Greetings, blog fans. I decided to take a day off from blogging yesterday. Well, I did post something on the travel blog, but it was short and kind of sweet, because I’m still experiencing our current excursion and I’m not quite ready to write about it yet. So far, it has been an interesting trip, though…
For instance, today’s post title was contributed by Bill. It was inspired by a disgusting song on one of Red Peters’ compilation albums. Bill and I both enjoy off color humor. If it involves body functions, so much the better. Red Peters specializes in that kind of humor, whether it’s in one of his original songs, or a song he puts on one of his compilations, done by another artist.
Some years ago, I went looking for the song “Poo Poo, Pee Pee” on YouTube. No one had uploaded it, so I did, using pictures and video of our recently departed Arran and his old buddy, Zane, who died in 2019. I was probably inspired by one of Arran’s messier indiscretions. By the way, I can play this song on the guitar, now. Maybe I’ll redo it and sing it myself… and play along, too. Why not?
Arran never really did get the hang of housetraining 100 percent. He was about 90 percent reliable. I think he did know better than to go in the house, but for some reason, he just didn’t think it was important enough to avoid having accidents. I had to be very vigilant about making sure he went out and actually did his business. Otherwise, I might get an unpleasant and stinky surprise.
Anyway, the above song has a line that goes “Put a bow on that load…” or something like that. When I was talking to Bill about the post I wrote two days ago, about the high school senior who applied to 70 colleges and got into 54 of them, Bill quipped “Right. You don’t need to put a bow on that load.”
I laughed, because it seemed like sort of a backward way of calling what the young lady did “gilding the lily.” I remember when I was in college, finishing up my bachelor’s degree. I had two minors– one in speech, and the other in communications– and could have taken just one more course for a third, in journalism. My advisor, the wonderful and departed Dr. Massie Stinson, said in his very courtly, gentlemanly, southern accent, “I think that would be ‘gilding the lily.'”
“Gilding the lily” refers to the practice of trying to decorate something that is already beautiful. One doesn’t need to paint a beautiful flower with gold, because it’s already magnificent. Putting gold paint on a beautiful flower would turn it into something garish, tacky, and gaudy. Let the flower’s virtues stand alone…
Of course, if I had wanted to take the journalism class, that would be something else. In retrospect, maybe I should have taken it. If I recall correctly, it was taught by the recently departed Mr. William Woods (although people called him “Doctor”– he didn’t actually have a doctoral degree). I took two classes with Mr. Woods, and found him to be very entertaining. Journalism class with him would have, no doubt, made my GPA a little better. Certainly, it would have helped me with my GPA in English. I was a pretty mediocre English major.
But, at the time, I didn’t want to take that class. I took journalism in high school and was actually pretty good at it. I like writing, as you can see. I think I was put off by the prospect of having to talk to people, especially after a tragedy. Isn’t it funny that a few years later, I would earn a master’s degree in social work? Which… as you can also see… I don’t use. If I had actually launched my career as planned, I probably would have aimed to use the public health degree… and I don’t know how successful I would have been, because it probably would have meant working with scientists or hospital administrators a lot. I likely would have been fired.
Fortunately, I found my husband, who finds it advantageous to keep me around, if only so we can laugh at our many private running jokes and enjoy scatological humor together. Otherwise, I might be living in a van down by the river… or a box under a bridge. And instead of going to our high priced dentist today, I could be sporting “summer teeth” (summer here, summer there… 😉 ). I’m kidding, of course. I have absolutely no doubt that if I needed to survive, I would, and my survival would neither involve homelessness, nor poor oral hygiene.
Sometimes, I just like to stop and muse at the complete absurdity of my life and how it’s turned out. Quite a lot of it is, frankly, ridiculous… Like, for instance, how I met Bill in the first place. It was not the kind of scenario that I’d want to tell my mother the truth about… although his mother knows, and has no issues with it. Bill’s mom isn’t like my mom, though. She’s more of a woman of the world. Actually, my mom is also a woman of the world, but she has much less tolerance and patience for my bent toward vulgarity. Certain topics are off limits. However, she doesn’t mind when I cuss. I think that’s interesting. She will fuss about cursing at my eldest sister, who is 64 years old, but I can drop an f bomb in from of my mom, and she truly doesn’t care. She probably figures it’s a lost cause… “sigh”.
Every old sock needs an old shoe, though, and I guess I’m Bill’s. He likes me, and he comes up with funny lines, often based on nonsensical things in our lives. And instead of “gilding the lily”, he said “you don’t need to put a bow on that load…” which is sort of like calling what the high school student did “bullshit” and saying that a load of bullshit doesn’t need a big fancy bow on it to make it “prettier”. I don’t know that I would necessarily describe applying to that many schools as “bullshit”. To me, it seems more to indicate issues with compulsion or anxiety… or maybe it’s just a statement that our higher education system is complete bollocks.
The book I’m reading right now kind of addresses the phenomenon that a lot of young people think they HAVE to go to some big name college. They put all their eggs in one basket, and ignore less famous places that can give them a perfectly good education. That means the lesser known, but still excellent (or adequate) schools struggle to stay alive, and the really big ones are inundated with applications from way too many qualified students. And then we have wealthy people paying huge “donations” to athletic departments, falsifying records, faking credentials, and winding up in minimum security prison camps for fraud.
I look forward to reviewing the book, so I think I’ll stop here and finish it. I think I have about 30 percent to go… You can look forward to more of a rant about this subject in the coming days.
Hope you have a good Monday. Ours will be punctuated by a nationwide transportation strike and a date with the dentist. Joy of joys… but we’ll go home tomorrow; I’ll write up this trip; and maybe post a new book review. Ciao!
If you attempt to read this, please do me a favor and try to make it to the end before passing judgment.
A couple of days ago, I did a search of my own posts on Facebook. I don’t even remember what I was hoping to find. Maybe it’s because I drink a lot of beer. 😉 In any case, when I did that search, I unexpectedly found today’s featured photo. I got a kick out of it for many nostalgic reasons.
That photo was taken 30 years ago, during my junior year at what was then known as Longwood College in Farmville, Virginia. It’s a pretty special picture for many nostalgic reasons… including some I’ve just realized so many years later. I’ll get to why in a few paragraphs, if you’ll just indulge me a bit.
My junior year roommate was a year older than me, and the one I got along with best during my college years. She was a very serious student– extremely hard working and high achieving. I don’t know if this is still true, but at the time, she was said to be the very last organ performance major at Longwood. Her goal was to be a music teacher. I hung out with a lot of music majors. They were some of the hardest working people I’ve ever known.
This roommate and I got along very well, which is an amazing thing. We lived on the third floor of South Cunningham, which has since been demolished. In fact, the room I had during my sophomore year is no longer used as a dormitory. It’s now an administration building. Those of us who went to Longwood College, as opposed to Longwood University, have very different memories of the campus. It really has changed that much. I guess it leads to bonding on Facebook.
I’m always a little dismayed when I realize that I went through SEVEN Longwood roommates, and that was even with two semesters during which I had my own room. Sometimes I feel like I’m just not a very likeable person who isn’t compatible with most others, even though Bill and I are ridiculously compatible.
Then, when I think about it, I realize that my roommate situation is not as bad as it sounds. One year, I temporarily had a second roommate who eventually got kicked out of school. One year, my roommate joined a sorority and moved in with her new “sisters”. I had the room to myself in the spring. Another year, I had a roommate for a few weeks, until she left to student teach. Then I got a new roommate during the spring semester before my graduation, and we got along fine.
Then there’s my very first roommate, “Margaret” (not her real name) with whom I only spent a week before she basically kicked me out of the room so her slutty friend across the hall could move in. I’ve already blogged about her, though…
Before anyone comes at me, let me just say that I know it’s not nice to call someone a slut, but that was basically what Margaret’s friend and future roommate was like. We had been at college for a mere week, and she just wanted to skank around with fraternity guys. My former roommate delusionally thought the frat guys would like her, too, so she tagged along with her friend of one week. I understand from my former suitemates that their living arrangement didn’t work out very well.
If I hadn’t been in the middle of that mess during my first week of college, I might have felt sorry for my former roommate. The chick from across the hall– who openly and unabashedly spoke of her “twat” itching (yes, she literally said this– and I was confused because, at the time, I don’t even think I knew what a twat was)– was probably just using ex roommate for her money.
Margaret had a lot of money, but to be blunt, she was definitely not a looker. But she and fraternity skank showed me nothing but contempt, so I don’t have a lot of regard for either of them. Besides, it all worked out for the best. Both of those women left Longwood after our freshman year, and this article isn’t about them, anyway. So, I’ll move on. 😉
Junior year was a pretty good year for me. That was the one year I finally had a good friend as a roommate. Because I was 20 years old, I couldn’t buy my own booze… except at a couple of places that never carded people. My friend, who wasn’t a drinker, helped me buy a case of Bud Dry at what was then a Harris Teeter supermarket (I think it’s now a Kroger). Bud Dry was highfalutin’ beer in those days. I usually drank Natural Light or something of that caliber. There was a Canadian beer called Arctic Bay that I used to get all the time. I don’t think they make it anymore. I know Bud Dry is now defunct, as of 2010.
Being 20 years old and not very experienced in the ways of the world, I honestly thought Bud Dry was good stuff. So I packed it into my dented and RENTED dorm fridge and took a picture for posterity. At some point, I shared the photo on Facebook, where a lot of laughs and discussion ensued. As I mentioned up post, South Cunningham was demolished, but it was a much loved home at Longwood for a lot of students. So that photo of Bud Dry was definitely prime sharing material. First, I shared it on my personal page; then I shared it in a group for Longwood College alums (as opposed to Longwood University alums).
At this writing, about 250 people in the group have liked the photo, and there have been a lot of lively comments about it. Most of the comments have been about what “expensive” tastes I had, since I wasn’t drinking Milwaukee’s Best (Beast) or its ilk. Again, the reason there was a photo was because I was “proud” of drinking Bud Dry. I thought I was living large. I was, but only in terms of my clothing size. 😀
I was enjoying the Facebook commentary about the photo when I noticed someone with a familiar, yet unusual, last name had “liked” it. Suddenly, I remembered a woman I knew of because of my second Longwood roommate, the woman who had joined Kappa Delta sorority and moved in with her “sisters” during the spring of my freshman year.
Though I never joined a sorority myself, I eventually learned that most of them had nicknames based on their campus reputations. I also found out that a sorority chapter on one campus might be totally different than they’d be on another. For instance, I have some cousins who were Sigma Kappas at the University of Georgia. The Sigma Kappas at Longwood when I was a student there were known as really “smart” and kind of nerdy. But my cousins, if they had gone to Longwood, were probably more like Kappa Deltas or maybe Zeta Tau Alphas, both of which were founded at Longwood. Actually, if they had gone to Longwood, my cousins would have probably pledged ZTA, because their grandmother, my Aunt Jeanne, was a ZTA at Longwood.
My roommate after “Margaret” was a woman who happened to have the same first and last name as Margaret did. However, she spelled her first name differently and went by a nickname. I’ll call her “Maggy”. She was the opposite of Margaret. While Margaret was a narcissistic asshole who wore braces, and was morbidly obese, Maggy was slim, cool, and pretty. She was a natural for the “KD ladies”, as she told me they were known as at Longwood.
Maggy and I weren’t destined to be long term friends, but she was a much better fit than Margaret was. At least she didn’t come in during the middle of the night and turn on the overhead light while I was sleeping, right? In fact, a lot of nights, she slept with her boyfriend. That was cool for me!
Anyway, Maggy was very busy during the semester she pledged her sorority. She had a composite photo of all of the “sisters”. I remember seeing that photo every day during my first semester at Longwood. I remember most of the women in that photo were really conventionally pretty, like Maggy was. However, there was one woman who stood out in the composite photo. She was very attractive, but not in the super pretty way the others were. She had what seemed like a rare kind of charisma. I found her interesting and was curious about her.
I remember taking notice of the woman’s name, mainly because she had kind of an unusual moniker. I also noticed her because she had a dazzling smile that was very genuine, like someone everyone would want to meet and know. Again, she was not gorgeous in the typical popular sorority girl way, but she had an inner radiance about her. I could tell that she was someone who made friends very easily.
Maggy’s new sorority sister had a rare kind of true inner beauty. Her magnetism was obvious and memorable to me, even though I didn’t even know her. In fact, I never even met her when I was at Longwood. As an 18 year old, I just noticed and remembered her name and her face… and as time marched on, I eventually forgot about her… until last night.
I noticed someone with the same unusual last name liking my beer fridge post. I hadn’t thought of Maggy’s “dazzling smiled” sorority sister in well over 30 years. She was two years ahead of me, and we didn’t run in the same circles. At first, I thought the person who had liked the photo was the same woman with the dazzling smile. She hadn’t spelled out her first name on Facebook, but she had the same first initial as Maggy’s sorority sister did, plus the same surname.
I was curious, so I took a look at the person’s profile. After a minute or two, I realized that the person who had liked my post wasn’t the woman with the dazzling smile. Instead, she appeared to be a family member– perhaps a sister or a cousin.
There was a picture of the woman with the smile on her public Facebook page, and based on the comments, it appeared that she had died. I followed another link to Maggy’s sorority sister’s profile, and saw more comments from people who missed her. They commented on her spirit and her laugh. I could relate to that, since my laugh is very distinctive, too. When I die, I’m sure if anyone still knows me offline, they’ll comment on my laugh, too.
A few more minutes of investigation revealed that the woman with the smile had died of breast cancer. I soon found many pictures of her before and after treatment. There were pictures of her that recalled how she’d looked in her Kappa Delta composite photo. And there were pictures of her smiling bravely, with very short hair, and then finally completely bald. In every single one of those photos, there was that radiant smile that defied the circumstances and revealed what appeared to be an indomitable spirit. I don’t even know her story, but the smile told me a lot about her.
Soon, I found myself looking closer at the people she’d left behind. This was a woman who was obviously much beloved by a lot of folks, especially her family, but also friends and colleagues. She had clearly made an impression on many, and had left a very positive and indelible mark on their hearts. I suddenly felt kind of sad, because I wished I’d had a chance to meet her. Behind her sparkling, lively eyes, and bright, brave, dazzling smile, even when she was completely bald, there was a remarkable woman who had really made a difference to so many.
Of course, if I had met her, there’s every chance that we wouldn’t have meshed. I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears repeating. I tend to be the kind of person people love or hate. But now that I think about it, looking at pictures of Maggy’s sorority sister reminds me of an experience I had on a road trip years ago, when I happened to run into a Buddhist monk. I wrote about that experience here, but the short story is, that guy had a countenance that immediately put me at ease and calmed me down when I had been hangry and wound up tighter than a spring. I was awestruck and moved by simply being in the peaceful monk’s presence, looking at him from across a crowded room.
When I did a similar search for old photos last night, I happened across one about one of my relatives… She happened to live on a farm called Longwood, and she died a couple of years ago. I wasn’t very close to this relative. Although we were family, we didn’t agree on religion or politics. However, when she died, many people were genuinely devastated.
I noticed that along with the post her sister– another relative of mine– had written about missing her, there was a photo of them. And I noticed that they both had dazzling, warm, and genuine smiles, too. Even though we’re family, but not close friends, I can see that they obviously have left indelible marks on people. If I didn’t already know them due to our family connection, I’d probably be struck and ultimately touched by their beautiful smiles, too.
Isn’t it funny how a photo of a rented dorm fridge full of Bud Dry posted on Facebook can lead me to these places? Anyway… if anyone related to this woman figures out who she is and that I’ve written about her, I just want to say I’m very sorry for your loss. I can tell by the photos showcasing her smile that she was a very special person. Either that, or her dentists are worth their weight in platinum. 😉 (I’m kidding, of course…)
Like my title? It was inspired by Police Academy. I was thinking about the scene in that 1984 film, when all the hapless new police academy recruits are doing physical training, and the busty blonde Callahan is counting sit ups as she wails, “More! I want MORE!” The cadets all groan in unison as they heave their bodies on the upward count, another painful sit up done. I probably should have rethought that, though… Given today’s topic, maybe Veruca Salt would be a better inspiration for a title. It’s too late to change the title, though.
Some people are never satisfied with what they have…
This morning at about 3:00, Arran woke up and wanted to be fed. I think the combination of taking Prednisolone and being a beagle mix has made him ravenous and insatiable. He’s eager for his meals, and he’s eager to help us eat our meals. Although it’s obvious to us that he’s feeling a lot better than he was a month ago, I wonder if it’s a special kind of torture for him to always want to eat. But then he jumps up on the bed and snuggles with us, begs for a walk, and kisses me. Of course, I came to the rather sick realization yesterday, that one of the reasons he was licking me was because it happens to be my special time of the month. To a beagle mix, I probably smell like a rare steak right now. Sorry… I know that’s gross, but it’s probably the truth.
This theme of excess and never being satisfied with what one has is on my mind again today. Last year, I reposted an article I wrote about the Duggar family back in 2012. At the time, they were still talking about having more babies, and I wondered why they couldn’t just enjoy what they had. I mean, 19 children is quite a quiver full, right? They’ve done their part to repopulate the world with Republicans. Why not just enjoy the children and grandchildren, instead of trying to have more? In that post, I remembered how, when I was a small child, I would ask my mom for more food when I hadn’t finished what was on my plate. My mom, being ever the grouch, would say “Why don’t you eat what you’ve got?” Then I would try to enjoy what I had, and that would frequently be enough for me.
As I listened to Mrs. Duggar talk about “gifts from God” coming in the form of more children, I began to think she was sounding very unsatisfied. If I were to follow her reasoning about wanting more children, I would think she was pretty ungrateful to God, who had already “blessed” her with 19 precious “gifts”. Why not enjoy those children, most of whom were still under 18 at the time, instead of begging for more? More gifts that, by the way, she wouldn’t be taking care of… because we all know the daughters raise the Duggar children. But, thankfully, Mrs. Duggar’s womb finally cried “uncle”, and she’s now done birthing babies. Hopefully, she’s enjoying being a grandmother, because it appears that the “gifts from God” are no long forthcoming from her womb.
According to Twitter, Ex, like Mrs. Duggar, is unsatisfied with what she has. There she is, a woman who supposedly has so much, if you go by her tweets on Twitter. She still seems to think she is entitled to more than what she has. This is how she describes herself on Twitter.
But then she has this very idealized view of what love should be. And even though she is a mother of five and a grandmother, she feels the need to promote an image on social media, interacting with strangers instead of tending to her own family. They apparently aren’t enough for her, if I’m to assess her latest comments. Lately, she’s been going off about student loans. I saw that she recently commented that she no longer owes them. But I also know that she made her daughters take out loans and used the extra money on herself. Then she posts this:
Ex dropped out of high school and got a GED, then took about twenty years to finish a bachelor’s degree, which she finally did seemingly because, years ago, I wrote an email to her. I pointed out that she lacked the education and experience to diagnose my husband with mental health issues, which she had been doing for too long. Next thing we knew, she was back in college, then supposedly getting a master’s degree, which we’ve been told she doesn’t use professionally. Even back then, she was talking about going for a doctorate someday, but if you know the truth about her, it doesn’t seem feasible. Now… she DID work for a university, but not in any high level capacity. We were told she was released from that position for doing something “inappropriate” with funds. So, I think the above statement is a liberal stretch of the truth. Yes, she has worked in “higher education”, but it was as a glorified clerk. And yes, she has experience with special ed, but it’s only because she has a son with autism and has done some volunteer work with local organizations.
It’s not that I think Ex is dumb. She isn’t. There’s nothing wrong with her intellect, and if she put her mind to it, maybe she could earn a doctorate, although it probably wouldn’t come from a top school. However, doing that would mean several years of sacrifice, paying lots of money, and submitting to peer review, which I know would be very difficult for her. Then, what would she do with that degree? Does she want to teach or do research? Or is she just after a few initials after her name that she can flaunt on Twitter, or whatever follows it when it inevitably collapses? Isn’t there a smarter way to get that regard she’s obviously seeking? One that doesn’t involve years of study, high tuition bills, and more debt?
One thing I learned when I was in my graduate program– which was full time and took three solid years– is that I am capable of getting a doctorate if I want one. I took many classes with people who were either doctoral candidates or already had terminal degrees. They were my peers. For me, the knowledge that I’m smart enough, and capable of higher education, is sufficient. I’m satisfied. Graduate school, in my case, was in some ways a waste of time and money, because I don’t use the degrees in the way I expected to. In other ways, the time and money were very well spent, if only because I proved to myself that I could do it, and I learned skills and knowledge that are applicable in everyday life.
But I know I don’t need to earn a Ph.D. I’m fifty fucking years old, and I have nothing to prove. I also realize that I don’t have talents for either science or business (public health), nor do I particularly want to work with people (social work), nor do I want to analyze literature (English). So pursuing a Ph.D. would be a true waste of time for me. It would simply be for vanity’s sake, and people in the military community already dislike me enough for being an “uppity liberal woman.” (I’m sort of kidding… because at this point, I don’t care what people in the military think of me.)
Ex seems to think that having a doctorate will make her a more lovable, interesting, important person. I think that if she did get a Ph.D., she would become more insufferable, obnoxious, and arrogant. See this related tweet:
You cannot degrade the value of higher education, that implies exactly what I referred to… privilege, value, social standing! Every human being has their own capacity for learning; education should be based on ability to succeed rather than one’s ability to pay for it. 1/2
This woman denied her three eldest children the typical high school experience. All three of them dropped out and got GEDs, like her. Her eldest got a degree from the university where she was working before she was fired. Older daughter got a degree from a very expensive private art college, which she no doubt had to get huge loans to fund. Younger daughter didn’t finish college, but had to pay back loans she got at her mother’s behest. I don’t know about #3’s kids. I think their daughter is in college. Ex has made many comments about her desire for her daughter with #3 to study acting… as she apparently also hoped for former stepson and younger daughter. I think she has a dream that one of them will be rich and famous, so she can ride their coattails. She doesn’t seem to realize that a career as an actor, particularly a famous one, is fraught with pitfalls. One only has to read Jennette McCurdy’s recent book to understand that reality. But, on the other hand, her kids are at least used to being around narcissists, because they have apparently been raised by one.
Even though she seems to hope her children will someday be rich and famous, Ex is presuming to be an expert on education, a field where making a lot of money isn’t really a thing for most. And Ex is not a teacher. Younger daughter has told us that she was frequently told to “figure it out”, when she needed to know something. Her mother, who is trying to make people believe that she’s this benevolent, open-minded, intelligent person, denied her and her siblings the right to normal childhoods.
This next bit is truly ridiculous, as my husband still has an aversion to any kind of boxed convenience foods, thanks to his years of living with Ex… I don’t see her growing her own food. She doesn’t cook or clean; those duties were fobbed off on Bill’s daughters, whom she never even bothered to teach any skills. They had to figure it all out for themselves.
Sad that our governments [she is referring to the UK’s government] have utterly lost their minds. I want to immigrate to Scotland, don’t mind being poor and having to grow the majority of my food! I’m poor here… everyone is poor here because of policy. Everyone except that damnable 1%… we all live in debt to survive.
I would like to tell Ex that when Bill and I met, we were both broke and heavily in debt. I had student loans, a car loan, and credit card debt. He had child support, credit card debt, a car loan, and recovery from a bankruptcy and foreclosure he went through with Ex. When we met, Bill’s credit rating was in the 400s. Now, it’s in the upper 700s. Today, I have no credit card debt, no student loan debt, and no car loan debt. Bill owes some on our Volvo, and his credit card. If he needed to, he could pay off his debts today. It took years for us to get to this point, but we’re now here. And we’re going to stay here for as long as we can, barring any catastrophes.
Yes, it IS possible to live with low debt loads, as long as you don’t have chronic medical problems. You simply have to make managing and controlling debt a priority, do some planning, make smart choices, and practice some discipline. We’re not in the “damnable 1 percent”. We aren’t rich, but we’re pretty comfortable. We work together as partners, and are committed to not be drowning in debt. Consequently, we have been able to enjoy a lot of the things Ex claims she covets. And no, we don’t live in debt to survive, although we used to do that. We made changes so we don’t have to do that anymore. We also don’t have kids, largely thanks to her. Kids are expensive. She has five of them, and one will probably never be able to live on his own. Imagine where she could be if she’d simply been satisfied with what she had twenty years ago and set a few goals, instead of wanting and trying to have it all. Maybe she could have even had it all at some point… just not all at one time.
I get the impression that Ex lives as if she will die tomorrow. So, instead of taking things as they come, she wants everything NOW. And she wants us to believe that she is worthy of having it all, when the truth is, none of us can have everything. Even super wealthy people typically lack other things in their lives, like stable relationships with mentally healthy people who aren’t trying to use them for their money or influence. Like, Donald Trump supposedly has a lot of money and power, but he still wants more, doesn’t he? He’s not satisfied with being married to an ex model, owning hotels and golf courses around the world, or even being a former US president. And yet, he continually wants more. Ex is not that unlike him, is she?
Anyway, I think we can add this Ph.D. ambition to Ex’s long list of desires for her life… like a fence for her house, a therapy dog, a trip to Scotland, unlimited wealth, unconditional love from her husband and kids (which really doesn’t exist, unless you’re a dog), and an idyllic house that looks like one she saw in a snow globe. 😉 Nothing to see here. It’s just another typical day in paradise for a garden variety narcissist.
Queen’s lyrics to “I Want it All”…
Adventure seeker on an empty street Just an alley creeper, light on his feet A young fighter screaming, with no time for doubt With the pain and anger can’t see a way out It ain’t much I’m asking, I heard him say Gotta find me a future move out of my way I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now
Listen all you people, come gather round I gotta get me a game plan, gotta shake you to the ground But just give me, huh, what I know is mine People do you hear me, just gimme the sign It ain’t much I’m asking, if you want the truth Here’s to the future for the dreams of youth
I want it all (give it all I want it all) I want it all (yeah) I want it all and I want it now
I want it all (yes I want it all) I want it all hey I want it all and I want it now
I’m a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime (people do you hear me) Not a man for compromise and where’s and why’s and living lies So I’m living it all, yes I’m living it all And I’m giving it all, and I’m giving it all Oh oh yeah yeah ha ha ha ha ha Yeah yeah yeah yeah I want it all
It ain’t much I’m asking, if you want the truth Here’s to the future Hear the cry of youth (hear the cry of youth) (hear the cry of youth) I want it all, I want it all, I want it all and I want it now
I want it all yeah yeah yeah I want it all, I want it all and I want it now Oh oh oh oh oh
And I want it (now) I want it, I want it Oh ha
Songwriters: Brian May / Freddie Mercury / John Deacon / Roger Taylor
Just a minute ago, I ran across the above tweet by Nick Adams, a man who claims to be Trump’s “favorite author”. I was delighted to see people offering witty, and often pithy, comments to Adams’ assertion that he’s an “alpha male”. My favorite response came from a guy named curt [sic], whose reply was, “If you have to say it, then it isn’t so.”
Another person wrote “Those are nouns, you fucking moron.” Normally I’m not big on name calling, but sometimes, people just call out for it. When someone– especially someone who claims to be an author– makes such an obviously ignorant and egotistical statement, it begs for a sharp and stinging rebuke. So bravo to Santiago Mayer on Twitter. He wins the Internet today.
I don’t know anything about Nick Adams. From what little I’ve seen on his Twitter page, he looks like someone who wouldn’t interest me. I almost wonder if he’s running a troll page. But then I look around Twitter, and I see plenty of folks who are still proudly flying their MAGA flags, completely ignoring Trump’s current legal morass. They don’t care that he stole classified documents and took them to his home in Florida. If my husband did what Trump did, he’d be in prison. But Trump does whatever he wants, and these red hat wearing folks don’t care. And try as I might, I just can’t understand it…
The only explanation I can come up with is that these people– most of whom are white guys from rural areas– see Trump as their last hope of staying on top of power in the United States. Joe Biden wants to give all people a chance to succeed. Trump just wants white guys to be in charge. Especially if they are wealthy people who can help him stay in power until he finally croaks.
I am astonished by how *dumb* a lot of American people are. But it only stands to reason, given how many Americans are functionally illiterate. While there are some folks on Twitter claiming to be “well-educated” MAGA supporters, it appears that people who support Donald Trump are, by and large, not people who like to read. They’d rather “hear”… and when I say hear, I don’t mean listen. They are responding to energy, much like a dog would. Energy… and a little extra money in their paychecks. Politicians, not unlike evangelists, use the power of speech to get responses. Those who aren’t wary may find themselves “pumped up”, not by what is actually said, but by how it is said.
I try to maintain hope. I read yesterday, that women are flocking in droves to register to vote, no doubt because Roe v. Wade was overturned. I guess a lot of them have realized what will happen to their ability to stay independent if they allow mostly white men to dictate whether or not they maintain pregnancies. Some of the others are realizing that it’s not right to bring babies into this world, where the climate is rapidly changing and becoming less hospitable, and certain groups of people are trying to force their extremist policies and views on everyone. There’s war that affects everyone, as inflation climbs, and fuel becomes scarcer. And while people like Joe Biden are trying to make better policies that help everyone, they face massive opposition from people who admire Trump, Putin, and their ilk.
I find it all very depressing. In fact, when Bill was talking to me about the group in Idaho, who feel entitled enough to demand that libraries remove books that they don’t like, and the library doesn’t even have, I started feeling like things are getting more and more hopeless. I read an article about how booze kills… and I felt quite apathetic about it. Like… why should I want to stick around what is becoming more and more a misogynistic hellhole? But then I hear a beautiful song, or read something brilliant, and I momentarily feel better. But, I’ll tell you what… I am now glad I don’t have any children to worry about, even though I used to want them. At the very least, they won’t run into someone like Nick Adams, who thinks his pronouns are Alpha Male.
DISCLAIMER:Today’s post is going to be kind of snarky and personal, and it may cause some readers to think I’m a terrible person. I don’t really care, because I know I’m not a terrible person. I also don’t care if people think I need to “move on”. I write about this shit because I find it entertaining, and it helps me keep a lot of bizarre things in perspective. I also write about this for those who are in similar circumstances and need hope or insight, and those who just find this tale funny or interesting. This is not a post about all ex wives– it’s just about my situation. So please, if you find yourself judging me for writing this, keep in mind that this post isn’t about you, unless you are Ex. And if that’s the case, you deserve to be upset for your years of abusing my husband and not respecting my privacy. If you are not Ex, but are still upset about this post, you can simply move on, too. I’m not crazy, obsessed, or unstable. I’m just completely flabbergasted by her gall.
We had a really lovely afternoon yesterday. I wrote about it on my travel blog. That post could use some hits, so if you’re at all interested, I’d appreciate a click or two. Now that COVID restrictions are less annoying and onerous, I’m hoping Bill and I can squeeze in some more fun before the cold weather hits us. That usually happens sometime in September in Germany, but given our global warming situation, it may happen later than that.
You may be wondering about today’s post title. I wasn’t actually planning to write about Twitter today, but I saw something and just couldn’t help myself. Twitter is very toxic, but it is fertile ground for blog topics. There are also a lot of posters there, wittier, funnier, and hungrier for attention than I am, who post things that make me think. And then there are those who make me laugh uproariously.
I’ve not made it a secret that I enjoy stalking Ex’s public tweets. I do this now, after years of doing all I could to avoid looking her up. In the past, I wanted to ignore her, because I didn’t want to disrupt my peace with anger toward her antics. So why do I read her posts now? Well, it’s mostly because she’s no longer a threat to me, and I find some of her posts interesting, particularly as I study narcissism. I despise my husband’s ex wife for MANY valid reasons. A lot of them are detailed in this blog, although I don’t think I’m quite as venomous in this blog as I was in my original one on Blogspot. In any case, aside from today’s post title that includes the word “twatbag”, I don’t think I will be overly nasty in this post, as it’s about something relatively trivial. It’s about obvious brown nosing and sycophantism.
I have mentioned before that my husband’s ex wife dropped out of high school when she was a teenager. She got a GED (general equivalency diploma), and then made a few half-assed stabs at higher education, which she never managed to finish while she was still a young woman. I think it was mainly because she had her first child when she was 20 years old, and was married to her first husband when she was still technically a teenager. There was no money or time for higher education, although she did apparently tell everyone that she had won scholarships to prestigious schools. She even told Bill she had been accepted at West Point. Somehow, I find that very hard to believe.
Ex’s first marriage didn’t last very long. She and #1 were posted in Germany at the same time Bill was, back in the late 80s. They all knew each other, as they had gone to the same high school. Bill was three years ahead of Ex. One day, #1 ran into Bill on a flight back to the States. He told Ex that he’d seen Bill, and she decided to look him up. Sadly, she was successful in tracking him down, even though the Internet wasn’t a thing back then. I guess she figured Bill, as an officer, would offer her a nicer lifestyle and more prestige. She certainly doesn’t marry for love.
At some point, Ex showed up at Bill’s apartment in Bavaria, her toddler son in tow. Bill lacked experience with women and self confidence back then, so she easily put the moves on him. They hooked up, and she hastily ditched #1. Then she came back to Germany, and she and Bill later got married in Denmark. Over the next ten years, she was a typical Army wife, having kids, working at dead end jobs, getting involved in MLMs and culty religions, and eventually running up huge debts. Not that running up debts is necessarily something an Army spouse automatically does. For instance, I made a point of getting RID of debt when Bill was still on active duty. I was mostly successful.
Ex did not have a college degree when she and Bill were married. She reportedly used to complain about that a lot. She supposedly told Bill that she was the smarter one of the two of them, and she should be the one with a fancy college degree. You can imagine what I think about that self-evaluation on Ex’s part… (eyeroll)
From late 1999 until mid 2000, Ex was deep in the process of discarding Bill. She didn’t know that Bill and I were online friends. She had moved #3 into the house Bill was still paying mortgage on, and was trying to get Bill’s daughters to forget about their real dad and attach to her latest husband. Around that time, Ex was working at an institution of higher learning, where one of the benefits was free or reduced tuition. She worked there for several years, but it wasn’t until 2006 or so that she finally decided it was time to get EDUCATED. Why? Well, it was probably because of me.
I could be wrong, of course. She might have decided entirely on her own that 2006 was going to be her year to finally get cracking on that college degree. But that decision coincided with an angry email I sent to her in the spring of that year, after then 18 year old former stepson called Bill to tell him he was moving out of his mother’s house and wanted to make sure he would be getting his child support directly. Ex, by contrast, wanted Bill to STOP paying former stepson, because she didn’t want him moving out of her control. Ex was the one who had set up the support agreement in the first fucking place. She literally wrote up their divorce decree, and quite handily screwed herself in the process. 😉
During that exchange, things got heated, and Ex sent Bill an email that was full of angry vitriol. In that email, she blamed ME for the fact that things were so terrible between them, and she had felt compelled to alienate the children. A few years earlier, circa 2003 or so, she trashed me to Bill, even though I had then only been married to him for a few months, and she had not then, nor has she ever since, so much as met me in person. I had told Bill a few years prior that if she ever did that again, I would be responding to her. In the 2006 email, she told Bill not to share with me her comments about me, because she hoped to “spare my feelings”. Indeed, I’m sure that was first and foremost in her mind. She also accused Bill of being a sexual deviant, which I can assure you he is not. I decided that she deserved a less measured response than the one Bill would send.
When I wrote to Ex, I pointed out that she had no expertise in diagnosing mental health issues and was not educated in those matters. I, on the other hand, finished my education. Pointing that out to her obviously caused a huge narcissistic wound, as her lack of a college degree had clearly been a thorn in her side for years at that point. I’m sure it bugged the shit out of her that Bill’s #2 wife has THREE degrees, is five years younger than she is… and also has no crotch trophies by other men for Bill to support.
Next thing we knew, she was back in college, and talking about eventually earning a PhD. It was even written about in a local newspaper where she was living at the time. Much to my chagrin, I stumbled across that article by accident. I had been looking for information about traffic stops in their town, because former stepson was arrested for possession of drug paraphernalia (this was public record). I happened to be looking at the time Ex was featured for going back to college. The story, which is included in the previous link, included a lot of bullshit about how she had arrived in that state with nothing but a dream and a few thousand bucks. There was no mention of the huge amount of child support she was faithfully getting from Bill every month for three kids, only two of whom were actually his legal responsibility. Meanwhile, she was telling everyone what an abusive bastard Bill supposedly was, and how he had abandoned her with three kids… even though she was the one who had demanded a divorce!
Ex did earn her degree, and evidently, she supposedly also earned a master’s degree. She went into more debt to achieve this, although she is not using her degree(s) for earning money. Neither am I, of course, but at least we’ve paid off my debts. According to her latest crowdfunding scam, Ex is in a single paycheck household, earned by #3. Apparently, she also still thinks she’s better than she probably is. Because today, I spotted this tweet from Ex to some CEO guy who looks like he’s on a mission to change the world, and the workplace. That has always been a very appealing goal for Ex. Have a look.
I also had a titter at Ex’s next tweet… Her comment is above SiggyRose’s post.
I know there are people who would say I shouldn’t care about what Ex tweets. If things had continued the way they were, before Bill got back in touch with his younger daughter, I probably would be trying much harder to ignore her. But, as we found out over the spring, Ex never really lets anyone go. She is not above trying to horn her way back into my husband’s family and trying to take advantage of Bill’s older relatives. It’s worth keeping an eye on her for that reason alone. And again, if you know anything at all about her, watching her antics is quite interesting– both in a funny and horrifying way. She is delusional, manipulative, and completely lacking in any shame whatsoever. I’d probably find her fascinating, even if she wasn’t my husband’s first wife.
But at least today’s topic is more amusing than horrifying. She’s always looking for inroads, trying to claw her way into a sweet situation that might offer fame and fortune, without actually doing the work to achieve it. She wants to win the lottery, but if she ever did, she would squander her winnings in a matter of months. She talks a good game, but the reality is, she’s brimming with shit. And I just feel like I have to keep it all straight before I get completely overcome by the stench of it.
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