9:52 a.m. - 2010-11-10
And the other shoe...
After my preemptive previous entry, the other shoe has dropped. Probably not the kind of auspicious sign that would lead one to buying a lottery ticket, but still, I could feel things falling into place, for better or worse.
[Just picture the tumblers in a combination lock of epic proportions dropping into place with a resounding clang. Mind you, this particular combination lock is what is holding shut Pandora's Box.]
To the many people who I had reached out to, at least as someone to vent to, I thank you all. I know not all of you read this site, but maybe my gratitude will still make its way to you. I'll be certain to express my thanks individually, as time permits. I may even post this in a more public forum once the rest of the events resolve themselves.
I've received plenty of encouragement echoing my wtf sentiments over, and here's the situation, my roommate's grandma kicking me out for rearranging furniture in the house that she owns, but has not lived in for over five years. Yes, that's right. At some point, this not-so-grandmother married her minister, who sounds like Elmer Fudd, and moved out of her house and into his church house. She left most of her stuff, to include her zombie dog, which is now estimated at 17 years old, here as a grotesque museum to her life. It's as if this whole place is her phylactery, and by rearranging the furniture, I've shaved a couple of years off of her existence. *shrugs* Lich certainly rhymes with the appropriate word.
But here we have my roommate, confronted by his grandmother who raised him, as, for varying reasons, neither his mother nor his father wanted to raise him. Does he take any form of stand, saying anything along the lines of:
"It needed to be done. It has been five years, after all".
"I like it better this way".
"We'll have to rearrange to paint the walls, anyways".
[Oh, wait, she doesn't even want the walls painted.]
"Oh, the furniture that your dying dog has ruined anyways?"
Or, at least manning up to admit that he had helped move at least some of the stuff. Instead, what did he say? "I didn't move any of it. It was all Johnny". Eff you and the zombie dog you rode in on. Most of the gals I know have bigger (metaphorical) balls than that.
But I did get told that I sounded like Dr. Phil and that I should ask "How is that working for you?" So there was lighthearted banter involving getting my own talk show. From what I can tell, we certainly need some fresh faces in that field. There are the ones like Oprah that have been around for so very long and shape trends in thinking and, thus, in buying. And then there are the newer ones who stick around for a little while, but don't really make a dent on the population. [Same goes for game show hosts. Heard part of a radio show where they were saying that game shows should be retired when their host retires. I kinda agree.] I think I could keep it fresh long enough to make it into our society's memory.
�
�
