INTRODUCTION
The more you learn to laugh at life, the more stories you get. I'm not talking about "look at me, I'm so edgy laughing at holocaust jokes", I'm talking about... Well, I refer to it as "living a fairytale life", though it's also been referred to as "living the laugh track". If life is one big fantastic joke to you (exception: times of crisis where you should be serious) then you end up walking into something awesome without knowing it. Hansel and Gretel didn't know what they were getting into, just like Red Riding Hood or Beauty.
Example: Crazy asshole invites you to a party. Because your life is a joke anyways, and you're always searching for the punch line, you say yes. Now, the guy being crazy isn't particularly scary: It's just hilarious. It's part of your own personal joke. This whole story starts with a party and ends with a wild jeep ride through a forest you didn't know was even in your city, before finally topping it off with the crazy guy introducing you to somebody you knew from class who happens to have a career dancing to Beatle's music outside the Laundromat.
If you live as if you're looking for the punch line, like you're collecting stories, life is so much more awesome and the world is a beautiful place.
YOUR NON-RIGHTS
We the sensible people of the United States, in an attempt to help everyone get along, restore some semblance of justice, avoid more riots, keep our nation safe, promote positive behavior, and secure the blessings of debt-free liberty to ourselves and our great-great-great-grandchildren, hereby try one more time to ordain and establish some common sense guidelines for the terminally whiny, guilt ridden, delusional, and other morons. We hold these truths to be self evident: that a whole lot of people are confused by the Bill of Rights and are so dim they require a Bill of NON-Rights."
ARTICLE I: You do not have the right to a new car, big screen TV, or any other form of wealth. More power to you if you can legally acquire them, but no one is guaranteeing anything.
ARTICLE II: You do not have the right to never be offended. This country is based on freedom, and that means freedom for everyone -- not just you! You may leave the room, turn the channel, express a different opinion, etc.; but the world is full of idiots, and probably always will be.
ARTICLE III: You do not have the right to be free from harm. If you stick a screwdriver in your eye, learn to be more careful; do not expect the tool manufacturer to make you and all your relatives independently wealthy.
ARTICLE IV: You do not have the right to free food and housing. Americans are the most charitable people to be found, and will gladly help anyone in need, but we are quickly growing weary of subsidizing generation after generation of professional couch potatoes who achieve nothing more than the creation of another generation of professional couch potatoes. (This one is my pet peeve...get an education and go to work don’t expect everyone else to take care of you!)
ARTICLE V: You do not have the right to free health care. That would be nice, but from the looks of public housing, we're just not interested in public health care.
ARTICLE VI: You do not have the right to physically harm other people. If you kidnap, rape, intentionally maim, or kill someone, don't be surprised if the rest of us want to see you fry in the electric chair.
ARTICLE VII: You do not have the right to the possessions of others. If you rob, cheat, or coerce away the goods or services of other citizens, don't be surprised if the rest of us get together and lock you away in a place where you still won't have the right to a big screen color TV or a life of leisure.
ARTICLE VIII: You do not have the right to a job. All of us sure want you to have a job, and will gladly help you along in hard times, but we expect you to take advantage of the opportunities of education and vocational training laid before you to make yourself useful. (AMEN!)
ARTICLE IX: You do not have the right to happiness. Being an American means that you have the right to PURSUE happiness, which by the way, is a lot easier if you are unencumbered by an over abundance of idiotic laws created by those of you who were confused by the Bill of Rights.
ARTICLE X: This is an English speaking country. We don't care where you are from. English is our language. Learn it or go back to wherever you came from! Lastly
ARTICLE XI: You do not have the right to change our country's history or heritage. This country was founded on the belief in one true God. And yet, you are given the freedom to believe in any religion, any faith, or no faith at all. With no fear of persecution. The phrase IN GOD WE TRUST is part of our heritage and history, and if you are uncomfortable with it, TOUGH!
CREEPY THINGS
I was thinking about some things that really scare me.
Not things that I quake in fear of daily but more like fears that are triggered by daily routines if I'm not thinking to deeply about something. Some of the fears can be traced back to me watching horror movies that I was probably to young to watch.
For example, you know that over-used horror shot where the character looks in a mirror, only to see something behind her that's really scary? Yeah, I sometimes expect something to be behind me. Sometimes I expect the mirror-me to do something different.
I get uneasy if my blinds are raised at night. I always imagine someone looking in. I know this is because of the original Amityville Horror. You know the part with the red eyes floating on the 2nd story window?
Things that look human, but aren't. Dolls don't have this effect on me, but mannequins and wax statues do. I always think they're going to come to life and tear me apart. I hate mannequins. Hate, hate, hate them. I hate it when I'm in a department store and I bump into someone and I turn to apologize and it's not really a person. Even worse is when you walk by a mannequin or see one out of the corner of your eye and it moves because it's not a mannequin, it's a fucking person that was just being sort of still while they were shopping.
Any moderately tall structure, which has metal grate floors such as fire escapes or observation, towers. I am not normally afraid of heights; it’s the distrust of having a view of the ground below through something.
I am not afraid of heights, but I am afraid of jumping off of very high places. Not like cliff jumping into water, but whenever I'm near the edge of someplace high up and there is no railing or wall I get the urge to jump to see what it would feel like. My fear is that I might actually act on that impulse someday.
Due to suffering from mild claustrophobia, I really don't like elevators. I have been stuck in an elevator during a power outage. And it didn't help that I had watched Resident Evil a day before this. I half expected a group of zombies would be there to greet us when the doors opened! I also fear being in a glass elevator and the cables snap and I'll see the ground rushing at me. Now, this really sucks, because I would love to enjoy the view.
Zombies.
I really love zombie movies and the genre overall, but after reading "The Zombie Survival Guide" and "World War Z", both by Max Brooks; I became really uncomfortable thinking about a zombie apocalypse. I always joke around with people saying that I’m awesome and totally prepared because I know all about them. Despite this, sometimes I'm awake at night and I think "shit, if there were actually a zombie trying to bust into the house right now, I would be totally unprepared."
Recently I was reading a message board about what to do to survive the Zombocalypse. They had a lot of good ideas. Sadly, mine is one paragraph and looks a lot like the plotline from Shaun of the Dead:
1. Gather up all my canned food and get my pets and Brian in the car 2. Pick up any friends who call me 3. Loot a shortwave radio 4. Drive to Cabela's (a huge hunting and outdoor sports store) 5. Bar up all entries 6. Survive on beef jerky and gummy bears until the U.S. Army arrives
Cracked open doors. Open or shut is what they need to be. Preferably shut. If there is a crack in the door, I'm always afraid I'm just going to catch just a glimpse of something. Or maybe that's my fear... seeing something, but not quite seeing something. You know the movie "Signs" where you just barely see that Alien in the doorway on the news broadcast? Yeah, that freaked me out. I always "imagine" something similar happening any time there is a cracked door.
I'm terrified that an 18-wheeler will fall on the car while I'm driving. And yes, I understand that physics prevents the trucks from doing this.
Anyone else remember the ghost from Poltergeist? Yeah. Seeing that creepy prick made me cry when I was little. I slept with the lights on for two weeks because of that movie.
Getting the hiccups for 40+ years. Every now and again I hear of some prolonged case of hiccups and when I get them, I get scared of it.
I am pretty damned clumsy. Another completely irrational fear is tripping and falling on a curb, landing right on my teeth and breaking them. I am rendered incapable of functioning around cockroaches. Any other insect doesn't bother me and most are beautiful. But cockroaches? They give me the heebie jeebies and I am deathly afraid of having one touch me in anyway. Also, that saying "They are more afraid of you than you are of them!' LIES!!!! ALL LIES!!!! I have had those fucking things chase me!
When I worked Popeye's, getting burned by the grease was a constant danger. There was one day (I wasn't working, thank God) where one of my coworkers tipped over the fryer, which covered the floor in 'Holyfuckingshit' degree grease.
MY ADVENTURES IN THE ROLLING MENTAL ASYLUM
My parents temporarily relocated to Nashville, Tennessee following Hurricane Katrina. My sister and I stayed in New Orleans. Whenever we go to visit, if my husband can’t make it, we fly. However, in May of 2008 we had the bright idea to fly there and take Greyhound back.
This was decided because on a previous trip, I was alone and going through the Nashville airport was a giant pain in the ass. First, they stopped me for a random security search. I suppose I look like a terrorist what with my green hair and Converse sneakers.
They started asking me questions about my camera and I started showing them the pictures and went into great detail about my mother's house, her butterfly garden, and the view from the back etc. That gave them incentive to hurry.
So, after that I decided to purchase a bottle of water. Naturally, there was some lady in front of me who couldn't decide what she wanted. I asked the guy behind the counter, "I just want the water, how much?" He replied, "$2.50" I paid in exact change and walked off. The woman was spluttering and I think she got offended. Tough luck, bitch.
On top of that my flight was delayed and I felt like killing someone.
Nashville is practically due north from New Orleans. When we drive to Nashville, we stay on the I-10 until Hattiesburg, MS. We then hop onto the I-59. We stay on that until we change to the I-65 close to Huntsville, AL. and stay on that until we get close to Nashville and get on the I-40. If we do it without stops, it takes 9 hours.
However, Greyhound did this: took us to the I-65 passing through Birmingham then to Montgomery and then to Mobile. Once we left Mobile, it was straight shot down the I-10. With the layovers, it took us 14 hours.
During the early part of the trip, we passed through a small town named Tuscumbia, which is within a stones throw of Huntsville. It's the birthplace of Helen Keller. There happens to be a billboard near Helen Keller’s home. It reads; “COME AND SEE WHAT HELEN KELLER COULDN’T!”
I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.
On the first bus, the lights didn't work. Jamie and I met a guy named Trip. He kept jabbering on about his family, his motorcycles, smoking weed and sleeping in barns. He was entertaining, but he wouldn't shut up. A drunken guy on the bus backed up the toilet...and he was screaming about it for 20 minutes. When we changed buses, he started hollering AMEN!!! Since the first time drew some laughter, he repeated it 12 million times.
A bit of irony was that when we stopped in Montgomery, we went to a gas station and picked up some Bacardi. Alcohol is forbidden on Greyhound, but Jamie lied to the gas station attendant and said that we lived in Montgomery and we were waiting for our ride.
On the second bus, AMEN guy introduced himself as Carl Rollings and his "girlfriend" Dawn. We wound up sitting in the seat in front of a gentleman from NYC. He was heading to Houston, TX. Dawn sat next to him and Carl sat across the aisle from Dawn.
Carl goes to the bathroom again. While he was doing his business in there, Dawn said, "He's not my boyfriend! He just started talking to me and he won't leave me alone." Tyr, the man from NYC offered to switch seats so that Dawn wouldn't have to sit next to him. When Carl came out of the bathroom, he started screaming about how Tyr was sitting in his girlfriend's seat and that my sister and I were trying to get Dawn’s pants. We were basically in the Middle of Nowhere, Alabama. Because Carl wouldn’t shut up and he was threatening to kick everyone’s ass etc. and he was pissing people off. Someone went and complained to the driver. The driver confiscated his vodka and kicked Carl off the bus. To make matters even more fun, he dumped the vodka onto the ground in front of Carl and drove off.
Jamie and I wound up making friends with Dawn and Tyr...exchanged emails etc. All in all it wasn't bad, and I’ll probably do it again.
FUCKISODES
Fuck you, cleaning the fridge. How the hell do you get so dirty? I don't eat in there, I simply store food. What the fuck is that stain on the bottom shelf? Do gnomes have parties in here when I'm not home or something? Nasty little gnomes. And, for some reason, I feel really, really vulnerable when I'm bent over, scrubbing your gross shelves. Don't know why. So thank you for keeping my iced coffee and food cold, but fuck you for making a mess of it.
Fuck you, paying bills. Every fucking month? Are you kidding me? I barely even watched TV this month; I still got to shell out all that cash? And, while I'm at it, fuck your pathetic little late fees. They're small enough for me to easily ignore them but they add up over time. So thank you for the electricity, water and Internet, but fuck you for your constant demands.
Fuck you, deleting old files from my computer. What person can make this decision? It's like choosing which of my kids to leave behind on the sinking ship. Fuck, this is killing me. I
Fuck you, changing light bulbs. It's 2008, right? I was pissed when I wasn't issued a jetpack in 2000 (where's my fucking ray gun?!?), but I figured by now technology would've at least advanced to the point where I don't have to stand on my wobbly chair and deal with this crap. Two bonus fuck yous: for scaring the crap out of me when I walk into a darkened room, innocently flick the switch and get momentarily blinded by that huge flash and terrifying pop! Also, for somehow convincing your light bulb brethren to join you, causing a chain reaction that means I'm filled with fear whenever I turn on a light. Pop! Pop! Pop! What, did you all join in a suicide pact while I was asleep?
Bastards.
Fuck you, washing dishes. Yes, I know, you smell funny, and I know the longer I wait, the more weird slime stuff is just going to accumulate on you. That's why I've pretty much switched to just using paper plates (fuck you, environment) and eating with my hands. I'm a cavewoman!
WHAT’S THE DEAL
Why do people think they can stop in the middle of the street to have a conversation? This happens whether they are on foot or if they are in their oversized, blinged-out rattletrap cars. Is the world supposed to stop so some jobless, lazy, unproductive economically and over productive biologically moron can chitchat?
Get out of the way! Some of us have things to do.
And do not give me a stupid look and yell at me because I am driving in the street...like...I…am...supposed...to…
These are the same idiots that smack their gum and howl like jackals when someone they don’t like get elected. Yet they probably didn’t vote.
WHY the hell do these people slow down while they cross the street if they see a car coming? They start off walking fast but once they see a car approaching, they will immediately walk as slow as possible across the street.
What the hell? Do you WANT me to hit you?
I am also sick of the teenagers who give me the 1,000 yard stare. Sure. You still have mommy to wipe your ass and you probably do not have to pay for any of your electronic gadgets. You may have had a rough day at school, but your life does not suck that much. You have not seen horror to constitute that look on your face.
Once while I was at the main branch of the New Orleans Public Library. I was perusing the selection of books they were selling. I selected my item, paid and was leaving when I was confronted by an angry drag queen shouting at me because I took the graphic novel he/she was after.
The he/she was not even a good drag queen. He had stubble and a very masculine face.
A few weeks later at the same library, I witnessed this fun conversation:
A large, well-dressed businessman and a very short, elderly female librarian (I came into the library mid-dialogue):
MAN: You are an ignorant asshole. Find it now. LIBRARIAN: *typing furiously, looks near tears* I'm..I'm... MAN: NOW! LIBRARIAN: *still typing* I can't find it, sir! It might have been taken out-- MAN: I'm not interested bitch. Find the FUCKING tape. LIBRARIAN: *stops typing, looks up meekly* It's not here. MAN: What did you say? LIBRARIAN: It's damaged; we threw it out.
The man looked at her in total silence. I could only see the back of his head, but his ears were turning bright red. All of a sudden, he just screams "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK," picks up a can of pens sitting on the librarian's desk, and hurls it into a window behind where the librarian was sitting. He then whirled around and rushed out while the librarian burst into hysterical little-old-lady tears.
I really wish I knew what video he was looking for.
AN ODD DAY
I had a dream that I was watching a man pick up a shotgun. He raised the gun and shot it. There was a deafening BOOM, which woke me up instantly. Strangely, two of my cats, Iris and Maestro were on the bed.
It woke them as well. Turns out a bird had slammed into the bedroom window. There was a perfect bird-shaped oily imprint on the glass. Weird how my dream incorporated the noise into it though, especially since I had to have been dreaming that the man was picking up the gun before the bird actually hit the window.
That same day, I had 30 missed calls. All were from the same number, and it was a number that I didn't know. Thinking that maybe someone had lost their phone and was trying to get in touch with me, I call it.
The conversation went something like this:
Guy: hello? Me: Yeah, this is Tracie Trog at (recited phone number). I'm returning your call. Guy: OH! I'm so glad you called me. Finally. I need some blow! Me: I think you called the wrong number.... Guy: Wait, is this (recites number, which is only one digit off from mine) Me: No, this is (Recites phone number again) Guy: (((SILENCE))) Oh, um, I'm sorry. *hangs up* It's nice to know that there is a coke dealer who's number is one digit off from my number.
I have sent people text message intended for someone else. Nothing drastic. Most of the times I noticed my mistake right away and will send a message clarifying that the message wasn't for them, sorry.
Not everyone catches their mistakes, though. I was texting with my buddy Matt. Apparently he was carrying one two different conversations with myself and his girlfriend. I sent him a text saying, "Would you and Jen want to go see a movie later with Brian and I? His response: "I had an awesome time with you last night. I can't believe that we ran out of lube. You are so good that next time I'm gonna fuck you into a coma." Clearly the text was meant for his girlfriend. I respond with, "I'm flattered, but I think you sent it to the wrong girl." He responded with, "OH MY GOD! I am so sorry. Please don't tell her that I sent you that on accident."
The rest of the day was pretty normal until I went to the market and I saw a guy that looked exactly like a young version of Charles Manson. He was walking around the store looking at everything but the stuff on the shelves. He was probably crazy or something, I don't know. But when I checked out and went to the exit, he was standing there staring at the ceiling poking at the air and laughing. It seemed like what you'd do to poke a baby in the tummy.
YOUNG AND STUPID
A kid I worked with in high school got tricked into handing over 2,000 grand via Western Union to a scammer. She mailed him traveler’s checks then he cashed them at his bank and then wired her the money. I overhead him on the phone with his mother, instructing her to wire the money. You could tell his mother was skeptical, because he was justifying why it was legitimate to her. As soon as he got off the phone I explained to him that this was the most obvious scam ever, but apparently he had met this woman for a night of romance and they were in love. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't hear it. The day after the checks came back as fake.
He never heard from her or his 2k again. He had to borrow money from his family to repay the bank. The bank was pretty pissed. At least he learned. This was before the days of the annoying and infamous Nigerian 419 scams. Some people still get tricked, but they don't compare to the guy who was bilked out of $150,000
John Rempel quit his truck-driving job, lost friends, borrowed money and crossed the globe in pursuit of a non-existent inheritance. Rempel said he borrowed $55,000 from an uncle in Mexico and his parents gave him $60,000 on credit to cover fees for transferring $12.8 million into his name. Rempel’s troubles began in July 2007. He said he got an e-mail from someone claiming to be a lawyer with a client named David Rempel who died in a 2005 bomb attack in London, England, and left behind $12.8 million. The lawyer said his client had no family but wanted to leave the money to a Rempel. It was his lucky day.
“It sounded all good so I called him,” said Rempel. “He sounded very happy and said God bless you.” The man then told him he had to pay $2,500 to transfer the money into his name. Then there were several more documents. Some cost $5,000. He was told to open an account at a bank in London. That required a $5,000 minimum deposit. The crooks later sent him an e-mail with a link to what he was told were details of his new account. Some money had been transferred there for “safe keeping.”
“Everything was good,” said Rempel. Then he got an e-mail from a government department — he’s not sure which country — saying he owed $250,000 on tax on his inheritance. Rempel spoke to his contact, which told him they negotiated the fee down to $25,000.
Rempel then went to Mexico where his uncle owns a farm. His uncle gave him $10,000 cash and money for a plane ticket. He was going to London to make sure it was legitimate. “I had $10,000 in cash in my pocket and my uncle sent another $25,000 when I was over there.” In London, Rempel met some people and handed over the $10,000.
The next day, they met Rempel with a suitcase. They said it had $10.6 million in shrink-wrapped U.S. bills. Rempel wanted more proof. His new friends pulled out one bill and “cleansed” it with a liquid “formula,” which washed off some kind of stamp. Rempel was told that process made the money “legal tender.” “I was like holy crap, is that mine?” he said. “They said ‘yes sir, it’s yours.’ It all sounded legit.”
Rempel returned to his hotel room clutching the formula and waited for the others so they could cleanse all his money. They never showed, and later told him they got held up. In the meantime, Rempel dropped the formula. The bottle broke. He called his contact that said he’d get more. Rempel returned to Leamington and waited. A few weeks later Rempel got a call. They found more formula. It would cost $120,000 “ I thought, ‘let’s work on it, nothing is impossible,’” said Rempel.
His contacts were willing to meet associates in different countries to get cash for the formula. It would require several plane tickets, worth $6,000 each.