Hoarding Update! "Imitation Cheese"

If you haven't read my previous blog about the chilli under the bed, please do yourself a favor and read it. If you don't want to do that, then read this one because it will also be wheels off.

Sooooo....

My dog Milkdud has had a reoccurring ear infection that I have to treat almost every day with various ear drops, etc... It's better folks, no worries.

Yesterday I went into the game room to mix up the solution of medicine to put in her ears and I noticed the mixing bowl(one of those big ones) that we mix the dog's food in(part can food, part dry food with supplements for joint health) and saw something inside the bowl that actually blew my mind.

I'll take you back to 4 months ago now...

Imitation cheese was purchased by mistake because someone didn't read the label correctly. I won't touch the stuff because if it doesn't melt in the microwave then it isn't FOOD. The ingredients on the label were as follows: (in order of importance) Pariffin Wax, Food Dye No. 5, Hydrogenated synthetic peanut oil(not kidding), "seasoning," and salt.

NOT FOOD. It is shredded salty candle wax. It is not cheese. It looks like cheese but folks it ain't cheese. It's a candle. Nothing more, nothing less.

This "cheese" is trash. It belongs in the trash. I KNOW I threw at least one giant bag of it in the trash a month ago and it reappeared back in the fridge for "future use."

The bags of this "cheese" were the family sized ones. The big big bag of candle wax- er um- cheese.... not cheese.

Many bags of REAL cheese have been purchased, eaten, and repurchased since the first appearance of the "cheeseNOTcheese" bags made their debut in the fridge.

After the incident I'm about to talk about that happened yesterday I had a conversation with my brother regarding this "cheese" and he told me that he personally had thrown out a bag or TWO about a month ago when he made nachos and realized the "cheese" was still ice cold and intact/full shredded form.

....panning camera back to: Game Room. Yesterday. Dog Mixing bowl.

I look in the dog's mixing bowl (it holds about 2 quarts) and over 3/4 of this bowl was FILLED with the imitation cheese- the "mozzerellahhhh" looking "cheese."

The hoarder(my mom) routinely serves up something wrong to my dogs but this was the worst case of this behavior that I've ever seen. Last week I went into the game room and saw the dog bowl had about 4 pieces of moldy hot dog buns and some petrified furry sausage. I threw it away and growled a bit but figured that this type of thing doesn't happen all that often and the Lord himself must've directed me into the game room at that moment so that I could regulate.

The imitation cheese sent me over the edge. I had a full boar flip out that rendered everyone speechless. If this scene were filmed you would know what the saying really means when you hear someone say "they looked at me like I had 2 heads." I looked at my mom as though she were from Mars and had 2 heads and a zebra body. I said the following really loud and with the expression I just elaborated on:

"Really?! Noooooo. Are you kidding me? No, is this a joke? JUST THROW IT AWAY, THROW IT THE F**K AWAY MOM! YOU WERE GOING TO GIVE ALL THE BAGS OF IMITATION CHEESE TO MY DOGS?! ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU FEELING OKAY? IT BELONGS IN THE TRASH. IT IS CANDLE WAX IN THE FORM OF CHEESE. IS THIS WHAT KILLED MY DOG SQUEAKER LAST YEAR? DID SHE EAT A BUCKET OF SHREDDED CANDLE WAX? IS THAT WHY SHE DIDN'T WANT TO EAT ANY MORE AND DEHYDRATED? WERE YOU GOING TO GIVE THEM REAL FOOD OR JUST THE SHREDDED CANDLEWAX CHEESE? WHAT IS IT ABOUT THE TRASH CAN THAT YOU CAN'T FACE? O. MY. GOD. OHHHH MY GAWWWD."

You want to know what she said back? She giggled nervously and then said, "well."

(blood vessels bursting in my frontal lobe and all systems are shutting down)

Chilli Under the Bed

It has come to my attention that the weirdness of my family is as persistent as the morning sun. I've always known that I was the "odd" in the layout of my family tree. (I'm adopted) Lately it has been more gratuitously apparent just how defective the family unit really is.

I will tell all of you this information because it is tragically funny and because my family has no idea how to create a Facebook account so they will never know what I have said online. It needs to be stated for the virtual record book of my life.

My mom is wheels off. I've always felt like I was that normal girl "Marilyn" in the 1960's TV show, "The Munsters." The older I get the more I know that is a real breathing metaphor that points, like a compass, to the truth of why confusion plagued me growing up. Dr. Freud himself would be scratching his head over the layers of skeletons in the closet with my family.

I moved in with my grandparents in the fall of 1991 and shortly after that I lived on my own/alone. It was the best decision I ever made. I say that to say this... it's been a long time since I had to be around my immediate family as much as I have had to be recently. I always lived in another state, country, or at the very least in another city. My family now lives in Dallas and I am fully aware of it each second that I breathe.

Let me just get to the juice now....

I wish I had a dollar for every time that I thought, "why is there chilli under my mom's bed?"

I'm sure you are familiar with the show "Hoarders." My friend Kristen and I have a concept for a show like that but our version would be, "We Burned It." My mom had a sordid past. She had a great life but decided to mess it up around the time she turned 45 years old. At this point she made a decision to party real real hard. When you party too hard at that age you lose valuable family antiques and you flake on storage unit payments. Rinse & Repeat.

When you stop partyin' you realize you have nothing that reminds you of the "before time." It's gone and your kids are in their thirties now. Whoops.

Back to the chilli....

My mother has sort of "set up shop" in the house that my brother and I had to ourselves at one point not too too long ago. She cleans, does dishes, talks a lot... all that is great. She also finds what you are fond of and it ends up under her bed. The latest thing that is quite the brick to the face is the cans of delicious Wolf Brand Spicy Hot chilli that my brother and I frequently purchase because it is fast, easy and filling... and it's a staple food to keep in the pantry if you are from Texas. Texans like chilli. Bottomline.

The other day we purchased 10 cans of chilli as an experiment to see how long they would be visible to us in the pantry. Within 2 hours or so we opened the pantry and all 10 cans of chilli had vaporized into thin air. We said nothing. My mom has recently taken a mental note that I have begun to use half & half in the coffee instead of just drinking it black. The half & half routinely disappears in the morning... when one drinks coffee.

My 33rd birthday this past June- I wanted a cheesecake for my birthday. I had one sliver of cheesecake and then the rest of MY birthday cake disappeared overnight. Why can't I have more of my birthday cake? Was it my birthday? Why can't I have my cake AND EAT IT TOO!!!! The restroom is another thing altogether... you see folks, you can't actually EVER go into the bathroom because someone is ALWAYS in there. It doesn't matter if it is 4:00am or in the reasonable afternoon... someone, for some reason, is ALWAYS in there. FOR A LONG TIME. I did the math on this and realized that it could only be my mom. If I'm talking to my brother he's not in there. I'm not in there. SHE is definitely guilty of being in that bathroom. Recently we figured out that she "decoys" the bathroom. She leaves the light on with the door closed as sort of a 'reservation' of the bathroom for future use. It's the damnest thing. You try and get your brain wrapped around the idea that someone is actually doing that and listen- you can't. You can't really fathom it at all on a fundamental psychological level.

Like arsenic, the passive aggressive hoarding of "these are a few of my favorite things...(everyone sing)..." is a slow burn of anger that results in what happened to me this morning. I have a long fuse, patience of Job, and I've mastered (for the most part) "letting go of attachments." The 4% of my brain that is still a monkey wanted to destroy the furniture this morning out of full boar rage. I had to use the restroom and both of the restrooms had lights on and doors closed. THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE. Instead of knocking and saying "is anyone in there?" I kicked the crap out of the couch and overturned a lazy boy recliner. I have rage sometimes and it felt awesome. She bolts out of the bathroom and says, "what's goin' on girl? what is a' goin' on." I launched into a long winded rant about the decoyed bathrooms and during this rant I glanced at her bed and saw the endless supply of "these are a few of my favorite things.." UNDER HER &*(&*(&ing BED! WHAT THE... WHY...

This is how jacked this whole deal is - IF you say something like, "I'm really in the mood for some chilli fries. That really sounds great to me right now." Like a superhero in the night while you are in chilli peril, she will resurface with the very thing "you are in the mood for," and offer it to you as though she delivered you from near death. You might say to her, "Oh, where did you find that?" She might say something of this nature... "oh well, I had a can stashed away in there but you can have it if you want it..." I BOUGHT IT, OF COURSE I WANT IT.

My brother chimed in finally. I guess hoarding the chilli was the can that broke the bed's back... He woke up and said, "where is the godda**ed chilli?" (we heard mumbling coming from her room but it confirmed that she had some in there... under the bed) My brother says, "chilli belongs in the pantry and not under your f**ing bed." That may sound harsh for my brother to say that to my mom but it is kinda just the way he talks? Anyway... She brings him a can of chilli and he asks her why it's not in the pantry... Her response was this: "Cause if I don't hide things then I don't get any."

(crickets...)

How many cans of chilli do you think we eat in a day? Sometimes none. That doesn't explain the half & half, decoyed bathroom, or the other items that I've found under her bed. I've found everything from my Ringling scrapbook, jeans, soda, power tools, scotch tape, razors, shampoo, face cream.... Walgreens is under her bed.

This blog may come across like it's not a big deal and it's funny... and you are right... but it is a big deal and not funny. It's funny but it's NOT funny. It is an added element to the already complicated life I have right now that I just don't particularly want to handle.

We've figured out techniques to get her out of the bathroom. If you open the game room sliding doors she will bolt out of the bathroom to see what you are doing. Here's why... She hides things in the game room too. She has transformed a particular corner of the game room into her hoarding nest of old magazines, perfume bottles, lip gloss, and a vast array of expensive zippos and key chains. Things that ferrets would be interested in... or gnomes. Shiny things, noise makers, paper media that can be shredded for a "cozy nest," etc...

My brother and I found out the hard way that if you try and clean up the game room nest, you will see her transform into a wraith. DO NOT throw away those magazines and expect to not be visually scarred by the demonic beastmaster growl you'll get from what ordinarily is a very "sweet" soft spoken older woman.

In October this will be a thing of the past. She will be drawing her social security and she will no longer nest in the dwelling place I call home. I will gladly transport the lip gloss, key chains, magazines, half & half, and cans of chilli to the new residence and we can place her bed a'top of all those items for safe keeping.

The real problem with her is that she mentally lives on a cloud in outerspace and when shit got real in her life she had nothing left to hold on to. Deep. I guess she thinks she's more valuable if she is the gatekeeper of the things you need? Just figured it allllll out... thanks for reading my real time analysis. I feel better already. Kind of. It's still real weird.

more added to this blog in response to the comment below... (this is for everyone but specifically Christie)

Okay... Your response made me laugh real real hard. I didn't keep it real enough in my blog apparently... The situation is so bad. The once glorious "game room" that we use to party in... poker table(mine), bar, awesome leather couch, etc... okay... I come back from Ringling and of course my Mom has nested HARD in that room but listen to me... listen to me... She has boxes(at least 50) of Pyrex dishes that are much better than the dishes in the kitchen. Chancho (my brother) and I got crunk on some of those "other" boxes in that room and I found one particular box that was so large it couldn't fit in the bed of my brother's truck. You wanna know what was in it? 3 towels. THREE. There are piles of magazines dating back to 1989. (Texas Monthly, Cosmo, Glamour, Good Housekeeping*the worst offender*, Seventeen, etc...) The excuse she gives is this, "I'm sortin' thru 'em and gonna' take 'em to the liberry." THE LIBRARY DOESN'T WANT THEM MOM. The couch in there isn't for sitting anymore. It is soley for boxes of magazines or my grandmother's (who is dead) "keep sakes." My brother built a massive ass shed in the backyard. HUGE shed. The kind of shed you have to get approval for from the city kind of shed... do you know what is in that shed? Boxes of old ratty ass sheets, comforters from 1992, make up cases with various mixmatched earrings, more towels, key chains... I could go on forever. The point is... the shed isn't utilized fully. Everything from the game room could easily fit in the shed but it isn't in the shed because she has to be surrounded by the shit. The funniest thing recently is an old Minnie Mouse comforter that I needed to use as a prop for something that Kristen and I were filming for this TV pilot thing... It actually had vomit on it and was full of dust and filth... it was perfect for what we needed it for in the scene. We shot a series of scenes that this item was a prop in and it took a total of about 2-3 weeks to film these scenes. EVERY DAY my mother asks me about the damn comforter. She'd say something like this..."Miss Mel'dee, you still got that comferter?" I'd say that I did and that it was in the trunk of my car but that we weren't done with it. She would then say, "well it don't really matter but it does a little cause it is your sister's keep sake so just make sure an' giv' on back when you git dun." I would reassure her that it would be given back, etc... Well, well, well.. the other night I had to work a gig with my brother and we decided to take his truck instead of my car to the gig. The next morning I was getting some cleaning stuff out of the trunk and I realized that the f**ckin' comforter was gone. When I got back inside the house she said, "what wuz y'doing out there in all that heat?" I said I was cleaning out my car. She said, "yeah I got that comferrrrterrr out that ol' hot car cause I needed to wersh it n' stuff so I got it m'kay, and I put it on up mkay..." SHE IS CRAZY. THAT that that that THAT is insane. It had baby puke from 1988 on it. It is TRASH. I would love to send her to a resort somewhere and just prowl around in the endless hiding places to see exactly what she's managed to collect. It's ridiculous. The latest thing she's started ordering is Mary Kay makeup kits. There are about 10 brand new eyeshadow collections in the game room sitting on top of a old tin can of popcorn next to a box of tupperware and butterfly figurines. FML... it's all trash. It all needs to just burn. The most hilarious part to me is the justification of it and then the cold steely glare into full wheels off demon face defense you'll get if you try and "clean up" anything in that game room. It's psychotic. We cleaned it a couple of months ago and didn't throw anything away... just moved shit off of the useful furniture so that it freakin' made sense in there and I swear to you right now that we had to put our hands in front of our bodies and say "we didn't throw anything out Mom...nothing was thrown away okay... calm down... everything is there... it's just not on the couch or on the poker table... it is in the corner with other things of similar nature....calm down... no reason to be upset..." I had to actually go and stay in a hotel for about 3 days after that because she was a lunatic. Okay okay... last one... the backyard is beautiful and has a gorgeous built in fountain on the deck that was filled with empty plant holders, spiders and leaves. It had no function other than being a big fancy trashcan. My brother, myself and a friend decided to clean it and make it a fully functional fountain because it's friggin' nice like that. It was actually my friend's idea but I knew that it might create the demon growl sithlord mom so I said we'd make it a group effort. We cleaned it out and she watched us from the kitchen window with her lower jaw jetted out like a growl face and she didn't stop watching us until it was finished. Then she came out there and said "well, it sure is nice but I'mma tell you like it is, it ain' gonna stay like that fer long." Ominous.

Mel's Mind: Dodge Balls Hurt

Mel's Mind: Dodge Balls Hurt: "This entry into blog world isn't anything ground breaking or important to the plight of human evolution. It is just my way of airing out the..."

Dodge Balls Hurt

This entry into blog world isn't anything ground breaking or important to the plight of human evolution. It is just my way of airing out the thoughts spinning around in my head about everything in my present life.

The most successful times in my life personally were usually when I had to go against all formalities and good manners to get where I'm going to go. My grandfather use to say to me, "Booger, you'll never get anywhere if you jump through other people's hoops." I realized that was probably a wise thing to remember but I didn't realize it would become an iron bat that beats me every day.... "stupid stupid stupid," I say quietly to myself as I whoop my own ass for being so dumb.

A great deal of "sayings" have come in real handy lately...

1. "They threw you under the bus"

2. "may the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat"

3. "The road to hell is paved by the self-righteous."

4. "Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me."

5. "Rome burns."

...and many more...

Hell, even the story of Red Riding Hood is somehow applicable to my present condition. I wasn't raped by a wolf metaphorically, but possibly a Shitzu.

I think Einstein's pendulum theory has never been more relevant to me than right now. The theory is this:

In this proposal the temporal "future" by which the radiant present is being

vacuum advanced is that of a divergent "cosmological constant" because from the

'field-of-view' of Time-future the Universal quantum wavefunction presents only a

global "probability distribution" – undifferentiated energy potential. The temporal

"past" by which the present is vacuum tensioned is that of a convergent "gravi-

tational constant" because from the field-of-view of Time-past particulate matter

has locally materialized and conserved in the inertial history of every

differentiating mass is their common singular Origin. These seemingly converse

manifolds of past and future, however, are actually of the same temporal

continuum – a single, dynamic, vacuous 4th dimension moving matter... meaning

that the 'nature unknown' that makes the pendulum swing is Time.

I realize that is wordy. You need only pay attention to the overall concept which in loose terms means that every muthaflippin' thing that has ever happened to you, every person you've ever known, every thought you've ever had is all still happening but the gravitational curve of time on planet earth makes it seem like shit repeats in cycles... when in reality it's all one big fat lump of time-space.

All the assholes who I thought would change or have changed- have not changed or morphed into anything that is more evolved.... nor have I. It's kind of comforting in a way because at least if you are cool with how you personally are then you know what to expect from yourself later on down the line. I beg whoever is reading this to laugh a little bit because it's all real ridiculous that I have to bring in metaphysics into life's tapestry of bullshit.

There was a time when I was about 7 years old playing on the playground at a terrible private school in Dallas when I first realized that I'm not going to "play right" with the others. A group of girls that were "way more rad" than me were deciding in a very democratic way if I was worthy of being in their group. Side note: I didn't give a shit about being in their group or being their friends at all. They decided that for me and spun their wheels having "meetings" about my fat ass. The ring leader was one of those little girls who already looked like she was forty seven. Her name was Sarah. That's right, I said her name... don't care if I did. Sarah sat like a princess on her thrown which was one of those concrete tubes that use to be in playgrounds back in the 80's. All of Sarah's underlings were seated around her and they were talking about "whether or not Melodee is cool enough to be our friend." Meanwhile I'm happily playing alone on the swingset which was next to the concrete tube-thrown... I cared not. They called me over there to where they were and said, "Melodee, we have decided..." At that exact moment one of those giant rubber balls used in Dodgeball came out of nowhere and pwned Sarah in the side of the face knocking her completely off the throne of judgment. All her underlings scrambled to help her and I started to laugh until I made myself physically ill. They never had democratic chick meetings about me after that... my fate was sealed. Thank GOD.

I think about that moment a lot because I think it was the defining moment in early development that made me realize how people behave in response to the "wild card" people in life. Conform Conform Conform... you must assimilate now!

These types of people, like Sarah, somehow figured out that people would do things for her. That event occurred about 25 years ago and I'm sure she has full flaming hoops now for all those around her to jump thru. What perplexes me is this: What is it about certain people who create these obstacle courses to gain a false sense of power that are in the practice of gathering up people to routinely do things for them?

Recently I found myself being a part of a little screwed up circle of "trust" that relied on jumping through invisible hoops. You know what I found out? I found out about those hoops for one, but I also found out that if you dare say "no" to one of these people, you are punished in a very unfair way. i.e. the hoop you were supposed to jump through isn't a big deal, but if you say NO, the punishment doesn't "fit the hoop size." The biggest mistake you can make is to "obey" after you were "punished" and continue to rationalize jumping through their hoops. You will never get what they dangle in front of your face. Listen to me, you'll NEVER GET IT. Why? Because anyone who creates a fucked up obstacle course for you that benefits their selfish motives- they don't want you to have anything that THEY don't have control over.

I hate to say it but I'll say it- It's usually women who create the invisible hoops. Don't hate on me for saying that. It's my personal experience that's all.

So if Einstein's theory is true, then my story of elementary school Sarah and her fiery hoops has something interesting in it that applies to my life now... Meaning- I'm learning about myself by remembering that story. The main thing that clicked on like a bulb in my head was that I was naive to the very direct motivations of a group of people who were 'having meetings" about whether or not I could be worthy of Sarah's Jumping Hoop Squad. I didn't confront them about having a meeting about me, I just didn't care at all! Perhaps the rubberball that came out of nowhere to knock Sarah off her perch saved me from actually having to directly confront the idea that people really do have stupid motives that make them feel powerful and better than others. I think in my adult life I've been vulnerable to people who have "hoops" because I have expected "the rubber ball" to come out of nowhere and knock them down.

My conclusion... Maybe I gotta be more like the rubber ball.

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."