Random fantasies.

So I was thinking today what sort of fantasies I have besides the odd ones or my ones about someone finally realizing I have talent and giving me a chance.

1: When I was a kid I saw a tv show that was talking about this shoe company in England that had been around hundreds of years and had molds of all these famous peoples’ feet because they would make them custom made shoes. Ever since, I’ve daydreamed about having shoes made especially for my feet with my unique problems. And not just a pair of dress shoes that won’t pinch my toes or be so flat inside that they have no arches, but also a pair of sneakers made just for me. That’s it, just two pairs of custom made shoes.

2: Even though I’d kick and scream and fight, part of me has always daydreamed about some guy coming along and doing a whole Pygmalion like training with me.

3: A chance to speak my mind without being interrupted. An entire sentence spoken without a single interruption. (Take note, mom!)

4: Get asked out by a guy who is not my type – but is society’s standard of male beauty – in front of several other people, so they could hear me turn him down, politely of course. Well, I’ve been belittled so much in my life about being fat, it would be nice to have a guy who most women would kill to go out with ask me out and me being able to say, “No thank you.”

5: Someone helping me load/unload heavy things from the car. Whenever I take mom shopping, I have to do all the loading and unloading by myself. Including heavy stuff. I’m talking flats of water – 24 20 ounce bottles – and things like that. My brother Todd will not lift a finger to help and when I got on him last night he whined, “I do the dishes!” No, I do the dishes more often then you, big brother, and anyway, I’d rather he didn’t do the dishes and helped me carry this heavy stuff. Since he’s too lazy to do it, I’d love for a real man to come along and help – and rub it in his face. Especially if that guy was built like your stereotypical “98 pound weakling.” I’m tired of having to do it all myself. And I don’t even get a thank you.

6: Get randomly interviewed by a newspaper reporter as a filler article for their paper. Even if it’s just the back page of some little rinky-dink thing, it would still be good publicity for my website.

7: Tell off the founder of eHarmony to his face. I was rejected 3 times and I am sure, since 90% of their questions are about how physically active/fit you are, NOT about personality, that they rejected me based solely on the fact I’m fat.

That’s really about it. The others have to do with singing, maybe getting onto one of those darn reality shows I keep applying to, finally getting some videos of me singing up on YouTube, that sort of thing. Singing – well, it’s all I really want to do. In fact, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten to do any real, deep, serious singing, even just practicing, I feel like I’m going to wither up and die.

Man, I’ll even happily sing for FREE for charities or any libraries near me that need entertainment as part of a program. Not Christmas stuff, obviously, it’s way too late to book for that, but come spring or summer when you’re fund raising. Maybe a bunch of love songs for Valentine’s Day?

Heck, I’d even happily allow myself to be pulled over by the police provided that they were filming an episode of COPS that day and I got to go on camera and sing.

Oy vey! Some people….

So if you’ve been alive and on the internet the last 24 hours you have probably heard of the Candace Sams blow up. If you haven’t, just google her name plus “Amazon.”

Basically it’s like this, a few people gave her book, Intersteller Feller, one star reviews, calling the book mean spirited, poorly written, and predictable. Sams blew up! Went all sorts of crazy. Especially to reviewer LB Taylor but also a couple of snippy posts to PBB. She even went so far as to post a blog plea to her “friends” to vote the negative reviews of PBB (who’s ID she kept mistyping as BBB) and LB Taylor down.

I will admit that I couldn’t help but say something to her. I mean, how can you resist trying to throw cold water into the face of a hysterical crazy person?

Now as a singer I’ve gotten some bad reviews. I may not be famous but I’ve got my voice out there for anyone to hear on my website, as well as MySpace, ReverbNation, Facebook, and a few others. And I’ve attacked said reviews. However, I had a good reason. See, the bad reviews always came on the heels of an argument I was having with someone that had nothing to do with my singing or music in general. All I had to do was present a clear, logical reason as to why Hollywood needs to stop remaking movies, why rape jokes aren’t funny, why anything you can’t prove 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt is a belief – even when it’s suppose to be a “non-belief” in something, etc. And the person, faced with an inablity to come up with a good retort that has something to do with the subject in question will reply with “Yeah, well, you suck as a singer!” Or “You sing with too much vibrato!”

It’s basically like if I’m having a face to face fight with someone and I can actually prove what I’m saying is right by finding a book and showing it to them and they respond with “Yeah, well, you’re fat!” Only difference is, I know I’m fat, but I also know for a fact I do not suck as a singer. I’ll give you leway on “too much vibrato”, but I know I’m good. Maybe not perfect, but better then many of the so-called “singers” currently popular today.

Still, because their “reviews” of me are based on them losing a fight with me, I do respond to these.

However, if I had an album out that got a one star review, you know what I’d do? Ignore it.

Here’s a news flash – Not everyone is going to like you or your work.

Lots of people like Brad Pitt, I can’t stand the guy. It doesn’t hurt Brad at all that I don’t like him. I’m sure he doesn’t care that one fat chick in California thinks his acting sucks.

Of course, Intersteller Feller just sounds like a bad idea all around. What Sams should have done is taken the bad reviews and learned from them. So maybe her next book will be better. Not go nutso and humilate herself all over the internet. Though she’s deleted the majority of her looney tunes posts, they’ve been saved, copied, and pasted everywhere on the internet for all the world to see. Centuries from now some internet version of an arceologist will uncover them and print them out. Trying to fathom Sams’ insanity.

She’ll never live this down.

Other authors now see her as a laughing stock. Neil Gaiman had blogged and Twittered about her for instance. Writers are passing her words around as “What not to do when badly reviewed.”

There’s really no saving her reputation now, of course. But a good long apology to both LB Taylor and PBB (and try to get the Amazon ID right this time, lady) wouldn’t hurt.

And therapy. LOTS AND LOTS of intensive therapy!

Incident With School Bus #103

On December 3rd, 2009, around 8 am I and my mother had an incident with a school bus driver for the Newport-Mesa Unified School District that proved the driver was reckless and putting lives at risk. When I returned home I searched the website but could not find a single place to file complaints about unsafe practices. So, finally, I chose one likely e-mail address, reported it to her, and waited for some sort of acknowledgment.

I’m still waiting.

Since apparently NMUSD isn’t going to send so much as a “This will be reported to” e-mail, or even a “STFU” e-mail, I’m going to blog about it. Hopefully this will get their attention and get the driver the discipline she deserves.

Remember, NMUSD, I would NOT be blogging about this if YOU had just sent something back. Don’t come crying lawsuit to me just because you don’t wish to acknowledge a reckless bus driver.

Now I had bloodwork done that day. The fasting kind. So my mom took me out for breakfast at the IHOP on Harbor Blvd in Costa Mesa, CA. Behind it running parallel to Harbor is a small street that leads to Gisler. We were taking this street. I had the right of way and there is no stop sign until you reach Gisler. The bus was coming down a side street that joins Harbor to this street, the bus had a stop sign. The driver did NOT stop at the stop sign and was even going to run it. They finally hit the brakes after they were well past the stop sign. Making me swerve around it.

The bus, after turning right, was behind me. Now, in front of the stop sign I had to stop at once reaching Gisler there is a big “KEEP CLEAR” area. Since the freeway entrance was nearby cars were all the way to the lines. I could not turn without blocking the “keep clear.” So I waited. They got a green light but traffic was heavy and I could not safely turn. I waited for traffic to clear.

The bus driver began honking at me, trying to force me to turn right – which would’ve put me in front of oncoming traffic – INCLUDING AN ON COMING SCHOOL BUS! If I had turned right when the bus driver tried to force me to do, there would have been an accident – namely my car being hit by another school bus.

So not only do we have a driver whom wishes to run stop signs, but tries to force other people to put themselves into car accidents just for her convenience. (And yes, it was a woman driver, sad to say. Thanks for helping affirm the stereotype that women are bad drivers, lady.)

This driver thought nothing about putting the lives and health of children at risk, not to mention the lives of everyone else on the road.

And yet, I have heard nothing back from NMUSD. Not a single thing. Like I said, their website has no place for complaints, especially about bus drivers. Just numbers to call for getting your kids picked up. Believe me, I searched and searched.

If your kids are part of NMUSD and ride school bus #103, I highly suggest you seek alternative transportation for them, since NMUS doesn’t seem to be interested in unsafe drivers who put your kids – and even kids on other school buses – at risk.

I wish….

So I happened to turn to I Love Lucy in time for the end of that episode where she thinks everyone forgot her birthday, but in reality they were planning a surprise party. And Ricky sings to her a song he wrote for her.

I wish I was the kind of girl men wrote (nice) songs to/about. Sadly, all I’ve ever inspired is hate mail about how fat and ugly I am.

And people wonder why I’m so depressed, bitter, and don’t believe in true love?

It’s official.

I just came back from the doctor and it’s official. I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. Hm – let’s look at the symptoms from WebMD.

Acne.

Weight gain and trouble losing weight.

Extra hair on the face and body. Often women get thicker and darker facial hair and more hair on the chest, belly, and back.

Thinning hair on the scalp.

Irregular periods. Often women with PCOS have fewer than nine periods a year. Some women have no periods. Others have very heavy bleeding.

Fertility problems. Many women with PCOS have trouble getting pregnant (infertility).

Depression.

Oh sure there’s “treatments” and ways to “manage it” – but it all comes down to the same thing. I’ll always have a hairy chin I have to tweeze daily and I might not be able to have babies.

*sighs* So even if I ever did find a man stupid/blind/desperate enough to want me I better chase him out of my life because I won’t be able to give him children.

This sucks.

What’s the big deal?

So I finally broke down and signed up for Twitter. I did it because of Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. And I have to say -

It’s REALLY stupid!

Honestly? What is the big deal? It’s so BORING! And you say so little! You’re much better of using something else like WordPress. Gather is good too. Blogger is nice.

Honestly, only reason I stay signed up is because some of the Zynga games I play on MySpace and Facebook said you can earn prizes by being signed up for their Twitter updates. But if it continues being this boring – well, special powers for Vampires just isn’t worth it.

So what if you can update it from your phone? You can with ANY site now adays. Anyway, my phone hasn’t worked right since I dropped it in a toilet. I can make calls out and if I answer right away I can get incoming calls. But it won’t take voice mail anymore. And I’d never use it for the internet. I don’t even like the fact it takes pictures or text messages.

To me a phone should be for one thing – CALLING PEOPLE! Period. I don’t want one that plays music, that’s why I have an iPod. I don’t want one to take pictures. That’s why I have a camera. I don’t like text messaging – they always look like something you’d hear out of the mouths of a Jerry Springer guest.

So I’m sure as shootin’ not even letting Twitter have my number.

Seriously, folks, it’s not a special site. It’s quite boring. Get over it.

Three of my odder fantasies.

I have a lot of fantasies and daydreams. Most are pretty standard – finally getting somewhere in my music career, maybe getting onto one of those ridiculous “reality” shows like America’s Got Talent. I mean, if that’s the only way I can get a recording contract, so be it. Others are more romantic in nature, though those are few and far between as I’ve accepted the fact men find me ugly and therefore won’t ever date me. I mean, they tell me all the time. From the trying to be nice but really being jerks “You’re a nice person but you’re too fat to be seen with in public” to the guys who tell me I’m a fat ugly pig/cow/cunt/bitch.

So why daydream about love? The music career I’ll NEVER give up on. However, love and romance – well, I’m just going to have to deal with the fact I’ll always be alone.

However I have at least two fantasies that would seem to be odd to anyone.

Fantasy #1 – I always wear baggy, shapeless clothing. Now when I go shopping mom’s always involved. Because she watches a lot of What Not To Wear she’s always trying to get me to wear more fitted clothing. I’m fat and don’t want to. I hate anything that touches my belly, back, or sides. Sales people either 1: Side with mom or 2: Ignore me. Sometimes I wish one would be so pushy about me wearing more fitted clothing that I can just go off on them and say “I don’t DESERVE more fitted clothing!” Then break out in tears.

Fantasy #2 – Based on mom’s watching WNTW I sometimes daydream about her submitting me to that show. In the daydream I realize instantly that those people doing a survey are really filming for WNTW and I state my true feelings. “I will NEVER go on that stupid show! 1: Stacy is a twig and Clinton is a man. Neither of them have the LIFE EXPERIENCE of being a fat woman to dress fat women properly. 2: Clinton can’t even tuck his shirt in and Stacy wears colors that make her look like she’s in liver failure. If they can’t dress themselves then they can’t dress me. 3: I saw them allow a fat woman buy something sleeveless! Fat people should NEVER wear sleeveless clothing. Ugly, jiggly, bat wingy upper arms must ALWAYS REMAIN HIDDEN! In other words, they are IDIOTS and I will NOT allow them to humiliate me on national tv even if they managed to get Barry Manilow, Michael Crawford, Neil Diamond, and the entire cast of Star Trek: The Next Generation – including Whoopi Goldberg – to show up on my doorstep together saying I should go on their crappy show!”

Fantasy #3 – Mom can be very verbally abusive, but won’t admit it. When I try to defend myself she accuses me of being the abusive one. Dad has tried to tell her to lay off me but she insists she’s just trying to help me. I often daydream about her verbally abusing me in public. One of her tirades about how fat I am, how I need to wear eye makeup (even though I look stupid in it), etc. The whole shebang. And her being overheard by someone who stands up for me. Sometimes, admittedly, I put Barry Manilow in that role. I’ve met him and made a good impression for one. And he lives in California. There’s always the slim chance he and I would be in the same place at the same time. Billion to one but still more of a chance then say – Alan Rickman. Most times it’s a complete stranger. Just someone who comes to my rescue. That tells my mom she’s being verbally abusive and they can’t believe how horribly she’s treating me. (One reason it’s Barry in some daydreams is because if it was someone like him, someone famous due to their talent, it would be REALLY embarrassing for her.) Someone to wake her up to how her verbal abuse doesn’t help me at all. Just makes me feel worse. And that she has no room to talk anyway, she’s fat too.

They’re odd, obviously, because they focus on negative things. People normally daydream of positive, happy things. Winning the lottery or something. (For me it’s Publisher’s Clearing House.) However I have negative ones like this as well.

Maybe it’s normal. I don’t know. I only hear about the positive ones.

A PSA that makes me glad I’m single.

Saw this over on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books.

To which I say -

Really, folks, would much rather have a gift card. Right size, right color, and doesn’t require throwing your legs up in stirups so someone can poke around your hoo-ha.

Minnie is a clothes horse.

Until she devolved arthritis Audrey hated wearing clothing. Put something on her to keep her warm during a cold winter (we always kept her cut short due to her allergies and eczema) she would try desperately to take it off. Even chewing at it.

Not Minnie, though. You put clothing on that dog and she prances around like a little diva.

See that jacket? I just went to put it on her. We’re going to the vet and it’s cold outside. Soon as she saw it she started to jump and dance around, pawing at it. She couldn’t wait to get it on! Minnie just loves clothing. I’m going to have to soon give her a place in my closet. She just can’t get enough. I’m just glad she’s not into shoes. Otherwise she’d probably be insisting on some of those high heels that cost $600 a pair. And seeing how she’d need two pairs….

Dear Orange Mother….

I first became aware of you through the blog Pale Is The New Tan. Since then I’ve had a few days to digest the news about your daughter’s injuries in a self tanning booth. There’s a few things I wish to say to you and the people on your side trying to do away with the self tanning booths.

1: You have a bright orange fake bake. As this 80s drug PSA shows children learn from their parents. If your ten year old wants to use a tanning machine it’s only because you set the president.

2: What is a ten year old doing out on the streets without you or another adult? It’s not safe for a grown man to walk the streets now adays, let alone a kid. I have one word for you – PEDOPHILES. You’re LUCKY that a burn is the ONLY bad thing to happen to your kid because of your neglect. She could’ve just as easily been snatched by some pervert and raped and possibly even murdered. Frankly, I’m surprised no one’s taken you in for neglect.

3: Unless your child is a kindergarten drop out, she’s old enough to be able to read the multitude of signs saying no one under 16 is allowed to use the tanning beds. Your child is stupid enough to ignore the signs then frankly, she deserved what she got. Instead of blaming the salon, you should be blaming your child for being an idiot. As soon as she’s healed tell her that she needs to learn to take responsibility for her stupidity and tan her hide the old fashion way – with a spanking!

In conclusion, you’re a stupid, neglectful mother. Anyone with half a brain would see that and side with the tanning salon, not you. Please don’t breed anymore. We don’t need more brain dead orange people running around.

Thank you.