Is “optimist” a synonym for denial?
Went to R’s last night. (He was cooking, which I kind of foresaw when she called and said, “Oh, I will cook up something.” She’d have him poop for her if it were possible, I swear, and he’d do it.)
Anyway, he greeted me with, “What’s the good word?”
And I replied, without rancor or self pity, “I don’t have one.”
Which just opened the can of worms for I got the catty hissing sound and the pessimist thing thrown at me.
And I was just like, “Dude, someone came into my home and stole my shit, I think I am entitled to some pessimism.” Even if it wasn’t my goal. I could have said the same damn thing if Kenny had asked what the good word was and he would have chuckled at my response.
I swear optimist means denial. Seriously, are we never entitled to get bummed about bad shit that happens? Must we constantly take a pile of shit and delude ourselves into thinking it’s a rainbow and a puppy all rolled into one that smells of roses? I get thinking positive, but invalidating someone who something crappy happened to is just being a dick.
What pisses me off the most is that I have listened to his “woe is me” ranting every time something crappy has befallen him. This not playing fair thing makes me feel like a child on the playground. There was always that one kid who played with your stuff, ate your food, but wouldn’t reciprocate and if you stood up to them, they walked off in a huff.
THAT is R. You cater to him, he totally walks away from you if you burden him with anything you have going on.
I HATE PEOPLE WHO DON’T PLAY FAIR.
After that, he pretty much acted like I was non existent and I spent the evening playing with his grand daughter and my kid and talking to his wife. Who made the kids play outside to avoid a mess in 90 degree heat with no breeze. I was soaked in sweat within five minutes, meanwhile everyone around me is barely glistening with a drop. THEN the bugs began to bite me. Again, no one else seemed too bothered. I, on the other hand, was left with two dozen raised red lumps that itch like a mofo because I have had a serious histamine allergy since I was a child.
I made nice. I ate their food, Philly cheese steak, which it was all I could do to choke down. Then when R asked how it was I stuck my foot in my mouth and said, “It was okay.” Thing is, though, if you tell someone you like something you don’t, you’re pretty much stuck with it for life. Besides which, I TOLD him weeks ago when he got a philly cheese stake for lunch I didn’t care for them. Of course he said, “You haven’t had mine yet, you’ll love it.”:
Just like the donor and his al fredo sauce. What part of “I hate white sauce” is unclear? I don’t give a fuck if Wolfgang Puck makes it, if I don’t like it, I don’t like it.
And this is why I abhor eating at other people’s houses. It puts you in this fawkward position (fucking awkward) where you want to be polite and thankful they have offered you ameal, but if it’s something you didn’t like to begin with then do you tell the truth or give platitudes and get stuck eating it for life?
Damnit. I don’[t want to hurt anyone’s feelings but fuck is it that hard to listen? Tis why if I cook something and someone doesn’t like it, I want to know. Then I won’t obligation-feed them that again. Big difference between, “I’m not a fan of this food” and “OHMIGOD CALL POISON CONTROL THIS IS FUCKING NASTY GRRRAGHHHHGAGGGG.”
Am I the only person on the planet in favor of honesty?
The whole time I was there, listening to banalities, sweating and itching, all I could think is ‘THIS SUCKS, I WANNA GO HOME.
And home we went at 8pm. Enough was enough.
Damiana then showed up and asked if she could spend the night. I said sure, I was depressed and stressed anyway. It’s just so rude, my mom was very adamant with us about never ever inviting yourself anywhere, you were to be invited. This girl would help herself to my kidney if she needed it. Spook fell asleep at 10, and I could hear on the monitor all night long this girl telling my kid to wake up. They demanded a snack at 2 am. At 4 am, Damiana wanted to get up and talk to me. She wore my kid down, poor thing is taking a nap at noon. I found the potty chair in the room, and since my kid won’t use it because she is “scared” the fact it had pee in it told me Damiana did it then left it sitting on the bed to spill and stink.She decided to help herself to one of my kid’s outfits then she “dressed” my kid in a t-shirt, removing her wet Pull up so she was naked from the bottom down, and stuffing the dirty pull up into the bedding.
I’m not the pillar of tidiness or anything but that’;s just nasty.
I sent her home. She came back. At that point I got bitchy and made it clear for her to go home and NOT come back.
We’re doing the family thing here for my brother’s birthday, already went and got the pizzas.
Now I am itching and stressing and wondering what about my place my sister will find to go tell my mom about being so disgusting because she is an ocd clean freak.
All this and I am still supposed to be optimistic 24-7 and never let it get me down?
Yet the people around me can get pissed and upset while I listen to them bitch and moan.
I HATE KIDS WHO DON’T PLAY FAIR ON THE PLAYGROUND!!!!
And I am surrounded by children trapped in adult bodies. I am not perfect by any means but I am fair, at least.
Back to itching my red bumps which are the size of nickels. Allergies suck.