Joe Cuts His Losses (Or Would That Be... His Leeches?)

I've never been one for making New Years' resolutions.  I don't believe you should make them.  Very few people are successful at meeting this big, grandiose goal that they've substantially hyped up in their heads, at times, that when the goal fails, they either, if they got any stamina of mind in their selves- they might get back up again to try make the goal happen or more often than not- they just quit trying.  If you don't have this super willpower and forward thinking frame of mind, it just isn't happening.  Then you feel like crap for awhile, maybe.

I've been successful at doing what I set out to do a number of times.  Quitting smoking was one of those things.  I might have one or two with a family member, once every six months, but really, it's no longer a habit or desire.  Every so often, when I see somebody with me, normally a family member smoking, I might have one.

In my defense, I don't buy cigs and I don't get to see these family members often.

Oh, for Christ sakes!  I'm going crazy with guilt. AAAAAHHHH!

Must be that dreaded Catholic upbringing.  That's what my friend, Steve, suggested about me once.  LOL.  He's Catholic, too and I think he might have fun with that, too.

I also don't go to church and I enjoy eating cereal while watching animal porn.  I think I saw "Kellogg's Corn Pops" coming out of a monkey penis, while watching a DVD, while it stuck it's dirty dingus in the nostril of a buffalo.  Oh, the shame!  Of course, the final result is a bunch of sticky tissues in your hand.  More shame.

I also don't like to see these fucking positive affirmation images all over the place on the net and in Facebook, in particular.  You can't solve your problems, instantaneously, or become joyful and content by seeing one of these things.  If I would ever feel like I've been cured of all or some of my problems or negative feelings by being a completely sold customer on whatever nilly willy images and words I see, I'd think myself to be a drooling moron with ticks and spiders in his pants.

Then I'd have a career in show business!  :)

Gosh, I feel better already!

Please, for the love of all that feel they must have pouty lips, get realistic and and come back to reality for a visit.  Everyone's insipid positive affirmation images on Facebook give me the runny shits.

But I was watching a news TV program, this morning and these two advisers, that had fields in psychology, were offering this advice about resolutions some people make every beginning of a new year:

1- Make your resolutions proceed in small steps.  For example, set your goal to be accomplished in two weeks.  If you get past the two week or two day or any other short maker of time, add more time to the resolution.

2- If you're overeating or overdoing anything, do what ever is giving you pleasure but do it in increasingly smaller increments.  For example, instead of eating a horse trough's worth of fatty barbecue ribs, today, trying eating a meal that can be fit on a plate and then continue decreasing the amount of food or changing over to something with lighter calories.  Then, go from there.

They said more but I can't remember the rest.  Maybe if you insert your genitals in a old wooden mouse trap and the bar comes down hard, with a loud crack, it will magically come to me.  I'm not asking for much, I believe.

Wait a minute...  Oh yeah... #3-  Forgive yourself if you fail with meeting a goal, regarding your resolution- but realize the bigger failure is to not try again.

Right now, I'm going to change the subject.  I'm boring you.  I can tell.  You're doing the droopy head thing you're doing. :)  Yep.

Here's a positive affirmation pic to pep you up:

I swear I don't know what a 'Mexican Microwave' is.  Is that anything like a monkey when he spurts Kellogg's Corn Pops from his penis???

Let's say I've had a conversation with a guy named Joe.  Joe is a guy who seems well adjusted and well meaning.  He has a great sense of humor.  And he's real.  Yes.  He is a real Joe.  His cup runneth over with Joe, even at this moment. Imagine that!

Let's say he's just really real.

We got together at a fast food joint and talked for an hour.  Joe's a friend that seems to listen.  And he's not very judgmental or an annoying constant advice giver that has a degree in making assumptions (unless it's asked for... the advice that is) unless he's talking about self-serving, wealthy political groups.  With these assholes, he's quite judgmental.

Joe said he has been getting so much frustration, verbal abuse and out of control anxiety from a certain relative for years. Ever since a certain tragedy, involving Joe's mother, is concerned, Joe's father's mental state has gotten, admittedly worse, in the last seven years, due to his Dementia and a series of possible mini strokes, but he also suffers from depression.  He waves away help with that last one, of course. All of this is unfortunate and for a long time, Joe, his sister and his cousin would do anything for him, almost.  Instead of seeking help or trying, just a little, to keep his verbally abusive and erratic behavior in check, Joe's father, he explained, just lets go at whoever is near him, unleashing all of his anger and bitterness at those closest to him.

He does it to complete strangers- anywhere.

Joe's father was leaving candles burning at the place for where Joe's mother and father were living, after his mother had passed.  He also left on, for hours, the oven and stove, lights in the rooms, electrical things one would turn off in an acceptable amount of time and more.

Btw, Joe also mentioned his father was finally put in an assisted living place and finally-FINALLY, AFTER YEARS HAD GONE BY- Joe's dad had his car keys taken away due to wrecking his car into someone.  He had wrecked into a guardrail a year before.  Luckily, the woman in the other car, that I mentioned and Joe's father weren't hurt in the incident but it was the final thing that got his driver's license taken away.  It wasn't the fact that five doctors said Joe's father shouldn't be driving.  It wasn't the fact that he went walking through a blizzard across the hills and valleys, alone, for a couple miles, to have a big mug of beer at a bar to wash down his many medications, either.  Any of this could have killed him and then there was more he wanted to say but I cut him off, at one point and I said, sprightly, "Always look on the bright side of life, dude."

Of course, that quick bit of advice picked him right on up.  Whoopee!

Now, Joe said, his father doesn't try to make real friends where he lives.  He blames the kids for everything. Talks about dying whenever he wants attention.  Talks about being betrayed.  This, Joe pointed out, wasn't oozing out of his Dad's pores just because he suffered from Dementia or mini strokes.  He had been verbally abusive, sometimes physically abusive, since Joe was a kid.  Now it was a hundred times worse, he noted.  He wasn't grateful for all the doctor visits we had to take him to or the visits where we would take him out to eat.  Just about anything wouldn't please him.  And Joe says, that sometimes, you just have to cut your emotional leeches.... or losses (if you can call them that). Especially when they make you stutter.

Joe stutters when he's in anxiety-induced situations or if he thinks about his father or grandmother too much.  Joe said his grandmother could suck the goodwill, happiness and patience out of you, too. He told me that, even though I could see that was obvious, from his pale, defeated appearance, when he spoke of his father or grandmother. And now, he said, his stuttering words come popping out of his mouth whenever he's in any kind of tense situation.  And don't get him started on his insane cat that eats paper, cardboard, meows like a demon and chases imaginary enemies.  Joe won't finish his grilled burrito.  He thought his new cat might be the devil, he jested and left that subject alone.  He stuttered a bit, though, and some wilted lettuce slipped out of his mouth.

He shook his head.  Years of trying to please and make negative people content had nearly drained him dry. Though, he said, often enough, that he had told his father about what his father was directly doing to him.  All that Joe's father knew was what was bothering himself.  He didn't ask about Joe's many maladies, recent test results or how things were going, in general, on his end.

I told him, "Yep.  When those people you are closest to, know what they're doing and show that they don't give a flying fuck about your good mental health, it's time to be guilt free and go forward.  Let the negative parasites dwell in their own muck.  You tell them, 'I need a nice big break from you, apathetic fucker.'

Then I told Joe I was kidding on that last part but it made him laugh, anyway.  Want to know a secret?  I was serious on that last bit.  :)  Joe badly needed some laughs.  Any kind of joy, actually, was what he was lacking. Other things were bothering him, too, he said, but he thought that as long as he had the will to push forward and not get stuck in the muck, he would be fine again.

Being stuck in the muck, physically or emotionally, really sucks.

Joe said he would like to think of the way his father used to be and reflect on that.  For a long time, he admired his father and respected him.  He said he still does, especially when he isn't around him these days, for the most part.  Funny how that works, I thought.  Or not.

Then he got a phone call, at the place we were eating.  Joe took out his cell phone and asked, "Yes?"

It turned to be his father, wishing him a happy new year, Joe later revealed and they had talked for a few minutes, without a verbal confrontation.  A small and pleasant miracle.  Joe was instilled with happiness once more.  Joe didn't stutter for the entire night.  Towards the end of the evening, he did say he was going to keep certain people away, at arm's length for his own well being, for the good of his own mental health. at least for a lengthy period of time.  He said, after all, he wasn't a complete or final quitter- on anyone or anything.  He advised his sister (and in a roundabout way, his cousin) to do the same when it came to his father and taking breaks from him or others.  He upsets them, too, but at different levels.

Joe pointed out that his anti-depressant medication, anti-anxiety medication and those wonderful, supposedly uplifting, stupid, fucking positive affirmation pics and words aren't miracle workers.  I nodded my head, in agreement and then replied, "You've got that right."

Joe suddenly stood up and shouted, "Happy New Year!" to everyone at the restaurant and in the blogging world and wished everyone a peaceful year, ahead.

I looked back and gave everyone the finger when Joe finished with his sickeningly sweet gesture of good will.  My New Year's resolution, this year, is to be really nicer to people.*

*wink

Just kidding.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!  Take care.

Before, During and After Christmas

Mmm. Well... At least the ice age has taken a reprieve for the next couple of days. The temperature has finally reached above freezing temperatures. First time for that in almost a month. Right now we're sitting at a nice, balmy 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius). The ongoing monsoon we're experiencing, currently, here in the Midwestern U.S., is washing away the eight or so inches of ice and snow we got around the beginning of December. And this is the end of December. Ridiculous.

And yeah, I know people have it worse somewhere else... like in New York, for instance. It just seems like it's taken a goddamn eternity for the white shit to thaw out and for me to be able to walk five feet anywhere I go without risking slippage and neck breakage. With the advent of this current thaw out we're experiencing, I'll be treated to the sight of morons wearing shorts in these chilly, yet not sub-freezing temps. I've already seen a couple idiots wearing nothing but shorts, shoes and imbecilic grins at Wally World. This type of carefree simpleton behavior happens every year when we have even the slightest thaw out during the winter months.

For those reasons and more is why I'm not in my usual delightful mood and why I haven't been doing the blogging thing, lately. I've been too angry, depressed and seething with madness to do much on the computer except check out a few porn sites, humor sites and The Huffington Post website. It's a good thing my wife won't allow me to buy a gun, I suppose. God knows how many bodies would be lying around. Happy Holidays, everyone! And don't forget to go fuck yourselves silly! But not you, my cherished reader, not you. :)

Ah... As you can see I'm purging myself of the nasty negative thoughts in my head by sharing them with you. Isn't that nice of me? It's nice to share, they say.

Surprisingly, there was no carnage or destruction at my wife's Christmas family dinner this year. No mirrors or ceramic keepsakes were broken into a million pieces like last year. And the cat remained safe this year, unlike last year, where it was constantly being chased and whipped by a cat toy by my 3 little nieces. The reason for this is because (A) The cat ran and wisely hid under the bed when it heard my nieces menacing giggling when they entered the place and (B) Half of the time, while here, they were playing around with their little electronic gadgets or watching an insipid Nickelodeon TV show. The sound and sights of children shows drove me nuts time to time but at least everything, including the cat, remained intact.

The only bad moment happened while I was whispering to my sister about the eldest niece's boyfriend. My oldest niece is 17. Her boyfriend is 18 and weighs close to 500 pounds. I was explaining to my sister that the boyfriend has broken all the chairs, a heavy duty recliner and a coffee table with his hefty, morbidly obese ass by sitting in and on them, of course. He destroyed these fairly expensive pieces of furniture at my sister-in-law's and mother-in-law's places and nothing was said to the behemoth, as a result. I don't get that part, especially. I would have told the guy to pay for the damages, lose weight (at least for his own health) or something.

A week ago, I told my sister-in-law that the boyfriend wasn't allowed up to my place for the Christmas dinner because I was afraid he would actually go through my upstairs floor apartment and possibly land on and kill the tenants below. It sounds funny, but in his case, I think it could happen. Beside, I don't have anything he could sit on and take his weight without being crushed to molecules.

This same guy has had his picture in the local paper for entering and winning these all-you-can-gorge-on contests. One contest was for how many Twinkies you can stuff in your big fat face and the other was for pigging out on corn dogs or something like that. In other words, he not only engages in gluttony, he flaunts it, is proud of it and celebrates it by entering in these disgusting competitions.

When my mother-in-law overheard me talking to my sister, Christmas Day, about this dude, she got bent out of shape about it and started defending him. She told me how he had promised to marry my niece after he went through culinary art school and how nice he was and how he made her cry by saying all this wonderful stuff about her granddaughter and so on. With the rate he's going, I don't think he's going to live long enough to accomplish any of his goals.

I have asked my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law if anyone has ever warned him that being morbidly obese like that was a danger to his health. Both said, "No." They said that as far as they knew, not even the boy's parents have tried to talk to him about it or curb his weight with correctly portioned meals.

I said, "That makes me sick to hear that and I don't really have anything to do with him."

In fact, the boy's parents actually encourage their kid to go to my sister-in-law's place to eat all of her food when it's dinner time. And eat, he does. Everything. In. Sight. And nothing is ever said to him about that, either. Disgusting and amazing. I would have already knocked his ass out with a baseball bat, or at the very least, tell him to go graze in the back yard for nourishment. My tolerance for repetitious ignorant behavior is little to none. It's a good thing I don't have children.

Strangely enough, I've been told this enormous 18 year old kid's health is okay. For now, I'm guessing . Of course, it will be just a matter of time before he will eventually have problems with any or all of the following: Diabetes. Coronary Heart Disease. High Blood Pressure. Stroke.

To name just a few.

While I'm on the subject of diabetes and other health problems associated with that disease, another curious type of behavior has come to my attention. I know of two family members and a friend who have severe diabetes and a few of the other health conditions I mentioned and none of them seem to give a shit about it. They eat and drink whatever they want, no matter how much sugar and fat it contains. INSANITY.

Look everyone, FREE DIABETES! Come and get it!

If people want to kill themselves by ingesting whatever they want while having diabetes, they're going about it in the slowest, most torturous way possible- aside from disemboweling yourself with a small fork.

The truth is: Diabetes is synonymous with a gradual, often painful degradation of the body's parts and internal organs and ultimately- death will fuck you in the ass, as a result- with no lubricant. When you have diabetes, like I happen to have, just giving a "fuck it" attitude towards it and consuming what you want, guarantees all manner of horrible things to come your way. Like being hooked up to a kidney dialysis machine, for instance (no more caffeine for you, fucker). Or how about the lack of good blood circulation which will cause you to lose your feet and your sight. Does that sound like a good time? And healing from a wound or overcoming sickness, no matter how minor? Forget about it, baby!

Here's a funny story... As I was plunging an insulin needle into my belly a couple days ago, a friend knocked on the door. Since I knew who it was, I told him to come in. He came inside the apartment and was jabbering away about letting himself in until he noticed me slowly inserting a needle into my belly.

As I was cringing and curling my toes in discomfort, he asks, "Does that hurt?"

I didn't reply at first because (A) That's a stupid question and (B) I'm kind of busy at the moment and (C) If I don't focus on where I'm puncturing, I could bend the needle in my belly and tear open my flesh. I've done that last one a couple times, due to my wife causing me stress with inane jabber or the time when I was on the cruise ship and it lurched to the right while the needle slit my belly open. Good times!

Anyhow, my wife comes home from work and gives my friend a Christmas gift that I'm thinking he will likely take a pass on because he suffers from diabetes and has to take a couple pills for, as a result (no insulin yet, but he's working on it, I think). The gift he opens is a nearly two pound bag of gourmet chocolate caramel covered popcorn that has about a trillion (or so) grams of sugar in every piece. My wife thought he would like it because he likes sweets. I was just going to him a gift certificate at Lowe's or something but she thought of this, instead. Eh, okay.

Anyway, he opens the bag and instantly starts to gobble down the the contents of the bag with reckless abandon, diabetes be damned. I laughed, as i always do when I see someone doing something bizarre and I asked, "What about your diabetes?"

He said, almost incoherently, while munching and crunching, "My last blood sugar test result at the doctor's office turned out okay."

For now, I thought. He's very lucky in the way that he eats and doesn't exercise that his blood sugar counts haven't skyrocketed. I, on the other hand, watch what I eat and exercise and I'm forced to take insulin and pills for my diabetes. Go figure. Am I somewhat jealous? You bet. I'm not perfect by any means.

The last couple of weeks, I've been severely depressed because of mom not being here for the fifth Christmas in a row. She died in August of 2005 and I was closer to her than any other member of the family. The inner family fracturing, squabbling and accusing my father of killing my mother by my grandmother just adds heaping helpings of stress to my usual decaying mental health at this time of year. To counteract this, I would go out and take pictures of Christmas scenery in the town surrounding me. Only when I'm not around the usual negative people (family and friends) and outside, do I receive anything remotely describing peace. Sad, isn't it?

You can see these holiday pictures at my other website, Pics For Kicks. Going out and taking these pics is very therapeutic. And taking the holiday shots reminds me of the times, every Christmas, when my sister, dad, mom and I would go out, drive around at night and look at all the decorated holiday scenery in all of the neighboring towns.

To top off the near ending of the holidays, my dad slipped, fell and cracked his head wide open on the corner of a wall the day after Christmas. He's okay now but it scared the shit out of my sister and I. He fell at the assisted living place he's living in, due to taking his diabetes medicine but not eating any food with his medication. That will drop the ol' blood sugar to the basement. When I came to the emergency room, he was lying in the hospital bed, talking calmly to me, like nothing happened.

He looked fine but then...

As I sat down in a chair, he asked how he looked to me. All I could see at the moment was a tiny paper cut on his forehead. I said, " You look alright to me. Just a small cut above your nose."

I wondered silently why he had been rushed to the hospital.

But then...

I saw blood spreading on the pillow behind his head. I got up, walked over behind his bed and saw the four inch gaping gash in his scalp on the back of his head and almost fainted. Just then a nurse walked in and put a fresh bandage on his head. Five or so minutes pass and a doctor walks into the room, takes a stapler and staples the gash together with 8 staples.

Ca-Chunk... Ca- Chunk... and so on. He ended up staying overnight because his blood sugar was so low it wasn't even registering on the meter.

I remember the sound of staples going into flesh quite well since I had the same thing done to me when I was 21. Right after my double hernia surgery. I sat in a slightly leaned back chair as Dr. Frable Ca-Chunked Ca-Chunked twenty one staples between my belly and just above my crotch. He gave no warning he was about to do this. All he said beforehand was that he was going to check how the two wide incisions appeared. And then the surprise! Whoopee!

Good times.

Trying to fuck without literally busting a gut was quite the trick back then but I somehow did it. Back then I didn't have diabetes but I did have raging, horny hormones that made me do stupid things like trying to fuck not long after surgery.

Anyway, dad is back at the assisted living place. They're keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn't go out and drive while healing. He's under strict doctor's orders. I'm sure today or any of the upcoming days he will be screaming and throwing the usual verbal insults at my sister and I, thinking we had something to do with this. Business, as usual.

Yep. Happy fuckin' holidays, everyone. I'm sure the new year will be just as delightful (sarcasm intended) as 2010, minus the honestly pleasurable reprieve of the week long Caribbean cruise we went on this past summer and the times I wasn't around family. During those times, I had nothing but peace.

Below, you'll find a humorous, truthful Christmas message from Bill Maher. After watching it, remember that Oprah Winfrey will or already has debuted her private network, OWN. Which, of course, stands for the Oprah Winfrey Network.

A Christmas Message from Bill Maher - watch more funny videos