My Impending Divorce

Dear Spotify:

Did you not read my post yesterday about how You were one of the Last Heroes of Smartphone Integrity in these days of “Technology Rape?”

Simply for allowing us to listen to our music on your app while actually simultaneously DOING SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE, like paying bills on other apps?

You don’t like being a Hero much, do you?

Because, as of this morning, this one quality – this one thing that made you [somewhat] special – is now officially gone. Erased by Hal (of Space Odyssey notoriety, youngsters) during my “download” last night. You know: the one that goes into that Matrix port in my brain while I’m sleeping?

I’d like to think it was an accident, or something silly like “Operator Error.” Only this Operator isn’t stupid and didn’t turn stupid overnight.

Do you honestly think I have nothing better to do than listen to your music while simultaneously staring at your boring static app?

Maybe I don’t really need your answer to that last question. The more egregious fallout of your betrayal is what you’re literally forcing me to do here.

Which is sending me into the cold, hard, made-of-85karat-gold arms of Jeff Bezos. You know that, don’t you? And after I publicly stated he’s been relentlessly pursuing me for the last few months?

I do not want to be embraced by those arms! Maybe by Any Other Living Arms, but not his.

So what was it they did in the Old Testament? I think it was speaking these words out loud:

“I Divorce You, I Divorce You, I Divorce You!”

-Leviticus or one of the other “First Five”

I’m pretty sure witnesses weren’t required, so I’m just providing y’all with a front row seat to my Impending Divorce.

And damnit, but I’ve had to go through a lot of divorces lately! Not to mention the Two Before.

You know the part I hate the most about Divorce? [I am an undisputed expert, so please do listen well]…

It’s all the crap you have to do (or, The Four “F’s”, as I like to call them):

  1. Fucking Pack up all your shit (*see note below)
  2. Find alternate services
  3. Fill out all that godforsaken paperwork – even if it is digital, it still should be done away with under The Paperwork Reduction Act (**see second note)
  4. And probably most importantly: Figure out how to get your needs met by the new guy (***see third note)

*Theres nothing I hate more than assembling those loathsome wardrobe boxes from U-Haul. And you know I’m going to need about 14, you greedy motherfucker! I’d almost stay with you to avoid this whole process, but I’m starting to get ANGRY now, and trust me: nobody needs to see that. So I’m coming for you, Confounding Tape Dispenser with Teeth! We’re about to renew our relationship.

**Why doesn’t The Paperwork Reduction Act address Paperwork In General? Because it’s high time we got rid of it all! Collectively decided to wipe it from The Face of The Earth! I’ll even use my monthly $10.81 (x 60 months, don’t lose sight of that!) Spotify payment to contribute to that cause.

***Regarding #4: Really? Next to assembling wardrobe boxes, you know how I despise breaking in a “new guy.” After years of cultivating playlists that actually have personal significance to me, you’re forcing me to do it all over again. With a newbie.

I just don’t get it, Spotify. Other than that one time in 2018, did I ever miss a payment? No, I did not. So then…Why? Because you know what? I was actually thankful for the Music you brought into my Toneless Life. I enjoyed adding a soundtrack to my daily life. I even enjoyed that karaoke playlist that I used to prepare for my shitty little performances. Maudlin of me, I know.

Besides, how can I put on a decent performance if I can’t look at the lyrics from Jeff’s sight while listening to said songs? As a matter of fact: your petty jealousy is preventing me from realizing my dreams of becoming The Next Karaoke Sensation. I will personally blame you if my dreams [so fresh and new after having none for so long] never reach fruition.

I thought you loved me, but you just married me for my money.

The truth hurts, but I can’t live with all of you ruthless capitalists anymore! I’m going to join a fringe group like the Peace Corps or something equally radical because like I said: I’m really starting to get pissed off here.

Did I not just advise you to Never Underestimate Me?

What’s that expression again?

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

-Not sure

Well, can I just say that this woman is feeling both scorned and furious right now?

So if you’ve done me wrong, I suggest you start implementing counter-surveillance maneuvers and change your locks. Also, you might want to park that Ferrari somewhere with controlled access. I know you’ll just get it fixed, but my keys are really sharp and I can’t help that they start vibrating in my hand when I see your fleet of luxury automobiles in my pot-hole-riddled parking lot.

For “Alonzo”

I have another idea. I know the current situation with the parents isn’t ideal, but you know that’s temporary. So consider:

What do we need, like 15 minutes, 10? Seriously, I think we can safely say we only need 12 minutes total for this.

I will start to mention to my elderly mother and stepfather that I am “seeing ants again.” I’ll mention it a couple of times max.

My Poor Mother’s OCD will be so activated by this alarming news that she will immediately want to call an exterminator. I will tell her I’ll take care of the details.

In the meantime, you go to Home Depot and buy one of those hose apparatuses (apparatusi?) that you use when you have to put Round Up on the weeds.

We set the date and you show up with the Round Up thingy and a dark polo shirt (preferably one with someone’s name on it if possible) and a pair of khakis. Your name can be “Jose.”

You’ll discover an area of intense concern in my bedroom. You’ll say the ant hive is located immediately beneath the flooring just over the door jam in my bedroom. So you’ll have to shut the door for at least 20 minutes, certainly no less (always under-promise and over-deliver).

I’ll claim to be so violently ill that I couldn’t possibly leave the bedroom that long in my current state. And that if Jose is okay with ME and his chemicals aren’t going to kill me, then he can stay and we can just go ahead and close the door.

Both of them are partially-to-completely deaf, especially my OCD mother, which is a mercy for us.

At that point, we have 10-15 minutes to “get rid of some ants.”

You just have to promise to TRY to keep it down. My mother could potentially feel the vibrations and begin collecting trash bags throughout the house, as is her preferred process when having one of her OCD “attacks.” And she’s particularly worried about the trash in my room, what with the ants and all.

But still: what a deal, right? Fifteen minutes of PURE ME for all of $29.99. I’m pretty sure that’s the best damn special Home Depot’s EVER had!

“You Never Miss a Play though You Make Quite a Few”

I was a young and impressionable 14-year-old when Billy Squier started singing his songs, playing his guitar, and strutting around in that special way of his in 1981.

I don’t care what disgusting things everybody says he did in that video from the 1990s. He can do those same disgusting things to me❣️

TWENTY-FIVE HOURS A DAY AND EIGHT DAYS A WEEK.

Dear Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, Whoever Created WordPress and Dropbox, and Steve Jobs (yes, I know)

Would you please quit fighting with each other and trying to exploit me?

Let’s start with the issue of “storage”: you all know what you’re doing, and you’re greedy motherfuckers.

Just because I made the decision to TRY OUT YOUR PRODUCTS between 10 and 25 years ago does NOT mean I owe you my forever-allegiance.

Yet you’re starting to act very entitled about my patronage.

You’re threatening me every five minutes that if I won’t upgrade to YOUR storage package, I’m in danger of losing my precious digital mementos and files.

Not to mention, it pisses me off that as an 11-year loyal iPhone customer, STEVE (from wherever; I won’t speculate) gets pissed off that I just bought a chrome-cast and then JEFF gets mad that I also purchased an Asis tablet thingy PURELY to access my Microsoft Office files.

Yes, yes, yes…THANK YOU BILL‼️

Because we all know YOU are THE MAN‼️

Who’s richer than every last one of us…

…can either hope or imagine being;

Than we can even wrap our little penniless brains around.

So WHY are you all fighting?? You have SO MUCH MORE than the buyers of your products, yet you are relentless in your pursuit of our meager funds! And relative to what you GUYS have, our millionaires have “meager funds.”

Plus, it also irritates me that ALL of my electronic devices are CONFUSED and REFUSE to talk to each other! Not even my Bluetooth earbuds will communicate with anyone other than my IPhone. So I’m blaming Y’ALL for the current discord in my family!

Whoever thought the World’s Biggest Billionaires had the time to orchestrate something like that?

P.S. I paid the extortion fee for “premium services” from all of you. Like all good peasants, I realized if I wanted to stay in business, I had to relent.

The “Me” in Meme

I’m going to try to do this like my younger friends on YouTube (is it called a meme?)…

PERSON: “helpful advice

ME: (inside head) DO YOU THINK I DON’T ALREADY KNOW THAT…AS WELL AS EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY PERSONAL FLAWS?

ME: (outside head) manifested “sensitivity to criticism”

Saturday Night, for Real

You order a terrible combination of ingredients on a pizza in a moment of fleeting spontaneity.  The results are unsurprisingly disastrous.  Do you:
1. Eat the problem like adult: You bought it, they made it, just eat it.
2. Project your unfulfilled needs onto unsuspecting innocents:
like yelling at the poor people who made the pizza in the first place, or:
3. Never EVER, under either direct or implied duress, admit to being home alone on a Saturday night. And ordering a pizza, no less! Such a rookie mistake!

Self-pity or The Green-Eyed Monster?

I don’t have time to write much today.  I just wanted to ‘fess up that, after my lofty musings of last Friday, I’m now back in the thick of all-too-human emotions.  I found out last night that a friend of mine, who totaled his new and fully loaded SUV while driving drunk, has just bought himself a brand new one.  Meanwhile, my car is sicker than I am.  And she looks more beat up than I do.  I haven’t exactly provided her with regular facials (I don’t wash her very often, and she sits under a sap tree), her sides have some wrinkles from a few years ago (when I opted to keep the insurance money rather than get her the Botox she rightly deserved), and lastly, her face is broken due to a little fender bender I got us into last week.  To add to her and my worries, she’s VERY old (1999; practically a “classic” in today’s world).  But she’s “Old Money” – an Infiniti gal – and her parts are extremely expensive relative to her Blue Blood (Blue Book value).  

But enough about HER. My question is this: Am I wallowing in self-pity or have I been bitten by the green-eyed monster? Am I actually jealous of someone’s new car just 36 hours before I have a scheduled double mastectomy? If so, I need the surgeons to perform an “Attitude Adjustment” while they cut, prod, and do what it is surgeons do. At a minimum, I need to write up a gratitude list of all I’m thankful for…a list which most definitely includes my trusty, dusty, and rusty car. Even if she IS thirsty all the time, and refuses to drink water!

Monday, September 10, 2012 at 12:21pm CST from my original blog

P.S. I have green eyes, so I’m pretty sure both Self-Pity AND the Green-Eyed Monster have regular rooms in my hotel (2021).

We Live With a Homicidal Maniac

We Live With a Homicidal Maniac who desperately wants to kill all of the Jennifers under My Care. I’m a total crap parent, but I know how to play dirty. You don’t think I could plumb the depths of survivor guilt and child murder with a free-loving Inner Critic, do you?

I have seen the faces of Evil, Violence, Hatred, and Unspeakable Acts. They look like Me, and Their Voice criticizes Me all day, every day. The Voice and I are well-acquainted; fellow Ancients, “Old Souls”.

But We are both tiring of these millennia of dragon-slaying. I know I speak for both of Us when I say We’d really like to go on Vacation. Isn’t there ONE responsible Adult out there who’s willing to watch the Jennifers for a week or so? Hell, we’d be happy with a long weekend off at the Holiday Inn down the road!

Please check your calendars and get back to Us. If Nobody steps up, We’re going to send Our Inner Critic to terrorize Him. If Anybody offers, I promise You full immunity from Future Prosecution (it’ll look better on you than Botox, I swear!)

P.S. We know the above post was Juvenile, but we had an adrenalized day by noon-thirty, so we had to bleed. Our Inner Critic is momentarily appeased.

Jenniferine

Lupine (wolf-like)
Canine (dog-like)
Feline (cat-like)
Porcine (pig-like)
Ovine (sheep-like)
Taurine (bull-like)
Limacine (slug-like)
Piscine
Elephantine
Equine
Muscine, Murine (mouse-like)
Serpentine
Aquiline (of or like an eagle)
Bovine (cow-like)
Vulpine (foxlike)
Leporine (rabbit- or hare-like)
Cervine (deer-like; moose, elk)
Avine (birdlike, but rare; Avian)
Squalene (like a shark; big fish)
Tigrine (tiger)
Delphine (dolphin-like)
Cameline
Ursine (bear-like)

July 19, 2017; Bolding added 2021

Nursery Rhymes & Fairy Tales

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
And all the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.

We whisper these horrible words into the ears of small children. How hopeless Humpty Dumpty must have felt!

Next project: a brand new set of fairy tales about ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Let’s get poor victimized Cinderella some therapy and a new place to live. Let’s give Rapunzel a key to that wretched tower, a good haircut, and a new job where she’s appreciated. I guarantee one day she’ll know her own strength.

While we’re at it, Prince Charming needs a vacation and some hobbies. He’d probably cry tears of relief just to learn he doesn’t have to be charming all the time (I know I certainly would). And talk about a high-stress job?!?! Not only does he slay dragons all day, he’s on call all night should any of his damsels find themselves in distress. Or need rescuing. Or have a flat tire.

I know that I don’t want to lose our one and only Prince Charming to Adrenal Failure.

Your thoughts?

My Demanding Teenager

June of 2009 through June of 2010 has been a tough year….on my car! Poor thing’s been banged up more than I have and is even older than I am in car years (1 year of human life equates to approximately 2,000 or 3,000 miles, depending).

Her latest “emergency procedure” involved a blowout on the highway (I haven’t had a salon blowout myself in ages!), which somehow necessitated the purchase of … FOUR new tires.

She is my petulant teenager, always getting her way with me and my limited discretionary funds! Seems she’s constantly asking for more and more $$$ for the gas station, facials and massages at the body shop, and LOTS of ongoing maintenance. She likes to be turned on (new battery a few months ago), get regularly inspected by some rather dirty-looking men, and now – expensive shoes for all four feet! And at prices I’d never even consider for my OWN shoes!

Who says I’m not a parent?

2010