The Pillar of Despair

Yes, I said it. The Pillar of Despair. That is the new name for my whole life.

I am not having a pity party, but I sort of am. I have reasons, they are probably completely boring to you, though, so I'll spare you the details.

I wonder if the liquor store has that cupcake flavored vodka?

Anyhow...I was running and my left ligament started hurting. I had to ice it. I will probably have to keep icing it. It pisses me off. Have you ever placed an appendage into a vat of ice water? It's a bitch. I mean a "40 Year Old Virgin" getting his chest waxed bitch. Words come out of your mouth that you didn't know you knew. I have been working so hard and doing so well with my running again that having any setback enrages me. I am enraged at the Toyota Corolla I crashed in 1988, I am enraged at the cement divider on I-10 that put the entire front axle and wheel into the driver's compartment of the car I was driving, forever ruining my left foot. I mean 30 years? Isn't that enough time for it to heal and be perfect forever? I've had massage, cupping, all sorts of other stuff to break up the scar tissue and it's not working, and bones are all in the wrong place. It's a jacked up situation.

Riddle me this...why when I ask my husband, "Is this a pajama day or a clothes day?" does he not understand? I also said, "Okay, is it a makeup day or a no makeup day?" He stared blankly at me with drool running down his chin. I said, "Okay, is it a bra day or a no bra day?" Stupid question. His answer to THAT question is ALWAYS "No bra". Sicko. I mean, I meant, are we leaving this house today, or what? So, I am wearing clothing, a bra, but no makeup. Call it a contingency plan. If I leave, I will spend money. Why? Because I am passive-aggressive that way. He pisses me off, (he being my husband), I spend money, I guess. According to him, I spend recklessly. WhatEVer.

My kids came home from their father's home in Chicago two nights ago. Their flight was 45 minutes late coming in, despite the fact that the little board that tells you if a flight is on time said, "Arrived". It hadn't arrived! It was somewhere over freaking Arkansas or something! Anyhow, we people watched at the airport, which is a prime spot for that sport, by the way. I saw:

A small Asian man wearing green sweatpants that were far too large. He had on a badly knit beanie hat and Birth Control glasses. He had a Paddington Bear type coat. He was wearing flip flops. He was about 4 feet tall and acted totally lost. He was carrying a hand lettered sign for whoever he was picking up. It was glittery and pastel colored. That interested me. I was staring at him openly, because that is a problem I have, don't judge. As I'm staring, he begins doing squats. IN THE FREAKING AIRPORT BY THE BAGGAGE CAROUSEL. Amazing. Mesmerized, I elbowed my husband and said, "Secret Asian Man is doing squats." Since I hadn't made my husband aware of the guy's presence, my husband was entirely confused. I had to repeat it. LOUDLY because my husband needs one of those old fashioned ear trumpets. I think I'll look on EBAY for one. Anyhow, he looks at him and makes a face that I have come to know means, "Weird..." He stopped paying attention. How is that possible? I continued to watch. He had no clue I was openly violating him with my eyes. I mean, this guy was ODD looking to start with, but doing squats with his glittery sign? I couldn't wait to see what he would do next! I had to turn all the way around in my seat to watch him, too. I didn't give a shit. It was an extravaganza. Just when I'm getting bored with squats, he starts kicking his legs around in a what...Brazilian martial arts thing? Jujitsu? What?!?!?! It was A-MAZE-ING. I elbow my husband again. I said, "Asian man....martial arts, now." Husband has no reaction. So disappointing. He just kept kicking and spinning and jumping, it was like Cirque du Soleil without the creepy clown on the unicycle on a tightrope!!! Get this, though: NOBODY ELSE SEEMED TO NOTICE. AS USUAL. I began to think I loved him. Or at least, at the VERY least, I was obsessed with him and his life. What was his story? Where was he from? Why was he doing these things? Was he trying to make a spectacle of himself or what? Why the glitter? Does he like Paddington Bear a lot or something? So, his party he was waiting for showed up. IT GETS BETTER.

His friend he was waiting for was about ohhhhh 5 feet taller than him. He was wearing, and I shit you not, a Fidel Castro type hat. PERFECTION. He had a disgusting hipster beard and mustache and all that shit. They began caressing each other. I was done. I gone.

Then, I turn and see this very tall, very handsome, dark, bald man in a business suit. To be perfectly honest, he looked like a hot hit man. So, of course, I zeroed in on him with my eyes. I let the Castro/Jujitsu couple do their thang. I was now in love with the tall bald dude. He was walking ...no..no...STRIDING WITH CONFIDENCE toward the baggage area with his suitcase behind him...it just followed his ass because his hot ass COMMANDED it do so. (Actually it was a regular rolling suitcase...) and just when I think I might swoon, some short girl with a backpack runs up to him and he drops everything..Bam! He grabs her head like he is going to bash it in, but NO. NO! This man is nothing if not PASSIONATE. He grabs her and begins passionately making out with her in a way you only see behind Notre Dame in Paris. (different story) She just stood there with her hands at her sides. She was clearly swooning with passion and amazement. He just kept going after it, too! He got MORE AND MORE INTO IT. I mean, the way he grabbed her face and head and stuff...it was ....wow. WOW. I thought she looked FAR too young for him, what with her little kid backpack, but then she turned around and girlfriend looked like 10 miles of bad road. She was at LEAST my age, or at least looked like it. He could have been doing that with someone else. Someone hot. Someone who wouldn't stand there with their hands next to their sides as he acted out a scene from a movie with such passion and je n'ais se quois that I was wishing for a camera.

Then, I saw MULTITUDES of unsupervised children. People telling toddlers, "Stay right here, okay?" What?!?!?! Off the kid would trot. PEOPLE! DON'T LEAVE YOUR KID ALONE ANYWHERE,EVER!!!!! Not only is it dangerous to the child, but it is ANNOYING AS HELL. I have my own kids. They never left my side, my eyesight, my handhold, the stroller, whatever I had to restrain them and their wild selves. Guess what? I still have them and they are grown. Nobody ever took them. Nobody had a chance in hell of taking those boys. Maybe nobody wanted to, but still.

Also, people. Listen. You've heard of Karma, yes? Paying it forward? Being nice? Here is an observation: when you see a young family with young children who are clearly overwhelmed with the magnitude of their poor decision making, "Why the hell did we think we could take a trip with triplets and twins and a pregnant woman and 28 suicases?" HELP THEM OUT. Offer to help them move their luggage. Offer to lift something. They probably don't want you touching their kids, but you could get them a luggage cart or two. I saw so many people struggling with little kids and luggage.

THEN! THEN! OH MY GOD. I almost forgot. My husband was at the baggage carousel getting the boy's bags. Some man in a VC hat (No lie...total pyramid hat) PUSHED MY ASS out of his way and pushed everyone else, too. He was in a HUGE ASSED HURRY TO GET HIS ONE SUITCASE. Well, to be fair he had many suitcases and boxes, but he did it ONE AT A DAMNED TIME. His female companion had on a PURPLE SPARKLY FUR STOLE with bag lady clothes and she stood serenely by as he scurried and pushed people as he ran to her, back to the carousel, back to her, back to the carousel. He pushed me twice.

I finally said, "SIR! SERIOUSLY! SIR! DUDE! COME ON!" He never paused. People were staring at him in stupefaction.

I was still hollering, "COME ON! MAN! KNOCK IT OFF! YOU ARE PUSHING PEOPLE OVER! LITTLE MAN! SIR!" I have to assume he either A. didn't understand English or B. didn't give a shit. I am going with B.

Of course, the best part was standing at the bottom of the escalator and seeing my beautiful sons descend. You would have thought they were descending into hell by the looks on their gorgeous faces, but...you know...kids. One had on a Chicago Bears shirt, the other had on a "The Dude Abides" shirt. That pretty well sums up their differences, too. At least they were clean and didn't need haircuts. (They were only gone a week.) My reaction: "Oh! I missed you! kiss kiss kiss, hug hug hug...Their reaction: *suffered my affection with barely contained contempt* They inform me that it was NOT EVEN COLD IN CHICAGO AS I HAD TOLD THEM IT WOULD BE. I am a stupid idiot. I told them in Michigan in January and February it was mind blowingly cold. So cold they would say on the weather not to go outside for longer than like 45 seconds or your lungs could freeze. They had a dusting of snow. NO BLIZZARD! My fault. Here, it was in the 40s and drizzly, and they walked out shouting, "OH MY GOD! IT IS SO HOT!!" Who said girls are dramatic? I was freezing, personally. Not them. Although, they wore their balaclavas as frequently as possible.

There is my update on my trip to the airport which is about 50 million miles from my house, thank you very much, ex husband. (Although there is no airport closer, I guess...)