Minor Annoyances, Part One

We all know that one person (or two, three or twenty ) that no matter what you have done, their response to your impressiveness is similar to this:
f (x) = 2x

Yes, I’m talking about that very special cupcake of a person who is basically an expert in absolutely everything from tying shoelaces to quantum physics to string theory .
That special cupcake that I’m wasting your time over is sooo over the top of STFU already that I had to come up with a new name nickname for this wanna -be Sheldon Cooper.
I call him EGB, short for “Exponentially Growing Bore.”

I have developed a face I like to use for these embellishing creatures of perfection. This is it.
See how subtle it is? Everyone is fooled by my feigned attentiveness.
I look just a blank space- like the song.
Eye roll.
While my four stomachs are digesting this huge pile of dung, it is really reaching a level of extra that surpasses even the last time I heard how great the EGB is. In brief, my sweet adoring husband is telling his friends about my blog and before I could receive the accolades I so deserve , the EGB nods solemnly and says “I write prose poetry and have been published several times .”

Now before everyone just assumes it is on the prison walls, it is actually in some poetry collection says the great EGB.
This is new since none of us have ever heard that one before but it shouldn’t have been . The EGB is known for his “anything you can do I can do better” persona.
My jealousy is reaching fever pitch. I am literally selling my soul to get followers and the “imma poet and bet you didn’t know it “is busting out the paper walls with his mad skills. While I am sure that some people just have to steal the limelight, I hope some of his fish tales are true. I like poetry.
In the next installment, we will hear about the perfect family and why yours obviously sucks and will never be as great as the powerful OZ . (I mean the EGB of course.)

The Daily Prompt: Legend

I hated the legend. It was morbid and unrealistic. I didn’t believe in much but I certainly didn’t believe in ghosts.
I laughed at the school kids scaring themselves to death over a bunch of old people who had been to the grave and saw the others.
The others. That’s what they called them. How stupidly is not- frightening that?
But I wasn’t fine with it- the plan to find out for sure, either.
I had to go along with it. I would have been called names if I didn’t.
On the night of the calling, I didn’t know if she was awake or not so I pretended to be asleep.
I heard a knock.
I looked outside…the others stood like stone statues and the only sound was my heart beating until
the deafening silence.


Cat in the back

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer
“I hate cats. Cats hate me. Everyone knows it. It’s the commonest of all knowledge. “
“That’s not a word- commonist.”
“It is now and stop trying to change the subject when you know what I’m talking about. “
I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, however.
There was no cat in the car.
I decided that since she was already furious that silence was my best recourse. Not that it would help, she was screaming now.
The radio …just turn it up. Louder and louder. Drown the noise out.
The screaming got louder, too.
“Why are you doing that ?”
“What ?”
“You know what… I’m going crazy with all this noise. I hate country music. You know that. “
“Oh, this is a cat-catastrophe.”
“Shut up, you are going to be the death of me. Is that what the plan is ?”
I kept ignoring her, she was crazy and I didn’t want to deal with her right now – her cat hallucinations were something I didn’t want to deal with either.
Something licked my ear. Great, I’m losing it too, I thought. What was that purring noise?
And then you guessed it- it scared the “what the hell is a cat doing in the car !”
Because there most certainly was a cat the car – in my lap to be exact and I slammed on the brakes so fast a flash of fur was the last thing I saw before waking up in the ER.
And that was the day that went down in history as the day that smelled like cat urine and bad decisions.

New Reads

While I am a voracious reader, I’m also repetitive. I have a quite a few favorite books and I like to reread them . It makes it hard to discover new ones when you are reading “Dracula” for the literal 100th time .

So I was quite pleased with myself when I actually read 3 new books this last week . Yes, week . I’m a fast reader and when I get into a book, I’ll stay up all night to finish it . They were not my typical read – any of them and not likely to make my favorites list but they were well worth it .

The reason it was an event worth mentioning is because I haven’t been able to read lately, which had me feeling lost . So , I hope that the spell is broken and I can continue on my quest to conquer the list of at least 10,000 books I want to read in this lifetime.

There are just so many books. I’m blown away by how many classics that I have left untouched. Am I the only person who has a list of the books that they want to read ?


Inherited Disaster


The inheritance of bad skin and flabby thighs were all she got from her deceased parents. No hidden gold or secret wealth to be sure – just enough pockmarks in her jowly- fleshed cheeks to garner annoying nicknames like a pizza face.

Thanks, Mom, thanks, Dad – you guys really suck.

She supposed she should feel guilty about having no emotions other than pity for herself but she wasn’t going to lie – she didn’t feel sad. Just a little disappointed that she had a constellation mapped on her face on the day of the reading of the will.

Opening the door to the study, she gasped in horror at the sight of her parents sitting calmly with placid stares on their blank faces.

“We’ve been waiting for you”, her mom said. “Aren’t you curious about your inheritance ?”


The Dreadful Milestones

I’ve been really careful about not setting ludicrous milestones for myself since blogging was simply going to be therapeutic for me.

But today I reached 20 posts! It may not seem like much but I was still astonished.

So it cheered me a little. No, actually it made me (almost) ecstatic.

It gave me what I needed to continue, even if for one more day.

Isn’t that what writing was meant to do?


The Passion of the Cris-is

Crisis: an extremely dangerous or difficult situation:

[ C ] an economic crisis

[ U ] People react in times of crisis, but ignore us the rest of the time.

The Christmas Crisis

It has a nice ring to it or maybe it’s just me. It probably is just me but for those who want to pretend that the holiday season doesn’t stress them out, don’t worry- I got you.

Every year, I get less enthused about Christmas. The tree goes up later and later and then I finally get around to it – rather reluctantly, at best.

I no longer count the days until Christmas, I count the days until it’s over.

I know I’m not the only person who finds it exhausting to be around people drinking their feelings about their perfect families, organizing the eating of ridiculous amounts of food and acting like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Before you start judging me for my bad attitude, let me assure you that I love Christmas just as much as you do. Well, probably not.

I do love it, though. Just in a quietly introspective way. I’ve way too many headaches involving what should be the Christmas everyone dreams of.

Much of the stress is self-induced by trying too hard to make the storybook Christmas come to life. Who doesn’t want the proverbial white Christmas?

Being a perfectionists during the holidays can become stressful and if you allow it, ruin your homemade bread(true story).

I used to try way too hard to attain the perfection I hope now no one expected.

I’m getting better at letting it go – just like everyone’s favorite song says. At first, I felt lazy, irreverent and Scrooge-like.

Now I feel non -stressed, just like in the movies. Almost.

Merry Christmas!