just could not part with. Again, I had a huge garage sale with some friends. Didn't make a dent. I am not a hoarder exactly. I just love beautiful old things that other people have forgotten. I want to have them.

I don't need newspapers or cans or cats or chihuahuas. OKAY, this place is probably messy too often, but it is single girl lives alone crap like clothes and shoes thrown in a corner. Formerly clean laundry piled on the table. Not cat poop or dead birds littering the paths carved out of the refuse! I certainly HOPE I never get like that. But I suspect that it is a problem associated with those who are obliged either through mental health issues or just as debilitating, lack of family and friends. When you live alone, you don't have to put stuff away all the time. Well I don't anyway. And I would imagine that if I knew for a fact that nobody would EVER show up on my doorstep I might not even care at all.

As a renter, I didn't have this mindset. I knew that my landlord could walk in any time he wanted. I was terribly humiliated one day when my landlord at my last apartment saw my cluttered living room. I could have died. I'm rambling. My mental issues may be starting to reveal themselves right this second. Let do a quick status check... hmmmm. do I feel like I would like to take a stack of newspapers and use it is a tv tray?..... Whew! notsomuch. Yes! I'm still hanging on.

Friday, February 12, 2010

A move is imminent, but to where?

According to friends, I ought to be able to stay in my house for another few months at least. I'm not going anywhere until the house is sold and the new owner comes knocking, because no way am I going to let the lawn get overgrown and the windows knocked out and crack heads smoking it up in here.

I plan on saving as much money as possible. It is only this week that I have been able to catch up on my other bills, however. My car's mechanical problems and then my BANK, deliberately withholding my direct deposit paycheck for an extra day (resulting in over $500 of 'nsf' charges) has caused an avalanche of financial roadblocks. A few weeks ago, I set it up through online billpay for my bills to be taken care of on Friday. I get paid on Thursday. Well, my BANK's software saw an opportunity! How about we hold the check for one extra day before releasing it into the account???? That way we can charge 12 nsf fees PLUS some other charges, the nature of which still confuses me. At $38 each, that really hurt. I called the bank but they were uncooperative, sort of like, "we have you by the balls, and we LIKE it."

But today I am finally back to where I should have been. It is all about saving money from here on out and that makes me feel much better. By the time I need to move, I'll be able to get a nice place. If I don't get laid off, which is always a possibility.

On the Heracles front, we have had some developments. Heracles has no idea that I'm losing my house. First of all, it isn't any of his business. Second of all, and the REAL truth, is that I'm just ashamed and I think he'll dump me as soon as he finds out. Gradually, that fear has faded because we don't seem to have much of a relationship anyhow. We do live a couple thousand miles from each other... so how much is there to lose?

But Heracles had a job interview in another state. He isn't like me. Because of his intelligence, skills, imagination, education, credentials and general BRILLIANCE and PERFECTION, he is one of those rare people who will call the shots even though he is technically the interviewee. He decided that he might take this job, which happens to be in yet a third state.

And that's apparently where I come in. Heracles thinks I ought to move there too. He doesn't understand that I am not in a position to look for jobs anywhere. I would love to move somewhere to be near Heracles, but it's just not possible. It isn't as if he is going to ask me to marry him, which would definitely resolve the situation for me. Of course, since I am the FEMALE, I can't go and ask HIM, now can I?

I wonder what his vision of life in this beautiful third state will be like. It is probably something like this: We have matching apartments in different complexes a couple of miles apart. We see each other four nights a week at Heracles' more comfortable (for him) apt, entertaining ourselves (Heracles) a with stupid slapstick sophomoric thirteen year old boy-humored movie, followed by a half hour of sex matching the objectifying, demeaning, boob jiggling sex in said movie. MH leaves as soon as Heracles' alarm goes off the next morning. Throw in a stress-relieving massage for Heracles every other night or so, and the picture is complete.

Here is what the reality would be: MH moves to Third State, finds a shitty apartment near Heracles' luxury apt, and struggles to find a job. Her money runs out, but Heracles doesn't know it because he would be very disappointed in MH for mishandling her money in such a way. MH finally takes an asst manager job at McDonald's and the acne sets in, rendering her even LESS attractive than before. Heracles feels relieved that he dodged that bullet a couple weeks ago when MH timidly broached the topic of marriage and a family to go with the dog he gave her for Christmas a few years back. He congratulates himself for pretending that he was very busy and didn't have time for this uncomfortable conversation. Things go downhill from there. Third State is full of HOT women! Who knew??? Time to shake off this miserable aging wretch MH, who can't seem to find a decent job and just moved to a STUDIO for fuck's sake.

So I'm thinking I won't be moving to Third State.