If Pride Had Calories, I'd Be 9,000 Pounds.

Boy, turning Forty came with more shit than I could have imagined - some good and some bad and some, well... I guess some newly-acquired knowledge. (I guess that can fall under either category).

Everything has changed for me and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm now questioning the virtues, the ideas, and everything else I've always believed in.

We all have a certain sense of pride, dignity, and integrity; some of us have small egos, while others have inexplicably ginormous ones; some people are self-righteous, while some are humble; some are conceited, while others are completely self-deprecating. There's well-deserved forgiveness and equally, well-deserved blame. And then there's the truth. The truth is a concept that has different meanings, or so it seems, to everyone.

I've come to a conclusion that all of those things mentioned above are full of great meaning and also full of shit at the same time. Yes, while all of those virtues and traits are fine and dandy, there has to be some sort of balance between them, as well.

I'm always able to swallow my pride if and when I have to. Sure, it tastes bad going down but, hell, when I have to do it, the results have always been worth it. Shit, if pride had calories, I'd weigh 9,000 pounds. What amazes me, though, is how other people allow their pride to get in the way of things and how they make their decisions. Sure, it's a wonderful thing to have pride in yourself and in your character, but when it prevents you from seeing situations from another person's perspective because, God forbid your ego takes a punch in the gut, is it really that important? When it comes to losing out on something significant in your life, is it not worth taking that small hit? I've always believed that nobody is that fucking great to take that hit.

But there's another, darker side to that, as well. A small ding in your pride is one thing. But when you let go of it almost completely, that's a problem. Like I said, balance is key. I've been to that side, where I've tossed all my self-respect to the ground and had it dragged through the mud for something I believed so strongly in, something so worth it, but in the end, unfortunately, all that did for me was make me feel foolish. But in another way, it was a good lesson in learning that whole 'balance' thing I mentioned. Wear your pride like you wear your winter clothing: in layers. Sometimes, you have to shed a sweater when it gets too warm, but at least you still have something still on so you don't get too cold. Does that make any kind of ridiculous sense? (Oh, my three readers, I've been up since 3:50 am. Please try to figure that one out on your own.)

Another thing I've come to realize with age is that I hate how people skew the truth in order to soothe themselves, to make themselves look better/smarter/superior to others, or just because the real truth isn't something they can accept for whatever reason. Damn, I've told the truth even when it shed me in a bad light but to me, it was the right thing to do. Sure the truth is always easier to say when it makes us look good, but I think it shows more character to admit it even when it doesn't. People dance around it, they twist and turn it, they ignore it, they exaggerate it.... To look the truth right in the eye though? (Mostly) unheard of.

Which brings me to forgiveness. I've had so many experiences in my life with so many people where this was an issue. I've forgiven people in my past for things I probably shouldn't have forgiven them for. But who says I'm so great or high and mighty that I shouldn't give others another chance (or two, or ten, or endless ones, which has been the case many-a-time). Why are too many people so intent, though, on being unforgiving? Is it their stupid dignity that gets in the way? Are they in some way partially to blame in some way, shape or form and can't accept that? Do they feel that forgiveness is a sign of weakness? I don't know about anyone else, but to me, being able to forgive is a sign or strength.

I hate questioning all I've ever believed in, all the virtues and ideas I've had about people and life, but every day, something causes me to do so. Certainly, I am far from perfect and at one time or another have had the scales tip too greatly on the pride/truth/integrity/whatever side. But I am human. I recognize these things about myself and I always want to find a balance; I strive for it.

We all have to look at ourselves in the mirror every day and remind ourselves that the person looking back at us is the one person we have to make decisions for and live with forever. When I feel like I'm losing my own sense of self or have done something I am not too proud of, I never revert my eyes from that reflection - I face it and try to do the best that I can to change or make up for anything I need to. I don't want my ability to forgive or to be honest or any of those other things to become unrecognizable to me. But sometimes they do and unfortunately, it's because I've allowed people and bad experiences to do that to me. I don't want that, and I really don't want to question myself and who I am because at the end of the day, warts and all, I still want and like to be Ol' Forty.

Thanks Be

Normally, I just say little prayers in my head and thank God silently. But here's a list to my three readers of what I am thankful for:

1) My kids, Thirteen and Nine. The lights (and pains in the asses) of my life. Nothing would be the same without you two. Even though life has changed for all of us, all is still pretty damn good and for those things that are a little shaky, Ol' Mama Forty will make it all good. I love you two to pieces.

2) My family (Ol' Sixty Eight, Forty-three and even Ol' Forty-Eight). No matter what, you are all constants in my life through the good, bad and the-fucking- so-ugly-it's-ridiculous.

3) My friends. The ones I met through my kids' school, the ones who I've known through my own schooling and the ones who've gone away and come back. You all are the people who I hold near and dear to me, sometimes nearer and dearer than other times. ;-)

4) My sense of humor. It gets me through all those aforementioned good, bad and so fucking-ugly-it's-ridiculous times. I laugh at myself constantly even when I want to scream. Who else can walk into work with a bra hanging off her shoulder and laugh all day?

5) My sense of who I am. It's taken me years to figure it out but I finally know. I no longer care so much how others perceive me because perception is just that - we all see things differently. My truths are the most important to me because I know what I believe, I know what I mean, I know my own intentions. If someone else chooses to see it differently, then so be it. As long as I know what I know.

6) My determination. I have done things that I never thought I would do. I have pushed through things I never thought I could get through. I have achieved certain goals that, at one time or another, seemed unattainable. Sometimes it takes me years and years to accomplish what I want to, but I always find a way.

7) My belief and desire to forgive and be forgiven. Everything and everyone deserves chances - sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes countless. Most, if not all things, can be worked through. At least I think so.

8) Pizza and Pindar. (come on... we knew that was coming)

9) The opportunity(ies) to speak my mind. We should all be able to do so no matter what.

10) People that tell me my bra is stuck to my shoulder. I am so thankful for you.

11) Food Network. The day isn't complete without the Neelys or Paula Deen, y'all!

12) My dog, Almost Three. She's a little nutty lately but she wags her weapon-like tail at me and always smiles when I need to see one.

13) Discount stores. How else would I be able to buy a wardrobe for under $100?

14) Suavitel fabric softener. My clothes smell yummy all for the low price of $7. Who needs Downey? (well, except for the one below...)

15) Robert Downey Jr. Period.

16) To those that love me through it all... no matter what. You make my days brighter knowing that you believe in me and the person I truly am even when I fuck up, which I will admit to doing here and there ;)

17) My age-earned wisdom. Even though sometimes I'm off the mark, at least I'm reasonable enough to know and understand WHY I'm off the mark. Age does have its benefits.

To be continued.....

Ol' Forty

An Open Letter.....

How many times have you had conversations in your head with people who you need to speak with but you can't for some reason? How many times have you wanted to bawl someone out who fucking deserved it but you can't because it would cause too many other things to snowball so you just hold it in? How many times have you eaten a really good fucking slice of pizza and wanted to hug the person who put just the right amount of cheese on it and baked it to a bubbly brown? How many times have you just had a damn day/week/month/year that was so crazy, you wished you could address everything and everyone involved personally?

For me? It's been millions. So here's an open letter to all:

Dear The Idiots I Have Recently Encountered:

Thank you for showing me that in order to make yourselves feel better, you make up lies and embellish stories. Not only have you fucked up parts of my life, but you've also made me realize that 99% of people are just selfish assholes and I can no longer have faith in most people. Somehow, someway, I will find the strength to delete you all from my stupid Facebook account.

Dear Former Employers Who Have Treated Me Like Crap:

You have taught me many a lesson in being an employee. I will no longer be able to be honest to a fault about who I am and what I want because you have taken advantage of that and have treated me like a worthless piece of shit. Lesson learned and I pity the fuck that crosses me again in the work place.

Dear Friends Who Are No Longer Friends:
Oh, just fuck you. So not worth more words than that.

Dear People Who Have Stood By Me:
Well, thank GOD there are a handful of you. What would I do without you?

Dear Selfish People:
I have given you 100% or more of me. And when I make a mistake, suddenly I am like the plague. How sad it is that all the good I have added to you and your life (lives) is instantly forgotten. I guess human error is unheard of when all you can do is think about yourself(ves), Carry on with you life(ves) and leave me the fuck alone. I will no longer give more than I should and that's too bad.... because, damn, I can give an awful lot. You screwed all the people that I may encounter one day in the future.

Dear Pizza:
You make me feel full and warm and happy when I am sad and down. You soak up my wine just enough so that I feel cozy and lovely. Thank you for being ever-present at the mere cost of $4.50 for two slices of your heavenliness. I heart you.

Dear Paycheck:
I worked really hard for you and you made me smile amidst any gloom and doom I was experiencing. God bless you.

Dear Debit Card:
Thank you for seeming to be endless lately. I have enjoyed swiping you at Nordstrom, Marshall's and TJ Maxx for the past three days. Please don't disappoint me when I need to go to Toys R us.

Dear Westbury Liquors:
Pindar Winter White for $9.99 a bottle...the big one. No more explanation needed.

Dear Me:
I am bruised and hurt by people who were/are supposed to know who I am and what I am about. But I will fight like a mother fucker to not let them get me down. I know the truth about everything and that's all that matters. I will make sure I let myself heal and then move onward and upward. I will no longer beat myself up for mistakes, wrong decisions or anything else. Please keep remembering these words when I can't sleep at night when I think of those bruisers and liars and selfish people who make me feel horrible.

Dear New House (even though you're not really new and sort of old but you're new to me):
I like you and will make you my home.

Love Ol' Forty who no longer gives a fuck.

A Hairy Situation - An Open Letter

Dear Hair Follicles:

You're fired.

You're services are no longer needed from my eyebrows down. It has come to my attention that you've all been working overtime without permission and have taken it upon yourselves to pick up some day laborers as well. Please cease any projects you are working on now and vacate from those premises immediately.


I no longer have the desire or the funds to find new ways to remove the over-production of hair in places that make hair-removal necessary. My legs have endured too many cuts, bruises and scrapes as it is, so I refuse to use anything else on them that might cause bleeding, require immediate medical care and cause possible scarring. It has come to a point where I need to carry tweezers with me at all times for plucking emergencies.

Cease and desist any and all hair growth from my face down. I have sustained red, mustache-shaped burns over my lip in my efforts to be hairless along with an angry mob of blisters above my eyebrows. Because of your insistent desire to over-produce and because of the pain my poor face has endured, my only choice is to fire you all and just consider going with the Tom Selleck look. Please don't take it personally.

You are all very hard-working, dedicated follicles with potential for continued growth. I've heard my scalp has lost some employees and the ones that remain are lazy and unmotivated. All applicants are welcome.

If you all feel qualified, which I know you are, please make the journey to the top of my head and begin work immediately. It would be nice to brush my hair without gathering it all up afterward from the floor, sink, counter tops, my dog's head or the front of my shirt. It would also be nice to have more than three strands in my ponytail, which I can only hold together by one of those tiny rubber bands kids use when they have braces. I am not greedy and I don't require much at all. My only preference if anything is that when you begin producing, please make it that nice hue of brown rather than that wiry silver that seems to be all the rage up there.

Love and Ponytails,
Ol' Forty

A Heads-Up to Santa....

Dear Santa...

I know I am going to win "Meanest Mother Award" but please by-pass my house this year. I know it sounds unreasonable to ask you to do such a horrific thing, but let's review:

- Thirteen no longer believes in you so... screw him. Why go out of your way to bring him 652 presents he tosses aside, some which he never winds up using anyway?

- Eight is onto you, as well. She's a savvy little creature. But at least she pretends to believe: she helps me leave you cookies and milk and always wants to wait up so she can hear Blitzen and gang trampling on the roof. But she will always keep up the charade, that little schemer, because she now wants a laptop, an iPhone, a pink convertible car with leopard-striped interior and exterior (no, not a Barbie car - a real one), an iPad, anything with a lower-case "i" prefix, actually, and a Blackberry. If you decide to fly by, just drop an "iCarly" video into my mailbox and keep going. PLEASE.

-I busted my old ass going through my basement, or what I should really call, The Toy Graveyard From Hell, aka - Someone,-Please-Break-Into-My-House-of-Toy-Horrors-and-Steal-Everything. I carried up approximately thirty board games, boxes and bags of Legos totaling probably thousands of tiny pieces minus the ones my nephew, Fifteen, claimed to ingest a few years ago "just because" and the ones my dog probably munched on, three boxes of books, maybe 10 of those books, if that, read, a Leap Pad, a ghetto-version Lite Brite (which anyone who knows me knows I spilled half the pegs on the way up the stairs), and a shit-load of puzzles. Nevermind the half-colored Spiderman, Dora and princess coloring books I tossed.

Five over-stretched garbage bags later, I'm still not even close to having anything resembling a clean house. There are still:

- Twenty baby dolls, some with newly streaked blue hair, most naked, all neglected.

- BINS and BINS full of body parts: Green Goblin/Spiderman/Superman heads, arms, legs, wings, feet. You name it, my kids dismembered it.

You get the idea.

If you really need to drop by, come pick that stuff up and give it to kids who enjoy using the stuff. I'm throwing that shit out on the driveway to make a few bucks so you better come before I sell an entire Game Cube system with 100 perfectly good games to the lady who doesn't speak English except to say, "No, a quarter."

Dude, we're really Jews who become conveniently Catholic in December anyway.

Just a heads-up.

Shalom...
Ol' Forty

I'm Going to Kick Your 3rd Grade Teacher's Ass

Today as I was driving, I bypassed my annoying, evil iPod to see what was happening on the air waves. Every station was saturated with the same shit I hear all day, everyday, whether it's on the radio or blasting from Thirteen's iTouch. Finally I settled on, I'll Be Missing You by Puffy P. Diddy Daddy. Something old, yet new compared to everything else.

But then it happened - I heard it.

Every bref you take....

I suddenly felt venomous towards Puffy Diddy Daddy's third grade teacher.

Seriously, why is this man rich? Clearly, he has not been able to master the difference between the sounds th make and the letter f and people pay to hear him mangle the alphabet?

Then I got to thinking: I've heard waaaay too many people do this. Unless you're under the age of 12, (and that's very generous) or you have something physically preventing you from proper pronunciation, please learn how to say the following as these are the most common (that's so fucking sad) and the most annoying:

birthday, NOT berfday.

breath is NOT bref

While I'm on a rant, if I see one more apostrophe where it doesn't belong like on the end of a plural, NON-possessive, or another error where their, there and they're is concerned, I'm going to find the offender, force the name of their third grade teacher out of them, and kick their ass hard. The same goes for your and you're. Really.

I'm by no means a grammar snob, but if you think so, then you can Thuck Oth. ;-)

The Smell of Defeat

Come a little closer and take a whiff - no, not of my ridiculously expensive perfume that I will never, ever, ever be able to purchase again. Not that. Come on, smell... Got it now? It's strong and it's the other scent I've been sportin' lately, which, by the way, is quite costly in its own way and is called, "Eau de'Feat." There are several translations and/or pronunciations in English:

1. Oh, Defeat!
2. Oh, fuck.... defeated again!
3. Fuck My Life
4. Really? Why? Whyyyyy?

and my favorite...

4. My boss is a mother fucking hairy prick who has no compassion, human decency, or interpersonal skills who thinks his pocket bulging full of money (and probably only money, if ya know what I mean) make him better than everyone else.

I wish someone could explain to me why I decided to forgo the usual "interview smile and head-nod" and went with, "be forthright, be relaxed and be yourself." What, I ask you, was the point of being forthright to this potential employer (who went from "potential" to "actual") when all he did was take advantage of that? And is it really too much to ask for that same courtesy in return? Whoever can explain those mysteries to me, please also shed some light on a possible reason(s) why when someone employs a very eager, smart person who's willing to learn (and can learn!) anything that the employer constantly speaks to this employee with contempt, impatience and disrespect.

What happens to people when they become successful? Do they turn into selfish, arrogant fucks immediately? Or are there prerequisites for being successful, like they need to possess inner-scumbagdom (yes, that's a word: my word), or have complete disregard for the less-than-human folk that they employ?

I have approached my job searches in several different ways: the above mentioned "interview smile and head-nod" combo, then I've used that one along with the "outgoing-personality-willingness-to-learn" approach, and then I've gone the "Full Monty" approach - just being completely honest about who I am, what I want and why I think I'm a good hire. That's probably what helped me get my current position, although I think somehow my honesty and willingness fucked me in the end.

What is it that employers want? They place ads which take time for people to carefully respond to but then don't have the courtesy to respond back in kind. Then the rare few who do call you in for an interview, put you through a four-interview process over the course of weeks, hire you, then proceed to treat you as if you left your brain back in your health club locker. But, because we all need that green paper, we take it. We take all the bullshit because we have to. We work harder to prove ourselves, we bite our tongues when we should really lash them out with venomous words, then we work even harder to prove ourselves more and then we get screwed. Or at least I did.


Because this position I have is seasonal, most of the staff is laid off for either the entire summer or for part of the summer. Me? I got off for August with my re-hire date near Labor Day. But I never heard exactly when. So I emailed the Prick. After treating me like shit on his shoe (I have witnesses!)he sends me a negative email in response. He accused me of having a 'bad attitude.'

An overview of the beginning:

April: Four-part interview with Prick and his interview side-kick, Fat Pork Sword
Second week in: Mother Fucker Side-Kick Pork Sword bullied me into silence.
Every week following: Sarcastic remarks, no eye contact when speaking, rare acknowledgment of my existence.
Oh,, and apparently, when either of them raised their hand in my face, it meant, You, Woman. You no speak.

Many disdainful looks, snide side-comments and snickering between the two of them, and one-too-many belittling grammar corrections later, I was thrown into an ocean of "do this with little or contradictory instructions" and basically told to swim. When I asked for help, the hand went up in my face and I was spoken to with contempt.

I feel defeated. Not completely, where I'm gonna lay down in a puddle of my own tears, but enough where I reek of it already. Add a few other disappointments and struggles (to be announced in a future blog of misery)and I feel the urge to warn people to stay away from me as the smell of defeat is pungent and will curl your nostrils.

I know mine are. And like I mentioned earlier, it's a costly scent. It's costing me a little of my self worth and confidence.