It Won’t Be Like This Forever: My Abortion Story

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

We were having a bad patch.

It seems like we have been cycling through bad patches ever since we got together.

 

I don’t know how we got there.

How we kept getting there.

How we never seemed to leave there.

 

Months ago during that bad patch I sent him a link to a song about my sadness.

Ben Folds- Brick.

 

 

“That’s a song about an abortion, not us.” he said.

“It’s how I feel.”

 

Oh what little did I know all those months ago.

 

Months later…

I sat in a cold waiting room, alone.

I was filling out forms.

Procedures.

Signatures.

Statements of “understanding.”

 

 

“The world is sleeping I am numb.”

 

And the text messages poured in.

It was terrible.

We had been so terrible to each other.

 

I don’t know how it got there.

How it never seemed to leave there.

 

“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”

 

Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.

Of something once undeniably there.

Of something that…

 

I don’t know how it got away from there.

I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.

 

The picketers whom I had to walk past to get into the office chanted louder.

The door to the office was open.

Perhaps it was to try and remind the women waiting that there still was light.

That there still was hope.

That there still was… something.

 

I could see the picketers from my seat in the waiting room.

Their voices continued to rise.

Louder.

Stronger.

Echoing through the empty corners of that cold white waiting room.

 

And the text messages poured in.

It was terrible.

I felt terrible.

 

“Now that I have found someone I’m feeling more alone than I ever have before.”

 

I don’t know how we got there.

How we kept getting there.

How we never seemed to leave there.

 

“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”

 

But unlike that song, you weren’t there.

When they called my name, you were states away.

 

And these were my steps.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.

 

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

I took a deep breath breath.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.

I chanted to myself.

“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”

 

And these were my steps.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

The next room I would be alone with a nurse.

Like the first, it would also be cold.

Stark cold nothingness.

It was the theme permeating throughout the building.

A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.

 

“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”

 

The series of questioning would start.

Medical history.

Partners.

Relationships.

 

“Does the father know you are here?”

“Yes. He wants me to go through with this.”

“Do you?”

“I’m honestly not sure.  I feel terrible right now.  I want more information to try and make my decision.”

“Remember that this is your decision.  Don’t let anyone else force you to make one that you will regret.  It doesn’t matter if he agrees or not.  All that matters is you.”

 

“Now she’s feeling more alone than she ever has before.”

 

I closed my eyes and took another deep breath.

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

He might not remember it but he said it.

“I want to have children with you someday.  I think you’re going to be a great mom.”

But he said it.

He said it multiple times.

 

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

“She broke down. I broke down. Because I was tired of life.”

 

I don’t know how we got there.

How we kept getting there.

How we never seemed to leave there.

 

She continued to tell me about the procedure.

I would be asleep.

It would be relatively painless as I would be under anesthesia.

 

“The world is sleeping I am numb.”

 

“I want to find out how far along I am.  I need to know that much before I even begin to commit to anything.”

She understood.

 

It was time to take more steps again.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

I came into a room filled with women waiting for their procedures.

Some of them were in hospital gowns.

Some of them were waiting their turn.

There were rollers with iv bags.

There were women waiting for ivs as well.

 

 

It was cold.

It felt like the coldest room so far.

Stark cold nothingness.

It was the theme permeating throughout the building.

A sign of nothingness to be and to continue to be.

 

None of the women so much as looked at each other let alone spoke.

Each woman either sat and stared blankly or covered their faces in their hands.

It was a room full of ghosts.

A room full of sadness.

A room full of undeniable pain.

 

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

I took a deep breath breath.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was Dorothy.

I chanted to myself.

“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

The love I had felt…

That we had felt…

This would be a constant reminder and it was to be completely extinguished.

 

A nurse came in to check up on us all.

“How are all of you today?  Are you alright?  Well considering the circumstances?”

 

For a moment I felt calmer.

Warmer.

And the tears dried a little, although not completely.

 

I waited my turn.

 

Some of the women finally began to talk.

It was like they had been awoken.

Even if just for a moment.

 

That nurse was a ray of light.

She was hope.

She was a sign that there were still people who cared.

A light in that blank canvas of nothing.

 

Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.

Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.

 

There is still light.

There is still hope.

There is still… something.

 

“They call her name at 7:30.”

 

Another nurse.

Another room.

Cold still.

Nothingness still.

 

“It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever. It won’t be like this forever.”

 

Another nurse came in.

“So you’re here to get an ultrasound to find out how far along you are?”

“Yes. I am not sure if I want to proceed beyond that.  I know that knowing that much will help me with my decision and my options.”

 

I was told to disrobe from the waist down.

She would return and we would find out my answer.

 

 

I looked up at a monitor.

It was waiting for someone.

It was waiting for me.

It was waiting for…

 

The nurse returned.

We started looking.

Measurements were taken.

Pictures were taken.

 

The nothingness that I felt disappeared.

I began to cry again.

 

Inside of me there is a seed of love created in happiness.

Of something once undeniably there.

Of something that…

 

I don’t know how it got away from there.

I don’t know how it never seemed to leave there.

But there it was… cozy and comfy in black and white on that screen.

 

A sign of life.

A sign of hope.

A reminder of…

 

Months ago…

once upon a time ago…

our time ago…

 

And while my heart fights the reality of that potentially never being anything more than a memory again

 

You’re still there.

 

I’m still here.

 

I’m not ready to say goodbye to either one of us.

 

And these were my steps.

Little steps.

First steps.

Potentially last steps.

 

There was a part of me sentenced to die…

Whom it seemed you wanted to die.

 

Maybe it did that day.

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the way either of us thought it would.

 

That little piece of black and white was hope.

It was a sign.

A light in that blank canvas of nothing.

 

Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.

Because maybe that’s why that door was open in the waiting room.

 

There is still light.

There is still hope.

There is still… something.

 

And while I admit I’m completely scared and not sure about the details of what’s about to happen I know that it’s going to be ok.

 

Because that’s what a small ray of sunshine can do.

There is still light.

There is still hope.

There is still… someone.

And I can’t wait to meet you when you get here.

Mr Perfect

Back when you were younger do you remember those “Little Miss” books?

Well, a little while back, when I was out and about with a friend in Westwood we stopped in a gift store called Aah’s!  Walking in, you essentially knew what you were getting into.  Everyone has been to those cheesy shops at some point in their lives.  Some, more so than others.  It was littered with silly gag gifts and other assorted randomness.

Most of the time you walk into shops like that just for the experience of them.  Rarely, if ever do you buy something or know someone that does.  At least, not unless they are in their teens or know someone who is about to hit 40.

That night though I did find something.  I found a couple of things actually.  One is indeed silly and I may have to return to get it to send to someone important.  The other?  A few buttons that I put on the messenger bag that I carry most everywhere.  This story is about one button in particular- one that had the image and name of one called “Mr. Perfect.”

Little did I know, that perhaps that was a magnet for the person I would soon find to be my Mr. Perfect- HOM.

After we met it seemed very odd that the button mysteriously fell off my bag.  I put it in my pocket and held it close.  It was as if fate was telling me something…

The button is still in my pocket.  I want not to draw in anyone else.  I firmly believe that I found what I was looking for, even if it may or may not be the right time for it to happen.

Muse for Hire trudges on… those cranes have not been finished yet.  I realize more and more that I know where pure inspiration comes from.  That perhaps I already knew.

Mr. Perfect is in my pocket.  The dream is still there.  I lived it and think about it…but I don’t think about it.  I know that even if it wasn’t him… then damn I came the closest that I’ve ever gotten to it yet.

In the aftermath of the nuclear blast (a story which I am still devoted to help him pen) there is a sole survivor.

I wonder if Mr. Perfect will return and grace the nights and days with that light again or if the light that burns twice as bright will burn out twice as fast yet again.

To you my dear, I would Walk Through Hell.

I really firmly believe that there was a reason why we encountered eachother.  That there was a bit of serendipity.  That it was about something more.  It was real.  It was tangible.  It was… a movie that I will never forget.

I care about you more than you know.

I’m sorry that things turned out the way they did that day.  We were supposed to be flying kites high above the sky… the week that we had made me feel like that inside.

There are things I want to show you.  Experiences that I still want to have with you.  Mr. Perfect… you are everything I always wanted and more.

If you’d only let me.

If only

If only

If only.

I miss you my dearest.  I am looking for that way home… as I said before, San Diego my heart is yours.  This time, more than ever do I know that to be true.

 

 

 

 

 

Brutal honesty: Unhappiness in the military

DISCLAIMER: As a note to all my friends and to people all over the world within the military, this blog is not to belittle your efforts, dedication, hard work or jobs.  I know that there is so much that you do than what is in the focus of this blog.  This is to those lost souls that have turned to the military to complete themselves rather than a foundation based in patriotism.

On one gaming forum that I belong to, I’ve made a few friends-people that have both helped me through hard times as well as touched me through their laughter, stories, and support.  This is the story of one of them.

His name is Hazard Cheif and he’s a pathological liar.  At first, I just thought he was kidding around.  Then the lies got bigger… mafia, car races, cheating girlfriends (ok that one could have been true), boats, yadda yadda yadda.

Sometimes it was funny.  I mean, it felt like a game to a degree.  But over time it became less and less funny.  As a friend, quite frankly I hoped that he would get past this stage in his life and start on the path to finding himself.  Given that I have been on this road (looking to find myself not the pathological lying bit), I distanced myself.  I never really disappeared but I also wasn’t there all of the time.

Once in awhile he will message me.  We will have a bit of loose conversation and then back to poof.

Last night was one of those nights…

(11:44:22 PM) supernerdlady: are you done with the pathological lying yet?
(11:44:33 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : ha yes actually
(11:44:42 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i’ve left it behind me
(11:44:49 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : along with alot of people
(11:44:58 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : im in the US Navy now

Conversation continued more as I asked him about postcards. He said that he was stationed stateside and had not yet been deployed but would send some when he was.  And then he started to mention that he was actually looking forward to deployment…

(11:47:35 PM) supernerdlady: thats not something to look forward to
(11:49:36 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i’ve never left the US
(11:49:59 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : it’ll be a chance to see new cultures learn new things meet new people
(11:51:55 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : other than that shit life has actually kinda sucked

It was abundantly clear that he’d joined the service in an attempt to get away from reality rather than face his issues.  As a good friend, I didn’t pander to his statements where he tried to rationalize his choice…

(11:53:33 PM) supernerdlady: escaping doesnt solve anything
(11:53:42 PM) supernerdlady: but thats one thing the service is good for i guess
(11:53:55 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : yea i guess.
(11:54:00 PM) supernerdlady: you dont need to focus on yourself bc you can just do what they tell you
(11:54:03 PM) supernerdlady: be how they tell you
(11:54:36 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i’ve already been in for a year and 3 months, and i feel like i havent really done anything with my life thats really of any importance
(11:54:57 PM) supernerdlady: what dictates whats important or not?
(11:55:11 PM) supernerdlady: did you learn anything in that time?
(11:56:00 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i learned…. heh, how to iron military creases in my uniforms, alot about the UCMJ, and that i despise marines… ha

Now before you start with the hate mail, as I stated in the disclaimer above, I will reiterate that this blog is not to belittle your (anyone within the military or friends of someone within the service’s) efforts, dedication, hard work or jobs.  I know that there is so much that you do than what is in the focus of this blog.  This is to those lost souls that have turned to the military to complete themselves rather than a foundation based in patriotism.

He was unhappy and didn’t see just how unhappy he was, or rather, he didn’t know how to.  And then, it happened.  The beginning of the potential end of our friendship…

(12:15:50 AM) supernerdlady: at least its a steady paycheck
(12:15:54 AM) supernerdlady: thats more than i have
(12:16:24 AM) HaZaRd Cheif : yea
(12:16:40 AM) HaZaRd Cheif : id trade the paycheck for happiness anyday

Tick, tick boom.

That was it for me.  I told him flat out what I thought about his statement, and it was not pretty.  It’s so not pretty that I am not going to post it. But here’s a summation of how it went:

I told him that I “would take my poor, artistic, extremely happy but not always perfect or stable paycheck existence over a life like what he was living- without decision making or happiness over his any day.”  I wished him the best of luck to find whatever it is that he is looking for and that the only person that could save him was himself.

It was harsh, brutal honesty.  I let him go.  I meant what I said.  I felt really bad about it.  I know he’s not the only person going through this… so many others like him are experiencing this same pain.  Why doesn’t anyone do anything for these men and women?  Is a future with your own voice really that bad?  In the process of giving someone something they can be confident and successful in with moving up ranks and encouragement, we walk away from what really matters: that same application inwardly.

Mr Hazardous Chief, tread safe out there.  I hope you find the beacon to guide you home safely soon.

Baby steps: taking the initiative to succeed in the workspace

Jennifer Stavros

Los Angeles, CA

[phone number]

Dear Hiring Manager,

Hello again. A pin dropped and echoed on the floor after I hit send.  I knew then that I likely ruined my chances at getting your proofreader position due to 2 spelling errors within my objective.  I went to a business meeting about career development and discussed it.  I knew that this position is the perfect opportunity for me and yet, I’d botched it.

I had initially wanted to write this email and hesitated.  Frankly, I was afraid.  Then I realized something after some thought:  the worst thing that you could do was simply not hire me.

So here goes nothing.  Attached you will find another copy (a re-proofread resume).  Here’s hoping that you give me a chance.  I am eager to provide the best quality service possible for the [redacted company name]. I look forward to speaking with you further.

With Utmost and Kindest Regards,
Jennifer Stavros

and yes, I really sent this.  In my mind, I had to.  Freelance copy gigs are amazing when they come, but at the same time… even if I don’t get this job, I’m proud that I had the guts to write it.  Baby steps.  It’s going to be alright. Now someone hire me already damnit.

We live in a Circus

Dear Los Angeles,

I came to the state of California nearly 10 years ago to pursue a dream in the entertainment industry.  Back then, and even as a child, I never would have gone to the extremes that Los Angeleans are doing right now.

People are quickly disputing that Michael Jackson dying could be a hoax.  Please remind me of the man’s contibutions to society beyond music?  What about this man is worth glorifying to the extent that you are?  How many lives did he touch in ways beyond entertainment?

There will be more entertainers.  I’ve accepted a long time ago that there will likely not be as many great ones as there have been.  The golden age of cinema.  The heyday for music.

Was Michael Jackson iconic?

Sure.

But he was also not a good person.

He was a living spectacle.

And now you are making his death a spectacle.

Do you realize how much you are making it difficult for any other person who is in that hospital?  For anyone having an emergency that’s headed toward that hospital?

I’m ashamed right now.

I’m ashamed that anytime anything major happens in entertainment- basketball, celebrity deaths, etc, that this city becomes an uproar.  I’m ashamed that there are riots over victories.

This is democracy.  For that much I am glad that we have…. but let’s use that energy towards causes that are worthwhile.  Like prop 8, our budget deficit and Iran.

Perhaps I’m a bit touchy about this because of my grandmother (who goes into surgery for an angioplasty tomorrow morning) and am just really not someone to be around.  Perhaps I’m a bit upset about missing friends down south because I’m worried I may have to drive home for a funeral.  Perhaps I’m upset because of the common tarry with the grip.

This doesn’t excuse you LA.

I know that the circus is in town, but this is too much.

Rest in Peace Mr Jackson.  Please Los Angeles, give the man some peace.

With Utmost Sympathies for the families involved,

Jennifer Stavros

Walking on sunshine and eggshells

I got a call from my brother yesterday.  My grandmother needs a second operation.  They had to put a stint in her heart and now have to do another bypass surgery.

“She’s going to be ok.  I just found out.  Dad called me and told me to get over here.”

I really feel like I should be going home.  I’m worried despite being told not to.

“Do you want to talk to her?  When you do, don’t mention the surgery.  She’s scared and we want to keep her in good spirits.”

I stammered with my words.  What do I say to her?  I’ll tell her about my weekend.  It should have been easy.  It was disastrous.

“Um so I hear the weather there is hotter than it is here now.”

“It’s humid here.  In the 90s.  What about over there?”

Weather?  She’s in a hospital.  She can’t go outside to enjoy or dislike it.  Great going Jena.  That was smooth.  Must… try and make this better.

“Oh it’s nice.  I’m riding the bike everywhere.  I hate cars..”

I need to change the subject here.  What to say?  What to say?

“So I’m sending postcards to Germany and Japan today Gram.”

“Oh wow that’s neat.  Did you get any new ones recently?”

“I got one from Taipei this weekend.  Some recent ones from China and a few other places.”

Ok that conversation is dead.  Erm…

“I saw a movie this weekend that you’d probably have liked.”

“Oh really which one?”

“The Graduate.  Do you remember that one?”

“Yes.  Old movie with Dustin Hoffman.  Where did you see it?”

Fuck.  I did it to myself.  There’s no way I’m going to tell her where I saw it.  Not with her in there.

“In a park.  It’s where I saw Funny Face last weekend.  This coming weekend they’re showing East of Eden.”

“Oh that James Dean film.”

My brother pulled the phone.  I heard beeping in the background.

I worried in that half second that the last conversation I may have had with my grandmother was about watching movies in a cemetary.

“Oh my god.  Is she ok?  What’s that beeping?”

“It’s one of the machines.  Don’t worry.  I think it’s the cell phone causing it.  We’re going to ask them about it now.”

“Are you away from earshot from her?”

“Sec. “

Thirty seconds later:

“Yes I’m away from her now.”

“Please tell me I didn’t just kill her with talks of a heartthrob of her time…  Aww fuck.  I can’t talk at all here.  I’m walking on eggshells.”

My kid brother chuckled.

“No.  You didn’t.  It’s seriously going to be ok.  She’s active and in bed.  It will be fine.  I promise.”

I’m off to the store to get her a postcard and have some time on the road now.  What a day.  I just hope she’s ok.

A girl. A bar. A story…

Taken from a yelp review I wrote about my favorite bar and this incredible weekend:

Anyone that knows me knows when I say I’m at “my bar” this is where to find me.  This is hands down my favorite hangout spot- weather I just want a drink and catching up with a couple of guy friends for our weekly relaxer or if its prowler night and want to get shitfaced for really cheap.

Once upon a time a girl went here to just let her hair down and relax and met…
there’s awesome people at this bar.  The crowd is your normal set of characters, but there’s a few wildcards too.  It’s not somewhere where I would say is where you should go if you’re after the best/hottest catches- as there are quite a bit of cougars and some hipsters that seemed a bit out of place…
this is not where I would ever expect to meet a guy.
But, well you never know.

This place has a lot more to it than cheap, well mixed drinks.

There’s a photobooth in the back that is perfect for sneaking some make out time, a fireplace to cuddle up and talk… and of course, a dance floor, and kareoke.

This is where my best friends birthday party was.  This is where we brought friends who were in town from E3.  This is where I’ll buy my kid brother his first drink.

It’s a touch of what’s real in Los Angeles.  It’s my little version of “Cheers.”
Where everyone worth a damn already knows your name… especially *you.*

/end soapbox

And now a tale of a “preacher’s” daughter

Ah Easter Sunday… or in atheist and pop culture, Zombie Jesus Day.  So whichever way you prefer, happy ___ to you.

This weekend has been a bit of a rollercoaster.  I come from a very conservative Roman Catholic background.  My family is very devout with their faith.  They uphold traditions of ritual and wholesome values.  I have the utmost respect for their commitment to the cross, but… well I know that I’m far from it.

I am the sterotypical cliche of a Catholic school girl gone wrong.  I drink, I smoke, I delight in things that are both volatile and scandalous.  I’m an atheist, outspoken, liberal girl who loves rock and roll, fast cars, motorcycles, piercings, tattoos and deviants.  I revel in the throws of passion.

My idea of kneeling down to worship is on my knees in front of that certain someone (or someones).  I am devoted to my work and play- but, well it just isn’t what my family would agree with.    Oh how far the apple falls from the tree.

What daddy doesn't know... won't hurt him.

My parents are separated (ie: happier and divorced) and are both entering their second marriages.  Mom still lives back home in Chicago suburbia with her husband that looks like John Denver.  My dad, finally on the path to marrying the one girlfriend he’s had over the years that I get along with best… most of the time.

She’s not Catholic however.  My father is very strict about this.  Ah conversion… this is how I know for sure it’s a cult.  He will not marry her until she completes the process of being one so that they can get married in a church ceremony.  This weekend she was confirmed and got a few other sacraments.  I was invited to go but unfortunately (fortunately) had work to do so I had to postpone until later today.

Ironically as it were, this season I found myself writing copy for a site for singles of all forms… sites to help you meet the millionaire of your dreams, to one night stands to… someone who shares the same faith.   I found myself searching for answers.  Anything to help assist me to write about something I had no connection to.  I found this gem of a website (NSFW):

Pegging is not a sin if you do it with your significant other

For someone as far from those tracks as I am,  despite the ease of my current project, I found the latter the most difficult piece to write.  Also, since I am currently without a laptop, I can’t exactly just go to my dad’s and ask him to borrow the family PC to write smut copy.  Regardless if I tell him that it’s work (which it genuinely is thankfully), he will tell me its crap.  He doesn’t even need to know what it is to say that either- just that it requires me to be on the internet, and therefore it is evil.

I elected to stay in for a majority of my weekend to work on it, as my soft deadline is Monday morning.  I will be committing a majority of today to family activities far away from this horrible place we call “teh interwebz.”  Friday night was quiet.  I saw the oo shiny of parties and event goings on, but wanted to get some work done.  I took company with a longtime friend from Bakersfield across a screen.

“I sucked as a Christian that’s why i chose Atheism.” I told Tino.

This of course, led to even more ridiculous chats as the first initial reactions as to what to write didn’t exactly make it to print (there at least).

Here’s a few lines from the more… interesting form of copy, in prayer format:

Whenever I go to pray, I ask for a companion.

Oh dearest God… all I want more than anything is…

for someone to fuck me up the ass proper.

I mean!

Dearest Lord please grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the wisdom to…

know just which guy is not going to need an instruction book to pleasure me in all the ways the devil would…

No!  I mean!

I just want a close friend that I can tell anything…

like don’t be afraid to be man enough to pull my hair and yank on…

And if I could get a really great… ” girl blowjob” that would be awesome too.

I ask this through Jesus Zombie.

Amen.

Ah prayer.. it seems I cannot escape it, even when I’m writing ad copy.  It’s… amazing.  Religion seeps into most everything weather we like it or not.  If you don’t have a sense of humor about it, you will always be set up for heartache.

Yesterday was my “kick butt” class.  It’s my monthly self defense class.  The instructor gives encouraging talks throughout the seminar about real life applications to better enhance what you take out of the class.  It’s one commitment that I have been doing for a few months now.

This month’s class was about pushing your limitations.  We learned just how much you need to push yourself to get what you want.  Hard work and determination will pay off… but only with a commitment to practice and focus.  That said I can now both mentally and physically take your ass down if you mess with me.  Beware LA dating scene or I’m going to fuck you up.

At the end of the class, the instructor wanted us to pay our respects with a very old bow and prayer.  It was not a religious affair, and yet, it seemed as if it were.  The act didn’t bother me though.  I have the utmost respect for the ritualistic nature of religion, even if I don’t practice it.  As long as it’s not shoved down my throat, I can observe in moderation.  Despite being a really bad Catholic by practice (or lack thereof) for my father’s sake, in the right circumstances, I can shine with my knowledge about the faith when sequestered.

So there you have it.   Another lesson from yesterday’s class… you can’t escape your past.  Sometimes you have to embrace it and deal with it head on.  I have a few more pieces to finish and then I’ll be making my way to suburbia to visit the family and have Jesus cake.  Maybe I’ll even wear a dress.  Because well later tonight, there may be a dirty boy in my future.   Papa won’t know any better than to preach.

Douchebag of the week! Username: Heathers

Ah how many of you remember that beloved movie of the 80′s?

Let’s take a journey back in time to remember the female douchebags of my more formative years from one of my favorite cult classics.  It will make sense later I promise.

Heathers, circa 1988

From right to to left, seen above, the characters Heather Duke, Heather McNamara, and the queen of the female douchebag power click, Heather Chandler accompanied by miss Veronica Sawyer.

In my teenage angst period and throughout my life, I seemed to most empathize with Wynonna Ryder’s character.  Here she was, riding along in the cool kids club, but she never really fit in.  There was something off about her, but not in a bad way.  It was noticeable enough to be noticed, but her entourage was her get out of jail free card.

For years I’d be haunted by these “Heathers.”  It became prevalent even more so when entering the entertainment industry.  It didn’t matter how nice you were to them, if you looked at some of them funny, wore your hair differently, showed up at a party with an attractive guy, got attention from the right person, they would snub you.  You are expendable and competition.   However, both parties can be successful in the Hollywood pool, but only if they moderate themselves.

In this movie, these douchebags made her life both hell and heaven.  The choice was hers.  So what better way to play the game than become one of the crew?  Once in the favor of the crowd, the potential to rise is endless.

Ah the politics of womanhood.  Take notice my dears and play nice, even if you don’t like eachother… because everyone wants the rank of a Heather but maintain the likeability of a Veronica.

*******

This week’s douchebag of the week goes to a very special girl from the East Coast also named Heather.  Like the characters in the movie, she’s a gorgeous girl with a commanding presence.  People know who she is, and she’s popular within her circle.  But she failed to moderate herself…

One of my best friends back home, Jace, finally got involved with a girl, Nat, that he’s been madly in love with for 10 years.  He was doing the long distance relationship thing.  She- on the east coast, He- from Chicago.   Their courtship had been something danced around quite literally for some time.  Needless to say when it finally happened, he was glowing magnanimously.

Jace and Nat love to dance.  He’s frequently flown out there for dance competions and video game functions.  They have been best friends for ages.  Their relationship was strong.  He’d met her family.  All steps in the direction of a potentially great payoff and long term romance.

It was also during this time that he’d also met Heather.  She was a conventionally beautiful girl who loved to dance as well.  However when he’d initially shown interest in her, she rejected him.

Time passed and he’s with Nat.  He’s on cloud nine about it.  This was when it would finally all make a turn for the worse.

What is it about women who suddenly want the guy when he becomes off the market?

I must admit, I’m guilty of this too.. but here comes the psychotic difference between her and the rest of “sane” women.

He was being a good guy to Nat. Heather decided to come out in the open that she had feelings for him and wanted him.  He respectfully declined and repeatedly stated he was in love with his girlfriend.  She refused to listen.

There was a dance competition coming up that he planned on attending.  Heather decided that this was the perfect time to schedule a trip out to Chicago…. so she could see him in person and tell him everything.  Jace was not clued in on this.

He went to his dance gig as normal and ran into her.  He was trying to maintain a friendship with her and be cordial.  She pressed.  She said she had things of his to give back to him- a sweatshirt that was back at her hotel room.

He tried to get out of it but she pressed more….

“Please come and get this, it will only be a minute.”

He ended up at her hotel room.  She begins looking for the items in question.  He waits patiently.

She straddles him in a chair and makes it clear that she doesn’t have panties on.  She pulls out elaborate letters about how she wants to be with him and proceeds to pledge her undying desire for him.

And then she kisses him.  He’s stuck in this spot and doesn’t know how to get out of it gracefully.

He excuses himself… tells her that he’s in love with his girlfriend.  He says he’s flattered but this is wrong.

Driving home he feels terrible.  He feels he’s to blame for her actions.

Is there something I could have done differently?  Was I not clear with what I said about my position on this?

And then the email…

Heather wrote Nat an email about how she and Jace are now together.  She twists the story around to make it sound as if she were completely innocent to the whole thing.  Nat is destraut and believes the girl.

As of right now my friend Jace is now single due to this meddling Heather.  Congrats on becoming this weeks long distance douchebag of the week hooker girl.  Perhaps there’s potential for you in Hollywood just yet… but only if you learn to play nice lest you be crushed by the real Heather/Veronicas.  At which point, tell me when and where and I’ll bring the popcorn and the gloves… wouldn’t want to get blood on my nails you know.

Douchebag of the week: usernames- Kings of “awesome”

This week’s douchebag award was actually sent in via a tip.  For some odd reason I didn’t encounter a douchebag of my own so this is a special entry.  Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of this turning into a regular basis.  There’s a high density of douchebags in the greater Los Angeles area to make fun of.  Lucky lucky me.  Lucky lucky you.

A friend of mine works in a very corporate office setting.  It’s to be understood that while he works for a company that’s very relaxed, it is also… well extremely corporate.  There’s a degree of conduct that should be said without being said.

Enter two well known but very well known and pretentious douchebags.  They’re celebrity types.  And they’re guests at his office.  But they’re not meeting with him today.  I’m not sure if they’re due to meet with him ever actually.

He’s talking to me in instant messenger while working and hears them.  Sure enough, they’re having a meeting right outside his door.  Loud and obnoxious circle jerking.  They are their own kings of awesome.

This has been going on for the past 30 minutes.  He’s had to file a complaint about their behavior.  A little common decency goes a long way.  Pardon me guys but my friend has to work or something.  Now back to ims.