There's been some neighborhood quiet lately. And beautiful spring rain.
I'm starting to worry that *I'm* the noisy one.
Like when I get frustrated and explode out loud, "ARE YOU FUCKING *KIDDING* ME?!?!" when something doesn't go my way.
I'm not actually asking anyone. I'm home/at work alone. I'm just inquiring of "the universe", I guess you could call it.
Should I even care? Like ... maybe it's good if everyone in the neighborhood knows there's an asshole with an explosive temper in residence.
So tired. So so so fucking tired. Just trying to get through one. More. Thing and eventually get to bed and get to sleep for a minute before being woken up again by involuntary vomit filling your mouth and waking you up to the burning lava before you drown.
You reach to close the slats of the blinds against the night and the neighbors' eyes. And the stupid twisty pole-stick thingy just comes right out into your hands. Just quietly detaches to add to the futility and you just let it drop. Just let that useless-ass stick that gave up functionality just drop the same way you drop your tired puffy aching stupid fat head and slap your whole face down into your too-small hands that just can't even begin to carry all of the weight you've accumulated and saddled yourself with.
One bill at a time. One fork at a time. Another fucking night at a time.
Is it true that some people really wake up ready and well-rested for their day? How does one get that to occur?
All I know is this fucking stick-wand-thingy is still going to be here tomorrow, on the fucking floor on a bed of soft decaying piles of my shed head hair, right under the window where everyone can see in and knows I am an old bitch-ass sloppy-as-fuck sack of shit.
Laughed wryly at this video of a man's furious extra-dramatic rant depicting "Washington natives when a transplant says 'The 5' instead of I-5" (via @rjromain who says "t’s like dragging your nails across a chalkboard for the born and raised lol #seattle #seattlewa #seattlewashington #pnw #tacoma #washingtonstate #pyuallup"):
As a 4th+ generation Washingtonian who grew up near the crotch of I-90 and I-5, this doesn't annoy me as much as people calling Puget Sound "the ocean", but ... yeah. I do mentally assign demerits to people who say "the" instead of "eye".
Modest proposal: you must pay five-times pricier tabs if you give directions like this or refer to interstates in Washington this way, or say "THE 520" or "THE 405" instead of just fucking 520 or 405.
You just TAKE 405, not take "take THE 405". Like ... we don't need that extra pretentious California verbage cluttering up our shit for NO GOOD REASON. And I don't need to insert a fancy i as in verbiage for you to know exactly what I'm talking about.
GARBAGE IN, GARBAGE OUT.
And if you don't like "Seattle" or the way people have been doing shit here for decades or more, WHY DID YOU FUCKING MOVE HERE? You didn't fucking know we lived here and had ways of doing things before you fucking tailgating, California-stopping, road-raging assholes inserted yourselves and brought all that smog with you? And don't even get me started on crazy cult-mindset motherfuckers from Idaho, Utah, Arizona, etc. infiltrating like that stupid selfish shithole cunt who moved to Redmond and things he's going to be the new and improved Tim Fucking Eyman.
How happy it made me, sitting on a plastic stool on our front stoop on a fully-formed spring day during a moment of neighborhood quiet, seeing someone walking a dog. Quietly ambling together. No phone in her hand. Just her and the dog. Walking. Together.
I miss the days before facebook when you had to get a scanner if you wanted to eavesdrop on local tragedy porn and gossip.
Now every motherfucker is on facebook and "nextdoor" and whatever the fuck putting on grotesque shows pretending their interest in the most macabre accidents and crimes is prompted by genuine concern for their fellow men and neighbors.
That shit belongs in your grandpa's garage, not publicly displayed on the internet.
OH GOSH I HOPE EVERYONE'S ALRIGHT THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS DO YOU KNOW WHO IT WAS WHAT WAS THE VEHICLE CAN YOU DESCRIBE EXACTLY WHERE IT HAPPENED OH THAT POOR BABY DOES ANYONE KNOW IF ITS MOTHER WAS AN ADDICT IS IT POSSIBLE I CAN VERBALLY TONGUEFUCK A FIREMAN'S SMOKEY FURBALL ANUS FOR HIS HEROIC BRAVERY AND RESCUE ATTEMPTS PLEASE NOTICE ME HOW MUCH I CARE I AM NOT MERELY CURIOUS BUT ENTITLED TO THE MOST INTIMATE HORRIFIC DETAILS BECAUSE I CARE SO EXTREMELY MUCH I'M CRYING CAN YOU SEE MY EMOJIREACTS WITH THE TEARS CASCADING DOWN MY FACE WHILE I MASTURBATE MY EMOTIONAL VISCERA OVER TOTAL STRANGERS WHOSE LIVES I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING BUSINESS KNOWING THIS MUCH ABOUT
I get the macabre curiosity. I get the desire to gossip. I really do. What I don't get it is the entitlement and the barfy-weird-ass advertisement and hours invested in checking and posting and desperately waiting for NOTIFICATIONS of some potential new gory tidbit of calamity.
What a fucking shitshow of grody shameless "social" parading and poking, and on top of it squatting on it when they can to piggyback their stupid fucking irrelevant selfish-ass political agendas and willfully ignorant opinions.
