Archive for March, 2006

March 5, 2006

Flogging the Mattress

I see some of our illustrious U.S. Senators have decided they’d rather not have any outside monitoring as far as all the nice trinkets and campaign donations they receive from their lobbyist friends. They’d much rather, thank you very much, do the monitoring and punishing all by themselves.

Hmmmmm.

You know what this reminds me of? I thought about this last night and I still think it this morning, so hey, it makes sense to me. It reminds me of a bunch of little boys about six years old with bags of rocks hidden in their toyboxes where their mamas won’t notice.

Here’s how I see it:

The little boy gets caught throwing a rock at the little girl he adores. He knows he shouldn’t do it but he does it anyway because he thinks nobody will see him do it. Someone calls his mama and tells her. She meets him at the door when he comes home and tells him he should go find a stick and take it into his room and spank himself with it.

The little boy goes outside, picks up a stick, goes back into the house and shows it to his mama.

“See, Mama, I’m going to punish myself, just like you said!”

“Good boy,” she says. “Go on in your room and take care of it, I’m too busy to think about it right now, but I’m sure you’ll do a good job of it. Just make sure you never play with any more rocks, you hear me?”

He smiles and heads for his bedroom. “Yes, Mama. I hear you.”

He goes into his room and closes the door. He takes the stick and starts flogging his mattress with it, all the time yelling and hollering to beat the band.

He makes so much noise anyone would think he was really punishing himself.

But the whole time he’s thinking about that bag of rocks in his toybox. The hidden ones nobody knows about. The nice ones.

He wants those rocks, oh, yes he does. Every single one of them. The big ones and the little ones. Every. Single. One. And he intends to have them all. But first, he flogs his mattress and yells–loud–for a few more minutes.

Finally he comes out and says, “I’m through punishing myself now, Mama. I won’t do it any more!”

“That’s a good boy,” she says, pleased to hear he’s responding so well to monitoring himself and administering his own punishment.

The little boy smiles to himself and heads back to his room…and his toybox.

Get what I’m saying here? Yes? No?

Hotclue’s take: There are just some things people shouldn’t be doing for themselves.

Love y’all,
Hotclue

Current Events | 4 Comments  

March 1, 2006

Cherry Garcia, Unfiltered Cigarettes and Changing the Lyrics

I got an interesting fan email today from someone who just read my blog–we’ll call her Doll to protect her identity. The gist of her email was, “Hots, you’ve been around a lot. Did a man ever break your heart so bad you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t concentrate, didn’t even want to get out of bed? I’ve been going with this guy for years, we were planning on getting married. I thought everything was fine, and suddenly out of the blue he told me he never loved me, he always knew he didn’t, and he didn’t know why he ever told me he did. And he did all this just five days before Christmas!”

Well, Ho Ho Ho. M-e-r-r-y Christmas, Doll. This is, in case you never learned it in high school, a favorite ploy of True Jerks. I don’t know why, it just is. They love to nail you with a breakup at Christmastime.

Nice guys don’t do that. Nice guys show up on Christmas Eve with a diamond ring that looks more like a landing pad for a Boeing 747.

Doll, honey, come a little closer, ’cause I’m going to give you Hotclue’s Cure.

I know you’ve been sitting around listening to every sad song in the world, don’t deny it, I know you have. If not sad songs, it’s love songs, which make you cry even harder, right?

You’ve been sobbing into your tissues so much that your wastebasket’s been declared a flood zone. You hate him one minute, you want him back the next, right? Don’t tell me you don’t, I know you’ve done all that, and more. You think you can’t live without him and you’ll never be happy again. Right?

Wrong.

Right now, the sinus blockage you’ve got from all that crying is clouding your mind. Right now, the last thing you need is to hear me saying, “You would let any man who treated you like that be within ten miles of you ever AGAIN in this LIFETIME? Are you CRAZY?” At this stage of course you would, because of course you are.

But I’m here to take you in hand and save your sanity.

Okay. You’ve done the crying thing. You’ve looked up the Stages of Grief on the Internet and plan on spending at least a month on each stage. You’ve entered each stage on your calendar in the appropriate month, on the 1st, right? You’re all set now to spend at least four, five months grieving, still desperately wanting this cretin back, even though you know in your heart you definitely need to get over him, right?

Oh, you don’t know if you really want to get over him? You think maybe he didn’t mean it and maybe you can get him back?

Wrong. You don’t want him back. Trust me, you don’t. EVER, EVER, EVER. The hurt you just got is nothing compared to the one you’ll get if you marry him or even TRY to live with him. Look into my eyes. You. Do. Not. Want. This. Man.

Let me give you a rundown of Hotclue’s Cure:

First, run to the store and buy four pints of Cherry Garcia ice cream. Yes, it has to be Cherry Garcia. Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia is the USDA certified best comfort food in the world When Your Lover Has Gone. Next, beg, borrow or steal four unfiltered cigarettes from someone. Well, of course I know you don’t smoke! It’s bad for your health. It makes your breath and your hair stink. It causes cancer. I know all that.

Humor me this one time and get ’em anyhow, because this is a one-time shot. Four won’t kill you and they won’t make you an addict, trust me, because they’re too nasty. They’re supposed to be nasty. It’s all part of Hotclue’s Cure.

Next, remember the Broadway stage show, South Pacific, and one of the songs in it called “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair”? Remember it? Yes?

Okay, you’re all set.

Open the first pint of Cherry Garcia. Rich, delicious, beautiful taste, right? Right. Eat the whole thing. Right out of the box. It’s only official if you eat it right out of the box.

Open the second pint. Eat it all. Yep, right out of the box.

Getting a little queasy? Good girl. You’re right on target.

Open the third pint. Eat it. Every bite. Out of the box. Remember, I’m telling you this for your own good.

Pull out the four cigarettes. Stick all four in your mouth. Light them all. Sit there and smoke them all at one time. Oh, you can’t? Well, force yourself. I promise you, this is for a good cause.

Oh oh…wait a minute…is that you heading for the bathroom, slamming the door, throwing the lid up? Kneeling in front of the porcelain throne, crying and–what? Being really, really sick?

Doll, tell me right now. IS that man worth what you’ve just done to yourself?

You know he’s not. You KNOW he’s not. Think back to all the signs that you ignored because YOU (and only you, as it turns out) were in love. They were all there, weren’t they? Admit it, they were. You just didn’t see them. Well, yeah, you saw ’em, but you weren’t listening to that nagging little voice that said, “Oh, but wait a minute…this is not right…”

Hold on. We’re not finished quite yet. I hope you remember the tune of I’m Gonna Wash That Man right Out of My Hair, because now, in between heaves, I want you to change those lyrics to “I’m Gonna Puke That Jerk Right Out of My Gut”. Sing it like you mean it, honey, and remember that fourth pint of Cherry Garcia still sitting in your freezer. You’re not going to eat it right now, are you?

I see you shaking your head. Of course you aren’t, not right now. And you’re not going to call him, are you? No? Good. You’re getting there. And you’re not going to send him soul searing e-cards from Hallmark guaranteed to make him feel guilty, right? I hope not, because the only thing he’ll feel is irritation as he clicks Delete.

Tell me right now, would you want to take back a man who could actually GET you to do all this to yourself? Even if you thought he secretly wanted to come back–which you know he doesn’t because if he did, he’d be sitting in front of the porcelain throne himself, heaving his own guts out, wouldn’t he? And he’s not, is he?

You know he’s not. He’s out with his new girlfriend, feeding her the same tired old lies.

You do know, don’t you, there’s a good chance that one of these days he’ll run into a woman who does the same thing to him. Whatever you do, don’t console him if he comes crying to you. Just hang up on him and sing a few bars of the song that will be your mantra for some time to come, now that you’re just about over him, and you are. Open the windows wide so your neighbors can hear you singing THIS song, recorded by Patty Loveless, who really knows how to handle a man like that :

“Well, someone’s gonna do you like you done me, honey, and when she does you like you done it won’t be funny, you’re gonna need some sympathy, but don’t be callin’ me, just blame it on your lyin’ cheatin’ cold dead beatin’ mean mistreatin’ double-dealin two-timin’ lovin’ heart.”

By the way, don’t waste your time and energy hating him. Understand, he’s not hurting at all and your anger won’t touch him. The only one it can hurt is you.

Don’t let him do THAT to you on top of everything else.

Hey, glad to help, Doll! I know you’ll be fine. Let me know when you find a new man, but watch those little danger signals a little more closely next time, okay? That’s what life’s all about. Learning from our mistakes.

Hotclue. Has. Spoken.

Hugs and Ta Ta till next time!

Advice to the Love-Crazed | 10 Comments  

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