Meet Gracie. 78-year old Great Grandmother. Sweetheart. Accused Felon. Innocent.

Posted: July 25, 2012 in jail

I did not want to go in for class that night. I did not feel like teaching anymore that day. Anymore that week. Actually, I was feeling done with it. I was tired. No, I was fatigued because it was in my bones and I didn’t feel that I had the mental or emotional capacity to get up off the couch, let alone get dressed and drive for 1/2 hour to the facility. I didn’t even have the energy to eat, but I knew I would go.

I had received some very bad news a few days before and hadn’t slept much since then. Work had been grinding the entire week and the idea of teaching another class that night was just too much.

But I got up, changed my clothes and grabbed an apple for dinner. So much for nutrition. I didn’t care. I ate it as I drove and sipped a Diet Coke, hoping it would wake me up a bit.

It was a quiet night when I got there. I checked in with the front desk and was told by the Program Manager who would be attending class that night. Working with convicted women felons was always a surprise. You never knew who was going to be in class, who was new and who had been released.

He told me about a new student. “She’s in there now with the others. Her name is Gracie and I think you’ll like her.”

“No problem. What is she here for?”

He sighed and rubbed his eye. “Welfare fraud. She just got here and is settling in. She heard about your class and requested it, which is the first time in all these years I’ve ever had an inmate want to go to a class.”

I sighed. That meant I had more than I could handle that night. All the way over here, I talked myself into being in a good mood. I may be tired, but I am a professional. I leave all my troubles at the front door.

I walked in and saw who Gracie was. She was much older than most of the inmates. She was sitting quietly and smiling at the women, who were chattering and laughing. I stood at the head of the room and everyone took their seats and looked up. I said hello to Gracie and welcomed her to the class. She stood up, walked over to me. She took my hand in hers and gave me a very firm handshake. “Thank you so much for letting me attend. I am looking forward to learning.” She turned around and sat back down.

A stillness had come over the room. Usually my ladies are loud, rambunctious  and take a few minutes to quiet down. Not tonight. They all watched Gracie sit down and not one of them said a word. The entire evening was like that and I was beginning to think that they had all taken sedatives before class.

They had not. I eventually came to learn that Gracie had this effect on people. You just naturally treated her with respect.

She wasn’t very tall and was quite thin. She was black and her short hair was pure white. She didn’t have one wrinkle or line on her face and she carried herself upright and proud. She was 78 years old, a great-grandmother and had recently been arrested for welfare fraud.

And she was innocent.

There was no doubt about her innocence from anyone at the facility. I eventually talked to them at length about it and could not understand how this could happen. It started with her raising her great-grandchildren when both parents had been sent to jail on drug charges. Gracie had applied to welfare and was eventually given it. The daughter-in-law, out of spite and a long-held grudge against losing her children, had reported Gracie for a crime she did not commit.

Due to an error, Gracie was arrested and incarcerated. I met her while she was waiting trial. She had been in the facility for 3 months and could not afford an attorney. She had an overworked and unpaid Public Defender who was doing what he could, but she could not afford bail.

Her crime was being poor and raising her family the best way she knew how. It was a very long and involved story. But the bottom line was, she was innocent and stuck in jail.

Someone had goofed and no one would fix it.

This scares the shit out of me.

After class that night, I was putting my materials away when Gracie came up and thanked me for the class.

“Oh, you’re more than welcomed. I’m glad you liked it,” I said and smiled.

She tilted her head as she looked at me. She took her hand and grabbed both of mine and asked me to sit down for a moment. I did.

“What is troubling you, child?” she asked.

I started to tell her I was fine, but something stopped me. There was something about the way she held my hands and the way she asked. I looked at her and it was as if she was looking into my soul and could see me, warts and all.

I felt my eyes tear up and I worried that I was being unprofessional. She leaned over and rubbed my shoulder. “We all have our burdens, don’t we? Now tell me what is bothering you.”

I did. Suddenly all of it came pouring out of me and I couldn’t stop it. She sat and listened and never said a word.

When I was done, she looked at me. I felt foolish and relieved. I apologized to her for saying so much and she told me to be quiet.

“Who listens to you Susan?”

“I guess you do now,” I said and smiled. I had not realized until that moment how much I had been carrying around on my shoulders and how much I had needed to talk to someone.

She stood up, leaned over and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “Even angels need to cry once in a while” and walked back to her cell.

Gracie was eventually released – after 3 months of incarceration – and her named cleared. She was at every one of my classes and always stayed behind to talk with me. I didn’t have another outburst again. I would look forward to our talks every week and was happy when she was gone and also sad.

Last I heard, she had gotten her great-grandchildren out of foster care and back with her.

Even angels cry? Even angels end up in jail.

Today her name is Chanteel. Tomorrow? Who knows what it will be.

Posted: July 20, 2012 in jail, Self-esteem, self-respect
Tags: ,

“Hi, I’m Chanteel. It’s nice to meet you Susan,” she said as she shook my hand and sat down.

Immediately a few of the other women chuckled and shook their heads. One of them took a piece of paper, rolled it up into a ball and threw it at her. “Oh, really now? Now your name is Chanteel? Where the hell do you get these names? You got a book or something?”

More of the women started laughing. Chanteel just smiled, took the ball of paper and smoothed it out.

I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I ignored the interruption of the class. “It’s nice to meet you too, Chanteel.” I handed her some materials. “We are just getting started, so you haven’t missed anything. We are on page three, so just open up your book there and jump in.”

She smiled and nodded. She was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful women I had seen. She was blonde with deep blue eyes and cheek bones that went on forever. Her hair was pulled back, but it was thick. She wasn’t wearing make-up because when you are in jail, it’s not something you are very concerned with. Your basic concern was surviving each hour, each day and each week until you got out. Some never knew when that would be as all of the women I was working with were in custody waiting for trial.

Some had been waiting for two years. All of them were overweight and lethargic from the food and being in their cells 23 hours out of 24. None of them slept because of the constant noise and stress and many spent most of their time lying in bed and crying. If they weren’t crying, they just laid there, staring up at the ceiling or the bunk above them.

This was a new group of incarcerated and battered women I had been given to help. I was there to teach them about self-respect and learning how to get along better with people. Yes, it was a lot to do, but I found most of them receptive, needy and quite pleasant to work with.

Let’s face it. Life doesn’t get much worse when you are in jail and have lost your children to foster care. Any and all help is appreciated and it was a very rare occasion when anyone of them gave me any trouble. Those that did were usually just too stressed to do anything else but sit and cry.

Chanteel looked to be in her mid-30’s but I found out later she was only 23. This was her third time in jail and her probation officer had pushed hard for her to get into my program. There was just something about her that made you want to help her even though you knew when she got out, she would most likely revert. He wanted her in the program so it would look good for the judge when she went before him. I don’t even remember the charges that were pending against her but she was not violent. Just stupid.

She was as pleasant as could be until I started talking to her after class. She hung around to talk with me. I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down to listen.

Within three minutes I could see she was way out of touch with reality. Her conversation with me jumped from one topic to another with no rhyme or reason. She would be mid-sentence and then start another conversation about something completely different.

But I sat and listened and became quite fascinated by her. She was a dichotomy of complete brilliance in her thoughts and observations and insane from the life she had led.

She was only 23, but she had been through more tragedy and heartbreak in those few years than anyone else I had known.

I worked with her as best as I could during the next few weeks. She was always pleasant and kind. Each week, she would tell me she had changed her name. I always made sure to call her by her new name. The other women would just snicker. This never seemed to bother her.

I asked her one day why she changed her name so often. She bit her lip, looked down and gave my question quite a bit of thought before answering.

“No one has ever asked me that question before. They usually just laugh at me.”

“Well, I’m curious, so tell me why.”

She smiled. It was a beautiful smile. “Because I am trying to figure out who I want to be. I hate who I am and what I’ve done, so I want to be someone else. I try on different names to see if I like them. So far, I haven’t liked any of them.”

This made sense to me. “Yes, I wish I could do that sometimes myself.”

I eventually got in contact with her Probation Officer because, quite frankly, she fascinated me. I never ask about a persons past when they start my program. It is not relevant. What is relevant is today and maybe tomorrow.

There wasn’t much he could tell me but I was able to gather from him and my contact at the facility that this young woman entered the foster care program at the age of 6 months and it has been all she has ever known.

She tested highly on her IQ and she was literate and able to read and understood what she read.

That is all I will say about her, but trust me – you don’t want to know. It broke my heart.

After one particular night with her, I left the facility sad. When I got home, I called my Mom, hoping she was still up.

As soon as she answered the phone, she asked if I was OK.

“I’m fine. Just wanted to say hello.”

‘You’ve been in jail again, haven’t you?” she asked.

Ah, my Mom knows me so well. “Yes, I was there tonight.”

“Yes, I love you. Yes, you’re welcome for having a wonderful childhood. No, you aren’t my favorite child. You all are.”

This made me laugh. “There was something else I wanted to say.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

“I’m proud of you. I’m proud of what you had to overcome and I’m proud of you for not raising us like you were raised.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some sleep and don’t start crying. I’m proud of you too.”

I never saw Chanteel after that. She had been released but had asked for my cell number. We don’t give these out but the Program Director told me about it. He had told her he couldn’t give that out and said she started to cry as she walked out the door with her suitcase and nowhere to go.

“If she calls again, give it to her,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “You sure Susan?”

“Absolutely.”

Every few months, I get a phone call from her. She told me the last time I talked to her that she settled on a name (which I am not going to say) and I liked it. It fit. She always lets me know how she is doing but never tells me where she is. That’s OK. I don’t want to know.

‘Do you know why I call you Susan?” she asked the last time we talked.

“I have no idea.”

“Because you helped me and I’ve stayed out of jail since then. You like me just the way I am.”

Yes I do.

“There but for the grace of God go I.”

You sent me a “Wink?” Are you kidding me?

Posted: June 9, 2012 in Dating, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

You know what a wink is? No? Well I’m going to tell you about one of the stupidest things ever invented for a dating website.

What it is, is you send it to someone who I think indicates you are interested BUT ARE TOO FRICKIN SCARED TO TALK TO!

WTF? I’m sorry, but this just drives me nuts. I mean, let’s get real here, shall we? Glad you agreed because I’m going to do it anyway, so I was only asking to be polite.

The reality is, you sign up for this service to meet people, in the hopes of finding your true love or at least a shot at getting laid.

Let me remind you of this fact – THIS IS WELL KNOWN! This is NOT a secret.

Sorry about the caps, but I really am shouting over here as I type. I would say that I would try to tone it down, but you already know I won’t, so why lie?

I mean, it’s not like you are secretly trying to meet people and pretending that you are actually interested in their hobbies or really care much about them from the beginning. I don’t give a rats ass about what a guys hobbies are or what he does for a living. I am more interested in weeding out the freaks in the hopes of finding maybe, just maybe, some intelligent life on the internet.

I know, I dream, but you can’t stop me from dreaming. Don’t judge me.

So how did this all come about? It’s simple. It’s because I am an amazing friend, trustworthy, loyal to the core and I can’t watch my friends walk into a slaughter-house.

It’s really all Dee Dee’s fault. Really it is.

Dee Dee and I have known each other for 40 years. We worked together for a long time and she is going through a divorce at the age of 60. I, and others, have been by her side the whole time and Dee Dee actually stopped me from “friending” her soon-to-be-ex-douche-bag-cheating-dickwad-of-a-husband on Facebook because I wanted to post on his wall what I thought of him and also “friend” his whore and do the same thing.

I am NOT lying. She stopped me from doing it by physically removing my fingers from the keyboard of MY laptop as I was sending the friend requests.

“Lewis, you can’t do that. Stop it.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Sigh. “This time I am, so let it go.”

Snap. Snarl. “Fine!” I say as I snapped my laptop closed, glared at her and promised I would not do it.

Later on, she decides that she should get online and is ready to date again and asks me about it.

“NO! Don’t do it! Please Dee Dee, there’s got to be a better way! Tell you what; you and I can date each other.”

“Lewis, you are such a freak. I don’t want to DATE you! Are you out of your mind? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t mean date, like a gay thing..”

“Get away from me. Now.”

“No, hear me out. What I am saying is this – I’ll invite you to wherever I am going. Include you in on the things I do. You haven’t been single for a very long time and it’s not nice out there. It’s a cruel world and if you try to go it alone, you will be butchered. Things have change a lot and…”

“OK, OK. Stop talking. That sounds like fun, but I want to sign-up for the dating websites and I really need you to help me because….”

“Yeah, don’t finish that sentence, please. I get it. What do you want me to do?”

And so the journey began, once again. I helped her put together a profile, got a really great picture of her and told her a bit of how to maneuver around it because she barely knows how to check email.

“Now Susan, I need you to put up your profile so you can see mine and see how it looks and help me. I’ll give you my password and you can see what’s going on and what I need to do.”

Head slamming  on her desk.

“Lewis, stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself and I’ve always been worried about you being brain-damaged as it is.”

I rub my forehead and sit back, stretch against the chair and look up at her.

“Say what? You want me to….go back….there?” I stifle a scream that is about to erupt from my throat.

“Yes. I need your help because I don’t know anything about this.”

I know I will do it. She has these puppy dog eyes, is a babe in the woods and needs my protection. I know she does because Dee Dee is one of the most amazing women I know. I mean this. She is beautiful, smart, funny, scary intelligent, kind, giving, hard-working, etc. You name anything positive about a person and that would be Dee Dee.

She’s also been married for a gazillion years and thinks at the age of 60, she going to find someone right away.

Maybe she will and maybe she won’t, but she’s decided to go out on the internet and talk to people.

May God have mercy on her soul.

So, yes, I signed up because I love my friend and part of me hopes it all works out for her and the other part wants to drag her back to me and convince her that it’s much more fun to go out with me to the movies and eat popcorn and throw it at each other and laugh and to go to clubs and dance, with me always nearby and bitch slap the rude men. I want her close by because she really is just a sweet, little lamb that doesn’t want to live out the rest of her life alone, just like me.

She calls me one day. “Susan, what does it mean when you get this thing called a wink from someone?”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Dee Dee, when someone winks at you, it means….shit, I don’t know what it means. I could mean they are flirting with you or it could mean they have something in their eye.”

“No! I’m talking about getting a wink from someone on this website. Will you take a look at it for me and tell me what to do?”

“Yes. Hold on while I log in…”

And there they are. Winks. From men. She has some and I check my account and I have some.

What does it mean? Why are they doing this? Am I suppose to wink back or do I ignore it? I don’t know but I don’t like it.

I call her back. “OK, as near as I can tell, it means they are letting you know they are interested in you.”

“Well then, why don’t they just send me a message?”

“I don’t know Dee Dee.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I..well…the thing is..”

“Should I wink back? And if I do, what happens then? Or should I send them a message and say hello? What happens if I don’t? Is that rude? How does this work?”

I tell her to send a wink back. I do the same. I send one back to everyone who sent me one. Why? Because I don’t frickin CARE anymore because I already know one thing and one thing for sure – if I man can’t just talk to me, I’m not the woman for him.

I had about 10 winks going back and forth before I stopped. I get a wink. I send one back. He sends another one and soon I am involved in what feels like the Wimbledon game of winks.

I hate these men and that’s not a good attitude to start out a possible relationship. Not good at all, so I stopped. They went away and soon my life was peaceful and calm again and the urge to slap them was gone.

I try to be a nice person, but even I have my limits.

Either talk to us or don’t. If you can’t, it’s OK. We understand and aren’t interested. But most of us have been there and done that. Some of us have children and grandchildren. We’ve been through enough wars and are old enough to be quite mellow, laid back and never got the memo of our sex drive diminishing as we get older. TRUST ME ON THIS ONE! We run businesses, care for our family and friends, have dealt with more crap than we care to think about, suffered through unbearable losses and betrayals and we are still here.

Older women are the worlds best kept secret and we don’t suffer fools gladly. But we will talk to you and smile.

But don’t ever send me a wink again. I will hurt you.

My dinner with Mike

Posted: May 26, 2012 in Dating
Tags: , ,

I had a wonderful evening and am so glad my friend Laura gave me the push I needed. I have not dated for over a year since breaking up with my last boyfriend and would not admit the degree of the hurt, disappointment and failure that I have felt for the last year. I had hit my limit, and then some, on rejection and had decided it wasn’t worth it to risk going through it again, so I parked myself on the sidelines and watched.

I knew the evening would be fine, no matter what happened because I would be surrounded by my friends that love and care for me. I ended up wearing my size 6 Harley jeans, which are cut low with a large belt, tight tank top and 4′ heels. This is how I prefer to dress, so might as well just be myself and let the chips fall where they may. I topped it off with red lipstick and my trusty black leather jacket.

I arrived a bit late. Everyone was there, which was 6 of us. I was greeted warmly by Laura when I walked it and my friends came over to say hello and hug me. Sitting on the couch was Mike. As soon as I walked in, he stood up. Score one for him! We shook hands and the evening began.

Dinner was great and the conversation ebbed and flowed. Mike looked to be in his 50’s, trim with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He is very good looking and has an air of confidence and sincerity about him. He sat across from me and spent most of the evening talking to me. I found his manners impeccable from holding my chair out for me to asking me questions and actually listening to what I had to say.

Side note to men: All foreplay includes good manners, which includes LISTENING to what she has to say. Just thought I would throw that in there for you. It works.

I knew what was going to happen during dinner and my sisters did not disappoint me. There would be no need for me to ask him anything that would come across as if I was interviewing him or prying. My sisters would do that and it would appear perfectly innocent to him. One would ask a question about his family. Another would ask him if he had any children. The next one would ask him about his work. All I would have to do is sit back, smile and listen. They would let me know later if they approved or not and I learned a long time ago, listen to my sisters!

Mike works with Laura’s husband, Bob so Laura did not know much about him. At one point, Laura asked him how long he had been single.

“Well, I’ve been separated for about 3 months now, so…..”

You could cut the silence with a knife. Mike didn’t notice and kept talking. I felt a slight smile cross my face and said nothing, but I could see the women shooting looks at each other and then at me. I gave them a slight shrug and chuckled. I could hear Mike talking to Bob about something about where he had moved to and I looked over at Laura. She looked like a dear in the headlights and mouthed the words “I swear I didn’t know.” I smiled back and said “It’s OK. Don’t worry about it. Really, don’t” and then I pretended to understand what the men were talking about.

After dinner, I knew I had to get into the kitchen because the women had jumped up, cleared the table and then quietly motioned me to follow them. I marched in and the door was closed.

“Oh shit, I thought he was single….” said Laura.

“Yeah, but he’s separated so…” said Barbara.

“But only 3 months! I mean, come on…” said Karen.

I leaned back against the counter, folded my arms across my chest and let them talk. “Ladies, it’s OK. It’s not a big deal.”

They all turned and looked at me. God love my married female friends. They don’t know what it’s like and they all have this look of disappointment, mixed with just a tinge of pity and sadness when they look at me. That makes me angry for a moment.

“You are all looking at me as if my life just ended out there at the dining room table. It didn’t and it won’t. I think it’s funny, actually, so lighten up and just enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“But we were all hoping…”

“I know what you were all hoping for and I love you all for it, but please get it out of your head that I am miserable and lonely, just because I don’t have someone in my life this exact moment. That’s not how it works. Besides, you are all acting like this is the ONLY man for me and if I don’t snatch him up right away, I will shrivel up and die. I’m not going back to who I used to be. Not for anyone.”

Lots of head nodding and smiles and thumbs-up. I know my words fell on deaf ears, but that’s fine. They are too cute to stay mad at.

“Now, someone help me find my cane and glasses and help this poor, old soul back into the living room. Where did I leave my teeth?” I ask.

Stunned silence until I started laughing so hard, I had to bend over to catch my breath and then walked out of the kitchen and left the door open. I could hear them laughing too, so all was good again.

I ended up talking with Mike outside on the patio after stealing some cigars from Bob. Nothing like a good cigar after a huge meal with wonderful and well intended friends.

“So, Susan, it’s really nice to get to know you. I love a woman that smokes a cigar.”

“You know this whole dinner party is a set-up, right?”

Based on the look on his face, he did not know. This made me get the giggles. I will always love the cluelessness of men. It is quite endearing.

He blushes and looks away. “Ummm, well, no I didn’t know but I’m glad it happened.”

“You’re not ready to date me.”

“I’m not? Why not?”

“It’s called rebound. You need a rebound girl. That’s not me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes it is, but only to me. Is this your first divorce?”

“Yep, 30 years and now I don’t know what.”

“Ah, you’re a rookie.”

“Oh, and you’re a pro?”

I laughed. “Yes, when it comes to divorce and break-ups, I am. Look, here’s the deal. When this happens to someone, your whole life falls apart. I don’t know what happened with you and I don’t want to know. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good and now you’re confused, alone, scared and you just want your life back but you know it will never happen. What you had before is gone, destroyed and it’s never coming back. You wrestle with it, day and night, and you blame yourself, you blame them but no matter who you blame, it won’t fix it.”

He sighed deeply, looked down at his feet and nodded.

“I’m sorry Mike if I am being too personal, but if anyone needed a friend to talk to, that would be you. You can tell me to shut-up and I will. I just want you to know that I have a good idea how you are feeling.”

“No, it’s OK. Please keep talking. Please.”

And so we talked. No one came out to the patio, which I thought was cute but I knew damn well we were being watched. I listened to him tell me how scared he was and how he can’t stand being in his apartment alone, every day and night. I sat and listened.

We wandered back into the house and had coffee and dessert. Everyone pretended like they didn’t realize Mike and I had disappeared for an hour. I was happy, full and getting sleepy. I knew I would have to debrief my sisters, so back into the kitchen we wandered and left the men alone to finally talk about what they wanted to talk about.

I told them all was good and that Mike was a great guy but not ready to date me. I then told them that if I saw one look of pity or disappointment on their faces, I would cut their tits off. That seemed to work.

As I was leaving, I said my good-byes and Mike insisted on walking me to my car. As we walked towards my car, he put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me but didn’t say a word.

“Thanks Susan for listening to me. I can’t believe I told you so much.”

“It’s OK Mike. We all need someone to listen.”

With that, I got one of the most passionate kisses I have ever gotten. I actually stopped breathing for a moment.

He stepped back and smiled at me. “I’ll be calling you in a few months and hoping that the men around you continue to be stupid and no one scoops you up before I call. Good night Susan.” And with that, he opened my car door, made sure I fastened my seat belt and locked my door. He then squatted down so I rolled down my window.

“Yes?” I ask and grin at him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Just take it easy, don’t rush into anything and breath. It will all be OK.”

I drove home with a huge grin on my face and it stayed there all night while I slept.

I’m back! I did it and no one died. Life is good.

Yeah, I broke the bitches nose.

Posted: May 5, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

She had it coming for a very long time. And no, I feel no remorse about it. In fact, every time I think about it, I smile.

Her name was…Janet. Yeah, we’ll use that name. It’s a good name and nondescript.

I’ve learned that by the time something results in violence, there is a whole, long history there.  I mean, most things that turn out like this didn’t happen suddenly. It started long before the actual incident and there is all sides to the story. This is especially true for people like myself who are not violent and don’t deal with things in that nature.

That night had been the culmination of close to 10 years of her verbal and mental abuse. It’s interesting how people talk about abusive relationships between romantic couples, but not so much about the kind that can occur between friends. Women friends, to be specific. It happened to me and I didn’t even know it was going on.

I was in my mid-20’s when I first met Janet, via my good friend Pam. I remember when I first met Janet, I wasn’t sure at first that she was a woman until I heard her name. She was taller than me, older by about 10 years, and had this very direct manner about her. I liked her because she was a friend of a good friend.

We began hanging out together over the next few years and formed a close friendship. One of my first clues that something wasn’t right about her was my husband could not stand her and would have nothing to do with her. He was always cordial towards her, but always had to be some place else when she was around. He loved my friend Pam and they got along great, but when Janet was around, he would leave.

It was becoming obvious over time and I finally asked him about it. He had never said anything to me and just left us alone.

“I don’t trust her and she’s nothing more than a blow hard. I’m sorry, I know she’s your friend, but I just don’t want to be around her and I don’t want her coming over.”

I tried to convince him that she was fine and that was my second clue. Why was I trying to “sell” him on her? He was a likable person when he felt like it, but not everyone liked him. (That’s another clue – if you’re dating someone and your friends don’t like him, run away quickly. Remind me to blog about that sometime.)

My husband was the most amazing  judge of character of anyone I had ever seen. He was NEVER wrong. It was a gift and I should have paid attention to what he was saying, but I didn’t. I learned to never to do that again. It wasn’t they way she acted that he hated. It was HER. The person that he couldn’t stand.

Anyway, I made sure that the two of them didn’t interact and that seemed to keep everyone happy.

Over the years, Janet began to drink heavily. This was gradual and was unnoticed by me. I did not see her that often as she lived out-of-town with Pam. They were roommates since both were divorced and raising their children together. I would go up for a weekend every few months and spend time with them. That’s when I started to see how badly Janet had deteriorated.

I had some training to do one Saturday way up North, which was close to their house. The next day was Easter and the plan was for me to stay over Saturday night, spend Easter with them and the kids, and then drive back home Sunday night. It was a great plan.

I had not seen the two of them in over a year between work and family schedules and I only talked to Pam which was fine with me. Janet was someone I would never have been with friends with on my own. She was too abrupt, rude and crass for my taste. But because of my friendship with Pam and her friendship with Janet, I accepted her as a friend.

When I arrived at their house that night, I was shocked at what I saw. The house was a disaster, the 3 kids were running around and they had a look of scared animals about them. I didn’t know what I was seeing, but I didn’t like it. Pam looked horrible, as if she hadn’t slept in a week and sitting in her recliner (or throne, if you knew Janet) was the Queen Bee herself – Janet.

She glared at me when I came in and actually snarled. I nodded my head in her direction and she looked away. I didn’t know why she was being so rude, but I didn’t care. I was worried about Pam.

I said hello to the kids and hugged them. All three try to sit on my lap, so I opted for the floor and talked with each of them. They were happy to see me and I started to calm down when I saw their smiles.

Janet refused to talk to me, so I played with the kids for a bit while Pam was in the kitchen. She was fixing me a late dinner. I got away from the children and went into the kitchen. Pam was at the sink. I walked up behind her, placed my hands on her shoulder and turned her around to look at me.

“OK, you want to tell me what the hell is going on? In all the years I have known you, I’ve never seen your house look like this, I’ve never seen you this tired and I don’t even want to know what’s up with Janet. Talk to me, please.”

Pam’s eyes teared up and she looked down at the floor. “I don’t know what to do anymore. Janet is drunk all the time, I don’t have the money to move because she has refused to work and I’m worried about the kids. I can’t leave here without them and I can’t stay. I just don’t know what to do.”

Pam had one child and Janet had two. Pam had been raising them for years, so the idea of just walking away from the was not an option. This I understood because I would not have done that either.

I hugged her and told her it would be OK, that we would figure something out and she calmed down.

I grabbed some food from the frig and made her sit down and stop waiting on me. The kids came running into the kitchen and it became obvious everyone was avoiding Janet.

I walked back into the living room and she snarled at me again. I sat down and looked at her. She was drunk and she was not a nice drunk. She was one of the nastiest drunks I had ever seen and I now understood what a horrible position everyone in the household was in. I was angry but I stayed calm. I took the drink out of her hand and put it on the table. It was time to get her sober and try to give the kids a decent Easter.

She looked at me and said nothing. I was tired of her abuse of my friend and the children. It was one thing to put up with her barbs and snide remarks to me over the years but it was a whole other thing to pick on my friend and upset children.

She didn’t drink the rest of the night and was quiet. Anytime she would start to say something, I would look at her and she would shut-up. We spent the evening playing with the kids and when it was time to put them to bed, they were cheerful and excited about the Easter Bunny coming that night.

Once they were asleep, I began to help Pam with the Easter baskets and the hiding of the eggs. Janet remained on her throne and out of my way. There was an unspoken understanding between her and I that I would not tolerate any of her bad behavior or drinking.

It was late before I made it to bed in the guest room. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a large bang outside my bedroom door and I heard Pam scream. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was out of bed and flung open the door.

Janet had thrown Pam against the wall and was yelling at her to give her the keys to the car. I found out later that right after I had gone to bed, Janet started drinking heavily and wanted to go for a drive. Pam had grabbed the keys away from her and that’s when Janet went after her.

It didn’t take me even a second to yell at Janet and tell her to leave Pam alone. This really pissed her off and before I knew it, she turned around and came after me. She picked me up and slammed me against the wall. My head and back hit the wall hard and I slid down. She turned around and went after Pam again. I shook my head (you actually do that, just like in the movies) and I pulled myself up and yelled at her again.

I have never in my life been in a fight. Not even with my brothers. I have never been struck, hit or slapped and I have never hit another person. I have never had the desire to physically hurt someone. I have a peaceful nature, but that all left me when I saw my friend being hurt. All I knew was that it was not going to continue, no matter what I had to do. I would never stand by while a bully is at work.

She turned around again and lunged towards me. I reacted by putting my hands up and then suddenly all the boxing lessons my brother had given me came into play. I made a fist and extended my arm and made contact with her nose. I wasn’t aiming at all. I just happen to have the right angle with her height and she ran into my fist as much as I hit her with it.

It’s hard to describe the noise it made and even more difficult to explain the immense pain that was in my hand and shot up my arm to my neck. Janet screamed, put her hands up to her nose and I watched as the blood came pouring out.

It was surreal. Pam was standing in the background, stunned. Everything had happened so fast, within seconds and now time stood still.

I felt great. I felt wonderful and I didn’t care if I broke her nose or not. For one moment, it was quiet.

Janet screamed and ran out of the house. I grabbed Pam. She was fine but in shock.

All I could think about were the children. That was my only thought. I didn’t care about the stupid adults anymore. I wanted the kids to be OK and prayed they hadn’t heard anything.

I sat Pam down and ran upstairs to check on them. They were all sleeping. I felt such relief. I ran back down the stairs and told Pam we were all leaving.

She didn’t understand. I told her again we were all leaving and going to my house for the night. I told her to start packing a few things, grab the Easter baskets and when my car was packed, put the kids in my car.

Pam nodded. She was in shock, so I tried to be as patient at I could, but I knew more trouble was brewing. Janet had run outside, tripped on a garden gnome and was lying in the driveway. She was crying and threatening to call the cops on me. I wanted out of there as fast as I could but I couldn’t leave the children or my friend.

Janet got up and walked up towards the front door. It was partially glass and I saw her nose was still bleeding a little bit, but she wasn’t dead. She put her hand on the knob, looked up and saw me. I stared at her, shook my head and raised my fist to indicate I would hit her again. I wasn’t kidding.

She screamed and ran off into the garden, still threatening to call the cops. Well, she would have to get into the house to do that, and I figured we would be long gone before she was sober enough. Plus she didn’t know what kind of car I had and if she did call, it would be obvious she was drunk.

We finally got the car packed. We had three kids to squeeze into it. Somehow we were able to move them without waking them. I grabbed my things and put Pam in the passenger seat. Janet stayed away and I could hear her in the background, talking to herself, randomly screaming but too afraid to come near the house.

As we drove off, I told her we were leaving and she could go back into the house. I peeled out of there as fast as I could.

I drove for 3 hours and held Pam’s hand. I told her to sleep and not to worry. We got to my house at 3:00 in the morning. I went inside and fixed up my bed for the kids. Pam and I carried them in and tucked them into my bed. Pam slept in the spare room and I slept on the couch. My hand was killing me but it wasn’t swollen. I put ice on it, took some aspirin and dozed for a bit.

The next morning, I got up early and went to the store. I got toothpaste and toothbrushes and a bunch of food for everyone. I came back and hid Easter eggs and baskets and made a pot of coffee. I waited for everyone to wake-up.

We ended up having a great Easter. I unplugged the phone because I didn’t want Janet to call, even though I knew she wouldn’t. They stayed with me for a few days and soon everyone was looking like themselves again.

I spent a lot of time listening to Pam about what had been going on for so long that I didn’t know anything about. It was a bad situation that occurred over a long period of time. It was gradual and insidious and had come to a head that weekend.

Pam eventually moved out and cut Janet out of her life. She and I kept in contact with Janet’s two kids as much as we could. Their father was not around – don’t get me started on him – so we did what we could.

Everything turned out just fine. I saw the two kids last summer. They are grown with families of their own. That evening was never mentioned and as far as I knew, they knew nothing about it.

I was wrong.

When I saw them last July, I hugged them. Both of them said they would always love me for what I had done.

I actually didn’t know what they were talking about. It was long forgotten for me.

“We remember the night you took us out of there. We remember the Easter you gave us and we remember you always being there for us, even if it was in the background. We’ve always known you were there for us.”

To say I cried is an understatement. Those words have never left me and they never will

Never think that children don’t know or don’t understand. They do. They always do.

I fell in love with him the moment I saw him

Posted: April 24, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

I didn’t expect that to happen, but I’ve heard that it can. When it does, it’s like a lightning bolt that hits you from your head to your toes and you never want the sensation to stop.

I was minding my own business one Sunday afternoon. It was a very hot day. I had my hair pulled back, a summer dress on with sandals and no make-up. Yeah, it was that hot.

I had some errands to run and was feeling a bit cranky from the heat. I was tired, it had been another long week and I still had so much left to do that day.

I parked my car and jumped out to run into the store. As I was walking up, I saw someone standing there in the sun and I knew I wasn’t in the mood to give anyone money. I had my own problems and really didn’t want to deal with it, so I kept my head down as I walked past him, but that didn’t work. I heard his voice and turned around and looked at him.

He had said “I hope to see you smile someday.” That was all he said.

He was a black man, tall and thin with gray hair. He was holding something in his hand but he stood motionless. He just smiled at me and I smiled back. He didn’t say anything else so I turned around and went into the store.

As I walked away, I heard him say “That’s all I wanted to see.”

The sincerity and kindness in his voice resonated with me. I couldn’t shake it off. I tried to because, well, it was just a sudden act of kindness from a stranger.

When I came out of the store, he was still standing there but looking far away. He was in the hot sun and I stopped, turned around and went back into the store and bought a bottle of water. I could see other people ignoring him, just as I had, but he did not speak to them.

I walked up to him and handed him the water. He just looked at me, smiled and took the water from me and drank it. I watched him and then looked at what he was holding in his hand. It was a small flyer or newspaper. When he was done, he thanked me.

“What do you have in your hand?” I asked.

He told me what it was – I don’t remember – but he was selling them for $1.00.

“I would like to buy one,” I said.

I dug through my purse and only had $5.00, which I decided to give him. He would not accept that much. I insisted, but he was more stubborn than me.

“It’s only $1.00 and since I haven’t sold any yet, I’m afraid I can’t charge you more than that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“OK, then let me go get some change and I’ll be right back.”

“I have a better idea, ma’am.”

“Oh yeah? And what that might be?” I asked. I could not help but grin back at him because that was the effect he had on me. From the moment I saw him, I wanted to smile at him.

“I would like to sing you a song and if I can get you to smile just one more time, my life would be complete. You have the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.”

And that was the exact moment I fell in love with this man. He oozed sincerity and kindness and an abundance of goodness.

“Really?” was about the most intelligent response I could give because I was starting to blush. “Deal.”

He took my hand and stepped back and began to sing. He had the most beautiful voice. I don’t know the song he sang, but it was the first time in all my years that someone actually sang a song to me. To my heart.

Even though I had “seen” him when I first arrived, standing there and listening to him was really the first time I “saw” him, the beautiful spirit that he was. I fell in love, right then and there, hard.

When he was done, I gave him the $5.00 and hugged him. I couldn’t help it. He hugged me back and for a moment we stood in that parking lot, holding hands and smiling at each other.

I never saw him again after that and I would often look. I would go by on the weekends and see if he was there. He wasn’t and I was always sad.

I love that man and if the day ever comes that I no longer love people, that is the day I need to die.

My LAST trip to Walmart

Posted: April 23, 2012 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

It took quite a bit of bribing to make me go back there. I mean, a lot. I had only been to Wal-Mart a few times, years ago, and had freaked out so much that I vowed never to go back. Whatever few dollars I was going to save was not worth my sanity.

I don’t like crowds. In fact, I detest them. I am usually a fairly nice and pleasant person, but something happens to me when someone gets in my way. I don’t like having to walk around people or wait while they block aisles or generally just seem to wander around like a zombie, clueless and completely unaware of their surroundings. I will play bumper cars with my shopping cart if someone leaves theirs in the middle of the aisle and blocks it. I do consider it fair game. I also consider any act of stupidity to be fair game for me.

When I think of Wal-Mart or Costco or any gigantic store, I feel my heels dig in and my hackles go up. I know it’s going to be a battle field and that all I have to do is get in and get out and not hurt anyone.

So when my friend called me one day, I knew something was up right away. I could sense it in her voice, so me being me, just cut right to the chase. “What do you want? Go ahead, just blurt it out.”

She sighed. “I have a HUGE favor to ask of you and if there was anyone else I could ask, I would. But there isn’t anyone.”

I knew that whatever she asked, I would do.

“Sure. What is it?”

Long pause. “If you do this favor for me, I will take you to Chevy’s for as many margaritas and tacos that you want. I’ll drive, so you don’t have to worry.  We’ll go first. How does that sound?”

“It sounds great, except…where are we going exactly?” I did not like where this was going, but I kept my mouth shut.

“It won’t take long, I promise. We’ll be in and out of there in no time, especially since you’ll be there and can help me. I want to go this Saturday.”

“Oh no! No! Don’t say it, please…”

“Wal-Mart. Really, it won’t be bad….”

“Are you kidding me? What in God’s name do you need at Wal-Mart THREE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS?”

Yes, she was asking me to go with her to Wal-Mart three days before Christmas. I thought maybe I had suddenly died and taken the express route to hell or maybe this was some kind of joke.

I love Jennifer. She has been my best friend for almost 20 years. She has survived some of the most horrendous situations and now she had met the man of her dreams, they were getting married soon and she was the happiest person I knew. She was always happy and almost never asked me for anything, ever.

I knew I would go and I silently cursed the day I met her. “I hate you,” was all I could say.

She laughed. “I know, but I love you and you’ll do it because deep, down inside, you love me.”

She was right. Of course I would go but I was going to make her pay.

We set it up for that Saturday. She came by, picked me up and I snapped and snarled all the way to Chevy’s. No matter what I said, she would smile and agree. This made it very hard for me to maintain my hostility, but I tried.

We get to Chevy’s and I immediately order two margaritas, on the rocks with lots of salt. I started on the chips and kept going until the tacos arrived. I knew what was coming and I was dreading it. After the second margarita, I was feeling relaxed and a bit goofy (which is how I get when I drink) and was prepared to face the battle field.

She needed to get a couple of very specific things for her fiance and being a single Mom with two kids, money was always tight. I knew that and I silently smacked myself for not keeping that in mind when she called.

We drove over to Wal-Mart and the parking lot was packed. I took a deep breath and kept telling myself to relax and to have a positive attitude and since I had a few drinks under my belt, it seemed like it would be easy enough.

As soon as we walked in, I knew I was in trouble. The first thing I noticed was the smell of the popcorn which was being cooked in rancid fat. I felt the tacos in my stomach move around. I took a deep breath and followed her. She knew what she wanted and I trailed behind. The store was packed and we could barely move.

As I followed her, I was bumped by countless people who never once apologized or even acknowledge my existence. One woman stepped on my foot and when I cried out, she didn’t even turn around. She kept walking and I glared at her and started to follow her, but instead Jennifer grabbed me by the arm and turned me away. I tried to get out of her grasp on my arm, but she dug her hand deeper into my elbow and kept dragging me away from my intended target.

Somehow we made it to the electronics department and I froze. This is not my area of expertise. The entire subject of high-tech puts me to sleep and makes me grumpy. I’ve lived in Silicon Valley all my life and I still don’t know what anyone is talking about. I am constantly corrected at work when I say “the screen” and am told it’s called a monitor. I do not care. I just want someone to make it work. I do not know the difference between anything to do with software or hardware or anything in-between and I don’t want to know. But there I was, stuck in hell,  because I wanted to help my friend. She wanted to get a very particular game for him and Wal-Mart had the best prices, so there we were.

She dashed around and I followed her as best as I could, but I was constantly getting shoved, bumped into, stepped on and not once did anyone excuse themselves. I did the first fifteen times and then stopped. It didn’t seem to matter and I figured “When in Rome…”

After a half hour, Jennifer found what she was looking for, but it was behind a locked clear plastic screen, so now we had to get one of the blue people. The blue people who had suddenly disappeared, never to be seen again. By now the effects of the margaritas had worn off and a headache had started. I leaned against the sacred plastic door and closed my eyes. I decided I would stand guard, as this would give me something to do and perhaps add some small degree of value to my presence while Jennifer went looking for one of the elusive Blue person.

While I leaned against the plastic, I put my hands behind me and attempted to get as flat against it as I could, but I was still bumped into and shoved. It looked as if there were over a million people in this store and there was some target on me that only they could see that screamed for all of them to come into this isle at this exact time and shove me further into the plastic.

Finally Jennifer came around the corner with a blue person. I moved out of the way, the sacred door was opened and the item was gotten. I jumped up and down and raised my fist in the air and shouted “Yes!” as loud as I could. This gave Jennifer a fit of the giggles and startled the blue person, who already looked scared. “It’s OK, don’t mind her,” she said as we walked away. I actually started to skip down the aisle and Jennifer joined me. We tripped a few times over the discarded merchandise, but we didn’t care. Even tripping and falling (I fell once but caught myself before landing face first in a bag of popcorn someone had dropped) seemed like heaven.

We get in line to purchase the sacred item and there is only one person in front of us. I cheer again and start laughing. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and soon, we will be free. I start hugging Jennifer and she hugs me back. I can almost see the finish line and I have become giddy with the sheer joy that soon my life will return to normal and I will be set free from this dungeon.

But that was not going to be the case. Apparently the customer was questioning each and every item that the clerk was ringing up. She had an overflowing cart and every time an item was entered, she had to look at the screen and then look at the tag and then ask the clerk if he was sure and no matter what he said, she argued. Each item was discussed for at least one minute before it was established that it was being correctly wrung up and no one was ripping her off.

I quickly estimated that based on the items in her cart, multiplied by one minute each, we would be there for a month. Just as I was about to tell Jennifer this, someone came up and stood behind us.

I know this because I smelled him before his nasal grunting began. It was a putrid smell and when I turned around to see what had died,  I saw that the smell was coming from his constant burping. These were loud burps and once in a while, he would sound like he was about to spit what he had just violently snorted into his throat from his running nose.

I stifled a scream and turned and glared at Jennifer. She was holding her nose with her fingers and looking down at her shoes, avoiding my glare which I knew she felt.

Then the man behind me moved in closer and actually started to lean against me. I jumped forward and turned around and stared at him. “Hey! Do you mind?” I shouted. He didn’t flinch and slowly raised his sleeve to his nose and wiped it. He just stood there, staring off into space and completely unaware I had said anything to him.

Jennifer finally looked at me and mouthed the words “I’m sorry” and I smiled. It was OK, I told myself. We were almost done and all we needed was the rocket scientist ahead of us to finish. I raised my hand to my nose and covered it. Whatever was wrong with the man behind us was severe and gross and we just had to wait it out.

When he leaned against me the second time, I turned around and shoved him back as hard as I could. No way I was going to let some pervert get off on touching me, no matter where we were. He stumbled back and fell into the woman behind him and she shoved him. Soon he was coming back towards me, so I stepped aside and let him fall. He got up, looked around, wiped his nose again and just stood there, staring off into the distance.

Finally it was our turn. The clerk was as nice as could be and I thanked him for it. No one had said a word about me accosting a customer, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Jennifer grabbed the bag when we were done and we RAN out of the store, through the front door (we slowed down so the person waiving at us wouldn’t tackle us) and then skipped to her car.

We jumped in and drove out of the parking lot as fast as we could without killing anyone. Once we were a safe distance away, Jennifer pulled over and parked the car. She turned around, leaned over and hugged me as hard as she could. She was teary eyed and kept thanking me for going with her.

I realized that it had been an adventure and I had helped my friend. “Thanks Susie Q for behaving yourself for YOU and not getting us arrested for shoving that guy. You did good.”

Yeah, that’s what friends are for and I didn’t get us arrested. I did good.

The teacher who tried to kill me

Posted: March 19, 2012 in Self-esteem, self-respect, Uncategorized
Tags: ,

She spent two years trying to kill me emotionally and spiritually and to this day, I still don’t know why. But I know she tried and failed.

It was in the 5th and 6th grade when this happened. The school I was going to was right down the street from me and all of us students knew each other. We all lived within walking distance and were all friends for the most part.

There were always new students coming and going, but being female and of the age where what others thought of me defined who I was, I didn’t always get to know the “new kids” simply because I had so many friends that I had grown up with.

The school decided that since we were going to be attending Junior High soon, they would acclimate us to having to move from one class to another rather than having only one teacher for the entire day.

This bothered me because I loved my teacher, Mrs. Aronson. She was VERY old since she was probably in her 60’s and I was 10 but I loved her and she had been the only teacher I had known since first grade.

But the “Powers That Be” wanted us to learn how to go from classroom to classroom and have all of our materials with us, so the journey began and I was put in a Math class with a teacher called Mrs. McDougal.

The moment I saw her, I froze. She was much younger than Mrs. Aronson and very pretty. She dressed sharply and had the most beautiful hair I had ever seen. It was straight where mine was curly. She was thin and I was approaching puberty and starting to have very strange things happen with my body.

She stood at the front of the class and glared at us. She then did roll call and quickly rearranged where we were to sit. She didn’t know most of us and I had never seen her before, but she pointed her finger at me and said “Susan, come over and sit right here,” which was the first seat in the first row, closest to her desk. I got up, grabbed my books and sat down. She then pointed to another girl, whom I didn’t know, and had her sit next to me. Her name was Donna. Once Donna sat down, Mrs. McDougal sneered at us and then looked at the class.

“This is where the stupid people sit,” and then laughed.

I didn’t understand what she meant and Donna and I looked at each other. When it dawned on me that she was referring to both of us, I felt my face turn red and the tears sting my eyes. Donna had the same reaction and we said nothing and could hear the other kids laughing at us.

For the next 2 years, she picked on us. I never said a word to my parents because I thought she was right because she’s a teacher and teachers know everything, right?

Plus I then became convinced that I was stupid and I didn’t want anyone to know. My brothers had always called me that and I gave as good as I got, but that’s just sibling’s doing what we do – tease each other and then be friends again.

But now I had someone, an ADULT, telling me at least twice a week how stupid I was. Sometimes she would call Donna and I up to stand in front of the class and point to us and say “This is what a stupid person looks like” and then have us sit down again.

I can just hear you, the reader, shaking your head and wondering why I didn’t say anything. Well, if you don’t know why, then maybe you don’t understand what it’s like for girls at that age and how vulnerable we are. You might not understand or remember what an adult’s words can do to a child.

They are worse than bullets and do much more damage. This is the reason I will always believe what a child tells me. Always, no matter what.

I somehow made it through her class after 2 years, but to this day, I have never been good at math. My parents hired a tutor for me and for a while, it got better. I can figure other things out and my IQ is high enough, but I will always consider the day that calculators were developed to be a holy day for me.

Years later, when I was married, I said something about this to my husband. To say he went sideways is an understatement. Up until that point, “me being a stupid person” was something I felt shameful about and was always afraid someone would find out. It took a lot of talking with him to pull the whole story out of me.

When I told my Mom about it, she almost cried. She had no idea and if she had, she would have been down at that school, told them what was going on and had me pulled out of that class. She understood why I never said anything but I suspect that it has never set right with her. It wasn’t a matter of trust in talking about it. That was not why I hadn’t said anything.

It’s a matter of shame regardless if it’s misplaced or not. If you believe it, then it’s true for you. All other points of view are not valid. What you think and believe about yourself is what matters.

Ironically, what happened to me is something that I value because it has made me very good at my job. I teach and I know what it’s like to learn something new and be confused and yes, somewhat stupid until you master it. It takes the right materials and the right person to guide you through it.

It takes someone who knows what it’s like to feel stupid and to understand that you aren’t stupid – you just don’t know something.

As an aside, after I told my husband about it, he asked me if I knew where she had lived. I did as it was right down the street from my old childhood house. He got a wicked look in his eye and asked me if I wanted to go visit Mrs. McDougal. I said I did, so we jumped into the car and drove over there.

I stood on the sidewalk and looked at the house. It had been many years since I had been there and I was convinced that she had either moved away or hopefully died. We walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. I held my breath.

She answered the door and at first, I wasn’t sure it was her. She had not aged gracefully, which made me feel better. Her skin was badly wrinkled, she was no longer attractive and her hair was the same. I then realized that the hair I had envied for so long had always been a wig.

I asked if she was Mrs. McDougal and she hesitated for a moment. She was hunched over and was wearing a dirty robe even though it was late afternoon. She nodded her head and for half a second, I felt sorry for her but that was all.

Here was a woman who was evil. God knows what other lives she had destroyed.

I told her who I was and it did not register with her. That pissed me off. I explained that she was one of the worse human beings I had ever had the displeasure of knowing and that there was no excuse for what she had done to me and Donna.

When I said Donna’s name, I saw the light go on in her eyes. My husband was standing next to me and never said a word but glared at her.

“Oh, you remember, don’t you?” I asked. She stood motionless.

“Well, I wanted you to know that you didn’t succeed. I am fine and I turned out to be a really good person, despite your efforts to kill me. But if I ever see you again…” I said and let the sentence hang in the air. She nodded. We turned around and walked away. She didn’t close the door until we had driven off.

I hope she’s still awake, waiting for me to come back.

I know what the back seat of a police car looks like.

Posted: March 17, 2012 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

Actually, the one I was in was quite nice but they don’t have door handles.

Who knew, right? I mean, as soon as I was put in the back of it and while the officer was walking around the car to get into the driver’s seat, I immediately reached for the handle to let myself out.

There wasn’t one.

I was screwed and started to cry again. He got behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled away as if a hysterical teenager in his back seat was completely normal. It probably was.

My friend Katie had already been put in the back seat with me and sat there, quietly, with her head down and stared at her feet. I looked over at her door, hoping I could jump across her and make an exit, even if he was driving.  I had a plan and stopped crying as I leaned over to find it. There wasn’t one. I sat back, wiped my face and tried to breathe  as we drove out of the parking lot of the department store and headed towards our homes.

The cop was taking us home. To talk to our parents and tell them what we had done.

I wanted to die after killing Katie for getting me into this position.

She had shoplifted and we both got caught.

I saw her do it and I didn’t care. It was a $2.00 necklace that she quietly scooped up from the counter and put in her pocket. We had the money to buy it, but she wanted to steal it and I thought that was a great idea.

We were both 15 and were probably hitting a rebellious phase or something. It just seemed like a wild and fun thing to do, so I egged her on. Neither one of us had ever caused our parents any trouble. She was a good Christian girl, I was the Heathen child from “the people who don’t go to church” and her family had been trying to save my soul for 10 years. I secretly wished they would leave me alone, but that’s another story.

What could go wrong, right? Just take the necklace and walk out of the store. Easy.

After she put it in her pocket, we casually walked outside and that’s when all hell broke loose.

Suddenly we had 2 men busting through the department store doors, yelling at us to stop. Katie froze and I took off.  She didn’t know what was going on but I did. She often had that “deer in the headlights” look when anything happened suddenly. Not me. Once I understood we were going to be arrested, I started running.

I didn’t get far before one of them grabbed me and swung me around to look at him. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He was pissed off because he had to run. He was probably 100 pounds overweight and I had made a huge mistake in running. His face was flushed and there was sweat on his forehead and he was angry. So angry.

I thought for a moment of breaking away, but it was pointless. The other guy was marching Katie through the door. I could feel the tears starting. I hung my head down and let him march me through the doors.

I really must have pissed him off because suddenly he’s shouting “Everyone stand back. I have a shoplifter here. Move aside.” He said this all the way through the store and down the stairs.

I had never felt such humiliation towards myself and such intense hatred towards another human being. He had a smile on his face the whole time and the more upset I got, the bigger his smile became.

We were marched down 2 flights of stairs and plunked down on 2 steel chairs and told to sit still and not say anything. By then Katie was crying and I was starting to cry harder.

We were in an office in the basement with desks, chairs and phones with lots of people walking around. I could see the TV monitors that covered the entire store and one was directly on the location where Katie had stolen the necklace.

I sneered at her and refused to take any responsibility for what SHE had done.

We sat there for what seemed like hours but was probably only 10 minutes. Someone came and led Katie into a room and I was lead into another one. By then I couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t look at anyone.

The man who came into the office I was in stood in the doorway for a few seconds and sneered at me. I started to say something and he silenced me by holding up his hand and shaking his head.

He sat down, took my purse and dumped the contents out on his desk. He said he wanted to see if I had stolen anything. No matter how many times I said I hadn’t, he continued to pick up each item in my purse, look at it and set it aside.

I almost died when he did that with my tampons. As God as my witness, that was the worst moment of my life.

When he was done and  was convinced that I didn’t have any stolen items on me, he put all the contents back in my purse and handed it to me.

For the next half hour, I sat and listened to him yell at me and tell me what a horrible person I was. He ranted and raved and his arms never stopped moving while he yelled. He told me I was going to go to jail and that was the moment I lost it.

It was and is the only time in my life that I became hysterical. Now I know what that feels like and I can tell you, that when it starts, you can’t stop it. I was terrified. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t stop sobbing. He sat back and waited.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I stopped. I couldn’t cry anymore. I looked up and he was leaning back in his chair, staring at me and a very slight smile came across his face.

“OK, well maybe there’s something we can do. Tell you what, you promised to never step foot in this store again, I’ll let you off with a warning.”

I jumped up, agreed and promised him my first-born if I ever got within a mile of the store. I thanked him, stood up, grabbed my purse and started to walk out the door.

“Hold on a minute. We’re not done yet.”

I froze and thought I was going to start crying again. All I wanted in the whole world, was to leave that office.

“Have a seat.” I walked back and sat down and looked at him.

“I am making a permanent record on you. It will be on file. But since you are under 18, I am going to have an officer drive you home and talk to your parents and tell them what you did. I am not going to arrest you, but if I EVER see your face in this store again, I will. Do you understand me?”

I nodded, somehow.

I needed to die. Right then and there, death needed to come walking through that door and take me away. Talk to my parents? Be driven home in a cop car? No, death needed to happen right now because if it didn’t, my parents were going to kill me. Either way, I would not live to see tomorrow and my parents had a huge yard and could easily hide my body for a long time.

We were escorted out of the store by an officer and placed in the back. Even though I knew I couldn’t get away, at least I tried and didn’t sit there like Katie, but when I looked at her, my heart broke.

She had been my best friend for 10 years and her parents insisted that their children, house, yard, clothes, job, grades and everything else be perfect. Perfect. There was no room for error.

Now Katie had done something that, in their eyes, would be unforgivable and I would be blamed once again for being a bad influence on her.

They were right. I was always wanting to have fun and break rules and now I had gone too far and my friend would probably never be allowed to talk to me and would end up grounded until she was 25. Maybe 35, if they had their way.

The officer went to Katie’s house first and walked her up to the front door and rang the bell. I laid down on the backseat. I couldn’t watch and I didn’t want her parents to see me. I was afraid it would make them angrier. I peaked as they grabbed her from the officer, thanked him and slammed the door. I watched as he walked towards the car.

It was my turn now.

He asked me where I lived and I told him. Apathy had set in and I knew it was hopeless.

As he pulled up to the front of my car and unfastened his seat belt, I saw the boy of my dreams walking up the street. I gasped and may have let out a small scream. Steven was going to see me being pulled out of a cop car and the boy I had loved madly for the last 2 years would tell everyone in school and I would never live it down.

I dove for the floor of the back seat and pleaded with the officer to wait a moment.

“Why? No matter how long we wait, I’m walking you up to the front door.”

“You see that boy walking up the street?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. This was so humiliating. “I don’t want him to see me do this. Please, can you just wait until he’s gone?”

“Yes. Stay down there and I’ll let you know when he’s gone.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Thank you” was all I could muster.

A few minutes passed and I’m not sure I breathed.

“OK, he’s gone. The coast is clear,” he said and I actually chuckled for a moment.

He let me out of the car and then put his arm around my shoulders and looked at me. I looked up and he had the kindest face. I had not looked at him before.

“Susan, have you learned your lesson? Have you?” he asked as he smiled.

I nodded. “It was stupid, I know and…”

“Shush. Listen to me for a second. We all do things that have consequences. Your stupid prank could have turned out a lot worse. You got lucky.”

I hugged him. I don’t know why, but I did. In an afternoon of complete insanity, here was a moment of kindness and compassion. He hugged me back. “You ready?”

“Yes,” I said and we walked up to my front door. He rang the doorbell and I waited. My Mom answered the door and saw me standing there with a cop. She was confused as I had never caused any trouble before.

“Ma’am I’m Officer Jones and I was wondering if I could come in for a few minutes?”

My Mom let us in and was glaring at me but was also confused. Officer Jones explained what had happened and told my Mom that I was sorry and realized that it had been a stupid stunt. My Mom never said a word and just listened. He thanked her and turned around to leave. After he opened the door, he looked at me and smiled. “You’re going to be OK,” closed the door and drove off.

My Mom asked what had happened and I told her. My Dad came in and listened. I was so distraught that I think that I had been through enough punishment for one day. All they said was to never do it again and that was that as it was apparent I had learned my lesson.

Katie didn’t fare so well. She was grounded for a month and wasn’t allowed to talk to me. That meant nothing to me, so I would find her  in school and have lunch with her. For one month we made sure her parents never saw us together and we never called each other. After a month, her Mom had the audacity to call me and tell me “It’s OK if you come over now and see Kaitlin” as if she was doing me a favor. I told her I would be over if and when I felt like it. I heard her gasp and she probably shook her head and prayed for me that night.

Like I care.

Ever since that day, even over 40 years later, whenever my Mom and I drive by that department store, she smacks me on the arm and tells me if I go in there, I will get arrested. Sometimes she will pull into the parking lot and we will go into the store and look around.

In the background, I always hear her laughing and then telling me what a great kid I turned out to be and how proud she is of me.

“Let’s see if they kick us both out,” she says and this always gets me to laugh.

I love my Mom.

My friend’s first internet date. Oh geez….

Posted: February 29, 2012 in Dating, funny stories
Tags: , , , ,

This is a story from a dear friend of mine. We were recently emailing each other back and forth. She had just signed-up for some dating sites and was nervous, and rightly so. She knew of my experiences in this field, so I’ve been coaching her along as best as I can.

This is her email to me. I knew it had been a bad date but she decided to tell me her story via email. I’m glad she did because she gave me permission to post it. I didn’t start laughing until finished reading it because…my jaw was dropped too far down my face to make a sound.

My friend is a wonderful, smart, gracious woman who has found herself  in the situation of wanting to date again and not knowing how to go about it. When you read this, keep in mind how nice and sweet my friend is. She hates to hurt anyone’s feelings, as most of us do. When we go silent on a date, you’re done for. I advised her to just not respond back to this man and let it die the death it needs too. She lives in the UK and anyone would be proud to know her, such as I am.

Men – take note. You have a very rare opportunity to be privy to a real conversation between two women discussing something that we would never let you know about – MEN.

Here are her words:

“My ex has IBS” and other things maybe not wise to say on a first date.

Well I did it. After years of being on my own I joined an internet dating site (or 3). I’m lonely and need someone to have a drink with who I may possibly end up snogging the face off of. Hey it may be even more, at the end of the evening. With any luck.

Ok so after a month or so on the site(s) I finally got a bite (in a manner of speaking). Amongst all those with names like “nicebum” “Icanmakeuhapy” “lookin4me?” “wannaplzu” and “cum&getme” and those who can’t string a sentence together I found Mike. Mike  seemed fine. We chatted for a couple of weeks or so. Most days. OK, every day. We had a lot in common and the conversations were good. His picture was a little odd in that it wasn’t that easy to get a fix on his looks. I found him on Facebook (though didn’t add) and again he had an out of focus shot which as far as I could see looked extremely different. However the conversation was good for the most part although he had a tendency to talk about himself a lot. Or when he did it was difficult to get him to stop.

A date was arranged. “Ok let me do this,” I thought:

 “How bad could it really be?”

First warnings:

1)     Couldn’t text me because he was out of credit….ok I can cope with that, he emailed me just before I left to say:

2)     He had eaten dinner and:

3)     What he would be wearing and:

4)     The fact that he hadn’t shaved because he was out of shaving gel.

 
I stood outside the prearranged meet spot and looked hopefully around for a man in jeans and a blue jumper. One who was “carrying just a little extra weight” and ruggedly stubbly. A few possibilities walked on by.

Appearing in front of me was one squattish very rounded individual who looked either like he had been out in the rain or had not washed his hair for a decade, I couldn’t decide which. On balance I would say the latter. The idea of the rugged look was obliterated by the “cant be bothered to shave and another few days and I would look like a yeti” look. I looked around nervously…did I know anyone in the vicinity? I would never ever live this down if I saw anyone familiar. But hey….how bad could it really be?


Then he spoke…”whatcha awwwroight”. Oh my freeking heck! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Please I can’t do this,” I thought. This is not the kind of conversation we had online; this must be an imposter. I can’t see this person having the same cultural interests as me….maybe he read my profile and did some online research on subjects before contacting me.

But sadly it seems I am a nice person and thought I would at least go through with the film that we were going to see. A comedy, although by the looks of it all the laughs (albeit mortified ones) would not be on the screen this evening. He reached in for the obligatory “hello” kiss on the cheek thing and I ensured that it didn’t hit its target.

Looking about the shops and cafes around us were closed. There was the pub or McDonald’s. He of course had already eaten, I hadn’t mistakenly believing that as we were meeting an hour and a half or so before the film, if indeed we did go to the film, we may just be able to pick something up. No he didn’t want to go to the pub as it was full of young people. And too loud. And he didn’t drink.

We went to get the tickets in advance. Ok, “we” is an exaggeration. Cue him standing by. No sign of him offering to pay. Not an issue with me, although he is the one working of course ( I don’t at the moment). However I still don’t know how he engineered me putting my card in to pay for the tickets. He didn’t even offer to be paying me back for his at this point. I was somewhat bemused and we made our way to McDonald’s.

There were cafes within a few minutes walk that were open, however it seems a coffee in one of those nice places was the height of sophistication.. “Oim awways takin me son in McDonald’s.” I bought myself a cup of tea and some fries. He bought himself a coffee. We found the last table in the place. And now it was conversation time. How bad could it be?


Ok well I can’t remember a lot of the conversation. And that is probably a good thing. Let us just say that every question he asked me (which I think probably amounted to two or three at this point) was met with me saying about two words and them him butting in and taking over. I think I may have said a total of about 40 words in the hour and a bit we were sat there. There were lots of discussions (albeit one-sided) about food.

I explained I was allergic to fish. He looked at me with concern. I thought  “Oh he is actually listening. Then he said “What would happen if you kissed someone who had eaten fish?  It’s just I had fish and chips for tea”.

“Don’t worry, I am in no danger,” I nearly said. But I am too polite. “What happens if you eat it? Do you go all blotchy? I ask because, well….my ex has Irritable Bowel Syndrome she gets really bad diarrhea when she gets it too.”

I looked down at my fries….. I then was treated to a detailed description of how his son is being turned against him and won’t come and stay over anymore and all the intricacies of his issues with his ex’s new husband, the schools, parking tickets, lack of money, work problems. But mainly his ex’s diarrhea and issues that he has with just about the whole world.

I felt sick.

Finally and painfully, it was time to make our way back to the cinema. I wanted some sweets. I got a very small amount as “Oi’ll get this” was tempered with him telling me how I should have gotten it in the supermarket earlier that day as it was so expensive at the cinema.

It’s a bag of sweets mate…not caviar.

He then proceeded to ask for a “Cheeky monkey” ice cream milk shake costing 3 times as much. It’s called “Chunky Monkey.” He couldn’t  even get that right. Heck, even the little things were getting very, very annoying. I went to the ladies and texted my friends and updated my Facebook with a”Rescue me please!” message to my friends from my iPhone. I was in there a while but knew I just had to go and sit with this man for the next couple of hours. I was already stressing that other people coming into the complex would be met with a video screen of the different cinema audiences and may be able to pick me out.

The adverts before the film were “funny”….they were however not “funny” enough in my opinion to warrant a loud running commentary or laughter that sounded like a cross between a hyena and well…another load of hyenas really. Mortifying. Totally mortifying.

I toyed with the idea of going to the ladies room again and not coming back. But I am, it seems, too polite. And I wanted to see the film. I had paid enough for the damn tickets. I surreptitiously kept looking at my phone (updating Facebook texting friends) and giving one word answers to anything he said (not much and the single word responses seemed to be sufficient for his purposes). He didn’t seem to care.

The film started. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that each on-screen joke and even just a piece of slightly amusing dialogue was met with a huge roar of laughter and the odd snort. OK a lot of snorts. I wanted to go home.

Part way through I heard snoring. Someone was asleep. I looked around and saw it wasn’t anyone asleep, it was his breathing. And his elbow was trying to touch mine. I really wanted to go home but I didn’t want to leave the cinema because I would then have to deal with that having to talk to him/awkward end of the evening thing. “Please let me stay here and make the film go on forever…”

And so the titles went up and I got up. We left and I fished in my bag for my car parking ticket. There was silence. Then there was  a desperate attempt at a conversation from him. I played lip service and inwardly cursed my decision to wear a skirt and stockings because I was cold. I thought about how I will get out of this without any further embarrassment. If I kept ignoring him, I thought, surely he would get the hint. This couldn’t have been a fun evening for him either. I was totally the worst date ever or had tried to make myself that.

He came with me to my car. He stood there and put his hand in his pocket. And counted out the exact change he needed to pay me back for his ticket (minus the sweets). Then he said he had a fantastic time. I said nothing. I had however ignored him since the diarrhea discussion and done all in my power to make him never want to speak to me again. However the polite side of me appeared again and I apologized for my being caught up on my phone but said my child was ill and the sitter was contacting me for instructions. I don’t know why I didn’t just say “you aren’t my type.” I should have just put him out of his misery.

“Are we still on to meet up Wednesday?” he asked, completely oblivious to the sheen of boredom appearing over my eyes.  Could I say it? No I still couldn’t. I fudged it and said I was worried about my child and didn’t know.

“If you delete me from contacts I will know you aren’t interested in meeting again” he said giving me the opening I needed. I still couldn’t do it. What am I some kind of idiot? I said the film had been good and it was nice to meet him. He reached in for a peck on the cheek (or maybe more) and I moved my head so he missed. Again.

I shut the door and stayed in the car texting friends and updating Facebook until I was sure he had left the car park. I was worried he may follow me. OK not really but I can’t take any chances.

He can’t text me for the moment..  Thank God.  He has no credit. He has left me an email (to my anonymous account so he doesn’t have my name) and a message on the site saying he had a fab time.

I am trying to formulate a put down. I am trying not to hurt his feelings. Hell knows why. I am too polite. How hard can it be to say “Do you know what? No, not ever, No. No No, to someone you never have to see again….

Just how hard can it be?

These are my words because apparently they need to be said:

1) Please shower and clean-up before you go out on a date.

2) If you don’t have money and/or are unemployed, most of us don’t care. We really don’t. We just want to have a nice evening out. Tell us that and a good woman will figure out a nice place to meet and just have a cup of coffee.

3) NEVER EVER talk about your ex-anything! If she asks (which she shouldn’t do on the first few dates) just smile sweetly and say “I have nothing but nice things to say about her” and change the subject.

4) We know within seconds of meeting you what we think and what we want.  Don’t argue with me on this point. I’m a woman and I know.

5) When a woman goes quiet on a date, you’ve blown it. Try getting her to talk and then SHUT THE HELL UP and don’t say anything.

6) Say NOTHING about your attraction to her. We get it. We really do.

7) If you can reach her mind, you can later reach her soul. Maybe.

These are just a few things that come to mind when I read my friend’s email. I don’t want her to give up and I don’t want her to feel that she had done anything wrong. She hasn’t. This just wasn’t the guy for her and that’s why we date.  Hopefully she will soon be laughing about this because that’s all you can do sometimes. Have an adventure, pat yourself on the back for stepping up to the plate and laugh about how funny life can be. And then go do it again.

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