I Am Cranky.

Warning: This one's scathing.

Knowing that nobody cares how I feel, I guess I can just say anything and everything, I can just blurt out the truth. It doesn’t make a difference anyway.

The only way to withstand the acheyness, the tiredness, the almost inability to drag my body to do anything, is to nap. Even if I’m apparently too wired to sleep, I must lay down, and a lot.

I am just writhing inside with several certain somethings though. If this was a whole post to itself, which it might as well be, I would call it: ‘Psycho Pseudo-Christian Mommie Bitches and the One I Unfortunately Met One Up With Closely Recently.’ Yeah, I know I’ve b_tched about something similar in the past, but wouldn’t you know it, I’ve got another go_dam_ example for you.

I met this Mommie in the mental hospital. Yes, she was there for only one day. For me it was just as ridiculous that I was there, because I was on the crying/sad side of the illness, just a touch suicidal, and just needed my mood stabilizers tweaked, no big deal.

Although this person was there for anxiety, (is that even an ‘illness?’) literally for a one-night stay, she still managed to b_tch and moan about the hospital we were in. Clearly having no clue, (have I mentioned I’ve spent 6 months in a state institution?) she didn’t like that there was nothing on the walls and insisted on speaking to Nurse Wratchet about painting murals. She said the meeting went well. A real clueless f_ck. I know I would have saved a pointless meeting with the Warden for food, or their amazing ability to have found non-food to serve, BUT that's just me. She couldn't understand why the place wasn't 'restful' with nary even a comfortable place to sit. My God, was Martha Stewart this stupid when they threw her in the hole?

So I don’t know if it was because she thinks she’s Christian or because I was far less scary than the rest of the patrons, but she talked to me. And as a total first, because I never met anyone inside a mental hospital that ever even spoke to me outside of it, we did have a few lunches in the ‘Real World.’ And yes, I met her adorable kid.

Somehow all those lunches stopped happening. I’ve been there with other people who were ‘friends’ much longer. I assumed she had too much on her plate, and who needs friends? I know I throw them away and then pray in my church of choice for whatever hypocritical Psycho Pseudo-Christian Mommie Bi_ches pray about. I’m really starting to hate you bitches.

Two weeks ago I called her to ask about a business proposition which she quickly shot down.

Worst of all, I was so starved to talk to someone that I just vomited out the details of my life, and just kept on talking. I realized I had called her at work and suddenly was afraid she might get in trouble and she agreed that thought had occurred to her. So she says to me, “I’ll call you when I put my son down for bed,” and I agreed. Then again, “I’ll call you when I put my son down for bed.”

Here we are two weeks later and the bitch never called. If she did, she did not leave a message – which in my world is the same damn thing.

So I’m slow, and God bless me, I am naïve. The first night, actually it took me two nights to come up with the idea that perhaps she was not sincere in her statements. That this was a way to mock me, with my no job and not too worried about it, no brat(s) to deal with constantly, E.T.C., existence. Wow! That did hurt.

Then, a weekend passed, plus several days, and at that point I think I had it pinpointed. I did not ask about her son. She listened to ALL that blah-blah about me, my pets, plans, my dead Dad, but apparently there’s a button with Psycho Pseudo-Christian Mommy Bitch and I did not poke it correctly.

I remind myself where I found her. I remind myself how incredibly pathetic and sad this proves this person to be. Before I got to this point, I considered suicide, because after all, she must be right. I am so useless that she couldn’t even call back, couldn’t even send a goddamn email.

So you know where that always takes me. Since I’m not dead, since my sadness did not kill me, I’m just mad.

I consider myself the better person for not calling her back, not emailing (that would be difficult since all the that information got annihilated. It’s the first thing that happens when someone gets cut off from Tart’s life.) and not asking her how it is that Jesus Still Considers Her a Sunbeam, when in fact she’s just a mean, clueless c_nt.

Use your kid as a reason not to be friends with someone. Worse, be mean and lie to a perfectly sweet clueless person as myself with such clever acting ability that I think she just won an Oscar.

And no this post’s not for her. I don’t think she even knows I have a blog and I’m sure she’s too busy to use a search engine for fun. And if she did, I say quite joyfully, and found it, she deserves to know without me ever bothering to tell her.

Let this be a lesson to all you screwball women who hide behind your religious denomination and crap on the rest of us. If the last shit you gave that anybody cared about was the one you produced right before the birth of your precious damn kid, well then I can see why so many of you keep on producing them and being so sure it's the most important thing ever and annoying the rest of us, just in general. Um, why not get a blog, or a life? Or consider that if you are incapable of being friends with the childless, that you be the one this time to consider suicide.

But when you’re sitting scared in a damn mental hospital, even with what you think is a pseudo-real illness, please don’t speak to me, because I’d rather f_ck you up at that point, rather than do it two years later on my blog.