High Tithe For A Bad Joke...

True story around Christmas, 2009.  This is part of what happened after the Special Olympics story.  As of today 2/3/12, Mom and I have probably said 20 sentences to each other, and she sat in the car while Dad watched me play one night in SF.
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Been a year since the Presidential Election and when I said something silly and tacky to my church-loving, political-groupie Mom back home and am still paying for it.  Make a bad joke, pay the tithe…

In a nutshell, around last election, Mom and I were chatting when things got derailed, and this is as “word-for-word-y” as I can remember:
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So Mom starts talking about how my Dad really has it for Sarah Palin, the politician...  "Yeah, your father thinks she's a hot tamale, and I guess her nickname he says is 'Caribou Barbie'."

I said surprised, "REALLY!? Beyond me - I don't see it, but that's funny. No way I'd ever vote for her."

Mom stammered, "OK, Kar – uhh, how'd you come to that conclusion?"

"She had a retarded baby, and..."

"Jesus, KARYN, for Christ's sake!!! Sometimes you make me...", she interrupted.

"MOM!!!  Whoa, whoa, whoa - just shush up a sec - I didn't finish.  If you would have LISTENED instead of jumping on me, I was saying she had a retarded baby then named it Trig - like math..."

Long, long pregnant pause…  "I know what Trig is Karyn. I just don't understand why you're so cruel."

"Cruel??  How???  It's not a matter of cruel; it's a matter of judgement Mom. I'm not trying to be mean, but naming your retarded baby Trig is like naming a blind baby 'Colors' - I just don't think it was the best choice of..."

"You make me sick..."

And "boom went the dynamite"...  SLAM!!!
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OK, not the first time - but every call back got me an earful of slam.  While that was new and kinda amusing, she upped the ante significantly by having someone high up in our church back home (and a good family friend) send me an e-mail asking if I would "make use of free counseling" if they could arrange it for me here in San Francisco.

What the fuck?  I didn’t know whether to LOL or ROFL - counseling?  Me???  For that tacky observation / bad joke?  Had to bite my lip to resist the temptation to fire back: "Wonderful, maybe I could work through some issues I’m carrying from overly flirtatious elderly priests ogling me as a volunteer teen way back when." But that truth would be in bad taste, so I didn't.

Called and met with my California contact in the interest of keeping family peace.  The first time we met I felt as out of place as a penis at Lillith Fair.  Father was nice - think soft-spoken, anorexic Santa, probably 70’s?  Reminded me my Church attendance had gone from 2x weekly when I was a kid to ZERO in almost 2 years.  Threw back in my face I’d once considered making the Church my life (in fairness, I was 7 and also thought nuns flew back then).  Went on to inform me I had let down several people, including myself (unbeknownst to even me) and seemed aimless in life.  This total stranger - only knew of me from people back home, after 20 minutes, came to those conclusions!  Ahhhh, that’s why it’s been 2 years and counting...

Opens a manila folder full of papers bright with yellow highlights.  Adjusts his glasses and asks very 60 Minutes-like, “Did you write ‘a chubby rudder on the good ship Tards and Stripes’ about a mentally-disabled man having an erection to your Mother?”  He looked confused on the word “Tards” - did I spell it right?  Oh my freakin' God…  I wanted to die – she’s actually sent him the various postings I’ve done for a goof and forwarded to her.

Red-faced, I explained kinda, but not to her directly – posted it on a sports-like forum and forwarded it to her thinking she might get a laugh.  “Father, I helped at the Special Olympics - a swimmer in a Speedo had a gigantic bon... - ugh, and a rudder steers a boat, and a chubby is another word… nevermind – guess you had to be there.  I didn’t intend it to be mean, just wrote what I saw.”

So, for this past year, I’ve humored them with their little “exorcysm” by going to mass and meetings with advisors weekly.  We’ve talked about making fun of the “less fortunate”, importance of family and reconnecting with the Church.  To repay them for their mandatory wisdom, I've made up more shit to see them cringe than I ever thought I was capable of...  least I could do!  Wish I had no moral compass and would do all the things we talk about!  Of course I've never really held a horse's huge penis and shouted "Say hello to my leeetle friend!" to make my little sister's friends scream.  Wait, once on a bet, bad example - but I'd openly question if God thinks we are sooo stupid that he had to make shit really stink to help us discern it from food.  And that didn't even work on dogs...  You know - important issues - and they'd sit and take notes...

Did it for the blank stares, the open mouths, the brows coming together in worry, but really my own amusement to keep me sane.  Seen more head-shaking than Michael J. Fox’s wife ever will, heard elderly men of the cloth say words surely they've only whispered to face-down altar boys, and endured their goddamn eternal lectures – all while while swallowing the real loathing I feel for the Church these days.  Guess I’m healed!?  Fast forward to today:

Feeling awful and guilty about all this blowing up into a huge deal, I called Mom a couple weeks back asking if I should come home for Christmas or fill in guitar work in Las Vegas again.  “The latter” was her entire reply.  OK.  So, I’ve learned not to discuss politics with my parents, math terms and babies’ names don’t mix (bummer, had my heart so set on Kotangynt Rose), and Sarah Pahlin is responsible for destroying American families - starting in the heartland!

Seriously, think I've learned you can never really go home again, there's a way-high tithe to pay for family peace when you gore someone’s sacred political ox, and not even a year dulls that mother-fucking razor’s edge of Catholic guilt. Oh well...

Merry Christmas!!! See ya in Vegas!

Sister Karyn Rose

Why I Can't Stand Women Co-workers...

Aug 27, 2010 15:35:20

Horribly mean, but it was "Arts & Crafts Week at Panty Camp" and this is what happens to me.  Have thrown rocks at squirrels, prayed people dead, screamed at strangers and even been in fights during this oh-so-glorious week of womanhood - NONE of which I'd think of doing normally as quite possibly the sweetest, most thoughtful, caring girl you'll ever meet...
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Fuck me purple and sideways, never been more furious in my goddamn life!!!  Wanna know why I have WAY more guy friends than girlfriends?  Because women are catty, gossipy, jealous, back-stabbing bitches who are way too emotional for me to deal with...  Usually not a concern at work - software company where it's 90% guys - dorks, but at least guys.  Only 6 women here including me, but more shit happens because of them than the entire company combined.  Misery really does love company, and today I was stupidly company...

Usually go to lunch with the guys or alone, but the girls invited me to Fuddrucker's, so I went.  Had a 1/2 lb. burger, fries with melted cheese, vanilla shake and a brownie - happens when I'm clogging Molly - early surprise of the week - yay fuckin' me...  Pigged out, but mind you, I ran a half-marathon couple of weekends ago, hit gym every other day, and am in better shape than in college.  The girls (all aged from 35 to 55) were teasing me for being able to eat a ton and and stay slim, and the conversation turned to diets and exercise and all.

This one particular aisle-blocker I don't like because she's a fucking head-case drama-queen told the group she is "struggling with bulimia" and has been for years.  Held my tongue but wanted to jump on the table, kick her heaping plate in her round face, and point my finger at her screaming "Bulimia?  You're fucking up bulimia?  How?  Eat, vomit, repeat.  You're damn near defensive-line big, and you 'struggle' with bulimia?  You have got to be biggest double loser in the world if you can't even do bulimia right!  If you could, you'd at least be skinny"...

But I didn't because I'm a nice person and didn't want to hurt her feelings.  But I did think it was oddly funny / weird and mentioned it to one of the girls after lunch where we both had a pretty good laugh.  Less than an hour later I'm staring at said horizontally-tall, fucking failure bulimic in my office - door closed crying because it got back to her what I said...

Oh my freakin' God...  Didn't know what to say and had no treats to throw in the hall she maybe would chase after, so I tried to explain just how I thought it was funny to be a overweight bulimic - like a slutty nun, talented boy band or funny Louie Anderson - just didn't seem to go together...  Blah blah blah, teased childhood, non-athletic, no prom, never popular, cried, cheated on, cats, unhappy, cooking, you'll never understand, eat to mask misery, makes herself sick, blah blah blah.  Holy shit, I'd rather be in Church or listen Fran Drescher read the goddamn Federal budget than be there right then - and it went on and on and on and fucking on.  

So I apologized and finally did the right thing - lied to her.  Told her how pretty and fun she was - how people really like and respect her, and she just underestimates herself - that's the real problem!!!  She wanted to believe it so much, she swallowed it (shocker) hook, line and sinker.  She left after a long fake hug and promise to "hang out more - get to know each other better".

And what do I get for my incredibly nice effort?  She's come by my office a million times, forwarded me e-mail jokes toddlers would say were stupid, and wants to know what I'm doing this weekend - "maybe we could go do something"...

This is EXACTLY why I don't like women co-workers!  Now I'm beyond furious at the woman I like who told the house cow what I said, AND I have this zaftig zero I hate all over me, making my day unbearable.  This simply does not happen with guy co-workers at lunch where maybe I put up with shitty table manners and funny Seven of  Nine vs. Troi "in the sack" debate.  I'll take my nerds any day over bitchy two-faced women co-workers...

Karyn

Why I'm Going To Hell, Vol. 1 - Special Olympics

Wish this post from years ago hadn't happened, but it did.  Stop right here if you're offended by words - don't mean to shock or offend.  Was kicked out of an online forum, subjected to "Church counseling", and shunned by my Mom like an Amish electrician for posting this...  Really a reflection of my own insecurity and immaturity, not meant to disparage any of the people...
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I've volunteered (and still do) at a Children’s Hospital, coached tennis camps for underprivileged children, donated over 4 feet of hair to Locks of Love, gave blood regularly, and played guitar in Sunday church services for more Sundays than not.  Virtuous bragging?  Not at all; truth is I’m scrambling like a fat tourist in Pamplona - for heaven points.  See, I’m going to Hell for something I did with the all the best of intentions...

Upon moving to California from Indiana, sorority girlfriends approached me about being a "hugger" at a Bay Area Special Olympics event.  I should have stopped there - never really been the touch-feely type unless I know you.  My nicknames growing up were "Ice Princess" & "Iron Maiden".  Plus, I’d never been around retarded (or special needs or handi-capable or whatever makes you feel better) children before, but my heart kinda smiled thinking how touching this might be.

So on a gorgeous Saturday I drove to the hosting school, got my super-cool free shirt, and was ready to hug away at the Track & Field event.  Was a little late, so they directed me to help get athletes into the starting blocks for the 200m, then I’d beeline it to the finish line in time to hug my runner.  Didn't know they weren't divided into age groups, because I got a really fragrant Hedo Turkoglu look-alike guessing in his 40’s (?) going against younger runners.  He mentioned to me his shoes ran fast today.  Cute...  Others in our prelim had unique starting styles: One stood fists-clenched with thumbs in, one imitated a bull scratching the track with his right foot about, one was turned towards me staring, one fire-hydrant meets man-child went with a 3-point lineman stance, and Hedo used blocks - but almost in a yoga pose his butt was so high.

Starting pistol raised, fists-clenched became ears-clenched, and every tongue in the field came out.  “On your mark... get set... BANG!!!!”  And that’s the millisecond it happened – I swear to God things went Matrix-slow motion and absolutely spiraled downhill for me faster than JFK Jr's Cessna …

Fists-clenched didn't run, rather cowered at the pistol’s blast.  Bull guy got caught with his foot at the end of his bull-stroke, slipped, righted his bovine self, then decided the outside lane was the way to go today.  I accidentally cracked a smile – nobody wins in that lane!  Started laughing in playful desperation to get him to stay in his lane.  Fire hydrant had been eyeing the finish line from the beginning and bolted right across the infield straight through the long jump pit.  His sand rooster-tail and glance back to proudly see it made my laugh grow exponentially.  My Turkoglu-twin’s legs fired, but hands cemented as he practically somersaulted and did the first couple meters handstand until his feet came down.  When they did hit the track, he let out THE most awesome tire squeal and proceeded to run down the track making race car noises.  I dropped to one knee from really breaking up now, but when he audibly shifted gears about the 10 meter mark, I was starting to come undone...  Had hiccups and was light-headed by 8th gear, but had to get into hugging position and started jogging after fire hydrant with my face covered laughing.

As I neared the finish line, it became pretty obvious everyone must have missed the whole "tard scatter" at the start, because not one person was laughing with me.  They had seen my “deliriously drunk with laughter” serpentine jog back, and I found myself drowning in a glaring mix of disgust/shock/anger.  Race finishes, everyone yells “I WON!!”, even fists-clenched from clear on the other side of the oval.  Was about to hug my sore-throated Heed Racer, when I was pulled aside and read the goddamn riot act through gritted grey teeth by a woman not 3 minutes removed from being the sweetest grandmother-type ever to hug a 15-gear Olympian.  Holy shit was she mad - not just angry mad, but possessed mad.  I apologized profusely, was asked to compose myself and go hand out towels at the “Aquatics” event.

Never been more ashamed of myself in my life seriously - feel horrible and would give anything if I could NOT laugh.  My reputation made it to the pool before I did, because one very angry mother-hugger shoved folded towels at me, asking me to grow up.  Quick look around – pretty sure I heard God laugh at me when it hit me I’m surrounded by Special Olympians in bikinis, nose clips, floaties, ill-fitting Speedos and SpongeBob towels.  Oh Christ, no...  As the next race is about to begin, a Dirk Nowitzki-looking swimmer bumps me as he climbs on the swimming block ready to go.  And boy, was he ready to go…  An American flag pair of speedos with a raging erection.  A chubby rudder on the good ship "Tards & Stripes” if you will.

My face gets red, shoulders start bouncing, and throat closes as I’m trying my best to not laugh – God, please don’t let me laugh.  Takes his right index finger & middle finger, makes a little man out of it, and his “little Greg Lou-penis” finger-pranced down the erection springboard and bounced a couple of times on the end.  Buried my face in the towels and absolutely fucking howled.  It physically hurt - got scared because I couldn't breathe.  Only one wide-eyed little girl in the audience besides me notices and is laughing as well, while everyone else is pretending not to see any of this.  How can you NOT see this - look!!!  It's the funniest goddamn thing I've ever seen - look you people!!!  Race starts - equal mix of dives, cannonballs, stares and belly-flops.  Angry mother-hugger sees me face down in towels, thanks me for my time and asks me to leave the grounds.  Tried to apologize all choked up but voice cracked like Carl Lewis attempting the Star-Spangled Banner.  She says something over her volunteer walkie-talkie, and I'm walked back to the parking lot borderline crying.

Sat in my Jeep, took a deep breath and cried pretty hard.  Seriously questioning what exactly the fuck is wrong with me?  I have never ever been kicked out of anything, sent to the office, or even pulled over by a cop in my life – but blackballed from hugging?  As I’m ready to leave ashamed, wiping my tears and knowing full well this will go on my permanent moral record, I started to smile and laugh again - not to be mean, but holy shit - it WAS funny.  Will never know why, but I turned off the Jeep, got changed out of my super-cool free shirt, grabbed sunglasses and a ball cap, tucked ponytail in, found a laughing towel on floor and went back to watch  - hidden in the obscurity of the way back of the track bleachers. Stayed the entire day event-hopping until my abs were killing me by sundown.  Easily in the Top 5 days of my life for laughing, I’m an awful person for it, regret it big time, and well aware I’m going to Hell as a result unless I can reel in more Heaven points. 

That's why I keep trying so hard...

Karyn

P.S. That next day's gymnastics made this Saturday look like a funeral. Permanent in my Top 3 days...