Monday, September 26, 2011

Blog 45...Passing Chicken Fucker Status (CFS)

Blog 45...Passing Chicken Fucker Status (CFS)

Right after I left my husband, a few years ago...I lost control...I passed chicken fucker status one night (I was a real dumb ass that night) and my friends called me out on it. And while it really pissed me off (so much that I decided to leave Eugene) it is exactly what I needed. And years later I can look back and think how much I needed that slap upside the head, that wake up call...and how me leaving Eugene...helped me become the person I really am...a Princess...and if I haven’t told you all thank you, THANK YOU...times 11. I learned, I grew...and it is in part, due to you, just being honest.

And we all know I pride myself on being honest. And in life, friendships and relationships are full of ups and downs, it is important to always state how you feel, why you are mad, and move on...

I guess it sucks for anyone that I get mad at, cause unfortunately, I am going to air my grievances in my diary, which other people read...maybe you will all think twice before you piss me the fuck off...just saying.

And this last week, in one evening, I had two ex-boyfriends pass CFS, and it is not okay.

And we are supposed to be friends.

And if you all are really my friends, you will understand why I am upset and our friendship will grow from here...if not, at least I was honest with my feelings...

And if you all get upset at me for writing about this, I understand, and I am really time you all might think before being a dumb ass...

Dumb Ass Story #1...

After finishing a lovely day with a wonderful lady of walking, talking, exploring and music with good food along the way, I should have called the day an accomplishment and gone home (dumb ass move on my part...Hey, if you call other people out, you got to be able to call yourself out)

But an ex-boyfriend of mine and some mutual friends were in town and wanted to dance and I always like to dance, and I missed my I was in.

And the dancing was great (when is my dancing not great)...but the after party at my house was the downfall.

First off, I have psoriasis, and while it is in remission, I would like to keep it that way, so a lot of partying I can’t do, and am kinda over it anyway. And you all can party all you want, that is fine, I don’t mind just watching and hanging with good friends...

But when you come over to my apartment that I work my ass off to have, is my sanctuary and my home, and you trash the place have passed chicken fucker status.

Now I can not pinpoint exactly when the CFS was crossed, maybe it was when you asked if you should buy crack (there are only two rules to my crack and no tenderloin shoes on the the answer was a firm no, and I should have had them leave then) Maybe it was when they got a whole “master case” of whip its for just the two of them, maybe it was when they started to toss the empty whip its on my floor even though I have given them each a bucket.

It could have been when they did not even notice that I went out into my hall to deal with Dumb Ass #2 for a whole hour on the phone, or that when I came back I was a balling mess...when I was dealing with said phone call my picture of my dog Kesey got knocked over and my massage oil spilled over a pile of my JBG tapes...

Maybe it was when the ex-boyfriend passed out drooling on my chair and his friend made a pass at me, when I gave him "the look" he proceeded to go puke in my bathroom.

Now CFS had been passed at this point, and as Pukey McPukester barfed with the bathroom door open (ohhhh what beautiful, harmonious sounds) I shook the ex and told him that himself and homie had to vacate the apartment asap. He answered by inhaling a whip it and passing out again, just as his friend tried to sit on my bed.

He looked shocked when I told him his “puke-stained-ass” was not to come 2 feet of my fucking bed.

As the ex-boyfriend finally stirred and kicked over my brand new record anger and frustration boiled up in me and made my eyes turn to fire...”Get the fuck out of my fucking house...NOW!!!”

The ex texted me to ask what had happened the next morning, I only told him that he kicked over my record player...he texted back, “I don’t blame you”...I am keeping my fucking mouth shut on that one...but...

***Darlin, you have been my friend, and thank you, thank you so much for being their every time I needed you, let me be your fucking friend...
Do something with your fucking life. Your are damm lucky to have the money that you are blessed to have and instead of throwing it away on frying your fucking brain why don’t you do something to help people, help your fucking friends, you could employ all of us, help us all reach our dreams, if you actually saw your potential, and didn’t think that you having money gave you a right to be fucking rude to people and talk to them like shit...and having money does not give you a right to act like a complete fool...
We all like to have a good time...but did you not learn anything from our friend that just died...can you not see that you are worth so much more...don’t you want to do something more with yourself ***

Dumb Ass Story #2...

I have always told the boys, “I know you ryder going to miss me when I’m gone”...and yet, they always forget that is how the song goes...

It is not my fault that you had over a year to commit to me, to treat me right, to tell me that you loved me every day, and you chose not to.

That is not my fault...and there are no amount of flowers, trips or sorrys that can wash that away.

But you know what can be washed away, the confusion I was feeling over my choice...when you pass CFS.

I still can’t believe your dumb ass called me drunk at 2:30am, while you are driving...and you made me plead with you for an hour to get off the fucking road.

Ladies and Gentlemen: I do not drive...for many reasons, but mostly, cause I am scared shitless that I am going to be a dumb ass and hurt someone else’s child.

If you do not have enough self-love for yourself to care if you die, care about the person just trying to get home who you might hurt or our friend driving across country...or the people that care about you, that would be so upset if you were gone from their lives.

How can I put faith in my future with a man when he does not think of the consequences to his actions?

Reckless abandonment just isn’t my thing.

Don’t ever fucking call me drunk and make me worry about you like that...that is some fucked up mother fucking shit right there...times 11.

***Darlin, I love you, always will, but you are not capable of loving me the way I need to be love...I owe you so much, you taught me how to love again when I had shut myself off, to be content...and I thank you...but loving me is a responsibility that you are far from ready for, and is something I can not teach, but is something that you have to learn...I really hope you learn from this...because your potential is breathtaking***

Dumb Ass Story #3...

That’s me folks...But I am trying to write the situation☺

I should have followed my gut all along, and I didn’t. I knew I didn’t want that kind of excess in my house, I should have never let it in...and I should know that I shouldn’t have to tell a man how I want to be treated, he should just treat me the way I want to be treated right off the bat.

I pass CFS when I let myself continue in cycles of finding myself in situations I don’t want be in.

I break free of CFS when I learn my lesson, address my potential and go from there.

And we all might pass CFS many times in our life, but it is the lessons learned from those times that mold us along the way.

I have always said, “I am a not yet a Queen, only a Princess, for I have many more lessons to learn.”

I am getting closer though, I must say...



Walk up to the tree, and in your left hand hold the imaginary bucket...with your right hand, reach up and grab the apple, try to twist, crap that thing is on tight, pull, pull...whooooo, finally got it, into the bucket it goes, and repeat, until your bucket starts to weigh you down on one should really try an apple and lighten your load...Big bite time, oh man, the juice is going down your face and arms, wipe that shit of with your sleeve...those apples are so good you won’t even have to ask anyone,

“How you like them apples...”

No comments:

Post a Comment