Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Saturday, August 3, 2013 0 comments

Reunited

Fat Bottom Girl has moved. No, not domains or whatever, but actually packed up and moved. I and my brood are no longer residents of Sun City, Texas. We now reside in Kitty Kat, Texas. No, of course that isn't the real name of it, but it IS shockingly close.

Kitty Kat is located in the heart of the Texas panhandle in a county that will remind you of a one season TV show on Fox that starred THE Bruce Campbell. I'll wait while you Google it. Got it? Great. There are about 1100 residents of the county and 250 of them are in Kitty Kat. The ones I have met and had actual conversations with are lovely. They think my husband hangs the moon every night and that my daughter is a beautiful blessing. They even think it is so wonderful that I am an educated, lovely mother and wife and tell me how I am going to be such a positive role model for the girls in this community.

We went on down to the Baptist church last night for the last night of Vacation Bible School. See, hubby has been up here for a few months now, working as a deputy sheriff. He was wrangled into going to church almost as soon as he got here....despite being a non-religious Jew. Oh well. They kept him busy and fed him, and I am glad to have been dropped into such a loving group of people.





Little Bug loved it. Lots of kids her age and lots of playing.

She even got to perform in the VBS program. She managed to get most of the dance moves right and the words. I'd post the video, but Blogger hates me today.

Afterwards, there was a hot dog dinner for all the kids and the church congregation. Got to chat with a lot of great folks. We went back home afterward and Little Bug ran around the yard with her daddy, some neighbor kids, and her daddy's friend Jake until the sun went down.


Now Jake lives around the corner, while his parents and sister live across the street. We spent most of the night over at their house just talking and whatnot. Great people. They love my husband like a son and were great to me and Little Bug. I adore these people, I mean that.

HOWEVER....not everyone in Kitty Kat is as welcoming and friendly. It was overheard at the local gas station that some of the local ladies are not my biggest fans. In fact, my arrival is the talk of all the bison. No, not the bison running wild in the state park. I'm talking about the lard-ass, single bitches in town with two plus children by different daddies (and maybe one from their own), no education, and pooling their food stamps to sell for cigarette money. The herd thinks that my husband is way too good looking for me. As hot as he is, they expected I was gonna be a gosh dern super model. Instead, I'm just some ugly bitch.

Now, I know that everyone expects me to drive on down to the herds stomping grounds and let them have it, and trust me, I WAS tempted. Even had a speech:

Hi, I'm Fat Bottomed Girl, Deputy Hubby's wife. You know, the one who isn't hot enough for him. I just thought I'd come on down and introduce myself so you could say it to my face instead of behind my back.

Even thought of bringing them some of my delicious homemade cookies and adding "Have these cookies since y'all are so hungry for drama." But they aren't worth it. You see, while I certainly have some poundage to lose, I'm not 300 plus pounds of destitute scum. I've got a husband who loves me and our daughter, would do anything for us, and doesn't steal my belongings to buy meth. 

I know everyone dies famous in a small town, but I haven't even been here five days yet! Oh well, I guess that's what happens when all you have to do is lust after another woman's husband and eat. As their asses and debt increase, mine will be getting smaller and my bank account larger. Think I still might stop in an introduce myself. Might as well give them something to fear...right?


Thursday, October 4, 2012 5 comments

Insensitive

If someone who fanatically liked all of your posts on a page called "Overly Sensitive Military Wives" sends you a friend request, do no accept. No matter how much they beg. When they message you and say that you are so funny and smart, that you handed that deendapotomus her ass, that they have finally met someone like them with their style of humor, DO NOT ACCEPT THEIR FRIEND REQUEST. Because really, they're bat shit crazy, stupid as all get out, are the definition of an Overly Sensitive Military Wife, and most likely are friending you to make a skin suit of you.

Let me give a wee bit of background. There is a (AWESOME!) Facebook page called Overly Sensitive Military Wives. It will change your life. The creator, a woman called "Six" is hilarious, offensive, and completely unapologetic. If you ever need a good laugh though, take the option of reading "posts by others." Some posts are retellings of encounters with "Dependa-whatevers" (bison, potomaus, skank, etc.) and their entitled, overly dramatic asses. Some feel a bit false or too incredible to believe, but as other women who witnessed the encounter as well start commenting and adding details, your jaw drops or you real world LOL.

Then there are other posts coming from ACTUAL Dependas as they tell the moderator that she's a whore, slut, cunt, that they're reporting her, her husband is gonna pay because of her, and basically being the perfect example of the pages theme.

My favorites are the Dependas who post their bitches, gripes, and complaints about how hard it is to be a dependant, how their husbands are mistreated, how they don't get paid enough, how deployments make marriage so hard, and how they deserve respect because of what their husband wears on his sleeves or lapel.

I've been called a bully, a cunt, a twat, a whore, a ungrateful vet who thinks she's better than everyone else because she was a pussy and joined the AF, you name it. I enjoy it. They aren't just proving the moderators point, they keep my quips sharp like daggers. I prefer to take on a tone of maybe sarcasm, maybe serious because the confusion it causes makes me LOL more. OF COURSE I'm being sarcastic, but they get so worked up. I can imagine them sitting on their sofa, piles of dirty laundry and dishes surrounding them, the TV on with whatever Soap they obsessively follow, furiously typing with their stumpy fingers because how dare I patronize them. Even more entertaining is when they tell me that I am the one who's upset, I'm the one getting worked up, I'm the one who is out of control. I giggle and keep slamming them, and when it's over, I go on about my business while their lives are ruined by the blond cunt.

Anywho, back to the reason for the post. Did everyone watch the debate last night? The Presidential one? Now did everyone comprehend what was said during the debate? Because Duena (real name and the sycophant who friended me) did not. All she gathered was Romeny mentioned PBS.


She's always confused. She posts status updates that should be personal messages (or just left as thoughts) and she comments on things with the understanding of an infant. It's bad. I thought about sugar coating a response, but I just kept it to the point.



I probably exaggerated with the "majority of it line" but whatever. Even her friend Lindsay tried to inform her. It didn't matter. She honestly thinks that Romney's platform is to cut PBS. 



I don't mean that she has to agree with me to be a Republican, I don't determine membership (though the religious right would be gone if I was in charge!). I just meant that cutting wasteful spending and government subsidizes is something the Republican party touts. In comes Cunty McCunterson.



I could have taken this as sarcasm, but this was not sarcasm. I had seen her comments before on Duena's status' and I can tell you with 100% certainty that she is serious. The first one (which I can't go back and re-snap because I've been deleted and blocked) goes on to explain that her father-in-laws station is 100% ran on donated money and not MY money. Oh, and that I needed Big Bird to educate me.



Again, I did not click "see more" before snapping the pic. I told Charlene that her passive aggressiveness was crystal clear. I said "Maybe you should just embrace the bitch you're trying to suppress and tell me how you really feel. Or you can play nice and have a civilized debate. Your choice." Apparently, that qualifies as hatred and preaching from my soap box (me? Preach? lol). Then she throws in the irrelevant sob story. Charlene, Y U No make sense?



I think this was to the point right? This isn't emotional, personal opinion time. I provided researchable fact. Sandy and Charlene can't argue bias when the numbers don't lie. Oh but wait...



Please understand that using "......." doesn't help your case. It makes me want to punch you. The subject isn't welfare reform, it's cutting subsides to PBS. How'd we jump to welfare. She says she is stating facts she knows to be true (with no proof), but that the facts I can back up are opinions. And when did I say tax-dollars were only MY money? I mean, it is, but it's her money too. Well, I guess not as she assumes I am assuming she doesn't pay taxes.



I know she read this and pictured that I was a red-faced as her, screaming as I typed. I wasn't. I'm still not. I think the sanctimonious route really unnerves the Dependas. I like to unnerve. 



And then I bitch slapped her with some proof. Sucka foo. All public broadcasting stations in Alaska fall under that shiz. Even your saintly father-in-laws.




Look at that CAPSLOCK in full effect. Who's panties are in a wad? Or Wod? Not mine. Now according to her profile, which hells yeah I went and looked, she lists her job as SLAVE to her family. This doesn't really offend me, but the fact that this woman's page is covered with those "He wears dog tags and I wear his ring" or "Navy wife and strong" memes that aren't funny, just pompous, tells me that this woman isn't just a Dependa. She is THE Dependa. It gets better.




There's the full text you couldn't see before. For a woman that is pissed I called her bi-polar (which I did not, I said her posting is bi-polar), she's doing a great job of showing it off. She said these were facts she was providing and now they're opinions? I love a flustered Dependa.



Not complaining, just saying. I love this line. Yes, you are complaining. Your whole page (that I trolled which makes me bi-polar) is full of complaining. When people say this line, be advised, THEY ARE ALWAYS COMPLAINING! My Hubby and I spent plenty of time apart while in the Air Force. Probably not more than she has spent in the BX (my favorite line ever) because we all know how Dependas get with that Star Card and their husbands money, but enough time deployed to give this gal a run for her money. I had to leave my 10-month-old Little Bug with my tits still full of milk to go to the desert. [Breast feeding means you don't deploy for a year and yes, I selfishly chose to bf because of this reg, but doesn't work when you're a cop. You go with titties full of milk or not.] Nothing is worse than a Dependa who thinks no one else have ever experienced what she has. Cunt. 

Anyway, deployments don't cause your spouse to become a less-equal partner. You're attitude causes that. As soon as I posted that last comment, I knew. I referenced Overly Sensitive Military Wives and I got blocked. Military wives who meet the qualifications troll the page, desperately monitoring that they will not be featured. Instinctively, I screenshot'd as the conversation went down. I didn't know if it would be blog worthy, but since I've been slacking lately, I figured it wouldn't hurt.

Know any Dependas with screenshots to back it up? I'd love to hear others takes on this all too commonly found in society species.






















Wednesday, October 3, 2012 1 comments

It Won't Be Like This For Long

My dear, sweet, beautiful, smart and wonderful friend Shannon has blessed us all with a guest blog. I love her like a sister, probably more because my sisters and I fight like Palestinians and Jews. She is the bravest and strongest woman I know. There are not enough elegant words I could use to describe her, but take my word on it. She is amazing. 

So is her family. Her husband Rob is a fantastic example for what a husband and father should be, plus he's country and gets along grandly with Hubby. Her teenager C is the most kind, compassionate, respectful, and beautiful 15-year-old I have ever met. Little Bug is in love with her (we all are, she's amazing!).

And then there is my precious Ava. She loves me. I know it. I love her. Okay, she tolerates me, but I still love her. She is 3, but dwarfs Little Bug in height. The whole family dwarfs my family in height. Little Bug normally doesn't like younger kids but she thinks Ava is older than her (due to the height) and tells me all the time about the conversations she and Ava has when she calls her on the phone. It's a real phone, just a pretend conversation. 

Ava is just as much my friend as Shannon. She is a beautiful and wonderful child. Read on for my best friend to tell you why.

When I was asked to write this I was kind of anxious about it.

Not going to lie, this is pretty hard stuff and I get funky writing (talking) about it.

Here is our story. Our story about Autism.

Autism is a developmental disorder that appears in the first 3 years of life, and affects the brain's normal development of social and communication skills.

Autism is different for every single child. Some kids have no communication, like mine...some have sensory issues with taste, smell, touch, also like mine...and some have a hard time with emotion/social interaction. Some will sit in a corner and possibly just stare at a spot on the wall. Some may be completely "typical" and you may not notice. Every single child is different. 

Ava was 12 months old and had no verbal communication. I knew immediately that was wrong. She also loved to bang her head on the couch, by flinging herself back hard (enter Sensory seeking). She had a very hard time with strangers. Actually, anyone who wasn't me, my teenager, or her daddy. 

She was a happy girl, up until around 12 months...

 
Most people didn't know anything was different. I did. My closest friends did. A couple of strangers did. 

The scariest feeling in the world is when you know something is wrong...and you can't fix it. There is no pill, or cure...there is just wondering, and dread. My heart ached for her...not from embarrassment or shame, but from sadness that she was always going to have a little bit extra to do...a little more for her. Tasks that most parents take for granted...putting shapes in a sorter, chatting, learning quickly. 

The worst part for me was not hearing her say "Mama." Can you imagine? I mean just that little word, that sweet word...I didn't hear it until she was 3. [Of course it was amazing when I did, and she could sign "Mama" but it wasn't the same.]

We had her evaluated, then sent on to a Specialist. They said to wait and see. Maybe she was just delayed. I knew. I started sign language right then. If she couldn't talk, then by God, we would figure out how to sign. She caught right on. My heart did little flips when she started...we could chat. Well, we could learn to chat. 

She was anxious with new people...and transitions...but we could work on it. She didn't meet the classic signs, she had great eye contact and is so very affectionate. She has a great emotional response, so that is not a worry. 

Fast forward, we started therapies...Speech and Occupational. 

Moved cross country with the Army....and met the most wonderful Speech Language Pathologist in the world. She made me feel like we were doing the right stuff. We tried hard, we did so much for her...and someone recognized it. {insert tears} Her new Specialist gave us a diagnosis of Autism, mildly, but Autism. 

I struggled with hearing it. My heart broke. Not for me, just for her. It sucks ass some days. Some days are so hard. *SO* hard.
 
When you have a little one with Autism... *everything* is harder. You need diapers? Got to make a quick stop at the grocery store? Not with some kiddos. Luckily mine is pretty mild. She rolls with different. Some kids can't. Just a little wayside stop after school can make an autistic child lose their mind. I mean, really bother them. These kids don't understand when something is off routine. Going to see a show? Fireworks? Clapping? Headed to a Tupperware party? Nope, too many people, too much laughter, too much stress for both of us. 

My little Toe Walker. It is very common in Autism, speech delays, and sensory kids. She likes the pressure so it calms her. 


Part of the reason I struggled with this diagnosis...

My little one is fine with stops...she just has trouble with sensory issues. Touching stuff, licking stuff, working her hands...crying if it is too loud outside...all these little things add up to a big part of who she is. She may line up blocks, or cars...she may rock a bit from toe to toe...and she may be a toe walker (which people are fascinated with) but she is a beautiful, loving, caring girl. She is smart, she is learning every day.

My sweet girl. 3 now, and doing so well...with early intervention!!

You know those kids who are "acting a fool" in the store...or that just can't sit still? The next time you think (or say) that they are too big to be acting like that or that they need a spanking...please take a minute to think. That child may be Autistic. That child might have a special need that is keeping them from acting "typical". Don't judge. That makes people with kids that have differences even more anxious. You have no idea the struggles we face just to get to the damn store. Just to run in for milk. Please, don't judge. 

Just recently I got some great advice from a couple of friends. It was Ava's first day of special education preschool. {She goes for 3 hours a day, and has ST & OT plus regular school activities. There are 3 kids in there. The social aspect is amazing, and the things that she is doing now...I just can't tell you how much early intervention helps.} Anyway, back to my story. I knew she was going to have a hard first day. Having never been left anywhere...it was coming. I walked her in, left her, and heard her crying so hard. She cried and cried. She was devastated. That day was horrible. I got stuck in the PTA room, and had to hear her when she walked down with her teacher to breakfast. I had to *hear* my baby sobbing uncontrollably. 

I was a mess. I called my husband, my Mom, and a couple of friends. Tiffany, who is amazing....told me that it was okay to cry, really...and that I could be sad...but that this was a big deal and Ava needed this. It would get better every single day, and to step back and realize how much she would grow. {Ahh, insert more tears} I needed to hear that. I picked her up, crying...after school. I braced myself for this happening every day...and something amazing happened. 

The next day she didn't cry. She stomped in mad, and flung herself on the rug...but didn't cry. She was mad. Pissed...but no tears. Then I went to get her and I heard her laughter. She was HAPPY. Day 3 was even better, she went in willingly and met me at the door with smiles. She is okay. She is learning, and growing. She is painting, sounding out letters, doing more signs...she is okay. 

I could breathe again. My girl. My little baby girl was okay. She is excelling. 
{psst: little secret....on Friday she is getting the Student of the Month award for the first month of school} 

Autism is not a death sentence. It is hard, but not something you can't overcome. There are some days that I sob, I worry, I mope....thinking of how hard she will always have it...and how will she be an adult...with kids...or if that will even happen. Then I look at her...and see her sweet face, smiling and her little hands signing...and I don't care. I just know I am a better Mama for having this mountain to climb. She makes me better. I wouldn't change it for the world. ♥


Tuesday, September 11, 2012 4 comments

Have You Forgotten?

Today, I am worse than any car crash on I-10 as it winds through Sun City. I am a total wreck. I woke up with a smile on my face and a Little Bug snuggling up next to me (when does her new bed get here again?). And then it hit me. Before I looked at my phone, before I turned on the news, before anyone said anything to me, I remembered. 

11 years ago today, 19 piece of shit MUSLIM (because that's what they were, who they are, and why they did it) terrorists attempted to destroy our country. Attempted, because even though the Towers fell, even though they split open the Pentagon, even though that plane crashed in the field, they did not succeed. We are still America. We are STILL standing.

I was supposed to post a blog about BMT today as requested by Baby Sis, but that'll have to wait until next week. I didn't blog about September 11th last year, I just wanted to soak it all in, but this year I am plenty soaked. It's been 11 years since my mother woke me up to tell me we had been attacked. 11 years since I groggily asked what she was talking about and thought she meant someone had broken into the house. 11 years since I watched the smoke leave the North Tower and think that it had to be an accident, who would do this to US? 11 years since I watched in horror as the second plane stuck the South Tower  at 9:03 (6:03 my time) and know that it was NOT an accident.



I just remember how sad I was. As the flames and smoke continued to build and the bodies fell from the sky (yes, they aired that live), the Pentagon got hit. Sadness fell away and anger, unspeakable anger flowed through my body. It made it real for me. The WTC was horrific, but the Pentagon was an audacious challenge in my mind. "Here we are, we spit in the face of your military, your strength." I may have waited until I was 21, but I know in that moment, I joined the military. 

The images of people running from the scene, the smoke and ash covering everyone, the men and women in service dress running INTO the Pentagon to help, I can't remember it without tears falling. Everything stung. I felt so helpless and emotional, as I am sure everyone else across America did. I felt so far away in California, so small, and so raw. Every agonized expression on those poor people who were there was like a stab to my gut. 


And then they fell. And so did my tears, which I thought had run dry. It was one thing to see those planes hit, not okay by any means, but there was a moment of "Fuck you assholes. They're still standing!" But they didn't. They fell. I can't even describe the way I felt. I just know that everything ached and everything was changed.




As the day progressed and even the week, we learned who was responsible for this awful, cowardly attack. We watched as people searched for their loved ones, to include some joyous reunions and some devastating revelations of loss. We watch as first responders dug through the rubble day and night and saw everyone pause when they found someone alive or dead. Every time they found someone alive, I just imagined what must be going through the minds of the people who were missing someone. I felt so bad for the thousands upon thousands who would learn their loved one wasn't coming home. I still do. To everyone who lost someone, we will never forget. 



I remember the swell of pride in our nation and our first responders. Every flag that was flown caused a stirring in my heart. Every person lined up outside of a blood bank to donate made me cry. Our nation's Commander-in-Chief, President George W. Bush saying just the right things to rally this country. I've never been more proud to be an American. I have ALWAYS been proud of my country, ALWAYS (yeah, that's to you Mrs. Obama), but the days and weeks after September 11, 2001 might always be the proudest. Those bastards wanted to destroy us, they failed.



Today, I had to discuss 9/11 with Little Bug for the first time. I had the TV on and she wanted to know about the pictures of the fires and the people who were crying (and why Mommy was crying. This is what I said:

Me: 11 years ago on this day, very bad men called al-Qaeda crashed 4 planes into American buildings and they hurt alot of people, a lot of people died.

Little Bug: That's not nice at all.

Me: No, it wasn't. But America is fighting back. That's why Mommy and Daddy and Aunt Baby Sis all joined the Air Force. That's why Mr. R is in the Army. We fought back and we don't let the bad guys win.

Little Bug: Oh, that's nice. I'm glad America fights back.

Me: Me too baby.

Little Bug: But don't cry anymore Momma, your nose gets red.

I know when she's older, this is going to be more difficult to explain things like this, but I'm just glad it didn't scare her. I'm glad she could see those images (as awful as they are) and know that we fought back, and that it gives her peace. I hope the children of the victims of 9/11 have that peace some day.

Hug your babies, kiss your significant other, call up your momma and tell her you love her, hell, even shake a Fireman's hand (or a cop or a military member), but do something today. Even if it's small, just do it. Never forget what happened and never again take life for granted.
Friday, August 24, 2012 5 comments

Before He Cheats

I wasn't going to blog today. I went and saw 2016: Obama's America (it was good!) and then had Little Bug's Meet the Teacher thing for Pre-K. I was perfectly content on coming home, feeding the kid, maybe drinking some wine, and then taking a coma. But as the fates would have it, I logged on to FB to find something that cannot go un-blogged about.

Let me start by giving you some back story. I've known one of the subjects of this blog for well over 15 years. My family went to church with him and his family, he may or may not have dated my sister for a spell, I think I made out with his cousin once in a parked car...you know, church kids gone wild. Whatever. The guy hasn't crossed my mind in years.

I got a friend request from him a few months back and after asking someone else who the heck he was, I said, "Sure, let's take a walk down memory lane." I approved the request and then looked around on his page, nothing remarkable. I thought that the obligatory "Hey! How the heck are you?" would soon come, but it didn't. He sent the request, not me, so I wasn't going to say anything. Until today, I had yet to "Like" or comment on anything of his. The appropriate amount of time to do so had passed.

I never see his posts in my news feed. Like, ever. But today, at the top of my feed, was this gem:


And OF COURSE I "Liked" that shit. How do you not click "Like" when you see that a jilted ex-gf has hijacked his account?! Once I managed to read through the grammatically challenged diatribe, I LOL'd real world for a while. I was Skyping with my older sister at the time and even she had a laugh. She informed me that church should be pretty interesting come Sunday and that she was not responsible for anything she KNEW I would be adding to it. She knows me so well.


From what I remember about James, everything she claims he has done sounds legit. I'm a little disconcerted because he still lives in his childhood bedroom and I would hate to think he was bangin' skanks with his parents in the other room. Not classy bro. But this is me, and I have to comment. I thought that she was only a one-time poster, but after I told her to enroll in an English class, Jilty McPsycho Ex accused me of having cheated on James. 

After I swallowed my vomit, I had to defend my honor. I informed her that I had never been anything with James and that even though Lindsey had relations with him, didn't mean everyone else did. I don't even know this Lindsey gal. I looked at her profile since her last name was provided to everyone and admittedly, she looks like a skank. I may have been infected with herpes just looking at her picture. And the praying thing and saying hi to his momma, that was for laughs. It isn't my fault inbred folk don't get it.

Nicole, who is one of my oldest and dearest friends, commented as well (as you can see). We carried on a separate conversation on her page about this conversation. Totes hilarious.

Now some more...


I could have just accepted her apology and let it ride, but through my tears of extreme laughter, I had to continue. But this Lacey comes out of nowhere and decides that anyone else commenting on this needs to grow up and sounds like trash.



I don't know what it is about the people that lurk around the slums of my hometown, but they bring this fight out in me that can't be reigned in too easily. What's worse is that all the sarcasm and sick burns of the world are lost in their tiny little brains. I mean, you, my loyal readers, can read these posts and giggle right? Those of you who know these people and read my blog, you're gasping for breath from laughing so hard...I know it. Why can't this broad see the humor in it?

And really, accusing me of being high is the best comeback she's got? Honey, have you seen me scratching my neck outside of your cook house looking to score? No? Then I'm not high.

All of this could have been avoided (thankfully it was not) if Jilty McPsycho Ex had just followed some simple rules that I will now present to you.


The Rules for Getting Revenge on Your Cheating BF:

1. Correct spelling and grammar are an absolute must. 
We want to take you seriously, we do. The run-on sentences and liberties you've taken with spelling make that impossible.

2. Keep it short and not so sweet.
This gal has the right idea:                                                         

As does this one:


And if you must go the hacking of the FB page route:


3. This is by far the most important rule. Pay attention. GET THE FUCK OVER IT AND FORGET ABOUT HIS CHEATING ASS!
Seriously, he cheated on you. Why lower yourself to his level by pulling this shit? Carrie Underwood led all of you jilted bitches astray when she described the damage she did to some schmuck's truck. He fucks another woman so you end up in jail? Because that's what happens when you bash in windows and slash tires. You go to jail because you will get caught. Especially when you hack his FB and Twitter to tell everyone how he wronged you. It's called motive, you has it.

What I wouldn't give for the women of the world (and skanks of Lodi) to stop thinking they can change a man. Your pussy wasn't so magical that he immediately stopped his cheating ways. If he got with you while he was with his ex, that should have been a sign. Also, just a thought, but if he doesn't ever check his FB, wasn't it all kind of pointless? 

See you all Monday.




Tuesday, July 24, 2012 0 comments

No Church in the Wild

"The single greatest cause of atheism in the world today is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable."                                                               
                -Brennan Manning

Without delving into my confusing and often chaotic religious upbringing, let's just say that I have good reason to abhor organized religion. I saw a bumper sticker that read "I've got nothing against God. It's his fan club I can't stand" and I completely agree. The hypocrisy and hatred that flows form the pulpit and the pews of most churches makes my blood boil. I know it isn't every church, but in my experience...it is.

Names have been changed of people and organizations.

When my family moved to El Paso in 2002, we struggled to find a church to call home. After two or three failed attempts to "belong", everyone had pretty much given up. I enjoyed the church-less family we had become. For once I felt like everything I did wasn't being judged and scrutinized by people who were more righteous (in their own minds). I probably went to far. Smoking, drinking, dating a boy who didn't deserve me and then some. I was ill-equipped to deal with my new found freedom of religious limitations. 

A few of my co-workers at a national coffee chain all attended the same church and were constantly pestering encouraging me to attend a bible study of sorts that they called Small Group. One night, after a particularly bad fight with Terrible Boyfriend, I decided to go. I wasn't going to play chauffeur to him and his loser friends, I was going to go to church. Bizarre logic, I know, but over the mountain I went in search of Intersection. 

Intersection was a church seed off of a bigger church on the same side of town. From what I had been told, the pastor, a man named Coral, had started the church as an outreach for youth in the troubled area. It was initially a coffee house out of a warehouse and a back-alley that served as an alternative to running the streets. It grew into a church and by the time I wandered into the same warehouse, it had been roughly ten years since it's conception. 

I immediately liked what I saw. A coffee bar to my right, tables and chairs next to it, an open sanctuary beyond that decorated with graffiti wall murals and mismatched chairs. It was everything the church of my upbringing was not. Even though I saw no one, I felt welcomed and comfortable. Then Gulp popped up. Gulp was a mid-20's hipster looking fellow. He had glasses and dark hair and scared the living shit out of me. "Hey," he said. "Are you looking for something?" I laughed off my initial shock and introduced myself. I explained that my coworkers had invited me as Gulp nodded and looked me over. I was immediately skeezed out as he stopped at my chest and his gaze didn't leave. 

Slowly, other Small Group members arrived and I began to feel more at ease. Erica, one of my co-workers, was there with her husband, the leader of the group, Ernie. Her BFF, also named Erica joined us and seemed friendly. They were excited I had come and quickly whisked em away from the lecherous paws of Gulp. Mal and Fanny were also there and were closer to my age. Mal was full of energy and an aspiring singer, while Fanny was a college student who had been going to Intersection since it's beginning. Fuzz, brother of Erica 2, was another longtime member of Intersection and good buddies with Gulp. It was a great night and I felt really renewed. It was possible to love God and not be surrounded by crazies.

Over the next few months, I began attending Intersection regularly and eventually my family joined. It was a far cry from anything we were used to. There was a 15 minute break between worship and the sermon to allow the smokers a quick cigarette. No. Lie. Pastor Coral would often stand outside and shoot the shit with us. One sermon in particular did it for me. Coral preached about the prodigal son. I thought "Wow, that was for me" and I was hooked. It was a judgement free zone. That should have been a red flag, but I liked when he would describe us as a "beer church." After all, I was a beer drinker. 

The more I immersed myself in the Intersections culture, the more I really thought I found a place I belonged. I could still drink and smoke and have too good of a time on Saturday night, but come Sunday morning, no one was judging me and there wasn't guilt like there would have been in the church(s) of my youth. I became pretty close with Fanny, we hung out all the time. She was more timid than most of my friends and I think she liked that I was her token wild friend. She never told me I should smoke or drink less, seemed to delight in my retelling of whatever guy I was currently seeing. Living vicariously through me was her favorite past time.

On Sunday, I really loved God. I felt His presence when I sang and praised Him. Over and over, Coral would tell us how grateful we should be for God's love, that He forgives anything. But no sermons on NOT acting in a way that would require forgiveness. Not that that's an excuse. I was raised to know better, I chose to go the other way. But Intersection made it okay for me to keep going. It was almost encouraged. 

And Gulp was ever present. He was a creeper, no doubt, but in my fragile state of religious confusion he picked and picked until he wormed his way into my life. Fanny and Fuzz were constantly making fun of him. His supposed friends, now laughing at his every pathetic attempt to hit on me, seeking out the gossip on Sunday morning, but hanging out with him as if they didn't just laugh at him. Fuzz was equally as creepy. I started playing poker with the group of Intersection guys and Fuzz dubbed me "9 to 5" as my poker nickname...yes, because of my rack. Real Christian like, huh? 

It got much worse. The Erica's, though older than the rest of us, were the biggest group of mean girls the religious world has seen. They were jealous of any pretty young thing that walked through the warehouse doors. They were passive aggressive and would start rumors, judge the other mothers in the church (Erica and Ernie were parents, not Erica 2), and anytime I would walk by them, the conversation would stop like they had just been talking about me. Rachelle, married to Shawn, was a frequent target of their cattiness. The things they said about her behind her back were horrendous. I remember one incident at a summer festival, a girl from another church was there who was gorgeous. She could have been a model. But Erica 1 noticed this too and treated her horribly. She made a big scene about the girl giving her dirty looks. Come to find out, the girl had shingles and her face was paralyzed in a half-scowl. I tried to explain this to Erica 1 but she continued treating her like a bitch. 

And then their was our Amish drummer, Joe. He always made me uncomfortable, and not just because Fanny was pinning away for him and he ignored her. He stood too close to you when he spoke to you. He looked through you as if you weren't worth of his time. His eyes were never right. I'll leave it at that.

Gulp got more brave. He started telling me that he and I getting together was God's plan for our life. Seriously. I thought "Isn't it funny that God is telling us different things?" He kept at it and any time I shunned his advances, he would tell me I needed to get closer to God. I, in-turn, got closer to a bottle and some cute Army guy because the more her tried to prophesy over my life the more I wanted away from the church. Instead of offering comfort or sound biblical advice, Fanny would just gossip about what I had told her. Gulp began spreading rumors about me as well. I finally had enough, and with the backing of my mother, went to Pastor Coral.

I told him everything. Yes, I probably led Gulp on a bit at first. It was funny and I was encouraged to do it by Fanny and Fuzz. I didn't like him that way and he had been told many times but he kept coming. I told him about his words from the lord about us being together, I told him about the times he would insinuate I was a godless whore because I went on a date with someone who was not him. I told him how alone I felt because it was cool for everyone else to hate Gulp, but if I did it, I was some trouble-making outsider. I cried as I sat across form Coral's desk for what seemed like forever. Coral took a deep breath and proceeded to tell me quite the tail about Gulp.

This wasn't the first time he had religiously strong-armed a girl. He had been warned about this on more than one occasion. He told me how sorry he was that this happened and if I had come to him sooner, he could have stopped it. It didn't comfort me. It infuriated me. Gulp was still in a position of leadership in this church and they knew of his predatory behavior towards females? What the holy heck? He assured me he would take care of it with confidence attached and I left. But what happened? I became the bad guy. Gulp started rumors that I showed up to church hungover, or would miss because I was too drunk. It spread to the other church too. I brought it up to Coral, but it didn't stop. There was always a smile to my face but whispers as I walked away.

I joined the Air Force in 2005 and before leaving I planned on one last "Fuck you all!" to my Intersections betrayers. I refrained because my mother and sister still attended. While I was away, serious shade was thrown in their direction as well. Baby Sis went on an Intense Camping Mission with Erica and Ernie, Erica 2, and a few other members of the youth ministry. Or should I say clinging to their youth ministry, since the only teens were Baby Sis and her not-Christian friend she brought along. The Erica's were vicious to them. Regina George had nothing on them. When she returned from the trip and told my mother all the shit they put her and her friend through (who BTW will never come to Jesus after that experience), my mother confronted Ernie about it. He made excuses for his wife and the other Erica, fell over his closeted self apologizing for their behavior, but he still allowed two grown-ass women who claim to be Christians to bully 14 year old girls. 

Upon my return to Sun City after the Air Force, I tried to rebuild my relationship with Fanny. She was dating Shawn because his wife Rachelle had left him for Amish Drummer Joe (great Christians right) but they all still attended Intersections. I thought maybe we could have a mature friendship but it was clear she wasn't interested in Tiffany the mother and wife when almost every conversation included her reminding me about how we used to go out and I was so wild. Can't party vicariously through someone who doesn't party anymore. And though I had grown-up from the girl that Intersections loved to pray for, she hadn't. Still going to the same church that never appreciated her musical talent, still kissing the Erica's collective asses, still making fun of Gulp, and yet prying me for any juicy details that might make her life a little better, a little more fun.

She'd always talk about the glory days of Intersection. It used to be so awesome, they could just come and be. There wasn't any drama, just kids loving Jesus and it was so powerful. It never felt like a real church with all these rules. But now Coral was talking about organization and tithes and being responsible. You know, shit the bible says you should do. It must have been hard for her to grasp the concept of change. Those teens came to Intersections. They graduated, went to college (okay, like 3 of them did), got married and had babies (though not always in that order), and with their change, the church changed. You can't have all night jam sessions while the babies sleep in the nursery. But Fanny didn't have those life changes so she had to cling to what Intersections used to be. 

With all the drinking and smoking they condoned, the cussing and the criminal activity that was discouraged but never corrected, I was shocked to find out their stance on homosexuality. You would have thought gay was okay, but Fanny explained to me that gay was a choice and we shouldn't support it. Shawn's sister Shana actually fought with me on FB about my pro-gay stance. She married a guy when she was 18 or 19 that everyone in the church hated. Even Coral couldn't stand him and his cult like family. They've got her locked up in a compound in New Mexico now (one girl, three men) and apparently, all she can do is rage on my FB. She deleted me and blocked me after going full-fledged psycho. Way to blow your witness. Shortly after, I deleted Fanny and Shawn from my FB when Fanny said that Hubby and I should meet her and Shawn for drinks. Like 2 minutes after her future sister-in-law lost her shit, I got the invite. Too shady for my liking. I imagined Shana waiting in the parking lot with a knife as I came out of the restaurant. No thank you.

I hear they expanded and have the storefront on the other side of the warehouse now. They've legitimized their "little back alley project." Coral still plays the part of the aloof/hippie pastor, Gulp still does worship. Ernie is still the youth pastor and his mean wife and her twin are still talking shit about everyone in site. Rachelle and Joe are now parents and married and Shawn was all but excommunicated from the church since you can forgive a cheater, as long as her ex-husband isn't around. Fanny is as wishy washy as ever, having bouts of Intersection devotion and hatred. The older people of the church, the ones who I actually enjoyed, have all moved on to other churches, choosing to have a significant relationship with God over regaining their youth. 

I remember telling Fanny that it would be so funny if I randomly showed up to church one Sunday morning with Hubby and Little Bug in tow just to see their faces and see how fake they would be to me. She said "You should! Rub how hot your hubby is in their faces and show off how cute and smart Little Bug is! Gulp would lose it! And Erica 1 and 2 would be so jealous." I laughed, but she was serious. Gay is bad, but doing that would be okay? I don't want that kind of shit in my life.

I still speak to a few Intersectioners, but they're people I had a connection with outside of Intersection or have since left the church. Some of them are just as jaded as me, some are the kindest people you will ever meet. They really do live a life of love and compassion, I would never lump them into the hypocritical Christian bunch. 

I guess my biggest beef with all of this should really lie with Coral. Wasn't this his flock to shepherd? Sure, we should be grateful that God forgives us, but we should also try to lead a life that doesn't require forgiveness in the first place. I don't miss the hellfire and brimstone sermons of my younger years, but I sure could have used some accountability. A lot of them could have. But I guess it's easier to be everyone's friend instead of moral compass.

I sound pretty bitter. I'm aware of that. Intersections isn't solely responsible for my disdain for organized religion, I'd say it's a 40-60 split with the churches of my youth. Those churches laid the groundwork but Intersections led to the total contamination of my soul. For those who love their church and live the life, good on ya, but I cannot ever go back to a church. I want no part of it. Not even the Methodists who love the gays, because I always have that fear that church politics and drama will be more important than God and his love.

Like the bumper sticker said, I've got nothing against God. It's his fan club I can't stand.



Saturday, June 9, 2012 2 comments

I Miss My Friend


I have changed this blog title/song name more times tonight than I can count. I thought about Johnny Cash’s "Fair Weather Friends", Pink’s "Who Knew?", even We Used To Be Friends by the Dandy Warhols.

I have written this blog in as many different ways. Probably more.

One started with me referencing this article I read about the break-up of a friendship. It covered everything. When you grow apart because of distance, when you’ve had a big fight, and why it’s sometimes harder than a romantic break-up. I get that. If my husband and I were to separate, I would go to my best friend about it, but who do you talk to about your separation from your best friend? For those of you that though “your husband” I get that. Your husband can be your best friend and I am not saying I don’t feel that way about mine, but it’s not the same. Husbands of women like me are conditioned to take our side, right or wrong, tell us we look pretty and say how awful the other person must be. I don’t want to hear that.  And, the whole article was about best friends who are both women, not the case here.

I started another that rehashed all my best friend break-ups in my 27 years. My first was with CeCe in Kindergarten. She moved or I did. Saw her years later and it was like “Oh hey, you got fat. Oh, no you’re a teen mom? Wow.” Yeah, all kinds of awkward. There was a pretty good retelling of my many-a-stupid spats with my friend Kooie (yeah, if you’re reading this…it’s YOU) in middle school and the beginning of high school. We always made up but they still stung. I was delving into the fact that as women, it seems like we are genetically predisposed to fighting and bickering with each other and how great it was to finally have a BFF that didn’t have ovaries. But then I got sad and realized that now I DON’T have a BFF without ovaries.

I wrote one where all of his flaws were listed. One by one I destroyed his character in trademark Fat Bottomed Girl form. It was better than any Thursday Thrashing. Every time he let me down, didn’t call, hurt my feelings, etc. was on here. Every woman he every scorned (even though I had condoned it) was vindicated with my words. The latest one, eviscerated with the click of my keys. But for what? He was my best friend in spite of and sometimes because of his flaws. And the new broad? Maybe she has something to do with this, maybe she doesn’t, but he’s the only one responsible for his actions. Besides, it kinda made me seem like a jilted ex and that’s not the route I want to take. 

One of them retold our friendship from the beginning. It was actually pretty sweet. Mostly good, minus a few drunken moments here or there. It was quite long too, six years worth of wonderful times with your best friend can get lengthy. I recounted the million times we went to dinner while my husband was deployed and I was pregnant. How he would warn me not to eat the buffalo wings because I would just throw them back up and me cursing him that he was right as I puked. BBQ’s at our house, talking shit together to anyone who dared to not root for Texas; every fun time or meaningful conversation filled the page. When I got to the past few months though, I trailed off. I didn’t want to write about our end. I didn’t want to talk about the not returned phone calls and the disinterest and the wedge that turned the 500-mile distance between our homes into light years. I still don’t. I want to take back the angry text messages I sent, no matter how truthful they were. I want to pretend that he’s not a bad friend. I want to believe he’s just been really busy, that he hasn’t had time for anyone, not just me. I want, I want, I want. But we don’t always get what we want.

Sometimes, you just have to walk away. Or in this case, stop trying. Sometimes it just hurts too much to put in effort when the other person doesn’t. It’s like a friendship version of He’s Just Not That Into You except I didn’t get my copy until it was already a national best seller.

I don’t even know how to end this. I’m at 750-ish words and I’m not even sure if I’ve said anything at all. I have 10 different Word docs filled with priceless gems of blogs that all convey how I’m feeling and I don’t want to post a single one. I don’t want to share this with any of you because it makes it final. What happens if he says sorry tomorrow? Will he read this and change? Will he read this and not change? Fuck, like he can read. (I had to get in one zinger.) 

I just didn’t see this coming and yet, I saw it coming all along. 

I miss my friend.
 
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