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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Tag Archives: Willy Wonka

I am not.

I try to be.

Time and place? I usually can handle it. It’s easier if I am not completely comfortable. Watch out if I am comfortable though. The more outspoken and silly I get, the more I like you. Do we hug regularly?If so, it means that I like you enough to not be afraid of smelling you (I’m weird about smelling people). And if I banter with you, that means I love you.

Sensible? Some people think so. I usually am. I usually can control my impulses and think things through. I try to hold my tongue and be respectful. I DO talk shit sometimes, but doesn’t everyone?

That graceful thing? It’s not always easy when you have something super important and life-altering to talk about. Sometimes you have to just lay it all out there and work backward. That’s what I have been doing for the past two months. That’s what I want to do, and it’s taking all of my good sense and self control to NOT do that. Right now. UGH!!!

I know I am being super vague. I mostly am writing this for myself. You all just get to read my thoughts. Lucky you.

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I’m funny.

I’m clever.

I’m cool.

I’m bold.

I’m full of energy.

I don’t gossip.

I don’t give a shit.

In reality

I stay annoyed when I should just tell you that you bug the shit outta me.

I try too hard.

I don’t try hard enough.

I talk about people.

I worry that I don’t do enough.

I get overwhelmed and shut down.

I’m lazy.

Is your reality really real? Is the story you are telling yourself really the truth? And now, as I sit here and write those two questions, I question my own perception of my thoughts and reality. Damn! I really need to get out of my brain.

(How many times does one person really need to say really?)

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Some things that get my panties in a wad:

  1. When my kids behave like assholes while we are on the way to do something fun. FOR THEM.
  2. When someone gets mad at me because of the consequences of THEIR DECISION.
  3. When I am trying to give someone something and I feel like I am the one jumping through hoops. Not that I expect them to bow down to me and kiss my ass. I’ll do what I can (within reason), but I’m not going to put myself out just to give you something. FOR FREE.
  4. When I have a lot of very important things to do, like listen to my favorite podcasts, and my kids insist on talking to me.
  5. When I’m being bitchy and irrational and I hate everyone in the world and I can’t bear to hear one more child’s voice or even open my mouth to say even one little word and they JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND!!!!!!
That’s not unreasonable is it? No. I didn’t think so. Don’t you dare contradict me in the comments. I’ll change them if you do. No I won’t.

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…then I will assume some things about you.

1. You are open minded.

2. You don’t rely on the church to tell you what to think.

3. You realize that everyone has their own story and what works for you might not work for other people, and that’s OK.

4. It’s possible this blog is a ‘guilty pleasure’ because I cuss, drink, and I used to be mormon and am not afraid to admit it. (Seriously, I typed moron at first. It was not intentional. I still am a moron- just ask Brandi)

Now, read this post by Eliza.

I’m not trying to push any of my mofos off the precipice. I really do just want you to be happy. I want you to be confident in your decisions. I want you to stop worrying about what ‘everyone’ will say, think, and do. Stop living in fear. There truly is happiness once you let go of the fear.

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If the line at Marshall’s wasn’t so shitty, I would have bought this t-shirt. But since I did’t feel like being there for an extra hour, I decided to just take a picture of myself in the store wearing the best t-shirt EVER. I might go back tomorrow morning and give them my $5.

It might be a slight exaggeration. By everybody, I mean my mofos. You people are everybody to me.

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You just never know what people are dealing with in their lives. I know we all have shit, the stinky muck that makes our lives hard to deal with, and we all handle our shit differently. Every once in a while someone will tell you about the shit they’re carrying around.

As a personal trainer, people come to me when they’re desperate enough for a change that they’re willing to spend lots of money for my help. They’ve tried or haven’t tried or don’t know how to try to get moving to lose weight. They feel like shit, the sluggish and sticky mess that comes from years of inactivity, look like shit, a soft mess of flesh and bones, and treat themselves like shit with the self-loathing and ugly stories they tell themselves. Unfortunately for some (most) people, even spending hundreds of dollars isn’t enough. They think it’s enough to meet with me once a week. What they don’t realize that they still have to work on their own. What they don’t expect is that I will call them out on that shit, the lies they try to tell me about how they are working out on their own, because I can tell when they are making the extra effort.

I don’t like excuses. Hmmm, let me rephrase that. I won’t accept their excuses. I like excuses. I use them all the time. I’m pretty good at using excuses. But you know what? I can. I’m not 40 lbs overweight. Besides looking awesome in a mini skirt, being skinny means that you can afford to make the occasional excuse. HOWEVER, I ask the hard questions and also have plenty of solutions. That’s a good thing about being a know-it-all, a person who knows everything. (How am I doing, Rena?)

This morning, when I asked my client why she’s not doing her ‘homework’, the classes and workouts I gave her to do on her own between sessions, she practically broke down in tears. She started listing all of these familiar symptoms. And when I asked her if she’s depressed, she could barely squeak out an answer. This, mofos, is what I live for! Not making people cry. You assholes know that I’m too nice for that. The cat’s out of the bag already. I’m a caring bitch. I live for helping people. I live for being a friend and a motivator to my clients. I live for the opportunity to help someone transform into something they never thought possible.

So, I’m trying a new approach. I’m sure it’s just ‘new to me’. I hope it’ll work. I’m going to send her personalized reminders throughout the week. I’ll send her a reminder to pack her gym bag and get it in the car so she can workout right after work. I’ll check in with her to make sure she’s doing her at-home workout over the weekend.

I hope my efforts will make a difference in her life to not only to get physically healthy again, but emotionally healthy too. I know with depression, sometimes just knowing that someone else in the world cares about you can make a huge difference. Don’t worry- I do not think I am a substitute for psychiatric care. I encouraged her to see a psychiatrist and start getting treated by a trained mental health professional, and I will continue to encourage her to do that until she sees one.

But DAMN! I am excited! The look on her face said it all. I am doing EXACTLY what I need to be doing right now.

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That’s what I threw this weekend. It’s actually still going on a little bit.

I know, I know, it’s a bit passive agressive/manipulative. But what mother out there hasn’t ‘done’ passive agressive/manipulative at one time or another?

I’m feeling quite under appreciated lately. My kids are sassy and ungrateful. They won’t clean up after themselves without my constant reminders, and even then they do a half-assed job. They’re bickery and prickly and can’t/won’t get along with each other except to gang up on another kid.

I’ve had my limit.

I’m positive it’s all my fault. I’m sure that if we had regular family prayer and scripture study and family home evening, we would be totally cool, right? If I was following the lord’s commandments, then my children would all get along perfectly and there would be no conflict and the entire family would walk around the house whistling hymns. OK, maybe that was laying it on a little thick and unnecessary but whatever. I’m leaving it in.

So, I created The Common Enemy. I’m it. I figure that if they won’t fight each other if I’m walking around being The Queen Bitch. The thing that sucks about it is that I’m not usually such a bitch. I’m usually pretty smiley. And I like to laugh. The Common Enemy doesn’t laugh and smile. At. Anyone. Not even to Dad. So poor Mr. T gets the totally suck end of the stick.

The upside? All of the little brats are nice to each other and kiss my ass so I won’t bite their scrawny little heads off. They are picking up after themselves, and putting their dirty dishes in the dishwasher. The ACTUAL dishwasher. They are cooking together AND cleaning up the mess without me telling them to do so.

The downside? (crickets chirping)

Beuller?

Beuller?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Oh, yeah- Mr. T is left holding the ball. And it’s hard on him. And it’s not fair that he has to deal with my grown-ass adult tantrum. That’s what it has been. I must get over it.

But damn! It’s nice to be able to make them do what I want them to do. Things they’re SUPPOSED TO DO ANYWAYS!! Shit. Does anyone have any advice?

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