Pic of the Day!

(click here to see the artist's page!)


I can't help it. This photo cracks me up! Oh sure, these people are spelling out the word "LOVE" with their bodies, but I had to have that pointed out to me in order to see it.

Of course, the first thing I thought when I saw this photo was, "buncha hippies." I know, I'm so insensitive. But hey, I thought they were trying to be all existential and doing some sort of ethereal hippy dance. Meh, close enough (wink-wink, nudge-nudge).

Still, it's pretty enough. :)

The Day After St. Paddy's Day

Let’s just put it this way: I’ve had a rough day. And I’m pretty sure my face gave it all away as I was hobbling down the parking lot of Walmart earlier. Yes! Another trip to Walmart! I know, I just can’t get enough of that place. ;)

Even though I know none of those people who found parking spots right up front (seconds before I got there) knew that they were making a pregnant lady’s day just that much harder, I was still upset enough to slam the door when I finally did manage to push myself out of the car. Of course, I was far enough away for anyone to even remotely notice my small act of fury.

But anyone who looked at my face would’ve seen that any light and hope I might’ve displayed previously had been sucked out of me. Yeah, it’d been one of those days.

It was while I was looking like I’d just been hit by a train, a rolling pin, and dragged for a mile over glass that the dude started talking at me. He was passing me in the parking lot when he took one look at my face and then kept looking… doing the up-and-down scan that men tend to do when they’re performing the “routine checkup” on a woman. I had been attempting to ignore him when he started speaking loudly at me:

“Ooh, you’re a pretty lady. REAL pretty lady! You look fiiine!”

Ok, I know the guy had possibly recognized that I’d had a bad day and was probably trying to cheer me up in the one way he could think of. But.. ewwww! When he said, “REAL pretty lady!” he leered, stopping his progression down the parking lot so he could raise his voice and make it known to all that I, the hobbling pregnant lady, was “reeeeeaal pretty.” (*cue creepy, twangy music to the movie Deliverance*)

Even though he probably thought he was doing me a service, he only managed to creep me out. Besides, I’m pretty sure he was a leprechaun. He was at least 10 years older than me, a foot shorter than me, and was wearing a hat that brought to mind Ireland on a cold spring day. Just sayin!

From the Perspective of an Anti-Phone Person.

When I wrote this I was VERY pregnant and pissy. But I was also trying to send a message (loud and clear!) to my stalker. I did have someone who obsessed over me at the time and she pushed me to my limit. Thus, this blog. Please forgive how blunt and rude I was. However, I am not going to make any changes to this blog because it reminds me of just how miserable I was at the end of my pregnancy. And I kind of want to remember that. :)

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Before I launch into this incredibly riveting rant about phones, I just want to make it clear that I do understand many peoples’ reasons for using their phones as often as they do. Some feel that the telephone is an essential part of existence, rationalizing that communication is key to any relationship. While I agree that communication is key, I do NOT agree that the particular form of communication has to be via the telephone. With that said I give you my perspective on the use of cell phones, that being the perspective of a non-phone person.


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I’ve never been a phone person. Nope. Never. Not even with my family or closest friends. Go ahead and ask ‘em. They’ll be the first to agree with me on this one. Even when I was so infatuated/smitten by a guy that I hoped… no, PRAYED that he’d call me. If by some freak chance the heavens smiled down on me and the dude called, I’d find myself at a loss for words. It’s not that I couldn’t carry a conversation or anything. Truth be told, I'd rather talk in person. However, in these cases it was more that I had so desperately wanted the attention of that particular guy that I was willing to put up with a phone call, as lame as they (phone calls, not the dudes) are.



(The dreaded telephone.)

I think this sort of thing runs in my family, although I can’t be absolutely sure. What I do know is that my father is also not a phone person. A great example of this was when I was on a mission for my church out in Australia for a year and a half. When it came time to make one of the two phone calls home that was permitted each year, I’d called my parents and we talked for a whopping… five minutes before hanging up. This was a complete let-down (although no surprise), considering that my missionary companion had just spent the previous 4 hours on the phone with her family. I’m not even kidding.


(Me at the Sydney airport, eager and nervous to fly back home.)

How the convo went: “Yeah, miss you too, Dad. Yep, still spreading the word of God. Ok, I’ll continue to write. Yeah, ok, love you too. Bye.” *click*

Now, I’ve come to understand one of the main reasons why it is that I am not much of a phone person: I’m a listener, not a talker. People who are “talkers” love people like me because they’ve got a captive audience for however long it takes them to express whatever jumble of a story they feel they need to communicate. And, while it’s nice to know that I am providing a service for my talkative friends/family, it’s also apparent that these talkative souls have no idea how it affects me, the listener. Nope, I’m convinced that they have no clue how it is slowly killing me inside to know that there went another two hours of my life that I could’ve been spending in a more productive manner.

Hey, I’m not trying to be mean. I am merely pointing out the truth. And yes, this is how I truly feel.

And the truth of the matter is this: I do not like wasting my time. This is one of the two reasons why I stopped watching TV almost six years ago. Not only did I see it as a massive waste of time, but I couldn’t afford cable anyway so it wasn’t that difficult for me to just fall out of the brain-draining habit. That’s right, kids! In my book:

TV and Telephone = a big, fat waste of time.

Why, in the space of two hours I could have done the following:


--write and publish a blog

--write a letter to both of my grandparents AND make the trip to the post office and back.

--do all of my laundry, make my bed, vacuum my room, and possibly even clean the bathroom.

--go for a walk in Point Defiance while reading (ok, listening) to a great book. [I like this because I’m accomplishing two things at the same time. Extra kudos for me!]

--wash my car, fill the bird feeder, and do the dishes.

--if any friends or relatives were in the hospital, I could go visit with them for a while.

--update my resume, and even apply for a few jobs online while I’m at it.

--go out for hot chocolate (or maybe a Jamba Juice) with a friend or two and, you know, spend some quality time IN PERSON with that beloved soul.

See what I mean? There are other things I’d MUCH rather do with my time than to be stuck on the phone listening to someone else’s life. Instead, I’d much rather LIVE MY OWN LIFE. I know, it’s a hard concept to wrap one’s brain around… but trust me, it makes sense.


(Why, lookie there... I'm living life, and it's even caught on film!)

So, keeping in mind that I’m A) NOT a phone person, B) a listener, and C) annoyed with the waste of time most phone calls tend to be, why is it that I am suddenly being plagued by phone calls?! No, really. WHY?! Why is it that I have people who have started stalking me via phone?

It’s gotten to the point where I feel I’m being victimized. I seriously feel like a victim whenever I’m trapped on the phone for more than a few minutes. It’s as though someone is taking advantage of me in a most intimate manner and has the nerve to be smug about it the entire time. It’s almost as if my very life source is being sucked out of me. And it's extremely draining! Oh, and if there’s some sort of drama involved? Well then, I thank you for adding to my already skyrocketing levels of stress and ask that you please understand that there needs to be a moderation in all things, including phone calls.

I hate being the bitch about it, but there it is. I can’t handle your stress on top of my own. Especially not now. Not when I’m dealing with being 9 months pregnant and hormonal, withdrawing from OFF my mood-stabilizing drug of choice which I’d been taking for the past decade, living in an incredibly abusive (verbally) home with a clinically diagnosed psychotic person who happens to have the power to kick me out at any time she desires (and is fully aware of this power), depending on the goodness of others to help me get through this hard time (when I’m so used to being an uber-independent-type of person), also depending on the government to provide health care AND food stamps, trying to get back in good standing in the church that I’ve always known was true, going through bankruptcy, and oh yeah… trying to prepare myself to lose the baby that’s been growing inside of me for these nine months. The baby that is driving me crazy with hiccups right now. Yeah, that one.

NO! I’VE BLOODY WELL HAD ENOUGH.

[*catching my breath and trying not to cry again*]

This would also be the reason why my blogging has slackened recently. See? Nobody likes this much drama! Least of all me.



(Blasted Drama Llama keeps following me around with its wicked grin...)

Soooo… It’s gotten to the point where I’ve decided to take a break from the phone. Actually, my thoughts were more along the lines of “screw the effing phone! I hate that thing and I refuse to answer it.” It’s true I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I was finding that the majority of the phone calls I’d been receiving were only contributing to my stress. And, at the recommendation of those I trust, I decided it would be best to freakin’ throw my phone against a brick wall again and again until it shattered into a million pieces, whereupon I would then stomp and trample the bits and pieces until there was nothing left but a fine, blue, powdery substance that was once my cell phone.



But since I don’t technically own the phone I decided to do the next best thing: ignore it.

Surprised? You shouldn’t be. In fact, here’s how I, the non-phone… nay, the ANTI-phone person sees it when you, the phone stalker, calls:


1. You are forcing me to leave whatever it was I was doing at the time in order to satisfy your own needs.

2. If what I was doing at the time was sleeping, then believe me when I tell you that it was much more important than you could’ve known. You may assume differently, but just remember what assuming does.

3. When you decide to call me to see how I’m doing, that’s sweet.

4. When you decide to call me with the intention to see how I’m doing, but end up spending an hour talking about yourself, that’s selfish.

5. If I don’t answer your call, there is always a good reason. Don’t be offended because that’s just a big ol’ waste of time, much like watching TV.

6. If you don’t leave a message, I refuse to call you back. Plain and simple.

7. If I do answer the phone, count your many blessings, but don’t you DARE take advantage of me. Otherwise you’ll find that I suddenly am not taking your calls anymore.

8. If you seriously need to communicate something, those of you who know me best already know that EMAIL is the most efficient form of communication with me. Text messages come in second, unless it’s an emergency, then Texting trumps Emails (sample text: I’m in hospital, can you pick me up?).

9. The whole reason I got a cell phone was in case *I* found myself in an emergency situation. I used to travel a lot and had broken down a few times without any means of communication. Getting a cell phone alleviated any worries that might’ve been associated with that.

10. I REPEAT: the reason I have a cell phone is in case of emergency. In other words, I’m not going to call on a whim because I’m bored or am curious to see how the weather is out your way. No. Should this be a surprise? NO.

Now, if you’re attempting to call me because you are concerned for me then I thank you. But I will also say GET OVER IT. I’m a big girl, am not stupid, and can take care of myself very well. I am nowhere near suicidal (although that could come as a surprise to those of you who’ve met my mother), and would never resort to harming myself. If I happen to be hurt then I will use my most-despised cell phone to call for assistance. *IF* that’s necessary at all. If I’m having a baby, then STOP WORRYING. Women have been having babies since the dawn of time. I’ll survive, but you need to give me my space. Get it?

I do apologize to those of you who have no clue what has triggered this rant of a blog. To you I give a heart-warming THANK YOU! Thank you for respecting my intelligence, space, and independence. Thank you for trusting that I am an adult who can take care of herself. And thank you for just plain reading my blog! I’m super impressed by that alone. ;)

To those of you who have fallen into the phone-stalker category—and there are a few of you—again I do apologize for being a total wonder wench from hell. But considering how far I’ve been pushed, it was only a matter of time before such an explosion was to happen. Please, just back off, ok?

THANK YOU!

*beaming warmly at all of you*

*…and turning the phone off and tossing it into the closet*



(Just leave a freakin' message.)