November 17, 2008

Bitch on the Onion

My sisters and I went to Catholic grammar school, but in 5th grade, I put my foot down and refused to go to school anymore. I was done with those people. I knew, even at the age of 10, that this just was not a good scene for someone like me.

My decision to stop going to school was not one I made lightly. Looking back on it, this small act of civil disobedience may have saved my very life. You see, I am one of those people who was born with an all-encompassing abyss of self-loathing. If my sister got punished, it was my fault. If our father was screaming and angry it was because I was a bad kid. At this point in life, I am tired of trying to figure out why this is or whose fault it is, I have just accepted that it is and that’s that.

I have a very vivid memory of being in 3rd grade at St. Philip Neri. I was sitting in Miss Lakey’s class with 29 other good Catholic boys and girls and we were reading a story out of our religion textbook/workbook. You are going to think I am making this up, but I assure you, I am not.

It was a story about a woman who was selfish and mean. She was so mean that when she died, she went to hell. While she was sitting in hell with all the other bad and evil people, she prayed to God to remove her from hell. God spoke to her and said, “You were mean and selfish your whole life. Why should I remove you from Hell? Tell me one time you weren’t selfish.”

The woman racked her boiling brain (yes, there was a cartoon drawing of her and the others drowning in flames) and remembered that one time a homeless person asked her for something to eat and she gave him an onion from her garden. So, she relayed the story of her selflessness to God.

God agreed that she had done something nice and sent down a giant onion from heaven. He told her she should grab onto the onion and he would pull her up to heaven. (Yes, there was a cartoon drawing of this image as well. Is it any wonder at all I am nuts?)

The giant onion comes down and she grabs on. When the other poor souls see her rising out of hell, they grab on to her feet. She gets scared that they are going to pull her off the onion and ruin her chances of getting out, so she ever-so-slightly starts shaking her feet to knock the dirty sinners off her onion. As soon as she does this, the onion vanishes and she plummets back to her fate of eternal damnation.

And God, I think kind of spitefully, tells her, “See, I told you. You are a selfish bitch. Fuck you, dirty whore.” OK, I might be paraphrasing that part, but I swear, that is what I heard.

That story has some really heavy concepts in it. I mean, these are things that most wise adults have a hard time grasping – love of all mankind, absolute selflessness, an acquired taste for onions. Why, I ask you, why on earth was this terrifying story in the religion textbook for 3rd graders?

Maybe they figured kids would say to themselves, “Ah yes Master, thus I will strive to be more selfless and loving.”

Well, what I thought is, “Oh shit, I am that bitch on the onion.” What else would someone who hates herself think?

That single experience and story dictated my entire relationship with organized religion for the better part of my life. It offered me no comfort or solace, but instead, I viewed God and religion as spiteful tricksters who could see through my normal exterior to my dark and irreversibly damaged soul. In short, I was fucked.

There are times that I am still that little girl. I feel like everyone else is kind and generous and got the memo about loving yourself and others and that I am sitting alone, engulfed in flames.

November 14, 2008

Obsession anyone?

The SPCA dropped off the cat traps today. We set them up and in 30 minutes we caught a cat. A big cat. A very well-fed cat. At first, I was excited, almost vindicated. And then it started making that horrible noise that cats make that is somewhere between a howl and a growl. Then I kind of felt bad for the fat bastard.

Still, I called the SPCA and a very tired looking animal control officer came out and picked up the cat. While he was here, he got a call that a dog had been shot, so he had to leave in a hurry.

I am starting to realize why the animal activists hate humans.

But, I looked up and saw the incarcerated cat's 49 friends looking at me from their lair on the neighbor's stoop. And I relaized that it was 1 down, 49 to go and I shook my fist at those ferocious felines and whispered, "Vengenace will be mine you pooping pussies."

I feel a lot like Chevy Chase from Caddy Shack or maybe even that jilted woman who drove across country wearing adult diapers.

November 11, 2008


I just re-read my post on cats from yesterday and realize now that I was kind of nuts. I actually insinuated that I would be happy if a horrible accident would befall my neighbor. Oh my! How terrible! I would only be happy that the cats would quit crapping on my lawn. It would just be a happy coincidence, like getting a big life insurance check or something like that.

Today I am still mad about the cats, but I am not consumed with hatred and rage. Yesterday, I could have gone to jail for a cause or protested something terrible or maybe even signed a petition or two, but today, I am back to being apathetic me. I don't really care too much about anything except what I am going to eat for lunch and how I would rearrange the furniture of I had the energy and the brute strength and the will.

This is the me I actually kind of like. That hateful and rageful person I was yesterday was the person I used to be all the time. Up until around 30, I was just a pill, a bitter, bitter pill. I was filled with anger about the injustices in the world and how horrible life was for so many people, including myself. And how no one really "knew" me and how if they did, they would "understand." It makes me cringe just to think about what an asshole I was.

That's not to say I can't be a total asshole now, it's just not my default setting like it used to be. Which is really nice. It's hard to be so pissed off all the time. It take a lot of energy. And frankly, I am just not as young as I used to be.

Life is just a little easier these days...except for the damn cats.

November 10, 2008


I am super-fucking annoyed right now. The crazy lady who lives across the street from me, let's call her Judy, because that's her name, is going to push me over the edge. Judy is a thin black woman who seems relatively harmless. I think she works. She leaves the house everyday like she has a job. I think she also goes to church. Whatever. I have no respect or disrespect for church-going folk whether they are black or white. My apathy-verging-on-annoyance attitude toward church is not racist - I equally distrust all races when it comes to organized religion.

Anyway, Judy has these cats. They're not really her cats in the sense that she takes them to the vet or gets them spayed or neutered or, say, PROVIDES THEM WITH A FUCKING LITTER BOX. They are "her" cats because she feeds them. And she leaves her front door cracked all day so they can come in and out. And she provides them with a space to have hundreds of litters of new kittens that will shit and sometimes die under my old and drafty house so that my house, that I pay 1400 hundred fucking dollars for each month on a mortgage that seems like will never reduce in principal, yes this house smells like cat shit every fucking morning. So much so that my three year old son wakes up each morning and says, "Yuck, what's that smell?"

So, I went online today and googled "how to kill cats." I am done with this. I want to kill the cats so they won't crap in my lawn, under my house, on my car, in the flowerbeds or anywhere, ever again.

Those of you who know me well know that I am actually an animal lover. I was a vegeterian for over 6 years, I have rescued countless dogs and cats, I even have a tattoo of a freakin' paw on my ankle. And yet, I am going to kill 25 cats before the week is out. Why? BECAUSE I WILL GO TO JAIL IF I KILL JUDY. And, my freinds, that is who I really want to kill. I want to trap her in a big trap using cheese or tuna as the bait and bring her to the SPCA so they can euthanize her. And then I will be rid of the source of all the problems, but I won't have to feel bad about it because the SPCA euthanized her and eveyone knows they only do that because they have to and I am sure they all cry every Thursday when they burn all the carcasses, blah, blah, blah.

I called the SPCA and told them that if they did not come and do something about these cats I was going to start taking them out one by one. They called my back within minutes and told me they would bring traps and I could catch the cats and bring them to the SPCA for spay and neuter. Oh I am going to catch them alright and then when I kill them it will be like shooting fish in a pond. Because not having a vagina or testicles does not mean they will stop making my property a giant fucking litter box.

Mark my words gentle friends, by the end of November, the only thing taking a dump in my front yard will be my retarded dog Kenny. And if Judy has an unfortunate accident, well, then Virginia, yes there is a Santa Claus, isn't there?