Three Santas

Hello live studio audiences!!!

                The eve of Christmas eve was an interesting one. I had a strange dream that I was in a huge shopping mall and someone was showing me different things I had to see and get. When I was about to leave this dream mall, a man came to escort me down stairs to the exit. He wore a red Peabody jacket, perfectly tailored of course, with white fur trim. When I woke up I knew that I had to follow the Santa. What a novel and strange idea during Christmas and I thought, what are the chances I would run into someone who was dressed like Santa.  

It was Beau’s idea to walk the mean streets of Anchorage (Yup. Still Alaska. Still cold). As we were walking we saw this man in a red coat, who looked a lot like Santa who was riding a bike. I looked at Beau and said, “Holy crap. Did you just see that?”

“What?”

“A man, he looked like a dead ringer to Santa…. And he was riding a bike.” He looks toward the angrily cycling man and he remarks. “Oh- Hey. That’s different.” We shrug our shoulders and wander further around until he hit the mall. After being pulled into a few shops by Beau, it was time to eat. Arby’s was the place to be. We were on the top floor of the Anchorage 5^th avenue mall. And while the children were lining up to see Mall Santa, here comes anger-cycling Santa in the Mall walking around visiting Japanese tourists. My mouth gaped open and said to Beau, “It’s that guy again.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes. It is.”

“How do you know?”

“You don’t forget an angry cycling hobo Santa. You kinda don’t see those every day.”

He looked at him sideways and looked at me, then looked at him and then at me.  “Ok, maybe. I guess it could be.” Shortly after hobo Santa left, we soon departed back to his base. We went to a shopping area there to pick up some last minute supplies which ended up us looking at various things.  We found our wandering self’s in a gift shop where he had once purchased a unique set of curios including a pin that was carved from an ancient walrus tusk.  There was this small shelf that housed a different sets of Hodge podge Christmas curios and at the end sat, rather mockingly, a Santa on a bicycle. Beau looked at me with big eyes, “Holy crap Eden, I think it’s a sign.”

…… should we have tipped the hobo Santa?

RANDOM!!!!!

 

What is harassment?

There is always some sort of fine line when it comes to the issue of harassing and stalking. For months I have been plagued by nightmares, social anxiety and other strange maladies as a fallout for dealing with Wanda. But the most annoying and possibly disturbing of them all is the occasional calls and voicemails she will leave me.  I try to figure that she’s drunk and as the police say she has a habit of doing this to people. Don’t you just love someone who will brush off something emotionally traumatizing for the sake of their own personal comfort. 

The thing that bothers me the most about these voicemails is she acts as if I’m there for her redemption or something like that. First voicemail after the police talked to her was telling me she finally got her inheritance. Kick in the face. I figured, whatever fuck you. The second voicemail was about taking that money to victims of domestic violence and helping them and I figured are you freaking KIDDING me? Really? No. In fact HELL fucking no. I am in no way what so ever exposing you to a new sea of victims who have already been kicked enough while they are down for you to play fucked up head games with. AND possibly do that to their children.

Then just this week. There was another one. She wanted to write me a check for 50 million dollars so she could do right by me. Any belief what so ever I had in the idea that there has to be good in some people no matter who they are was literally killed with in me after my encounter with her. Now I just want to rip to shreds anyone who does what she did. 

But here is my question, can you get a restraining order against someone who is threatening to do good things to you?

The trip to Alaska (plane ride)

Alaska, why did it have to be Alaska?

                For numerous reasons I hate the cold. First reason it’s cold and the second reason is that cold can fucking hurt! Just because my Hungarian blood blended well with Canada to create this super creature writing this blog does not mean that I like the cold. I could live off sweat and sweet tea for the rest of my life. But cold... guh!

zture writing this blog does not mean that I like the cold. I could live off sweat and sweet tea for the rest of my rest

Okay, so maybe blogging this entire trip wasn't a sound idea. And for the most part an improbable part of reality. Despite the painful journey here (will explain more later). I find myself comforted by not only familiar scenery (that of my past residence Canada) but by Beau. I had, in my selfishness forgotten the attentiveness of his affection and as I bask in yeah another comfort of cool cotton sheets. I find myself thinking if a better tomorrow.

Today the world was supposed to end. Rather than freak out I was overcome by the sensation of the ever classic "C'est La Vie" as the French would put it. Because despite my constant and never ending fight with the world, "C'est La vie" is the only way to explain how I feel at the moment. I only seem to find a writer's solace while traveling. Just me and the open night.

Beau shifts in the cotton sheets while I venture on with my writing. The first flight from /Des Moines to Dallas wasn't nearly as painful as the trip the trip to Seattle. I was stuck in the middle of two people how kept poking my love handles and that my friends is not fun. Every five minutes it was a jiggle fest to the ninth degree. Now 4 hours of that was enough to make me think that stepping up my cardio might not be a bad idea.

That and she couldn’t stop making noises. Seriously. Trying to crawl into a novel was very difficult when being poked and noises tend to make me irritable.
I remember looking down at my neighbor’s watching and remarking. “huh, so… it’s past 11 am… how is your apocalypse going? Well? Fantastic.” Everyone around us nervously giggled. I told them not to worry because if we were going out, at least we’d be going in a blaze of glory. That one no found very funny.

The weirdest thing was the outfit I was wearing. First off no one should ever wear tight pants. Period. That alone was a bad idea but “I was afraid that without them my black knee highs would look more like pirate boots if they weren’t. I wore a black sweater and a homemade scarf with a leather jacket. Incognito and fucking classy. My outfit had personality or at least I thought... until I hit Seattle. Then I was just one of the crowd. Blending in… kinda new to me but I embraced it and why not it was like a ‘where’s Waldo scenario’

As I prepared for the next flight, I wondered how different Alaska would be. It seemed to me it was the ultimate place for the great outdoors. I can be woodsy but damn, I stay away from places where things can EAT me. So that means no more trips to L.A for me. I’m going to go to New York eventually but I’m pretty sure it’s as dangerous people wise. Not all airplane rides can be perfect. I always considered purgatory a lot like an airport. A bunch of people kinda stuck together going several different place in several different ways. There can be lay overs and delays but no matter what you always get where you are going.  

So am I getting to where I need to be?

Guide to working with me

Hello sports fans!

I decided to write a small blog to let you know what has been going on over the few weeks and the short and small answer is work. Yes folks, long arduous work. I’m thankful for my job which even though I’m hurting after it, it’s an honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work. Although some days much like to that I am walking that boarder line. So, I have dedicated this little blog to show how to get along with me at work.  I’m a simple worker and I don’t really expect much but you are the judge.

If you are my manager:

Please leave me concise and explicit instructions as to what you expect to be achieved and I will do it.

Do be rude:

                This leads me to not only disrespect you but go out of my way to more annoying to you in any way my twisted mind can make up. And there is A LOT.

                If I do something wrong, let me know. Don’t tell 25 different people. This makes me feel worse about myself and therefore extremely lower my productivity.

                If you are nice to me, I’ll be nice to you because the second you step out that door you are just another human being just like me.

Don’t treat me like an idiot:

                Don’t tell me I’m stupid because of _____

                Don’t criticize the company I work for like it makes me less of a person. I could name all the things in my life that make me a better person than you but I don’t. Just because you work in a higher position than me doesn’t make you a better anything just more experienced. So, allow me to share in that wonderful knowledge and check the shitty attitude at the door because I’ll think you are a weak minded individual. Harsh but true.

To my co workers:

                The above applies to you as well. I response well to kindness and NOT negativity.

                Show some honor and humility, it does the soul good

                Be understanding. Sometimes we aren’t on our A game.

                If you’re not happy with something be constructive.

                Use deodorant … seriously

                Brush your teeth

                NPR, Country and talk radio are ok but in small doses. I don’t want to have any more nightmares about Obama care. Seriously. It’s fucked up.

                It’s okay to watch my back but don’t blame me for your mistakes.

                Seriously, if your fault fess up. I know when I fuck up but thems the breaks.

I’m crawling back to my hole (bed) and plan for my next blog.

Lust, levity and the pursuit of happiness

Okay. I have been working on the “Sex" post for this blog for a while only to discover that my computer ate it and now I am stuck with an empty slate but now thanks to a little bit of “Moxi” I decided to retackle  the challenge and write about the strangeness that happens to be life. I am an awkward human being, I am self-realized but totally awkward. I keep wondering where people get the idea that I am a sexual human being. I mean I am but that I don’t advertise it. Thoughts anyone?

Anyway, most recently I’ve been my life anew. A single, tragic life but it’s mine. I moved into a renovated 1930’s building and live in this happy go lucky apartment. It has huge ceiling and giant windows that look over the tiny town I live over. So every so often the landlord does a walk through. She is one of the sweetest people I know! Kind, caring and intelligent. I think the absolute world of her. I had spent the entire day making sure everything looked groovy and settled in to finish my laundry. We happened to be talking and she asked if she could do the walk through early. It seeeemed like a good idea.  When she got to my bedroom she exited my apartment saying everything looked good.

I really didn’t think anything of it. I really didn’t. 

I finish up with my laundry and walked into my bedroom only see the stark contrast of my midnight blue vibrator against the white cotton of my blanket. How was I supposed to fix this? Do I go and apologize? Do I pretend it didn’t happen or do I say at least it’s safe sex? Okay, I decide that maybe the best words were none at all. I also decided that hiding my vibrator somewhere different. I thought it would be in my best interests to keep my sex toys and etcetera out of public view. But what did I care, I lived alone. Any self kinkery I wanted to do I was more than able to.  Still safe sex right?

My sister says I have a magic vag,”Seriously, what the hell is so different with yours that guys go so bonkers over?” She had a point with that one; I did have a strange amount of stalkers.  Even alone, it was a strange amount. Who cares, actually I do. Quit. Stealing. My. Underwear.  SERIOUSLY.

Thankfully I have my handy dandy friend who shared mutual sexual prowess for life. One of those rare people you can shoot the shit without feeling weird out about it. She recently lent me a few books that were totally awesome. The first “203 ways to please your lover” and “The fine art of erotic talk” both awesome and equally balls out funny. I picked out quotes and spread them across my kitchen desk with labels. I knew what I was going to write about and what I was going to avoid. This was going to be the best blog ever!!!

Recently, a pipe burst in our building and after much clearing of drop ceiling rubble; rotor rooter was necessary.  They prescribed an enzyme that had to be dumped in our drains.

 The landlord’s husband and amazingly attractive son knocked on the door. We were shooting the shit and they laughed and couldn’t stop smiling. I’m funny, I thought.  When they left to the next apartment they were in and out before I could close my door.  As the door closed I noticed I had a pair of handcuffs dangling off my entryway closet door handle. Fuck. I walked into the kitchen to find notes. Double fuck. I went to my bedroom. At least my vibrator wasn’t out.