Mangled Monday

Texas halts arrests of drunks in bars
(It's always better to wait until they're puking in the parking lot anyway; they're a lot more repentant then.)

Wild Turkey Released in Manhattan Park
(Jeez...last week it was Mad Dog 20/20. Did somebody get a raise?)

















CEOs say how you treat a waiter can predict a lot about character
(Not to mention where you sit in a restaurant)















Gravel Launches Bid for Presidency in 2008
(in a related report, Cement and Blacktop also expressed interest in public offices. Tar could not be reached for comment, while Astro Turf accused all four of them of “pandering to special interest groups”.)







Man Trading Up from Paper Clip to House
(Gee...I've got some old staples and post-it notes...wonder if I could get a condo?)













Passenger Detained Over Song Choice
(Geez...what have you got against "Wind Beneath My Wings", besides the fact that it's a horrible song?)







Woods apologizes for spaz reference at Masters
(Furthermore, he stated that anyone who didn’t agree was either a "wanker" or a "dork". He ended the press conference by telling a few “yo-mama” jokes while making fart noises with his armpit.)









OK…Easter wasn’t a good day for me.

It was hard seeing little kids with their parents, especially little girls and daddies. When they were misbehaving, I wanted to take them by their shoulders and say, “Stop it! Your daddy might not be here tomorrow...do you want to remember this angry moment?”

Of course, that action is not good for anyone concerned. So I internalized it, cried a lot, fought with my mother and D, and had a crappy day.

I was wondering when I was going to blow…the first three or four major holidays seemed to go OK, mostly because I was distracted with other stuff and didn’t concentrate on me. Once I was faced with myself, I really saw that I’m not as together as I’d like to be. Of course, the communication gap and assumptions made between the three "Dawson girls" left (Mom, Ruth and me) doesn’t help. I’m so ashamed of myself and my actions.

I even threw stuff, like plastic glasses and a plastic jar of Peter Pan peanut butter. One thing I’ve found…when I’m really pissed, my aim improves. That didn’t help Doug’s frazzled nerves any.

I hate this part of myself. I hate it so very much.

I get angry. I lash out like a rabid animal. I just want to scratch and bite and tear up anything that moves. I turn it on myself as well. I hate, hate, hate…if I would get hit by a bus while I’m in this state, it would be a welcome relief for all involved, especially myself.

People I have loved very much have left me because I can be a whirling dervish like this. There’s emotional rubble everywhere…and I’m standing in the middle of it, wild and angry, like a junkyard dog.

Then I realize I’m all alone, which was the last thing I wanted. It doesn’t help matters at all, so I curl up like a boiled shrimp and cry even harder.

D says not to be so hard on myself…it’s just the disease, not me. But that’s the hard part –creating the distinction between myself and the stupid disease.

How much of it is my personality?

How much of it is the chemical imbalance?

How much of it is me just mourning the loss of someone I loved very much?

How much of it is lack of communication between my mom, my sister and myself?

How much of it is just LIFE and I should just deal with it like everyone else??

I just know that at times like this, I really hate myself, and it takes a while for me to have an uneasy alliance again.

So, on a slightly humorous note, if anyone knows who invented the concept of “loving yourself”, could you let me know? Then I can go to their house and bitch slap them like one of the Three Stooges (preferably Shemp – he was my least favorite).

Sudiegirl
(who right now could really use a beer bong)