Bible Thump the Pain Away

Hi!

I went out for dinner last night for some much-needed always-enchanting one-on-one NayNay Time, and we naturally got to talking about love and shit. Me being a little mopey, she suggested we listen to a little clip on YouTube of a sermon by T.D. Jakes. It was the one about “when people can walk away from you: let them walk”. It’s also about how our “destiny is never tied to anybody that left”, and if they left “it just means that their part in our story is over’. He talks about the “gift of good-bye”.

Do you guys know who T.D. Jakes is? How have I lived all this time not knowing who T.D. Jakes is?? I ask you this again: do you guys know who T.D. Jakes is? Am I the only one who doesn’t?? We should all know who he is! I was up until 2:30 this morning watching a bunch of his sermons. Being skeptical of Bible thumpers, I spent a few hours this morning trying to find some dirt on him and/or his congregation. The only dirt I found was found on a Jesus-freak web site, so their non-endorsement is endorsement enough for me. Fascinating man. Am I the only one who never knew of him??

While not particularly known for my own evangelical preachings (except maybe ones about hopeless love and sundresses), some of you listen to/read them anyway. Please push aside and try to overlook his unabashed, evangelical preachy-ness as well, and do yourselves a solid and watch this!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OsgMXT7QBKk&sns=em

* NayNay introduced me to his sermons, but this video is not the one she showed me. But since “nothing just happens”, it’s not a wonder that he mentions Naomi within the first six seconds of this clip.

** note to NayNay: Naomi is the mother-in-law of Ruth and Oprah.

 

I’ve mentioned before that poetry really embarrasses me. Quoting people also really embarrasses me. So, I don’t do it. If I were to do it, I would quote only Mother Teresa and Lily Allen. (But now that I think about it, I actually have quoted people in this bloggy-bloggy: Roberta Flack and Carly Simon, pretty ladies with cartoon hearts where their eyes should be. Of course!). Anyway, I gotta quote this guy. You should totally watch that video, too! It’s beautiful – about strength and success through pain, success found in fellowship, sharing our lives with friends, soul mates, soul families, intimacy in abstinence, God (watch with an open mind and an open heart, please), how nothing just happens, holding on, letting go, love, so much more! I cannot do it justice.. watch the video… Here’s a little…

 

When people can walk away from you, let them walk.

I don’t want you to try to talk another person into staying with you, loving you, calling you, caring about you, coming to see you, staying attached to you. When people can walk away from you let them walk. Your destiny is never tied to anybody that left.

The Bible said that “they came out from us that it might be made manifest that they were not for us. For had they been of us, no doubt they would have continued with us”. [1 John 2:19]

People leave you because they are not joined to you. And if they are not joined to you, you can’t make them stay. Let them go.

And it doesn’t mean that they are a bad person it just means that their part in the story is over. And you’ve got to know when people’s part in your story is over so that you don’t keep trying to raise the dead.

You’ve got to know when it’s dead.

You’ve got to know when it’s over. I’ve got the gift of good-bye. It’s the tenth spiritual gift, I believe in good-bye. It’s not that I’m hateful, it’s that I’m faithful, and I know whatever God means for me to have He’ll give it to me. And if it takes too much sweat I don’t need it. Stop begging people to stay. Let them go.

If you are holding on to something that doesn’t belong to you and was never intended for your life, then you need to let it go.

If you are holding on to past hurts and pains, let it go.

If someone can’t treat you right, love you back, and see your worth, let it go.

If you are involved in a wrong relationship or addiction, let it go.

If you’re stuck in the past and God is trying to take you to a new level in Him, let it go.

If you are struggling with the healing of a broken relationship, let it go.

If you keep trying to help someone who won’t even try to help themselves, let it go.

Let the past be the past, forget the former things. Let it go.

 

If you want to watch the short video on the “let them walk” part, here it is.. but watch the other one, too!: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pketb6gxR3w&sns=em

 

Never ever ever letting you go, NayNay! Marry me?

Dear Bam-Bam

Dear Slushkitty,

How do I get my thighs to stop jiggling?

~ Bam-Bam

 

Dear Bam-Bam,

Thank you for your question… the question you asked on February 18th, which was my birthday! I apologize for the delay. My advice column is obviously going to have to appear in a quarterly.

So, to your question, you have always reminded me of a hot Mary Lou Retton, so I doubt your thighs jiggle much. Mine, on the other leg… I’m stopping there. I am actually trying (with about 15% success) this new thing where I do not complain about stuff that I have the opportunity to remedy or change, and if don’t think that is possible – or more likely if I don’t feel like making the effort – Lily suggests that I accept it. So jiggle I shall! You, on the other leg – though again, I don’t think it’s necessary – may want to try something by Jillian Michaels? Jillian Michaels coincidentally shares my birthday!

You know who else shares my birthday? Molly Ringwald and John Hughes! Which brings me to where I have been drowning lately:  my inner Teen Angst in all it’s gooey, innocent awkwardness, newness, and excitement, and the crushes o! the crushes! and the crushing crush of crushes that truly do crush us, don’t they? Crush. *Sigh*

A couple of months ago, I watched “16 Candles” for the 116thtime and quite unexpectedly found myself totally heartbroken and reevaluating my life, specifically my love life. Not long before I watched it for the 116th time, I was having a heart-to-heart chat with Celery, waxing melancholic about “16 Candles” and how I feared I’d never ever ever ever again feel anything the way I felt things back then, back in the mid-80s. I am so goddamn old. What got me all bummed out was the second to last scene, not the dining room table/cake/candles scene, but the one outside the church when Sam ran back into the church to get Ginny’s veil. When she came out, everyone was leaving and forgot about her yet again. She stood there pouting with those beautiful February 18th lips of hers, and when she looked up, the last wedding guest was driving away, and behind their car stood Jake: arms crossed, smiling, leaning against his Porsche, waiting for her. I just cried. My heart swelled and fell and it hurt, my face flushed and blushed, years of impractical romantic longing for that gooey, awkward, innocent crush broke that dam of trapped tears, and I cried. Wait – maybe it was just an intense hot flash? Regardless, I cried for Sam finally kissing her Jake, I cried for John Hughes’ dying and taking a bucket of my happy memories with him, I cried for the empty relationships of my past and for the time I wasted trying to convince myself they were more meaningful than they were, trying to convince myself that I felt anything resembling love because really I felt nothing but apathy and disappointment. I cried because it feels like summer vacation and I am happy. I cried because I am actually happy and I want a boyfriend. I cried because I know I have to be patient and I don’t want to be. I cried because I want a Jake. Where’s my Jake. I want my 16 Candles. *Sigh*

Ask and you shall receive! Or ask and you’ll totally get shaken up. Ask and you might wind up getting salt in your wounds. Ask and you will get a cold dose of reality. Ask and you’ll get a broken heart. When I first joined AA, I heard people say all the time, “We will love you until you love yourself”. Being Miss Angrypants, I scowled and mimicked them under my breath. Now that it’s been a little while and my heart has been resuscitated, I understand that they were indeed sincere. I have felt this Love for many a newcomer, and certainly for some more than others. I have most certainly not, however, ever felt this for anyone who shoe-gazed sadly into the rooms with one pocketful of broken heart and the other pocketful of 16 Candles. And it is certainly not wise, nor even the teeniest bit sensitive, even with the gentlest curiosity and honest-est heart, to mess with that. Alas, it would appear I didn’t get that memo, I missed that bus. Story of my life. *Sigh*

This past April, I was at a meeting, and a woman asked me how I was doing. As occasionally is the case when a woman whose sobriety I admire asks me how I am doing, I fall apart and actually tell the truth. (I highly recommend this to everyone, btw), I was sad about my employment situation, sad about my love life, sad about the fact that if I hadn’t have relapsed I’d have three years of sobriety. In a word, I was heartbroken. Sometimes life leaves you heartbroken – that’s the way it goes, homey. And that’s OK. She hugged me and said, “There’s more room in a broken heart”. So sweet. She got that from Carly Simon and that’s OK, too. I got that song stuck in my head – “it’s coming around again, so don’t mind if I fall apart, there’s more room in a broken heart” – and then I remembered Nay Nay’s RecoveryMountain! This is the analogy that recovery is not an upward trajectory, but instead like going up and around a mountain. You have to go around the same treacherous cliffs but they become less treacherous each time because you know they’re coming around again, and you are learning how to not careen off them by slowing down and using your safety equipment. So, I went back through the SK archives to remind myself of the details of RecoveryMountain and man oh man am I glad I did! I found the entry that details my madness of being in a relationship waaaaaaay tooooo soooon in recovery – read all about the insanity here!

http://slushkitty.com/2012/09/12/then-and-now-recovery-mountain-adventures-on-lovesick-cliff/. What a confused, angry, and terrified little maniac I was! And heartbroken – am I always heartbroken?? Or do I just like writing about boys and love when I am lovelorn, which apparently is always? Am I terminally sentimental? *Sigh*

One of the many things I have learned in sobriety is that when I feel myself crumbling, I need to walk through the pain in the spirit and safety of Love and gratitude. I cannot die from rejection or from a broken heart. I have lots of evidence to back that up. Love takes care of me and if I am open to it, the signs are very very clear. If I care about “16 Candles” – and I do, I really really really do – in the spirit of Love, I will gracefully let go. Remembering how much agony I was in will make it bearable. Risking putting anyone I care about through anything like that pretty much guarantees me a one-way first-class ticket to Hell. I am grateful I wrote about that dark time – it might even be compassionate providence, if only for myself. No one could have told me what to do back then. They actually tried but I didn’t listen. I heard what I wanted to hear, saw what I wanted to see, felt what I wanted to feel. In this same exact way, I cannot make anyone or anything happen or change to suit my desires or needs. All I can do is watch “16 Candles” (the movie, not the person… unfortunately) and not give up on my Jake. He’s out there longing for me the same way I am longing for him. I am endlessly grateful to be able to feel so disappointed and so hopeful at the same time. I am endlessly grateful to feel anything at all. And isn’t that some kind of wonderful? I am so grateful to witness someone putting their recovery first, even though it means I can’t spend time with them anymore – he cannot see me anymore and I am so happy for him for making this decision. This is proof he is recovering and isn’t that beautiful! That I am not whimpering (that much) and clawing to find ways to numb this sadness is proof that I am recovering and who ever would have thought that was possible! Certainly not me.

Backing up a second, when I said that missing the bus was the story of my life, I should have said it was the story of my life, as in past tense. The story is not over, and in many ways, the good parts are just starting.

So, Bam-Bam, my hot Mary Lou, I hope that answered your question! To get the thighs to stop jiggling, you might want to try Jillian Michaels, or you might choose to accept it. You might also want to give some summer lovin’ a try! Summer sun, something’s begun, but oh oh the summer nights! Well-a well-a well-a Huh! (I also have the same birthday as John Travolta).

Much love to you, my lovely friend,

SK

A Warm Welcome to New Employee Slushkitty!

Hello, brilliant brilliant friends!

Thank you for playing Mad Libs: “A Warm Welcome to New Employee Slushkitty!” Here are your <adjective> masterpieces! Enjoy!

xoxo

 

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Dear Members:

We are fluffy and pleased to announce the new addition to our Wonglood Klondike Club family, Slushkitty. Slushkitty has accepted our rotund offer of employment in the position of Prison Greeter. She will be reporting to Sylvan and is sloppy about tiptoeing in her new role.

She has been unexpectedly sought out by Berkshire Hathaway, one of the largest traders of geese worldwide, and recognized in a Juggs article praising her for her quaint curiosity and vision. Her ground-breaking work in washing and earning has earned her the erratic reputation as one of the hottest nuns in the industry.

Prior to joining Wonglood Klondike Club, Slushkitty pierced as a long team leader, spearheading tender initiatives such as Snake Appreciation Day, weekly company oiled wrestling matches, and installing free Pop Rocks vending machines in the employee parlor.

One of the world’s top diligent talents, Slushkitty approaches each new challenge with her eager flair for risk-taking, courageous problem-solving, and herpes-building. She has developed an immense interest in and offers purring approaches to the responsibilities of Prison Greeter and is looking forward to putting them into action at Wonglood Klondike Club.

Please join me in welcoming Slushkitty to our fleet family and help to make her feel at home in her new job. We are rarely excited to have her on board, and look forward to sliding with her and sharing her muffled enthusiasm!

She starts on Monday and her office is located in Little Rock, Arkansas.

 

Sincerely,

Management

 

/NayNay

 

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Dear Members:

We are sporadic and pleased to announce the new addition to our Wonglood Puppy Club family, Slushkitty. Slushkitty has accepted our deft offer of employment in the position of Pony Greeter. She will be reporting to Cara DeVito and is calm about sporting in her new role.

She has been brightly sought out by Volkswagen, one of the largest traders of tangerines worldwide, and recognized in a Miami Herald article praising her for her brown curiosity and vision. Her ground-breaking work in dancing and prancing has earned her the purple reputation as one of the hottest dining chairs in the industry.

Prior to joining Wonglood Puppy Club, Slushkitty wasted as a burnt team leader, spearheading itchy initiatives such as Banana Appreciation Day, weekly company ice dancing, and installing free haggis vending machines in the employee conservatory.

One of the world’s top crisp talents, Slushkitty approaches each new challenge with her dark flair for risk-taking, angry problem-solving, and table fan building. She has developed a slimy interest in and sticky approaches to the responsibilities of Pony Greeter and is looking forward to putting them into action at Wonglood Puppy Club.

Please join me in welcoming Slushkitty to our hard family and help to make her feel at home in her new job. We are sloppily excited to have her on board, and look forward to drinking with her and sharing her rough enthusiasm!

She starts on Monday and her office is located in Adcare Quincy.

 

Sincerely,

Management

 

/Heaven

 

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Dear Members:

We are forlorn and pleased to announce the new addition to our Wonglood Fiction Club family, Slushkitty. Slushkitty has accepted our envious offer of employment in the position of Methane Greeter. She will be reporting to Timothy Leary and is raspy about inheriting in her new role.

She has been gleefully sought out by Rent-a-Chicken ( http://mynorth.com/2010/05/kids-up-north-rent-a-chicken-in-traverse-city-makes-urban-farming-childs-play/ ), one of the largest traders of elves worldwide, and recognized in a PRO Monthly (Portable Restroom Operator http://www.promonthly.com/ezine/2014/05 ) article praising her for her torpid curiosity and vision. Her ground-breaking work in accessorizing and flimflamming has earned her the brusque reputation as one of the hottest neuroses in the industry.

Prior to joining Wonglood Fiction Club, Slushkitty radiated as a boiling team leader, spearheading lurid initiatives such as Livestock Appreciation Day, weekly company clay shooting matches, and installing free pork rind and JOLT Cola vending machines in the employee waiting room.

One of the world’s top watery talents, Slushkitty approaches each new challenge with her immense flair for risk-taking, shrill problem-solving, and symmetry building. She has developed a hollow interest in and robust approaches to the responsibilities of Methane Greeter and is looking forward to putting them into action at Wonglood Fiction Club.

Please join me in welcoming Slushkitty to our dizzy family and help make her feel at home in her new job. We are solemnly excited to have her on board, and look forward to sobbing with her and sharing her thundering enthusiasm!

She starts on Monday and her office is located in Istanbul.

 

Sincerely,

Management

 

/Boing! Boing!

 

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Dear Members:

We are attentive and pleased to announce the new addition to our Wonglood Parcel Club family, Slushkitty. Slushkitty has accepted our cheerful offer of employment in the position of Chanteuse Greeter. She will be reporting to Barack Obama and is lilac about leading in her new role.

She has been suddenly sought out by Google, one of the largest traders of websites worldwide, and recognized in a Highlights for Children article praising her for her gorgeous curiosity and vision. Her ground-breaking work in analizing and quantifying has earned her the fierce reputation as one of the hottest cats in the industry.

Prior to joining Wonglood Puppy Club, Slushkitty amortized as a comfy team leader, spearheading cozy initiatives such as Computer Appreciation Day, weekly company curling games, and installing free Thanksgiving Dinner with all the Fixins’ vending machines in the employee solarium.

One of the world’s top safe talents, Slushkitty approaches each new challenge with her fuzzy flair for risk-taking, robust problem-solving, and coffee mug building. She has developed a delicious interest in and warm approaches to the responsibilities of Chanteuse Greeter and is looking forward to putting them into action at Wonglood Parcel Club.

Please join me in welcoming Slushkitty to our smart family and help make her feel at home in her new job. We are candidly excited to have her on board, and look forward to promoting with her and sharing her perfect enthusiasm!

She starts on Monday and her office is located in San Francisco.

 

Sincerely,

Management

 

/Munsel Störkel, Sr.

 

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Dear Members:

We are haughty and pleased to announce the new addition to our Wonglood Salamander Club family, Slushkitty. Slushkitty has accepted our intense offer of employment in the position of Assistant Supreme Court Justice Greeter. She will be reporting to Sally Fields and is tenuous about exhausting in her new role.

She has been deftly sought out by Applebee’s, one of the largest traders of cities worldwide, and recognized in a Cat Fancy article praising her for her sordid curiosity and vision. Her ground-breaking work in pampering and punishing has earned her the smug reputation as one of the hottest flagpoles in the industry.

Prior to joining Wonglood Salamander Club, Slushkitty forgot as a passive-aggressive team leader, spearheading oblivious initiatives such as Montana Appreciation Day, weekly company fly-fishing, and installing free Panko-crusted talapia paired with a seasonal mango chutney vending machines in the employee boiler room.

One of the world’s top squalid talents, Slushkitty approaches each new challenge with her magnanimous flair for risk-taking, strident problem-solving, and starfish-building. She has developed an antique interest in and offers celebrated approaches to the responsibilities of Assistant Supreme Court Justice Greeter and is looking forward to putting them into action at Wonglood Salamander Club.

Please join me in welcoming Slushkitty to our self-fulfilling family and help to make her feel at home in her new job. We are blatantly excited to have her on board, and look forward to drying with her and sharing her dusty enthusiasm!

She starts on Monday and her office is located at Bird Hospital, Oakley, California.

 

Sincerely,

Management

 

/He Writes “Shit” and “Fuck” on Bathroom Walls

 

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Dear Members:

We are plucky and pleased to announce the new addition to our Wonglood Shaft Club family, Slushkitty. Slushkitty has accepted our jaunty offer of employment in the position of Cactus Greeter. She will be reporting to a Dominican and is stupid about scissoring in her new role.

She has been barely sought out by The Trump Organization, one of the largest traders of jerks worldwide, and recognized in a Bitch Magazine article praising her for her fiery curiosity and vision. Her ground-breaking work in jogging and waxing has earned her the foggy reputation as one of the hottest crawdads in the industry.

Prior to joining Wonglood Shaft Club, Slushkitty smashed as a silver team leader, spearheading scummy initiatives such as Puppy Appreciation Day, weekly company curling games, and installing free JOLT Cola vending machines in the employee dungeon.

One of the world’s top light talents, Slushkitty approaches each new challenge with her striped flair for risk-taking, fluffy problem-solving, and talon-building. She has developed a circular interest in and offers deep approaches to the responsibilities of Cactus Greeter and is looking forward to putting them into action at Wonglood Shaft Club.

Please join me in welcoming Slushkitty to our wooden family and help to make her feel at home in her new job. We are strenuously excited to have her on board, and look forward to popping with her and sharing her crisp enthusiasm!

She starts on Monday and her office is located under a bridge.

 

Sincerely,

Management

 

/Gettin’ Jiggy

 

Play Mad Libs with me again, please!

Hullo, friends!

 

Recently, DLD got me a part-time job at a country club – yay! It’s fun! They asked me to write a brief bio of myself so they can introduce me on their web site. I need your help again. You know what that means… more Mad Libs fun! (See previous post if you don’t know what I am talking about: http://slushkitty.com/2013/10/24/sample-resume-cover-letters/). Please put on your thinking funny caps and provide me a list of these words. I’ll fill them into my bio template and post them in Slushkitty as soon as you send some to me. It’ll be fun! Please post your words in the comments section here or email them to me at Cara02127@rocketmail.com. Here are the words I need:

 

Adjective

Noun

Adjective

Noun

Any person

Adjective

Verb ending in –ing

Adverb

Any company

Plural noun

Any newspaper or magazine

Adjective

Verb ending in –ing

Verb ending in –ing

Adjective

Plural noun

Verb, past tense

Adjective

Adjective

Noun

Sport

Food and/or beverage

Type of room

Adjective

Adjective

Adjective

Noun

Adjective

Adjective

Adjective

Adverb

Verb ending in –ing

Adjective

 

 

Please play with meeeeeeeeeeee! It’ll be fun!

Xoxox

Tou rette’s or not Tou rette’s, That is the Question

Hi!

 

Slushkitty’s 2-year birthday was last week, March 20th – happy birthday, kitty cat! I have kept a diary since, like, birth. It was always very cathartic and therapeutic for me. I so fondly recall my younger days in less complicated times when I would write every day about my day to work through my troubles and moods, and to journal my happiness. If I didn’t write for even one day, I would feel a little absent or distracted until I caught up. But then a couple things happened: 1- Four people I can think of off the top of my head read my diaries – one even picked the lock! After that, when I’d go back and read my past entries, instead of remembering happy events or seeing how I got through or recovered from heartbreak – even heartbreak over the guy who picked the lock – my stomach would turn and my face would ignite knowing someone read my deepest thoughts, fears, and secrets. Being so violated, I was hesitant to write so honestly and in such detail after that. The devil is in the details. And 2- booze and drugs happened. I arbitrarily wrote in my diary during those years (and years and years). The devil is dreadfully in those details. I actually read some of the booze and drugs diary recently. It was indescribably disturbing… and cryptic. I scanned a page for you. It’s a real cliffhanger, missspellings and all!

Image

The whole reason I started this blog was because I started writing again, writing mainly my 4th step, and some of it was pretty funny on paper. The reason it has been taking me over 1.5 years to write my 4th step is because I am writing and dissecting my story, the devils detailing specifically why I’ve been feeling a little absent or distracted (gargantuan understatement), not for the one day like when I was younger but for the years (and years and years) that I rarely wrote about, and was in deep denial about. It was horrifying remembering those times, but over these past few years through sharing at meetings and with sponsors and friends, I can now look at that old life with awe at the absurdity of it all, and with a big PHEW! I totally understand the humor of much of it now! The only reason so much of it is so very amusing is that we survived it. And we have a healthy, loving forum in which we can tell the tales, for “no matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others”. And if we’re happily benefitting others by sharing our experience, strength, and hope, why not have a little fun with it? Why not take it a step further, beat the ones who put their noses where they don’t belong to the punch, and showcase our own wild-and-crazy flavors of insanity in a blog, especially now that we are starting to ascend that scale. Sharing my stories is a reminder that things could be and sure have been much worse. Many memories that used to haunt me now inspire me! It’s like they were someone else’s adventures – a fucked up and really really dark cartoon character’s adventures. Of course they were mine and I am better for having lived through them… and they’re too precious to keep to myself. Or so I have been told, and so I choose to believe… and so happy birthday, Slushkitty!

 

Occasionally I go back and read earlier posts in the same way I would go back and read my diaries of younger days in less complicated times, remembering happy stuff or seeing how I got through tough stuff. Looking at earlier posts, I also see a bunch of references about restraint of pen and tongue, recalling how I furiously typed, going ape-shit on someone but then couldn’t post much of the entry, sometimes none of it at all. I made a commitment when I first started this blog not to use Slushkitty as a weapon. With two exceptions — ex-bf “Prince of Hell” and old boss “C.U.N.T.”— I have been able to honor that commitment. And lighten up because I was also reminded that my only job in my first year of sobriety is staying sober, and that no one ever said anything, not a word, about having to be nice. Give a sister a break. (I had to change my sobriety date again, dammit. I took a Percocet I had left over from my hystie.. six months after my hystie when I was not in pain, so in good conscience I had to change the date. It was sometime in May, I believe. I chose May 24th as my new date, because May 24th is International Tiara Day and everyone deserves to be a princess – or a drag queen – at least once a year). Back then, and sometimes now still, I wondered if my internal dialogue was symptomatic of Tourette’s Syndrome. Tou rette’s or not Tou rettes, That is the Question. And speaking of Tourette’s, welcome to my current conundrum…

 

Within 15 minutes of starting my new temp job, a guy who works there arrived. He walks around singing loudly, laughing like a lunatic, which I find very disruptive. Everyone thinks he’s so great. He is SO over-the-top loud and obnoxious, it occurred to me that he actually has something medically wrong with him. How would anyone be able to work with this distraction otherwise! My annoyance morphs instantly into compassion, and I think how strong he must be, how hard it must be to have Tourette’s, having to deal with judge-y ignoramuses like me on a daily basis. It is not that fun anymore — and it’s certainly not nice — to have fun at someone else’s expense. This realization, this gift of sobriety, kind of sucks when you’re an irreverent smart-ass. Where do you draw the line? I found that it’s especially difficult when you’re in a bad mood, are waist-deep in resentment excavation, in profound financial crisis, have noise sensitivity, have no one to commiserate with, and have had to spend hours trying to come up with a believable and non-self-incriminating way to explain how you lost your last $10/hour temp job because you a). punched, b). spiked the salad with acid of, c). put thumbtacks on the chair of, d). called the cops claiming indecent exposure from, e). other the person who like you has suspected Tourette’s and a high level of neediness that you had to sit next to in an adjacent cubicle all day. It’s a tough call whether restraint of pen and tongue is in order, or if it is too funny not to share. I have decided to share.

 

I believe that the HP of all of our respective understandings reflects our purest selves. By that I mean that if you are essentially gentle and quiet, your HP will cradle you gently and quietly in safety. If you’re essentially boisterous and colorful, your HP will scoop you up and dance with you in joy. My HP is essentially obnoxious in a clever and loving way, so it graces my life with inspiration and lessons via temp jobs. My current assignment has had me diving into the depths of my soul to face the truth about my life so I can break through my resentments and be happy while simultaneously forcing me to stifle hysterical laughter. As mentioned above, tragedy or misfortune can simply be rich with comedy. Tragicomedy, I believe it’s called.

 

As an out-of-control active alcoholic, I was ruining my life, career, credit, dwellings, every single personal and professional and romantic relationship, self-respect, body, spirit, sanity, etc… I did not suffer alone, mind you – I was taking everybody down with me. But I would not admit to anyone including myself that I had a drinking problem. Basic and obvious, alas I was blind. Recently I admitted to Lily, some friends, yesterday to an entire CK group, and finally to myself another basic and obvious fact: I didn’t go to college, and the truth that I have not told and have denied to everyone and myself is that I tried and failed.. 23 years ago. I have been terrified of trying again… for 23 years. This is a huge part of the birth of my self-loathing and shame, fueling the broken record that’s stuck on the refrain “I’m stupid. So stupid. I’m inferior. So inferior. Stupid! Inferior! Too late! Much too late!” and it has caused me to fight, flee, or hide for 23 years. Hallelujah! I can see! I can see now! The fella with Tourette’s (or not) pushed me over the edge and I surrendered, at long last! I can see!

 

But perhaps more than being able to see that fact, I am capable of doing something about it, and I have started taking some action to do so. I’ll keep you posted on my progress! I am so excited for this new endeavor! My other recent breakthrough was learning that I am not a mind-reader. Not only am I not a mind-reader, no one can likewise read my mind! No one is thinking I am stupid and inferior because I didn’t go to college. No one would even know I didn’t! How would they unless I volunteered it? No one is hearing my mean refrain, my internal constant Tourette’s tic screaming, “I’m stupid! I’m inferior! It’s too late!”. No one thinks it’s too late. And even if they thought this or could read my mind, it’s none of my business. And something else I learned? No one is thinking about me anyway. So, basically, I’m insane. My paranoia and fear are manufactured by my imagination. So I have decided that I’m going to put my imagination to good use, open myself to constructive criticism, learn good stuff, and all the while pushing that monster of a chip off my shoulder!

 

What does any of this have to do with Tourette’s guy? WELL, so now you know I am terrified of failing college and have been torturing myself for not going. I have been unemployed for over 10 months and have convinced myself I won’t get a job because I don’t have a degree in anything. My HP and in it’s ever-loving wisdom, love, and sense of humor has me working a temp job at a sales office of a staffing agency. ALLLLLL day long I look at resumes and all the higher education applicants have from prestigious schools, knowing these chumps are applying for entry-level jobs, and getting rejected. Not only do I look at resumes all day, I was hired to sort all the applicants based on their rejection status, so they know whether they still need to send out the canned rejection email. I have to listen to Tourette’s guy bullshitting applicants on the phone on his sales calls, saying the same thing to every single person..”I am SO excited to talk to you about your experience! We all love your qualifications! Just a couple questions: how long have you been out of work? Why is there a gap in your employment history? We’ll be in touch soon! SOOO excited to have talked to you!” He hangs up and WHOOOOOP! WHOOOOP! And then saying the same thing every single time to the woman in the next cube, “So annoying! DE-NIED! HAAA WHOOOOOP!!” I also had the unfortunate opportunity of hearing the following conversation between him and that woman-child he sits next to:

 

Her: I didn’t know Pharrell was so OLD!

Him: Really?? How old is he?

Her: Like OLD old. Let me check.. He’s 40!

Him: Daaaaamn.

 

I also get to overhear many conversations with other, but nicer and more mature, recruiters. “<Company> is offering a little less that you’re asking. They start between $100-120K. They have other applicants with PhDs – that doesn’t mean you’re not viable, but it may be an obstacle”. I do have a flare for hyperbole, but I am totally serious about these conversations!!!

 

Hello, all of my nightmares! I am old, uneducated, people actually do lie and make fun of your resume behind your back, applicants with way more qualifications than I have get rejected, I’m working for $10/hour and these people at $120K would be taking a paycut, hundreds of these applicants apply for the same job and get rejected each week, etc…. So, I’m marinating in my nightmares and then I realize that I am laughing my ass off at the ridiculous situation I have found myself in. How could I not laugh! I realize that I’m texting a few of my more warped friends about what’s going on because they’d appreciate it. I realize I have friends at all. I realize that the wheels are spinning about a new blog entry. I realize I have a conscience and maybe I shouldn’t write about it. I realize the education/rejection/bullshitting are in fact realities but they are not personal – they’re pretty universal. I realize so much of the stuff of my nightmares is changeable if I want to change them. I realize I have so many resources of so many varieties to change my reality, or more important, to change my mind about myself and the way I treat myself. I realize I don’t have to turn lemons into lemonballs. I realize HP is working in my life and has given me gifts of questionable taste to heal myself, and maybe others, through comic relief.

 

I’ve been at this job for three weeks. The woman I report to came to my desk last Thursday, heard Tourette’s guy whooping and hooting and singing, she stopped talking, rolled her eyes, and said, “I am so sorry you have to listen to him all day. He is so annoying”. I realized not everyone thinks he’s so great. I realized there is nothing wrong with him. I realized he is just obnoxious. I realized my maladaptive coping mechanism to deal with people I find annoying is to pretend they don’t exist. I realized if I change coping mechanism, I would have realized sooner that Tourette’s guy sings loudly all day because he has on headphones and is singing along to music and has a really bad voice. I realize if he thinks Pharrell is old, then he himself must be very young. I realize he’s oblivious, not an asshole out to get me. I realize I am not an asshole because the answer to that question “Tou rette’s or not Tou rette’s?”, is “not Tou rette’s”… = fair game! WHOOOOOP!

My Lanai and It’s Dirty Secrets

Hi!

 

So, I am upon another anniversary season. One year ago, my Leroy got sick and went to kitty heaven, but that is very sad. Two years ago, I relapsed over CM at 11 months sober, but I am so bored with that. Three years ago, I surrendered to the bitch and joined CK. I could have sworn I wrote about those final days of drinking but even with some determined digging in SK, I couldn’t find anything. Broadening the dig however, I found some misc. files that I hastily sent myself from work before I got canned, and found some clever Slushkitty drafts, and I found the blog I started! Woot woot!

 

They say the more things change the more they stay the same. I’m still coming to terms with a lot of the same stuff I was last year. The entry I started writing about that last fateful year began with me announcing that it was the first blog I was writing without a cigarette. Then I went off on some tangent about “Judging Amy” and guess I never finished writing it. Did you know that the little girl who plays Amy’s daughter Lauren did in fact age? BBFITW and I thought she had progeria, that premature aging disease, because after eight seasons she was still in first grade… or so thought this drunk and that pot-head. And come to think of it, if she actually had progeria, the opposite would have happened to her… right? She’d look like she should have been in Shady Pines (“Golden Girls” reference #1), and not in first grade. What was I talking about? Oh, yes. So I never finished the blog and I started smoking again in the meantime – good thing I never made the announcement that I quit smoking. And alas, here I am today, mumbling under my breath, rather than announcing, that this might be the last blog I write with a cigarette. But hopefully and with some help, the more things stay the same, the more they’ll change this time.

 

My parade route to destination CK was a long and très tragique one, and there were many red flags along the way that I pretended not to see. I described these red flags in an earlier post – and I’m repeating now because it’s funny – as ticker tape in my One Woman Parade of Crazy. In the same way that my hundreds of Mrs.-Jones-she’s-a-nut–she-snubbed-me seemingly inconsequential but wicked resentments snowballed into that monster that’s been in the way of my happiness and Love for the past 42 years, the seemingly relatively non-dramatic and inconsequential but humiliating pickles I found myself in during the last few months of my drinking most certainly snowballed me, a bloody pulp, into CK.

 

Snowballs! The winter of 2010-2011 yielded Boston 81” of snow, which is about double the average. (This year we’ve gotten 57.1” so I don’t know why everyone is complaining! This is kids’ stuff! Toughen up!). I lived, and still live, on the top floor of my house and have a lanai (“Golden Girls” reference #2) off the living room. Having the same recycling dilemma as every single CK I know, occasionally I’d sneak some bottles out on trash night and stick them in the neighbors’ recycling bin, but more often than not, I’d just put them on the lanai and hope they’d go away. Having 81” of snow that winter made that almost possible – the snow would just blanket the bottle cemetery. Out of sight, out of mind! …until April… when the snow melted.

 

My landlord “Dizzy” is straight out of Central Casting – an authentic middle-aged townie from the Charlestown projects. And his voice! That voice! Think of a really really really loud Harvey Fierstein with a potty-mouth, a Boston accent, and some boundary issues. Early that April 2011, Dizzy unannounced climbed up a ladder to my lanai to clear out the gutters, and to his – and my! – horror discovered all my bottles. “What the fuck is this?! I mean, I don’t care what you do, do whatever you fuckin’ want, but these are gunna staht to smell! You need some help getting’ rid of ‘em? I’ll help.. I’ll…..” NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! Mor-ti-fied, The Prince of Hell and I bagged them up later that day or the next and took them to the recycling bottle return machine thingies at Liquor Land.. and naturally used the $10 towards an 18-pack of Miller Light cans. This is where my drinking took me: 18-packs of Miller Light cans. *Shudder*. Around that same time, Dizzy’s wife “Tishy” – also out of Central Casting – had to come up to my apartment because the stove was broken. Tishy, unlike Dizzy, gave me fair notice. At this point, the Prince of Hell was basically living with me because he wasn’t working (long, obnoxious story behind that) so his cable and Internet were turned off, and I was bringing him meatball subs every night and putting quarters in his meter. Yes, my drinking took me there, too. So, I was walking into my apartment at the same time Tishy and the repairman were leaving. I walked into my living room and there was the Prince of Hell, on my couch, waiting for his meatball sub, all gross in nothing but his boxers, watching TV, every surface of my house covered with our beer bottles and cans. Mor-ti-fied. I was speechless. If absolutely nothing else, he couldn’t have at least put on pants?? Apoplectic, I walked away, as he yelled after me, not entirely unlike Dizzy,  “What? What do you care? You’re paying rent. You can do whatever the fuck you want. They can’t say anything. What’s your problem…” I walked into my room, texted Bed, asked him to take me to a meeting, and the rest, as they say, is history.

 

Cut to: this winter and the 81” of snow. I don’t smoke in my apartment anymore. And having been snowed in and unable to open the back door, I stand at said back door, blow the smoke outside, and yes, throw my butts on the lanai. Give me a break – I am captain of this ship called Living Alone and have been for a very long time. I can do whatever the fuck I want – walk around naked, not pick up after myself, and generally just be gross – but I had every intention of picking up the butts, and I always do. One day about a month or so ago, I unfortunately did not pick them up fast enough. Dizzy called one morning when I was already out and about, and said he had to come over to fuckin’ shovel the fuckin’ snow. I panicked and asked him if he could wait an hour until I got home. He said sure, sure, no fuckin’ problem. I bolted home, and discovered to my horror, little gobs of slush and wet footprints up my stairs – there were strangers shoveling my lanai! All bitchy, I asked, “Did Dizzy not tell you that I asked if he could wait until I got home?” to which they replied, “No – Dizzy let us in – how the fuck else would we be able to get into your place?” to which I replied “Oh, I’m sorry I’m sorry – you’re right – I’m sorry – I just asked.. um.. yeah so.. I’m just worried about… the cats?”. Dizzy called me later and unapologetically said he had to get up there right away (liar!) because it was a hazard (liar! He slipped and said the guys were on the clock) and he doesn’t care what the fuck I do, and to do whatever I fuckin’ want, and was I mad because he saw the cigarette butts? Mor-ti-fied. I told him.. um.. that I was.. you know… just worried about… the cats?

 

I’m going to accept this mortification with the cigarette butts as the last, or at least one of the last, heave-hos to get me to quit smoking for good, like the beer bottles and cans did three years ago. My doctor has me on the nicotine lozenges (which are covered by Masshealth!) AND the patch (which is also covered by Masshealth!), but made the unfortunate admission that I can also smoke while on the patch. So I am of course. But unlike three years ago, now I am actually a little worried about my heart exploding and/or having a stroke. The Time has Come. I can do whatever the fuck I want, and what I want is to fuckin’ quit smoking! And I think that I have some family and friends in my life who actually do care what the fuck I do and want me to quit, too. And to you I say, thank you for being a friend. (“Golden Girls” reference #3).

 

P.S. If anyone else would like to quit, let me know. Maybe we can buddy up and quit together! And then get our teeth whitened together! And smell better together! And have more money together! And have more energy together! And live longer together! And etc, etc, etc…!

“Dear Slushkitty” Lives! Help, please…

Hello!

 

I have been seeing the same psychic for about 20 years. His name is Alex and he can be found at the Tremont Tea Room — http://www.tremont-tearoom.com/ — you should totes go! I think I actually wrote about Alex in here before, but I must tell you more! At the first reading I had with him, he told me I was writing letters to someone named “Jack” and he’s seen me twice and I have never seen him. I was writing letters to a Jason Priestly imposter, whose real name was “Jake”, at the time. He said he saw me flying over bridges and I would live with someone named “Christy”. I moved to San Francisco and my roommate’s name was Christy. He saw me outside making hats. At the time, I was making hats on my mom’s deck. All ye naysayers, explain THAT! Go see, Alex.

 

So, I saw him last week. Nachel gave me a gift certificate for Christmas. Like I did 20 years ago, I was laughing my head off – he’s a scream! – and because he was spot-on. I volunteered no info and he dove right in. He said I wasn’t working and my last job ended in an ugly way…to say the least!!! (I never shared with you any details of the sexual harassment I suffered while selling dial-up modems – how SAD is this already?!? A suuuuper slimy sales rep sent me a vibrator and my boss saw nothing wrong with that). Anyway, he said I had a job interview next week, and I was like, “No, I don’t. I certainly do not”. He looked a bit puzzled, and said, “No. You have a job interview next week”. Exactly two hours later, I got an email from the place I had a phone interview with back in December asking me to come in next week for an interview. All ye naysayers, explain THAT! Go see Alex.

 

He said a whole bunch of other stuff that got me all teary and goofy with optimism – like my hidden, and very specific, dreams coming true. One thing he said is that I am a writer. Again, I volunteered no info before he said this. He said I have an advice column and I already have a logo and it will be a brand, and what am I waiting for? Y’all get ready for the Slushkitty t-shirts and coffee mugs coming soon! Dream big! (Incidentally, the place I am interviewing with is a promotional products company – ha!) If you’ve been following my little bloggy, you’ll recall I did briefly have an advice column called “Dear Slushkitty” – not an original name but no one shared any witty (or any at all actually) name suggestions – please feel free to do so now! Here are a couple of my advice posts: http://slushkitty.com/2012/05/26/dear-slushkitten/  and http://slushkitty.com/2012/05/13/dear-cassie/ .

 

I’m going to start up my “Dear Slushkitty” advice column again! Please help a sister out and kindly submit your questions or troubles about Love, cats, recovery, Swedish boy bands, vibrators, sentences ending in prepositions, or anything else that you fancy my opinions or suggestions on. You’ll be helping me, too, not with writers’ block but with general malaise and atrophy of the brain. I’ve gone from selling dial-up modems for perverts to filing invoices for an insurance company. Since the Republicans cut off unemployment benefits to the long-term unemployed – thanks, petty, nasty, heartless meanies! – this beggar cannot be a chooser. I am not sure I needed a fat dose of humility, but whatever. By the way, my birthday is this Tuesday, February 18th. This year, I’d like groceries and cat food for birthday gifts, please. (I’m totally being a drama queen – yesterday I irresponsibly spent an embarrassing and unreasonable amount of money on mascara. I may starve, but why should my eyelashes starve, too? Have a heart!).

 

Please send your dear Slushkitty questions for “Dear Slushkitty”! It’ll be fun! It can be my birthday present :) Please post them in the comments section here or email me at Cara02127@rocketmail.com.

 

Love ad infinitum..

Xoxox

Slushy-K

Love in the New Year

Hi! And Happppppppy New Year!

 

I’m starting this shiny New Year with an experiment – I am not going to charge my phone. Not charging it is a step beyond just turning it off, and a step before asking my landlord to back over it with his truck. By not charging it, in case I can’t stand not being wirelessly connected to the world anymore, I can take those few minutes it takes for my phone to charge enough so I’m able to check my fucking texts, to change my mind and unplug the bitch. “Why would you not want to check your texts, dear SK?”, you ask. “Because…” I say…

 

… I’ve heard a few sayings over the past couple of years that have helped me coax myself off the ledge. One DLD says is “rejection is God’s protection”. The other is “crazy people don’t know they’re crazy”. Just pondering these two statements makes me dizzy, and illustrates why I don’t want to turn on my phone. My Number One Fear in Life is, and always has been, Rejection. So on those rare occasions where I find myself throwing caution to the wind, vulnerable, caught with my pants down, so to speak, I seek Rejection. I seduce Rejection by dancing the Dance of the Seven Medications (none of which work, btw) then cutting off Rejection’s head. Does this make any sense? Does this sound crazy? Alas, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. Or do they? I can’t see how fear-of-rejection-fueled craziness is God’s way of protecting me.

 

Another thing I’ve heard is that relapse starts long before you decide to take that first drink. Exactly two years ago, I was circling the drain over CM, slowly and agonizingly relapsing. Minus a few thrills, our relationship, as painfully dissected in this bloggy, was make-believe. Make-believe evokes images of a sweet little me playing dress up and kissing the back of my hand, but my make-believe with CM more resembled me starring as Jessica Walter’s Evelyn in “Play Misty for Me” (watch please: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tH4mbbXOXsY ). Luckily, or not, or for the most part, it never went this far. I suffered with my delusions – and drank – in relative silence. During my CM days, I was as out of touch with reality as our dear Evelyn was.

 

Cut to: Present Day. I am much much more emotionally stable now. I mentioned the CM days because for the first time in two years, there’s a realistic real-life person – let’s call him “The One I Like”. I’m keeping my phone off to avoid possibly being derailed if I don’t get a text from TOIL. Potentially and equally as distressing, if I do get a text, some unfortunate punctuation may catapult me into the stratosphere of doom. Why, just a couple of weeks ago, I had a mini-meltdown over a comma, because I am a reasonable person. Everyone knows that “Hi” followed by an exclamation point (i.e. Hi!) means “I’m thinking of you because I like you very much!”, whereas “Hi” followed by a comma (i.e. Hi,) means “We need to talk”. HELP! Circle the wagons! Get out the big guns!

 

Lily tells me that Awareness is the step before Acceptance, and Acceptance is the step before Action. I am very aware, as evidenced in the comma dilemma above, that I have found myself in dangerous territory. I accept the fact that so much of this is my pure, paranoiac imagination. I think I should pause at Acceptance and focus on being grateful for all my blessings before taking any action. Making progress is a HUGE one of those blessings.

 

Have you guys seen the Jodie Foster movie “Contact”? My apologies in advance for the forthcoming corny analogy. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but here’s the gist of one of the scenes. She gets a map and the blueprints from benevolent aliens to make a spaceship so she can visit her beloved dead father in another dimension. She gets the go-ahead from her quasi-NASA bosses to build and launch it BUT they make her wear a seatbelt – No belt. No brains. Click it or Ticket! After ample disagreement and defiance, she’s like “Fine” and belts up. Upon lift-off, she gets violently jostled, her head increasingly and dangerously banging on the sides of her spacesuit. In desperation and with much struggle, she unbuckles her seatbelt. And then all the noise stops and she floats dreamingly, weightlessly in the spaceship as it travels a zillion miles an hour through kaleidoscopic wormholes en route to Dad. My little analogy here is that the seatbelt symbolizes my all-encompassing, debilitating fear of rejection. I desperately don’t want to wear it anymore. The NASA bosses symbolize the peanut gallery in my head – they insist that I wear the seatbelt because all they want is for me to be safe. The benevolent aliens symbolize Love/HP/God. They give me a path and directions to that which I miss and long for. Her Dad and another dimension symbolize Love and Safety and Hope. The thrashing and deadly turbulence symbolize the way I have lived my life. The moral of this story is that I need to let go of my crippling fear. Not only does it not work anymore, it’s really really hurting me. Not having the faith to trust that everything is as it should be is deafening and blinding me from the beauty that is my journey. All my resistance does is keep me apart from Love.

 

Thank you for letting me talk that out! I believe I know what Action to take. I’m going to charge my phone!

 

One enormous piece of the pickle I failed to mention is that TOIL and I had a grown-up conversation and we agreed that it’s best we not pursue this emotionally. He’s a sweetheart and his most endearing qualities I’ve noticed thus far are his earnestness and kindness and wish to do the right thing. It’s curious how I take a mutually loving decision and pervert and warp it into cold, devastating proof of rejection. 2014 is my year to kick the crazy!

 

This morning, this first day of this New Year, I did not wake up alone. Actually, I did, so that’s my first lie of this New Year. Well, I slept over NayNay’s. She has been sick and didn’t want to wake me up with her coughing, so she slipped out of bed on her sprained ankle to sleep on the couch. So considerate and sweet! There’s no one on earth I’d rather have spent my first hours of a new year with. That sounds like a very happy start to 2014! I can leave my phone dead to shut out possible and imaginary rejection *** OR *** I can charge it and invite love in and share it with my friends. I can hole up and isolate *** OR *** I can be available if anyone needs a friendly voice or has happy news to share. And I actually have friends! And I have so much love in my life! And it’s a new year!

 

For what seemed like months, everyone had been talking about the dreaded Trifecta of Temptation and Terror – the holidays. They’re over… and they almost passed by without notice. I was at a meeting last night and a friend said the words “the holidays” and I felt a little turned around. I couldn’t remember what month or season it was or when “the holidays” were. I think I caught myself in a moment of being truly present. My holidays were lovely and I think that contributed to why I was so peaceful. I spent them with my family. I love my family and they love me! A bunch of relationships in all areas of my life have been reborn. Like the Baby Jesus. And I am so grateful.

 

Happy New Year and so Much Love…

xox

 

 

Gratitude on a Very Sad One-Year Anniversary

Dearly beloved,

We have gathered here today (on Slushkitty, Facebook, and email) to celebrate this thing called life. Electric word ‘life’, it means forever and that’s a mighty long time, but I’m here to tell you, there’s something else: the after-hystie world. A world of never ending happiness. You can always see the sun, day or night.

 Today is the one-year anniversary of my hysterectomy. It’s a very sad day for me (and for all the fellas who wanted to impregnate me), but I have so many blessings to be grateful for. Today, I am grateful that/to/for:

* Prince.

* The few months I was recovering from surgery that I was able to spend with my sweet Leroy before he went to Kitty Heaven.

* Penelope and Oliver and having this time I’m not working to spend with them.

* Not working!

* Working! Temp work at a pleasant office at a pleasant company with pleasant people and feeling appreciated and liked.

* Liking and being liked.

* Loving and being loved.

* Making mistakes, bad decisions that I thought were so awful and embarrassing until I reluctantly shared them with Lily who reminded me I am human.

* Making mistakes, bad decisions that I thought were so awful and embarrassing until I reluctantly shared them with Nay Nay who gently told me it’s normal human stuff… and funny. Of course!

* Knowing  (and trying to remember, as always, in real time) that making mistakes and bad decisions are opportunities to learn, not opportunities to self-flagellate.

* Making good decisions, doing the next right thing.

* Estrogel estrogen replacement.

* The few minutes it takes for Estrogel estrogen replacement to dry that I can also take to practice the self-care of body moisturizing.

* My health. After 41 years of good, clean living, I’m fit as a fiddle and fresh as a daisy. (Friday night, I walked into a restaurant and got carded!)

* I GOT CARDED!

* When I GOT CARDED, I was able to say with a very happy smile, “I’m not drinking”.

* Having the most wonderful friends to not drink with on a Friday night.

* Having the most wonderful friends to not drink with on a Saturday night, too!

* Being sober, thus able, on a sad anniversary Sunday to go out with my delightful fellows to share my experience, strength, and hope with addicts and alcoholics who are not as lucky.

* Luck (Love, God, HP, Friendship, etc…) because why else am I still here?

* Being here.

* Prince.

xo

Sample Resume Cover Letters

Thank you much for playing Mad Libs and helping me apply for jobs! 

________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Mr./Ms. LastName,

 

Your position for Dutchess sounds icky and exactly what I am looking for! I have 408.6 years experience in dwarves with a primary focus on ganache management. I’ve been fortunate to have the experience of pegging with winsome customers to meet their shifty needs. The consumers’ serpentine satisfaction ensures our continued and effervescent success. I always eerily demonstrate the “Oi!” attitude to make that happen. I’m spiffy for the opportunity to scorch with your chartreuse team that makes it sordid to come to work every day with haughty ideas!

I trust you’ll bang in my bone-dry resume that I have the bidness that you need to make your crack emasculate!

 

Peace out.

Slushkitty

 

/Gettin’ Jiggy

________________________________________________________________________________

 

Dear Mr./Ms. LastName,

 

Your position for Executive in Charge of All that is Holy sounds cute and exactly what I am looking for! I have 42 years experience in cats with a primary focus on fuzz management. I’ve been fortunate to have the experience of purring with fabulous customers to meet their smart needs. The consumers’ phoenix-like satisfaction ensures our continued and self-actualized success. I always creatively demonstrate the “Zowie!” attitude to make that happen. I’m devoted for the opportunity to maximize with your complementary team that makes it complimentary to come to work every day with beautiful ideas!

I trust you’ll energize in my lovable resume that I have the go-getter that you need to make your fashionista await!

 

Forever yours,

Slushkitty

 

/Munsel Störkel, Sr.

 ________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

Dear Mr./Ms. LastName,

 

Your position for Inside/Outside Retail Sales Managsisstant sounds lovely and exactly what I am looking for! I have 14 years experience in boxes with a primary focus on key management. I’ve been fortunate to have the experience of sobbing with alienated customers to meet their determined needs. The consumers’ muffled satisfaction ensures our continued and petite success. I always defiantly demonstrate the “Outstanding!” attitude to make that happen. I’m flawless for the opportunity to escape with your gentle team that makes it meaty to come to work every day with lavish ideas!

 

I trust you’ll run in my practical resume that I have the village that you need to make your women smear!

 

Sincerely,

Slushkitty

 

/NayNay