A Letter.

Dear Mr. Inconsiderate Elevator Asshole From Monday:

Please enlighten me as to why, when you sneezed, you had to sneeze everywhere. You could have at least covered your mouth and nose when you sneezed, although I do realize that you had Important Things you were carrying and did not want to sneeze on them. Instead, you ended up sneezing dangerously close to me. When we were waiting for the elevators, I could stand very far away from you when you sneezed. Elevator space, however, is a different story. There's only so much room that I could put between me and the trajectory of your sneezes. The problem was only compounded by the fact, that even though there were only two of us on the elevator, you chose to stand near the back and in the middle, thereby fating me to a less than maximum postition with which to avoid your sneezing. You could have at least tucked yourself in a corner so that I did not feel as if you sneezed on me. I did attempt not to breathe on the short trip to my floor, but it was a difficult task that I failed in. Of course, I do understand that when one sneezes, it can be difficult to be on guard to prevent the delivery molecules of a cold from spewing forth onto a fresh new host. However, I would propose that you needn't aid the virus by throwing your whole body into the sneezing movement, thereby catching my eye and making me wonder if you had actually managed to sneeze on me. Bending at the waist is very unusual manuver for public sneezing.

I do hope you realize why I bring this up, but if you're a bit befuddled, I will clarify why. You see, when you sneezed, the fine mist that wafted from your nose was filled with germs that seek out a new body to propagate in - and those germs found solace in my body. In addition, to be helpful, I will point out that they do sell pocket-sized tissues at various outlets, some of which are very conveniently located near our place of employment, that cater to individuals who are suffering a wide variety of minor aliments such as yours. They even offer a vast array of numerous concoctions that would ease the symptoms of the common cold! Please keep this in mind the next time you are sneezing and plan to be in a very small and confined space with the non-sneezing public. We would take note of your valiant efforts to spare us the suffering that you are experiencing and may even congratulate you on your thoughtfulness and foresight during your illness.

Sincerely,
The Woman Who Wasn't Sure If You Sneezed On Her

ARG

MySpace sucks. All I did was try to log in, once, and well, my account was frozen because of the supposed multiple failed login requests. Fuck that.

To A Mother I Know.

How sad to know
that the little bundle of joy inside
will never know your touch
or what life is like outside.
We hardly knew her,
but we already loved her.
She already, not yet born,
was a princess among the princes -
a joy highly anticipated by your sons.
So we mourn and weep with you,
tears shed for a cruel fate dealt
to the most deserving of mothers.
And as dusk draws near for
an ever-wanted child,
the prayerful will still pray
for your health and your safety.
Rest, weary Mother, and shed your tears,
for we know that silence is not always golden,
and in the quiet moments one hears,
the lost laughter of a little girl
not yet born.

Christmas Dreams

I dream of Christmas Past,
in all its frustating glory -
the tree to be trimmed
the presents to be wrapped
the cookies to be baked
the food to be cooked
the house to be cleaned
the mantle to be decorated.
I dream of these things in swirls,
the busyness and frantic pace
of a household with Christmas
and a silver disco ball.
I dream the dreams of a child,
of pink ponies and gift wrap,
and the serene moments of joy.
I dream of the snow and the cold
and of hot chocolate by the fire.
I dream of the food and festivites,
loud, cacaphenous laughter billowing
throughout the house.
I dream of perfectly placed ornaments
and of perfectly wrapped presents
perfectly placed 'neath the tree.
I dream of lucious cookies
coated with sugar and comfort,
baked frenzied and with uncertainty.
But most of all, of which I dream,
the hardest lesson now learned,
is that you are there to hug,
to talk to in a quiet moment,
even if you were my annoying mother.

The Baby Jesus Wails

Santa: First Strike!

COMING THIS CHRISTMAS:  It's been a long, hard summer as the elves toil mercilessly under the benevolent fist of Old Man Santa.  As winter sets in, so do the looming 20 hour days and cold, harsh air.  The underlying hostility of years past takes a stunning and dramatic turn this year when Santa begins to outsource his more lucrative jobs in order to fill some dubious "nice" orders.  The elves grow increasingly agitated and talk of unionizing permiates the workshop.  Santa, on the other hand, has some ideas of his own....

You don't want to miss this action-packed movie from the North Pole!!  Starring Jack Nicholson as Santa, Samuel L. Jackson as Inspector Elf #39, and Danny Devito as Eddie Elf, Julianna Moore as Mrs. Claus, with appearances by Christopher Walken, Robin Williams, and Conan O'Brien.

(I must say, God Bless Texas.  And I really don't want to know if you can buy that here in Wisconsin.)

Dear Airport Voice,

If you don't want me to make inappropriate jokes, don't remind me that I shouldn't make them every ten minutes. Do you know why? Because five immediately pop into my head when you do that.

Also, we don't need to hear that the nondenominational chapel in the airport is open 24-7, or at least not like it's an important announcement. (Ah, Texas!)

Thanks,
Your Friendly Airtraveler

Why I need a vacation.

I'm afraid of what's coming and how this is going to happen.

Mr. Asshat has not found a job yet. He will most likely end up on the streets. He will also probably loose what little he has - a bed, bookcase, desk, dresser, clothing, books, computer. I want to help him, but I can't, and I know I can't. I can support myself on my income, and have money left over to do things I enjoy. I can't support two people, and really, in case anyone is wondering, I'm not about to. I live in terror that he's going to ask me to house him, because I will have to say no. He can't pay rent, and he'd have to fill out a lease if he stays with me...and since he can't pay rent, that's not going to happen, nor will I risk being evicted or kicked out for keeping a person at my apartment without the office's notice. I can't afford to move again, and worse, if it's because of him, I highly doubt that my aunt and my dad would help. So for seven hundred thousand reasons, the biggest one being that I just don't want him to live with me, the answer will have to be no.

I do not want to be asked, because I do not want to have to answer.

But how fucking nice, eh? Mr. Nonconfrontational gets mad if he has to deal with people he doesn't know doing things that they're not supposed to, might ask me something that I will have to be confrontational about. I wish that I had the ability to arrange my life so that I had as little confrontation as possible. Mr. Nonconfrontational, who never tells me when he's mad, when he is mad, and instead festers and simmers until it blows up into a really big confrontation, and that really, really drives me insane. Mr. Nonconfrontational, who asks, "What is wrong with me?" but really means it as a rhetorical question, and if you attempt to answer it, will get mad at you, because, I suppose, you weren't suppose to notice that there is something wrong with him. Never mind trying, in an adult manner like adults should do, discussing problems and disagreements, and trying to work your way through it.

Remember, Mr. Asshat, that conversation in the bar just after we broke up? Why It Was Good For You vs. Why It Was Good For Me? You had one reason. I probably would have thought and listed more, but after an hour and a half, I got kinda tired of talking about it. And you don't see where I would have been bitter and resentful for all those reasons - I lost count of the number - and that would feed into your One Big Reason? If you had treated me better and like a human being instead of a peon, that that One Big Reason wouldn't have been a reason at all? And why on earth, when you can fucking do calculous for fun, can you not get this, after how many fucking times of telling you this? Oh, maybe this will help:

Belittlingme(Ignoringme)(Kickedintheleg²)
------------------------------------------ = |Bitter(Resentment)|²
(Entitlementtomymoney)

Would that help? I could give you the values of each. You might need to use your calculator, though, because the numbers are pretty big.

But as resentful as I am, I do feel sorry for him and I do care. I really don't want him to think that denying him a place to live is connected to those feelings, because it's not. It's not the years wasted on a fool; it's the self-preservation. This is not a responsibility that I can take on, even if I wanted to take it on. In some ways, that makes me more logical than he is. I just can't do it, and that's the simple truth. But I know in my heart what he's probably going to think about it, because I've heard him say things too many times to know that he's going to think I'm doing this out of spite, when, for the love of God, I'm not. And I know from experience that he won't listen to what I'm saying. If I made a few hundred thousand dollars a year, I'd take in all of my favorite jobless friends, rent-free, until they find a job (I would, for the record, also have a pony and a large house on Lake Drive). But as it stands, I can't even take in one jobless friend.

I guess really what this is about, is that I'm probably going to lose a friend over something that I have no ability to control, and he will probably blame it on me. And stubborn me, I refuse to take the blame for something that is clearly not my fault. If it were my fault, I'd accept the blame for it. The thing is, he has to assign blame to everything, so if it's not my fault, then it's his. After he's out on the streets, how long will he last? Will his health get the best of him or his mind? Or will he commit suicide, which I think is rather likely?

Lord, I know ask too much, but really, just drop a fucking job in his lap? Oh, wait, who am I kidding? He probably wouldn't know it....

*Sigh*

Now, not only do I need a vacation, I need a drink.