Besides you know, politicians, choosing people to populate your life is a heady endeavor.
It is my belief that this should apply to bosses, landlords, car repair men, lovers, and Uber drivers.
And if they appear to be a lying, cowardly, foolish thief—I give you permission to cut and run.
“When someone shows you who they are, believe them.”
~Maya Angelou
PS. And don’t forget to vote.
Carry on,
xox
DING DONG.
What’s that? A door bell?
DING DONG.
It’s not our doorbell. Ours sounds like, DING DING DING DONG. DONG DONG DING…(It’s ridiculous, you can stand at the door, in front of someone, waiting for it to stop ringing. Sometimes they are long gone and it hasn’t finished announcing them yet).
DING DONG.
Wait, I’m dreaming. There’s a doorbell ringing inside of a dream. No door. Just a…
DING DONG.
OKAY! You have my attention!
I’m trying to remember, what does a doorbell mean in a dream? An opportunity? A new experience?
Or somebody trying to get your attention. Ah Ha!
What was going on right before the DING DONG? A voice asked inside of the dream.
Let’s see….
I was very upset about a false accusation. I had been denied a position I was seeking because of some accusations that were hidden away in my “file” from back in 1988.
“It says here you stole jewelry”, the “file keeper” revealed.
I felt the blood run out of my face, replaced by boiling rage.
“I did what?!!” I screamed. “I did nothing of the sort!!”
“Says here, four pieces. You stole four pieces of jewelry. We can’t in good conscience hire a crook, now can we?”
“A crook?!!”
I remember a tidal wave of emotions engulfed me. A surge of, Oh now EVERYTHING makes sense! Like some giant conspiracy that’s been running through my life, fucking things up, and THAT’S not true! I was a jeweler AFTER 1988 for almost twenty years! You’re a liar! This isn’t REAL!
But the most overwhelming emotion of all? Injustice. THIS ISN’T FAIR!!!
DING DONG.
My husband and I are the Norma Raye and Che Guevara of THIS ISN’T FAIR.
We will soap box stand and spark revolutions when the deck looks stacked in favor of a lie.
This runs heavily through our energy and at any given time we are fighting one or more wrongful injustices because that’s what happens when you fight lies and liars — they are attracted to you like moths to a flame.
This would be commendable if we had different lives as Union busters or Wall Street vigilantes.
Instead, it just brings us (mostly my hubby), but me too, injustices to fix. Wrongs to right. Tickets to fight. Lawsuits to win.
I believe thoughts become things. I know that to be true as much as I know chocolate has medicinal properties. And as of late, I’ve been working on purging the THIS ISN’T FAIR from my energy.
I think it fought back a little last night. Or at least, it came out from hiding in the shadows.
DING DONG.
Olly, Olly, oxen free! You can come out now where I can see you!
Do you have an idea of what’s running in your energy? I’ll give you a hint: Take a look at what keeps showing up.
Are you a problem solver? Problems.
Are you a nay sayer slayer? Hello, nay sayers.
Get it? Good. Me too!
Carry on,
xox
She told me she didn’t do it, but with my keen observational skills, the fact that I have opposable thumbs, a larger brain, and language (I know some words) — I knew she was lying.
Plus she was the only other “person” in the house.
The conversation went something like this:
ME: Hey, you. Where YOU going so fast and what did you do to the rug?
DOG: What rug?
ME: The one in a pile at your feet.
DOG: I don’t see a rug.
ME: Seriously?
DOG: Oh, that. Is that a rug? Because it looks more like…
ME: It was until your track and field event ran through here.
DOG: Track and field. That’s a good one. You should write a humor…
ME: Why do you lie so goddamn always?
DOG: It came with the cute. A package deal. You know, puppies and toddlers and twenty-year-old models named Raoul.
She was right. I straightened the rug feeling duped once again. If there’s a grudge in here somewhere… I’m holding it.
Back in my jewelry days, I had a limey friend. He was unattractively attractive in that way that some men can be. You know, so ugly they’re sexy. A guy whose British accent was so thick that if you got any on you—it would stick and eat through you, like alien slime, taking with it any and all traces of your common sense.
Everything he said was melodious and beguiling— a perfectly wrapped gift to my ears.
It was also a lie.
He was one of the slimiest characters you could ever hope to NOT meet, but everything he said sounded like poetry.
Like a shitty smack-talk, lying sack-talk sonnet.
He once told me to “sod off” when I caught him in yet another lie. And even though I had no idea what that meant —I wanted to do it. Immediately. AND it made me a little hot all day — I’m not gonna lie.
So, lies. They come in all shapes and sizes. Tiny, white, “I didn’t eat the last cupcake”, ones — to giant, wtf, “I can be and do whatever you think you need. I’m here to save you”, delusional ones.
In other words, everything that comes out of a politician’s mouth.
Unfortunately, they become acceptable when they have a cute puppy face, a thick foreign accent, or apparently a shit ton of money, a stage to stand on, and a camera pointed in their face.
I don’t now about you, but it’s beginning to feel like we’ve all been slimed.
I, for one, am pretty sick of this shit. I’m not falling for it anymore. Is that because I’m old? Or too smart? Or did the slime wound finally heal and I regained my common sense?
I feel like I can’t be lied to for one more minute!
Not by the lying limey with the lilting language, (Okay, you gotta love that).
Not by the cuddly and cute but corrupted canine (I’m on a roll).
Not by any of the plotting, placating and prevaricating politicians.(Bazinga!)
Can we just call foul; tell ‘um to “sod off”; take our balls and go home?
What do YOU think? Ever had anyone lie to your face? How many times before you got wise to it?
I’ve gotta go now. I need to teach my dog that it’s not okay to lie. I’m going to ground her AND take her phone away.
Carry on,
xox
