Snap, crackle, SPLAT!

Morgue knows a little about this, a little about that

What Morgue knows best is when moods go SPLAT

Everything that goes up must come down. As usual, I felt myself being tugged downward all day and then came the crash landing into Splatland. My kid started acting out big time for the first time in days. I’m still running on that ninety minutes of sleep from last night so I am tired and cranky. The cold and rain have motivated me to want nothing but vanilla bean blankie fort and unconsciousness sleep brings.

Suddenly everything seems stupid. Pointless. Counterfuckingproductive. All the mental health pros and their advice to not withdraw, to interact with others cos it “will help.” LIES LIES LIES.

People are the biggest double edged sword you can find in life. You pour out your heart and soul, thinking your sincerity is returned, only to realize…AGAIN…They’re doing that sin of omission or flat out lying thing all the while telling you YOU got it all wrong. Soo bloody sick of people’s bullshit.

I can handle corrupt people. I can  handle those out to save their own ass. Just admit what you are, don’t bullshit me . (Can anyone say R-sole?)  People too fucking weak to admit their own corruption are people I can’t waste time on. I mean, my litmus test since age 18 for whether to trust a guy was, if he says “I’m trustworthy, I swear….” RUN SCREAMING INTO THE FUCKING NIGHT.  Because ya know what’s worse than simply being an asshole? Being a LYING asshole. Admit you’re a jerk who will probably at some point fuck me over in some way…I can respect and roll with that. Promise me sunshine beams and puppies with curly q tails…I assume you’re lying. And the thing with liars is, they never stop lying so even when confronted with evidence or witnesses of their wrong doing, they continue making the denials, omissions, and everyone is wrong but them.

I don’t even know what the fuck that is.

And before anyone gets on a high horse and goes for a pony ride…WE ALL LIE. It’s a fact, not just a line from House. Even the finest most decent upstanding religious people lie, be it with a sin of omission or the socially polite “You look great” when inside they are screaming FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, THAT DRESS MAKES HER LOOK LIKE SHE STOLE THE BIG TOP FROM THE CIRCUS!. Lying is the human condition, anyone who says otherwise is wrong. Just being a parent and playing along with satan,er santa, and the easter bunny and tooth fairy qualifies us as liars. Oh, that’s different, though, right? Not really. Because you can lie for good, to spare feelings, to give a kid a more magical childhood…

But lying because you’re lacking the nards to face up to what you said or did…(R-sole)…Beyond uncool. Not even worth my fucking derision but I’ll be damned if I am keeping it inside to poison me.

Just…damn. Every time I start to think maybe I am the problem, I am too negative, too misanthropic, too damaged, too paranoid and suspicious….Some ass clown dish dweller has to prove me right to be all those things and have such contempt for mankind. I wasn’t born this way. Lying backstabbing fake ass people throwing me under the bus to save their own asses made me this way.

That and the bipolar. Oh, and probably that nasty disposition gene that runs in my family…

Just grrrrrrr.

This is why I stick to fiction soup. Real people just disappoint. At least in books, on tv, or in my own writing they get a chance at redemption, to grow as a person, to prove people can actually change. Guess that’s my fairytale.

So I am disillusioned, feeling a knife protruding from my back all in the name of “friendship” and the depression has me fairly certain that no matter how many passes on this hamster wheel of life I make…It’s never gonna get any better. Because while everyone else wants money and fame and success and true love….

I just want to meet a few people who are what they claim to be. No facades, no front, no deception or denial. “I’m a drunken asshole who will probably call you a fatass.” Great opening line.

My reply: “Great, I already assumed you were an asshole with a drinking problem so I’ll be calling you a jackass, idget, and dumbass every other sentence.”

*Mutual high fives*

I just want something real in my life.

Sadly the realest things keep turning out to be fictional characters.

I’m partly to blame cos I am damaged to the nth.

But when someone gives you cart blanche to be honest, no judgment, and still you lie to them repeatedly…

Sometimes I really wanna take Jason Vorhees’ machete and hack away at the ties that bind. I’m not perfect but I sure as hell have after 20 years earned some damned honesty and respect for being smart enough to handle that honesty.

I should have just stuck to my original philosophy: “If a person’s lips are moving or their fingers are typing, they’re lying.”

Lying until proven otherwise.

I hate these venomous moods. And I think the only fix is a brain reboot. I need fort blankie’s comfort and a few purring cats nearby.

Besides…a brain reboot ain’t gonna change the fact that Morgue don’t do social. My social skills are limited to that of a chimpanzee. If you expect more…you will be continually disappointed.

Least I have the balls to be honest about it which is more than I can say about  many of the people in my life.

“I didn’t say that, you’re remember it wrong…You took it out of context…”

When I finally snap…And I am whacking away at their heads with a sixty pound bronze Buddha statue…I shall tell them, amidst the bloodshed and their cries and screams, “I did not hit you, you misunderstood. I am just exuberantly high fiving your skull with this statue.”




14 Responses to “Snap, crackle, SPLAT!”

  1. Splat it is all round. Not having splat for three or four months, I find it a fucking gruesome novelty all over again. Joining you in Fort Blankie, with all sleep meds swallowed and a Fuck You to the universe perms-formed on my lips. R must have done something really shitty this time cuz we didn’t even get a scabrously comic narrative out of his R-s-holery (sic). Oh well. Splat town it is in the fantabulous Midwest. Tomorrow the trees will be shining and alive and full of leafy promise just like in childhood, TRUST ME.

  2. This is why I like you so much. I like you because you’re real and because you let us be real too. I don’t have to pretend I’m nice or be anyone other than me and we can agree and disagree and whatever else but that’s fine because no one started with bullshit expectations based on fucking shallow ass lies that everyone else BREATHES.

    I’m gonna introduce to our store the barbed wire shovel, with black stud accents. Easy grip and guaranteed results in one swing.

  3. Fuck R for his fuck-wittery, whatever it was. Sounds like a cancer you just need to cut out and blast with radiation. Life sucks. And if you look shitty in an outfit or have something stuck in your fucking teeth, I’ll tell you. I expect the same back.

  4. SPLAT! / !TALPS (*forward & backward) UGH!!! Oh Zoe ~ can I get a couple of those shovels, too? Please??

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