Top Five

Top five reasons one can go fuck oneself:

1. That guy who yanked out in front of me, then slowed down to a snail's pace. Go fuck yourself, buddy!

2. That person in front of me at the bank drive-thru who finishes conducting business, then stays parked at the window while figuring their checkbook, making out their bills, and most likely reading the newspaper, and pondering the great wonders of the world. Go fuck yourself, pal!

3. That lady who takes all of an item on the shelf at the grocery, without consideration that someone standing right there, (like me, for instance) might want one of that item. Just because it's on sale, mind you. Who in the hell needs 8 jars of creamy peanut butter? Go fuck yourself, sister!

4. Speaking of the grocery... That lady who lollygags through the store and manages to take up the entire 8 foot wide isle. Let's not forget all of her kids running unsupervised from the store, throwing shit into my cart when my back is turned. You miss, can go fuck yourself up the ass.

5. That person who pays for one newspaper, but takes a stack of them out of the rack. Fuck you dude, and go fuck yourself while you're at it.

Oddity of Obssession

So I have these little "obsessions" that, come to find out, is actually part of bipolar disorder. BPD shares symptoms with other disorders, such as ADHD, Schizophrenia, depression, etc. My topic of rambling today happens to be about a shared symptom with OCD.

Many folks who know me personally know that one thing I'm famous for is my odd silverware obsession. My grandpa said it best when he said that I have to keep the silverware lined up like soldiers in the drawer. I can't walk away if one piece is out of sorts. I avoid looking in silverware drawers that aren't mine because of this.

Anyway...
So another obsession I have is digging in my ears with Q-Tips. I know it's not good for my ears, but it's something that I just have to do for some reason. I mean, I frequently make my ear canals bleed, that's how bad it is. What's worse? I thought we were out of Q-Tips. It's been like, 2 weeks. Yesterday I found a straggler in the medicine cabinet. I realized that I'm like a cotton swab junkie, because I was nearly drooling over the damned thing and carefully planning how much digging each ear would get.
I know. Weird.
No, wait. Not weird-- Twisted.
 
I take an anti-psychotic, a mood stabilizer, a mild tranquilizer, but I don't know if these or any other meds will ever cure the obsessions. I truly hope so.

Seriously... Do I Look Like I Can't Cook?

While talking to a family member this holiday season, (let's call her Jane Doe) I've been given the impression that she doesn't think I know how to cook. She'll even argue with me over making pancakes, because she wants to make them rather than try mine. (Which are FABULOUS, as a matter of fact.)
So she really has no idea whether or not I can cook at all. She's never dared to try my gourmet skills, so I find this highly annoying, though petty.

Now, see. When I was a teenager, my parents both worked 3rd shift. On weekdays, I'd cook supper when I could so my mother wouldn't have to wake up and cook. Though I cheat on my Chinese cuisine now, I have learned over the years how to make some pretty damned decent Chinese. I hate flat bottom woks, because growing up we had a round bottom wok, and I kick ass with one in my kitchen. And that's just Chinese.

A lot of the meals I cook right now are what I used to cook at home.That doesn't include my own creations, nor does it include sweets. I have perfected the Chocolate No Bake cookie recipe over the years. And I make some really amazing cakes. In fact, Jane Doe about had an orgasm in the middle of my kitchen while eating a slice of my cheesecake. I had to send my kids out of the room. But I can't cook, right?

Now I'm really not one to toot my own horn about my cooking, but sometimes I need to do more than toot...

The Flavor of Water

So today I was reading a bit of Useless Knowledge, and it says that humans can't taste water. We taste the minerals and impurities. Dogs, pigs, and other animals can taste the actual water.
And this got me to wondering....
How in the hell do they know what animals can or can't taste? Chuck says, "Well, they probably study the taste buds." That makes sense, to a point. Think of this: We have taste buds in the middle of our tongue that taste absolutely nothing. How do they know what taste buds taste, or if they even taste at all?
I guess I just haven't had this conversation with any dogs or pigs lately.

Didn't Your Momma Teach You How To Cross A Street?

Today I'm going to rattle on about Jaywalkers.
I hate jaywalkers.
You know, those bozos who stand at the side of the street, thumbs firmly inserted into their assholes, giving me dirty looks because I refuse to stop for them? OR. How about those ones who just take it upon themselves to waltz right out in to the middle of traffic, not bothering to look because they know you can't just run their dumbasses over.  Much as you'd like to...
HEY. Dumbfuck! Yah! YOU!
It's called a crosswalk. Can you say "Crosswalk"??
Were you not taught the proper and legal way to cross a street? Or were you just to dense to actually pick up on that? My bet is you're just too goddamned lazy.
Well, if you want me to stop for you, that's where you better be crossing.
How about from now on, everyone take a little consideration of OTHERS and stop the fucking jaywalking already?
Oh, and drivers aren't all innocent, either. I'm one who has rage issues with my BPD, and I have to use sheer will to keep from driving into the side of some asshole's car who doesn't stop for people in crosswalks.
So that's it for now.

'Tis The Season, And All...

So one of the problems I'm facing just now is trying to rethink my entire Christmas decoration scheme. New house means I have to start clear the hell over again. I even bought new garland and lights because I was thinking with last year's holiday brain.
"I can use these! It will be easy to find a place for them!"
That is until I remember that I have to figure out what I'm going to have to do with ALL of these lights. (I'm almost reaching Point Griswald, ok?) Lets not forget that this Old House doesn't have near the amount of plugins our old Old House had. So now I've got to manage to get all crafty with extension cords.
And just where the hell are my extension cords??
I think the little goblin who eats one sock out of each pair has also decided to eat all of my five hundred and eighty thousand extension cords. They are nowhere to be found.
Not a one of them.
And today we're going to put up the tree. I had decided that we were going to wait until the 20th to do so, but since I'm really not feeling very festive this year, I want to get it up and out of the way so I don't have to fuck with it that close to Christmas, when I'm sure I won't be feeling festive at all.
Now this leads to trying to decide how to safeguard the tree from the cats. Should I dig a moat and fill it with piranhas? Surround it with electric fence?
I bet neither of those ideas would work. My cats are pretty sly. So I guess it's just keep fingers crossed and hope for the best.
Is Christmas over yet?
I'm ready to tie one on for New Year's.

Turkey Trauma

So now that Thanksgiving is over, I'm feeling pretty at ease. I blew my diet, so I made sure to blow it hard- I stuffed myself with turkey, stuffing, and cheesecake. Come on. I got to squeeze as much in as I can before the day is over, right?
Speaking of eating all of this crap...
I waited to eat until we actually had our dinner. I was pretty damned hungry by the time we sat down to eat. You know how it is when you wait all day to eat on Thanksgiving. Smelling that delicious bird cooking all the live-long day. Your eyes are 50x bigger than your stomach, and you fail to realize this until it's too late. You know. After you wolf it all down, then toss in some cheesecake because you just can't go without that.
I literally ate myself miserable.
Twice.
I'm talking I looked pregnant.
With food.

Sure, I bet you're thinking, "What about her diet? What good has this done for her?"
Let me tell you. It certainly reminded me as to why eating so goddamned much is stupid!
Now it's time for me to be thankful:
I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is only once a year.
Now can someone pass me the Alka Seltzer??

Sometimes Can You Imagine On Any Given Day?

Sometimes all I can do is laugh. Sometimes cry, and sometimes scream at the world. Not because of what Bipolar Disorder does to me, but because of what it does to my family. What it causes for my family. The sacrifices, the coping they have to do. Chuck said without my meds I'm a total psycho. Could you imagine what life was like for them post March 2011? No, you probably can't. Some understand, but most do not.

Sometimes I'm a peach. Sometimes a bitch, and sometimes the devil. Not because of anything anyone has done, but be because of what something is doing to me. What it makes me think and feel. The weakness, the helplessness I go through every day of my life. Without my meds I'm a total psycho. Could you imagine what life is like for me any day of the week? No, you probably can't. Some understand, most do not.

On any given day, my dishes might be piled to the ceiling. My laundry, clean and dirty, might be mountains. My house might be a complete disaster. Either my mood is too high for me to focus on a simple task, or it's too low for me to care.

Can you imagine people seeing your messy house and you know they assume you're lazy?

Can you imagine taking pills you hate to take? Pills that make you feel unsafe to drive a car. Pills that make you gain astronomical amounts of weight.

Can you imagine trying to cope with the fact that you are mentally ill, what with the social stigma that comes with that label?

Can you imagine not sleeping for 10 days, because you can't?

Can you imagine not being able to even feed your family because you unable to pick up your head?

Can you imagine a simple happy moment causing an overload of joy?

Can you imagine a simple annoyance causing fits of ugly rage?

Can you imagine what something devastating causes thinking about what those simple things do?

Can you imagine how it's like for me, to feel sorrow and have people compare my feelings to theirs rather than troubling themselves to lend an ear?

Can you imagine living in a world where people just don't fucking get it?

Some can, but most of you can't.

It made me feel better to write this, so feel free to share it. Especially if you know someone who would feel good knowing they aren't alone. Some folks aren't open because they are afraid to be. They are afraid of a social stigma. They are afraid because most people don't know.
Most people think we're either trying to be "fashionable", experiencing simple mood swings, or are completely off of our rockers. That is a sign of being uninformed or worse, ignorant. Since being diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder, I make a point to be as open as I can, just so people know "Hey. This is me. Don't like it? Fuck off, then." 

Truly yours,

 Brandi The Great

The Meowge à trois

Bob Tail and Panic Attack

So those little rascals pictured above are 2 of the 3 cats we have. I'm sure by looking at them, you can figure out who is who, right? Anyway, these guys are maybe 4 months apart in age, so there is a lot of high energy cat flying action going on in the house these days. I mean, who would have thought two kittens would sound like a heard of elephants trampling through the house at the asscrack of dawn?


Anyway.
Panic is hilarious, because he "talks" to me. Last night Bob didn't want to play, so he was just chilling in a cozy corner, putting his little paws up. In comes Panic, Stage Left. He gets to roaring and growling and slapping and pouncing on Bob. Bob totally doesn't give two shits and just continues to relax like nothing is going on. I walk by and he starts "talking" to me all loud and sassy.


He was seriously tattling on Bob for not playing. I can't say how I know that was what he was going on about, I just do. Pet People are probably just as loony as me and can know what they're saying, too.

And he was getting pissed at me because I wouldn't do anything about it. If you would have witnessed this, you probably would have pissed yourself laughing at the little shit.


Meanwhile, in trots Paco, Stage Right.

Paco the Stink is about as big as my 4 year old...

Now Paco gives no fuck on any day. He's just... Paco.

He puts up with the kids trying to tote his giant ass around, but he don't really hang out much with the kittens. He did used to get amusement out of fucking with Bob, though. As you can see, Bob was born without a tail. So he was totally fascinated by Paco's extra long tail.

Paco would lay there and twitch his tail in a fashion that reminded me a bit of fly fishing.

Twitch... twitch...
In pounces Bob...
!!SLAP!!
 Bob runs all pride wounded.
Paco lays there with a satisfied look on his face.
Here slinks Bob back in to the room all sneaky-like again.
Twitch... twitch...

You get the picture.

Anyway.
Enough about my fucking cats, already. Right?
I need to get ready to go to the Back Cracker.
So catch you later, then.

I totally dig my awesome red thrift store hat.

Oh, Boy! My First Blog...

Could you sense the sarcasm in that title? Yah. It's there.
I don't really have anything interesting to say at this time, however I have been thinking about the old gripe about Donald Duck not wearing pants. Why aren't more people concerned that a duck is wearing a shirt and cap?
I saw a video clip from Youtube today, where a little girl, age 3 or so, was running around loving in a dead squirrel. Her parents thought it was cute and funny. Why couldn't I have my very own creepy dead squirrel to run around with, to hug and kiss and call "Sweet Baby" when I was a kid?
Anyway, subject change.
So if you notice over there on the left, there is a fancy and fandangled badge saying I've got this astronomical amount of pounds to lose until I reach my goal. 100 pounds of that was gained in the past 7 months due to meds that I'm now no longer taking. If you want to join me at http://www.myfitnesspal.com/ feel free.
Anyway, like I said, nothing interesting to say at this time.
Catch you later.