Stop Big Timin' Me

The phrase "big timin' me" came from a few sources lately. It is like a cosmic whisper of funny that I can' t let go of. I can't let go of it because I am the victim of being "big timed" by certain people.

Definition: To "big time" someone is to have a smug satisfied face grinning with malcontent, non-committal approval of ideas/or you in general, cleaning your palette with society's rusty spoon while tasting the bitterness smiling with a saccharin smirk of contentment. To generate a response from the "big time-ee" that makes them feel dumb or awkward while the "big timer" feels "informed and intellegent."

That's my definition anyway.

I've been big timed by a few people fairly recently.

How do you know if you've been "big timed?" You know if you can feel out this situation: You are at a party with tables of free food and drink, feeling totally comfortable eating and drinking and talking to everyone there when all of a sudden you are told by the host of the party, "you were never invited to this party with all your friends and family, plus there was a cover charge of 984 dollars that you didn't pay and everyone else did.... "

If you have any type of decency you'd feel like a big piece of uninformed shit. You'd probably want to kill yourself from the heatflash wave of embarrassment that steams up your face and makes your heart feel like it is being stomped by a 18 foot tall gorilla. So you "leave the party" and then get into your car and realize that you had the invitation in the console the whole time.... still thinking you are in the wrong somehow you read the invite.... it reads, "Melodee! You are invited to the best fucking party in the fucking world! Hooray for you! Just show up and bring your gorgeous smile! That is all I want is your energy to be there for a bit so just show up! Fuckin' YAY!" You read that invite and you have a sense of confusion like you would if you found out that the CIA gave you fake memories n' shit. You sit there in that confusion and then that head scratching becomes Grade A Homogenized RAGE.

You stomp back in there to really "let 'em have it and throw that invitation in their fucking face..." upon re-entering the same person who just "big timed" you says, "where were you? We were all looking for you? You had me worried! You aren't running off are you?"

Just when you think it's safe to hang out you'll get 'big timed' once more... You'll hear... "I mean, if you want to go it's fine. I've never cared for social events myself so I totally understand if this isn't your scene.... I mean I know you have some kind of social anxiety right? I overcame that years ago but I really did the work to overcome the obstacles that ordinary people find difficult to overcome so WHY DON'T YOU JUST FUCKING LEAVE OKAY!"

Fuckin' whaaaaa?

Once you get savvy to being "big timed" you will be able to recollect all the memories of past events when you felt confused, uninformed, awkward or mad for no reason... you'll feel better knowing now that you were a victim of THE BIG TIMER.

BIG TIMERS are by nature very fragile people. They are rarely animals... although I believe I have been 'big timed' by cats a few times. I hate cats. Anyhow... THE BIG TIMER is typically full of self-loathing, self-righteousness, and self-informed opinions that they purchased from other BIG TIMERS who have a fucking lucrative incentive to sell you their "informed thoughts".... you see, it's all they have. :(

THE BIG TIMER hates everything. They hate you for sure. They hate you because you have no need to fist pump your opinions in front of people who don't care. THE BIG TIMER loves to fist pump on things that they know will make people uncomfortable. *Here is the most important part for you to understand.... If you are visibly uncomfortable or argue with them at all, they love it because that is a launching pad to BIG TIME the shit out of you.*

However, even if you humbly say that you "don't have enough information to know what they are talking about," -you are still fucked. You will still get BIG TIMED, big time.

(ex. )

BIG TIMER: So did you see the latest Marvel movie? (they know you did because it's your favorite shit)

YOU: Yeah I saw it. Didn't I tell you? No? Well it was awesome. This one part when Thor is all like kickin' Frost Giant ass and like tossin' his mallet around and......

BIG TIMER: (interrupts you by singing a song under their breath)

YOU: Oh yeah I'll shut up, sorry I was going off on all that... nerdin' out... ha ha ha

BIG TIMER: (still slightly humming and looking aloof and in a quiet smug voice says....) Oh uhm no it's cool. I am listening. I just, well, I have never understood why you are so into superhero stuff if you don't like to read fiction.

YOU: I'm talking about a movie. It's different. And I do read fiction. I collect comic books, I mean, that is fiction.

BIG TIMER: Some would disagree about it being fiction but who am I to say what is a literary work of art, you know?

YOU: Well, you probably would know cause you read all the time.

BIG TIMER: Actually I don't really. In my youth I think I was fascinated with other's ideas about the life experience but now I'm more into creating my own life experience that isn't based on someone's ideas for me.

F^&*(%(%^( YOUR &*)(&*)&*)&B FACE!

So........Moving along.....

So how do you stop THE BIG TIMER from BIG TIMING you? I mean, sure it would be fun to crush their skull or give them a swift uppercut to the asshole but they will continue to BIG TIME the shit out of you... in court.

You stop THE BIG TIMER easily. Use the following technique: (disclaimer: If you say the following to THE BIG TIMER they will convulse, vomit and their head will explode)

All you have to say is, "SHUT. THE. FUUUUUCK. UP...fuckin' A'...just shut the fuck up. The fuck. Do you fucking hear yourself, son of a bitch, shut the fucking fuck up. No, shut the FUCK up."

I am not responsible for what happens after you tell THE BIG TIMER to shut the fuck up but I promise they will shut the fuck up.

If that doesn't work then all I can tell you is to just succeed in life. That is something THE BIG TIMER has little knowledge of.

May the force be strong in you young Jedi- I'm out.

Magic Happens

I can remember about 11 years ago this one conversation I had with a well known actor sitting in his car in a parking lot of a Barnes and Noble, and he said something to me that I've never forgotten.

He made me visualize a time in my life when I was forced to overcome something out of nothing but personal will power. I was quick to reply, he told me to shut up and really think about it.

At the time I was going through a major personal brick wall of what seemed to be a no-end situation. So... I sat there, really thought, thought hard and long and then I told the following story...

In 1994, I was 16 years old. In my history to that point, I had already had many reasons to rejoice in my triumphs and likewise, I could've very easily focused on the upsetting things of my life as well. I was a child entertainer. I was also an orphan. I was the winner of many awards, the star of many productions, national commercials, a prodigious tap dancer by the age of 10. I was also a fat kid with a lisp, unruly hair, a major learning disability, was sick all the time, and painfully picked on by kids my own age. This fat kid, i.e. me, had spunk though. I had just enough "dumb" in me to believe only the good things, and most of the time I ignored the bad things. In fact, I'll go so far as to say I didn't really admit to anything that was negative.

Some people would say that I was naive, but they would be wrong. If being naive to negativity is a bad thing, then that goes against anything that anyone has ever accomplished, overcame, won, or persisted through to reach victory.

I'm writing this blog because recently I've been in what I would call "the pit." A phrase that was coined by a dear friend who actually died while laughing. How fantastic! The "pit" is a symbolic way of describing a modus operandi that isn't the highlight reel of your life at that moment. The pit I've been in recently is residual because of the thoughts that came before the manifestation of 'said' pit. If you are thinking correctly you'd never know of that pit.

Why create it? Is it cozy there? Warm? Does it feel good to be in it? Nope. Nope. Nope.

Moving along.. I had an epiphany of something I've known as long as I've known myself. It goes back to what this actor friend told me in his car that day. He made me recall a time that I overcame something major and not only succeeded, but WON over all odds.

I launched into my story with him and it went a little something like this...

Being the fat kid who was super talented, I knew very well what tools I had to make people accept me. I had humor, I had talent, I could turn on the charm, I could talk to ANYONE about ANYTHING with full joy reverberating from my soul. Then something weird happened... I grew up. I no longer knew myself or how I fit in. I didn't have the kid thing going on anymore and it wasn't "cute and adorable" to be dumb, fat, and naive at the age of 16. The roles I auditioned for were given to the leggy tall blondes and I was a better dancer than my taller more beautiful counterparts?!!! All I can remember is thinking, "The summer is coming up and I'm going to reinvent myself. I WILL be beautiful. I WILL be dynamite. I WILL come back full force and I'm gonna shock even myself!" The summer I turned 16(in June), I spent most of my days alone and walking through the park just visualizing everything I wanted to be, look like, and do. I was in my own little world. [side note: I was so into my own head that my family thought I was on drugs. ha ha ha I've never done drugs in my life... already wired for "fun" Dig?]

So anyhow, I spent every single day that summer visualizing, visualizing, visualizing. I imagined myself center stage singing, dancing, and getting a standing ovation from my peers, my family, and a multitude of people that I didn't know at all. It's important to say that at this point, I was out of the loop of performing for the last 3-4 years. That doesn't seem like a lot of time, but when you have spent literally your entire childhood touring and performing and it's all you know- it's a long time to NOT do the only thing you know how to do. Dig?

So the summer goes by... I had visualized everything from getting a car, the perfect car, and the performing for people, standing ovation, being tall, beautiful, funny, smart, etc... over and over and over again...

When school started back up in the fall, I had literally grown about 3 inches in a summer(don't say "that is impossible" but with your mind, anything is possible.) I was about 120 pounds and around 5'7, long blonde hair, and even the very essence of my energy was radiating. My lisp was GONE, I was no longer the same person physically at all. More importantly- I had evolved emotionally. Nobody knew who I was when I returned to school. I was still being picked on but for an entirely different reason. I was being picked on by people who were jealous. "Who is that girl? Ugh. She thinks she's so awesome. Whatever. Why is she smiling at everyone? She makes me sick." I knew for the first time that I was being picked on because I had something they wanted. MY ENERGY. I realized I'd had that affect on people my entire life but never was aware of it until I chose to be aware of it.

There was an audition that year for a big musical. A huge production. I had NO business being the lead in this production. I walked into that audition and was so embarrassed and terrified to sing or show off at all that I completely froze. I asked the director if I could please just turn my back to him and sing because I was too scared to face anyone. Then something amazing happened. I barely squeaked out a verse from a song that I used to win awards singing when I was a kid. This director stopped me and said, "No Melodee, I know you can do this. I have a feeling about you and I know you can do this. Just go for it." I took a breath and then put the image of the center stage standing ovation I'd visualized all summer into my mind.... and went for it. What came out of my mouth wasn't even known to me. I had NO idea I could sing like I was singing. I sounded like a 45 year seasoned jazz singer in 1940. It was incredible. I got the part. I also had the "haters" of life saying "who is that? Can she even hack it? Bad decision on the part of the director. She must be sleeping with someone who is making the decisions around here."

A month or two later I was standing center stage and 600 people were standing up screaming and clapping as the curtain closed and I was taking the biggest bow of my life. I was also getting the biggest apologies from my fellow cast members for doubting me only 2 months prior to that big ol' bow center stage.

Long story made longer- I told that story to this actor friend and he said the following to me and now I'll say it to you.

He said:

"Hey Mel... When you doubt things going on in your life, just think about that story you just told me and remember THAT is what you are made of."

I'll leave you guys with one other quote right now... I hope it finds you like it found me earlier today.

" Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's coming attractions." -Albert Einstein

So imagine greatness. Imagine love. Imagine beauty. Imagine health. Imagine something so grand that if you achieved it, it would actually blow your mind.

Thank God for epiphanies. Whew~! Just in time.

The Professional

Sparing the true identity of the person(s) I'm about to wreck on in this blog I'll just kick it off by saying the following....

I've never had a lot of female friends. Early on in my life as a fat kid with a lisp, I was tormented by my fellow female classmates. Recently, I had the exact same feeling I used to get when I was invited to slumber parties in 6th grade. I specify the 6th grade because that is when people suck the hardest in life.

At 32 years old, I didn't realize it was possible to still have the exact same feeling I did when I would be trapped at a girl's slumber party against my will in the 6th grade.

I guess I'll begin my story now...

Recently I have had meetings with someone regarding some professional endeavors that I was told this person would be an appropriate facilitator to expanding these endeavors to a bigger audience. I'm speaking in code because I have too. Sorry.

Most of the time I have the feeling that I was put on earth as a big fat joke and at any moment I'll be beamed back up to my home planet where we can all have a good laugh about "that one time when I was sent to earth." You know when you see that leathery methhead with the Skeletor face under the overpass and they are just gettin' after it talking to themselves? They are in a crazy bubble and have no idea what is happening outside of that sphere of rotting mental consciousness, right? Right. If the saying "history repeats itself" is a true statement then I can honestly say that I'm on a repeating loop of the same situations/same type of people but with different costumes on. It's like watching the zombie in the Resident Evil video game that is hung up on the pixel and is continuously walking into the wall about 2 inches from the open door.... THAT is my life. So what do I do? I reset the "PS3" and hope that it healed itself or I just stop playing the game for a while. I realize that was potentially the longest and strangest metaphor I could come up... Roll with it.

So.... This story begins with a friend of a friend of a friend who recommended this person professionally. The function of this person is still relatively unknown to me but I was convinced to give them my time because they have some great ideas to slam on the table. I should've known from the get-go that it was nothing more than horseshit because the initial email dialog contained nothing but exclamation points and flash created smiley face icons with various hats on. I hate that shit. Actually from now on if I get an email with that bullshit in it, I'm going to reply to them with a computer virus in an attachment entitled: LOL

After working a 10 hour day I decide to go have this meeting. Worst decision ever. A revolving door of chaos began the second I walked into the crazy bubble of this person. With wine stained teeth, sloppy overly emotional monologues about internet love and the attention span of a dying fruit fly, I knew anger tossed in shame would be the result of this meeting. Remember in that movie "Contact" when they get the transmission from outerspace and it was white noise with the pulsating sub-phonic humming intermixed with imagery of apocalyptically tragic events in history...then a butterfly or a child picking a flower... then Hitler... then back to the static again.... Remember that? No you don't do you?

Anyway, that was what it was like to try and hold a conversation with this chick about business endeavors... WHICH IS WHY I WAS THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!

I had the friend one time who had terrible emotional problems and he would go into grocery stores and crush loaves of bread to get kill out of himself. Let me say this- That day I had some kill in me before I met with "The Professional." No lie, I remember looking up and seeing a baguette and thinking of how great it would feel to dig my nails into it.

Several hours go by and this chick is DRRRUNK. Really drunk. Nothing professional has been discussed at all and now there was a new member of our meeting... a random guy that she was making out with. This is where the slumber party analogy comes into play. THE SAME FEELING that I had in 6th grade when a group of chicks would invite over guys to make out with and somehow I ended up watching C-SPAN with my friend's dad in the garage feelin' like an asshole.

Bottom line is this... I have nothing to report about this yet because it isn't over. I'm looking at it as material ripe for the pickin'. I can't get too specific in this blog but rest assured there was a lot of juicy juice comedy nuggets that came from that night. Some things are so funny and so specific that if I wrote about it, a few people would definitely know who I'm wrecking on.

If I have time and a way to block a few people from reading this, I will continue on with the story later.

Until then, drink some wine and watch "Contact."

Insomnia Reaches a Jersey Shore Low

Tonight I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing with all the details of life that I must sort out and file in the mental compartments that will facilitate a future night's sleep. After giving up on the sorting and filing of my mental factions I did the unthinkable....

I watched "The Jersey Shore."

In my life I have made many, if not thousands of mistakes, epic ones even. None of these mistakes do I regret. To make my point a bit better I'll list of few of my epic mistakes that I do not regret: Getting married and then divorced by the time I was 20 years old, moving to Los Angeles, skipping out on numerous apartments across the country because I "felt like it that day." Chasing/stalking an Elvis impersonator with a mullet and a fake guitar only to find out that he was a cocaine addicted Elvis impersonator with a mullet and a fake guitar. Getting way in over my head with someone that ended up being married with a child. Driving a 1982 Ford LTD in a no-visibility thunderstorm with no windshield wipers which eventually manifested in me hitting something in the road and snapping the axles on the car which in-turn sent me sailing with all 4 wheels going off into different directions on I-75, coming to a stop with flames shooting out of the engine by hitting a payphone at a 7-Eleven... I had all my families photo albums in the trunk. I checked into a hotel and from the window of my hotel room I watched them tow away my car...FOREVER.

I say all of THAT to say this....

I don't regret any of that. What I do regret is watching ONE episode of "The Jersey Shore."

I'll never get back the time I lost watching the dumbest people on the dumbest show IN THE WORLD.

If you haven't watched this show, you are a f*&ing genius. I am a mouth breathing retard apparently because I partook of the tree of the knowledge of good & evil. Now I know too much about what is wrong with wearing only Ed Hardy clothes and slathering 40 solid pounds of L.A. Looks hair gel on a blunt kitchen scissored haircut resembling an upside down mushroom cloud...

They all suck so hard.

I watched a total of 15 arguments that all stemmed from one of the shirtless retards saying something along the lines of, "Hey Sitch was rappin' 'bout how Jennifah' is fake but your like a bruthah to me so'z I jus' wanna know who is jumpin' in da' jacuzzi!!!"

At this point a strange argument would break out into full blown Juicy Couture sweatpant wearin' hater walk off w/finger waving & hair tossing, yelling, and bizarre insults like, "I can't look you in da' face cause your tan is wearin' off and shinin' on my snapdoodle."

I know it's a tired subject, I realize this. South Park actually did the best job at "nailing" it in an episode entitled, "It's a Jersey Thing." If you haven't seen this episode, you must.

It's now 6:45am and I haven't slept yet.

I could say so much more but I'm getting tired and I'm disappointed in myself for watching that show. There's only one thing I hate more than The Jersey Shore and that would be where it is filmed at(not in Jersey)... Miami, Florida. You combine those 2 things and you wouldn't equal the DNA components you needed to make a retarded bucktoothed parakeet.

On that note... I'm tired.

Going to sleep now.

Chewin' on Life Jerky

Gettin' back in the habit of writing my infamous blogs again hasn't been the easiest pattern to revive. I wish I could call it writer's block but it's far deeper than that. The past year I've been living on a circus train. At the age of 32, I decided to join The Greatest Show on Earth, Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey Circus. I won't launch into that but can I just say for the record that I'm not surprised by my lack of determination to write about any of my circus adventures.

Back to basics now... Life Jerky is what I call it. You really have to commit to chewing on the hard salty parts of that jerky in order to fully understand why you are eating it in the first place.

Shall we begin chewing?

Recently I had dinner with a long time friend and we began discussing how we are regressing in age. I'm in my early 30's and I feel like I'm in the 4th grade. In no way am I protesting this regression. It's fabulous. I have life stuff I really need to handle but I'm totally unmotivated to handle to more grown up aspects of living. I've never cared for details that most normal people worry about. I figure I'll get after it sooner or later.

At this very moment I have a broken foot. To the naked eye it doesn't appear to be broken but according to X-Ray films, it is unmistakable. It's broken. I had to leave my circus life a bit earlier than I'd planned on because of this broken foot thing. As I sit in my house watching television and waiting for workman's compensation checks, I am forced to think about what it all means.

I've always believed that if life events seem to consistently go against the grain then maybe it's best to recalculate the compass and march ahead in the direction that isn't trying to kill you.

It is however, a delicate balance of knowing how much resistance you are supposed to have verses the lethal dose. Nothing about my situation now is making much sense in either direction. It is as though I've been in a vortex for a year and don't know which way is out.

This all became apparent to me when my best friend said something about Conan O'Brien's new show. I had NO idea what she was talking about. She said to me, "Dude, are you living under a rock?" Two thoughts entered my head at this moment.

1. No. I'm living on a circus train.

2. I used to say the same thing to people who I had deemed as being "out of the loop" about social events...and I thought they were really stupid for not knowing information that is plastered on all known media.

I realize this is a small example but sometimes processing something small can be a bread crumb trail out of the Ignorant Shire.

This same person has made me laugh really hard by something she said to me on the phone in the last month when I would vent my frustration over my life on a circus train... "Train people have no god."

I don't know, it makes me laugh.

I have so much stuff to get done that would increase my quality of life right now but when I think about doing those things, I feel like hiding in the shed in the backyard. Perhaps I'll do that very thing. I hear it's nice in there this time of year; quiet, dark, musky, full of spiders... not unlike my train room really!

My brother just walked in and looked at me and said the following in an excited way, "What's a' goin' on Melodious Funk?" I stared at him for 10 seconds and said, "nothing." He walked away and said, "I got corndogs?" I have to admit that I became restless by this thought and now will go into the kitchen and eat the dog of corn.

More later from the inside of my mind.

It's April 4th, Easter Sunday. I'm in Washington, D.C. I've been out of commission for about 7 weeks with a busted hip. I'm in the circus so it stands to reason that if you have a sub-standard hip then you can't really be awesome.

Life for me as of late has been something of a Tale of Torment. I sit on a train most of the day and when I'm not at the train I'm at physical therapy. When I'm not doing those two things I'm sleeping or sulking.

I have never had an injury that I couldn't "walk out." Until now. My day to day stuff is about as interesting as staring blankly at a brown wall and trying to see when it will become a new car. It isn't going to become a new car but at least you have something to think about? Bad analogy I know, but I'm sure you get it.

I jokingly tell people that I've lost my mind but this is really not a joke. I think I may have. I've had thoughts about stuff that most people wouldn't dare to think because they'd get a migraine. My favorite thing(not) is being asked repeatedly how my "foot is doing" because it's not my foot and I've already told the "story of the busted hip" to them 100 times or more. I'm going to start saying, "Oh my foot? Yeah it's being replaced with a horse hoof and that's why it's taking so long for me to get back in the show."

Bitterness may be oozing from the screen but I assure you that I'm way past being bitter. I'm now in the zone of tarnished foil in the mouth.

Below is a list of things I've done in the last 7 weeks:

1. Watched "Nacho Libre" about 200 times because it makes me feel good.

2. Watched the special features of "Iron Man," about the same amount of times as item #1.

3. Cleaning my room- all-the-time.

4. Wrote 4 songs that I ended up throwing in the 'Recycle Bin' so that I could rewrite them for fun.

5. Edited 2000 photographs that I'll never look at again because to do so would land me further in the pit of ultimate darkness.

6. Made desperate attempts at communicating with friends at all times of the day, every day. So much so that I'm pretty sure they are figuring out ways to block my number.

7. I've texted more than any human on planet earth.

8. I've watched every video on YouTube ever posted.

9. I've eaten everything that a person can eat without someone calling a talk show to report, "Hoarding Intervention."

10. I've thought about how to successfully make a hover board a la "Back to the Future." (pretty sure I've got a solid blueprint going on)

11. Reached levels of rage that I didn't know I had the emotional capacity to reach.

12. Performed home surgery on strange rashes I received due to crutches being my modus operandi.

13. Cut my hair with blunt kitchen scissors.

14. Created a "hit list" of people who piss me off on any given day- rated each one based on a system I created using a form of calculus.

15. Started writing this blog.

You know those people who become crazy conspiracy theorist? I know how they mutated into that mentality. They were injured and left in solitude on a circus train for 7 weeks. That's how.

Paranoia knows no bounds when you are left alone for too long.

I've started collecting rocks from the various train yards that's I've been stuck in. I do this because it's something to do.

I've started to notice different stain formations on the vestibule steps. I ponder what caused them and if they are toxic.

I've had the same conversations with the same people at least 2000 times and each time I can't wait to do it all over again... it's something to do.

I've noticed the hex-bolts that hold together the vestibule doors are chipped and probably on the next train run to the next city I'll be smoking when the doors will fall off and I'll fly away... fah' fah' away.

I've figured out how to make chocolate kettle corn out of Sweet n' Low, Mexican Cocoa and a microwave that doesn't work efficiently.

I've consistently been perplexed by how when I pour a glass of water from the tap I can't see through the glass. Water is clear right? This has led to my secondary theory of how I received the worst stomach virus of 2010 about 1 month prior to my busted hip injury. I've done numerous experiments on this water. I've let a glass of it sit overnight only to find upon waking a sediment of green and a beautiful jade powdery substance at the bottom of the glass.

These are the things I do. I'm busy aren't I?

Stay tuned for more magnifique' events.

-Elusive Injured Clown

Cathedrals of Capitalism

I just went through a 10 minute debate on which font to pick for this blog.

I chose Georgia because it's just a new risky one offered on my 'options' bar. It's appropriate to bring up how I had a 10 minute thought process over font choice because it pertains to the subject of my blog. I'd like to think that I'm smart or even wise, but when I go into a large retail/grocery store I have a full boar melt down of my mental functions. I can't process anything. I had this experience publicly very recently. My friend wanted to get some Thanksgiving treats at the grocery store and asked if I needed anything. I offered to walk there with him and we'd kick ass inside that store and get an array of goodies for Thanksgiving. My goal was to get the following:

pie, Coke Zero, more pie, beer, and egg nog. Upon entering the store I feel the panic set in. Too many people, too many sounds, too much shit to choose from. My friend asked me to help him out and grab some Ritz crackers. Okay.... No problem. I have a task now and I will meet the challenge of this Ritz finding. I failed. I couldn't find anything. The Ritz cracker is an illusive thing. You'd think it would be on the chip aisle, then you shamefully figure out it's not as you saunter to the "party food aisle"- my rationale is "hey we are having a party, I'll go on the party aisle and I'll find all the Ritz I can man handle." I found none. I found Ding Dongs, Pringles, Triskets, and the like... no Ritz. Do they make Ritz anymore? Of course they do. It's the answer to your cracker needs when Saltines won't cut the mustard.

Finally I realize that my friend has been calling my phone repeatedly. "Where are you? What in the hell? Did you get lost?" I asked how much time had elapsed and his response was "30 minutes!".... I apologized profusely and explained relative time in time space as it relates to gravity or magnetic fields... I offered up a theory that maybe the grocery store has high electro-magnetic fields which just warped my sense of time. After my friend shot me in the head, he effortlessly found the Ritz crackers. They were on an aisle I had walked down about 7 times while cursing the very air I was breathing because I couldn't find them.

My mind started reeling about this. My friend is a gay guy... I am a chick... I should be able to find things at stores right? Wrong. I don't think like a woman at all. I don't have compartments like that in my brain for spices, breads, various cheeses, recipes, decor, shopping, babies... none of that is within my reasoning. My friend is way more of a woman than I am.

So moving swiftly along.... The next day after Thanksgiving we all decide to walk around downtown and just look in stores, etc... I knew I needed a few things. I needed gloves, new socks, and I needed a sweater that didn't look like I had been living under a bus for the last 10 years. The options were intense. Too many. If I found a sweater that I thought would work for me, I would find another one that had a pocket that was a smidge different but yet it was 10 dollars more... this got me a' thinkin', "is that pocket structurally more sound than the pocket on the cheaper edition of the EXACT SAME SWEATER?" I may never know. I didn't buy either of them. All in all, I tried on about 8 sweaters of the same color and style and none of them seemed to me to be the excalibur of their lot.

The endless options we have in our cathedrals of capitalism are ridiculous. However, how it started in the first place is why we live in the USA and why people envy us... Creativity. If there were one gray sweater and that was all you had to choose from, someone, maybe even me, would say "I can make a gray sweater just like that one only with pockets or red buttons cause that is what I would want so there must be someone else who is wanting a gray sweater with red buttons?" This is the whole reason people make dreams come true here in the United States when they had no options or less options in their homeland. If you were born here, you take for granted the options you have. It's all you've ever known. Even if you were poor and living in the slums of Detroit, you were still surrounded by plenty within a few blocks. Americans(myself included) shouldn't complain about the Ethiopian owned corner store or the Korean nail salon's popping up all over the place....We should check ourselves and think about how they came to another country and didn't know jack shit about jack shit about jack shit regarding our culture, the language, ET AL... and still had the balls to say "I know there is a nail salon over there but my nail salon (or car repair, corner store) will be different somehow, and I will make money here."

And they do.

Maybe it is because they believe in the fairy tale of the United States of America , i.e. "As a man thinketh, so is he." If I think of something for long enough as being "the answer to all my problems" or "my dream situation"... you will make it work even if you realize it's not all that easy or rose tinted.

As for my meltdowns in grocery stores or retail outlets or font choosing.... I think I'd rather lose track of time in a grocery store looking for Ritz crackers than I would losing the option to create a better grocery store layout or better yet- write freely a blog about not finding the Ritz crackers.