My Weekend in Westport with the Misogynistic Tyrant

It's supposed to be APRIL showers that bring May flowers. There's supposed to be snow still melting in March...... I'm back from the weekend in Westport. However, I've been rendered speechless the past couple of days, unable to relate the horrors of my trip until now. It was so bad, I don't even know how to begin to explain just how bad it was. So bad, so, so bad.

This past weekend was just the third time I met Larry Lieberman. Yet, one looking on as a fly on the wall, would have thought him my horribly overbearing, slightly mad, father. Or worse, a step-father who now feels it is his duty to discipline the much too old children of his crazy lover. From the moment we arrived, until the moment we left, this man had only one of two expressions; he was either creepily smirking, or frowning with frustration.

I can't believe how much work my brother, Scooter, has done for them down there, basically for free. It's really crazy, actually. This man started a business the same year he separated from his wife and was fired from his job. Now he's trying to get not one, but three businesses off the ground; and not a single one is closer than a hundred miles to any of the others. Does this make sense to anyone so far? Probably not, but wait, it gets worse. His previous job was, supposedly, as floor manager or something along such lines, at Macy's in New York. Whoop-dee-fricken-doo, you'd think he had been Vice President of the United States the way he puts on airs. I'm really, quite frankly, not surprised he was fired. He's a technological moron of ridiculous proportions. He doesn't even know how to set up his own e-mail. He just recently bought a digital camera one of the weekends my brother was down there acting as his indentured servant, and Larry hands him the newly purchased camera and tells him to go put it together. What, I ask, does he think there is to assemble? Basically he wants everyone to just do everything for him. But how does that work when the task comes down to simply being able to understand something? How can I know or understand something for someone else? I can't just carry the knowledge around in my head until he needs it then simply ESP it to him or something. But that's what he wants, really. That's what he wanted from me when it came to setting up their eBay site. He wants what he wants, and he wants it NOW. I can't believe he worked there for as long as he did. His personal skills are virtually nonexistent. He doesn't listen to a word anyone else says. He doesn't communicate his expectations, he communicates only when his absurdly unreasonable expectations haven't been satisfactorily met. Let me try to prove my point.

We arrived at Larry's rented home at approximately eleven-thirty on Thursday night. We had driven almost four hours from Exeter, after Scooter had been landscaping for his actual real job all day. I had been at home getting everything settled for our absence; buying groceries, cleaning bathrooms, doling out allowances, packing my own things, taking the dog to the vet, et cetera. Basically, it had been a long day and we were ready for it to end. Upon our arrival at the house, we realized that Helen (my Mom) and Larry were out. Fortunately, Antoinette, the woman who acts as a maid but who is really a home care giver with her BA (that is for later in the story) was home and awake, and she let us in to get settled. We had only been there for about ten minutes when Helen and Larry showed up with some groceries. I had spoken to my Mom earlier and she had said they were totally out of food because there had been a storm earlier that week that caused the power to go out; so she had given most of the food from that trip to Antoinette so it wouldn't spoil. So I was glad she had gone to the store that night rather than waiting to the next day like she had originally planned because we were starving. Already, though, Larry was disgruntled because he felt that it wasn't necessary to buy more groceries that night, or at all; so we started off badly because he felt put out I guess. Even though it was my mother who actually paid for the groceries, for us, specifically, to have stuff to eat while we were there. But you could tell he didn't really want us to touch anything. My Mom kept telling us we could eat whatever we wanted because she paid for it, and then he would say things like, "Who ate all my shortbread cookies?". When there were plenty left and they weren't just his at all, he's just so greedy he can't deal with anyone else using up anything. Actually, is it accurate to label him greedy, or should it be cheap? Or both? So, right off the bat he's pissed that my Mom spent money on food for us.

Then, as we're finally getting ready for bed, around midnight, my brother, who had been there before and knew more than I, called out to everyone in general, "Let's not rush out of here in the morning, it's been a long week for me". And how does Larry reply? "You're going to be getting up with me first thing in the morning to get started." Scooter didn't even say anything back. He knew there was no point because it would just be an argument, I guess. Plus, he knew he was driving me to the clinic, so Larry would just have to deal with that. And that is where things really began to turn sour.

I had assumed that there would be WiFi access at Larry's house. It's in Westport, CT, and I figured everyone has Internet nowadays unless you live in the boonies and they don't have access. It just didn't even occur to me that he may not. So I had the address for this place in my computer. All I had to do was get to a place with WiFi; which anyone, who hasn't been living under a rock, would know can be done at any Dunkin' Donuts, McDonalds, or roadside pullover in major cities. But Larry, apparently, is a rock dweller because the man was clueless. He kept asking where the clinic was and I kept telling him that I needed to get on my computer in order to tell him. But he just wouldn't hear that. He kept asking me names of places and asking me if that was familiar. He was listing street names as if I would remember if I heard it. Despite the fact that I had repeatedly told him that I rely entirely on my laptop and I would not recognize the street name because I didn't read it, ever. I wasn't planning on caring until the moment I typed it into the GPS. But the man had clay in his ears. He pulled out a CT phone book and proceeded to bully me into dialing random doctor's offices in Norwalk (where the clinic was located) to ask if they were the clinic. Now, anyone on methadone knows that health care professionals who do not deal with methadone regularly, do not respond well to being asked about it. So he's standing over me, waiting as I ask these random medical receptionists if they know where the Norwalk methadone clinic is. And they're answering me like I'm crazy and really offending them. And this whole thing is making me more and more frustrated by the second. I've told him that I can find it just fine, and that calling all these places is just a waste of time because I can find it on the GPS in, like, five seconds. If he would just let us get going, we'd be back in less than an hour, or we could meet them at the store or wherever. But the man is relentless. Finally, I'm sweating profusely, my face is getting red, I feel sick to my stomach, I want to throw the phone at him; but I walk into the bedroom with him lingering at my heels and I motion to my mother that this has to stop. I'm facing her trying to make a distressed face and the cut-off/stop this motion with my hand swiping across my neck, like "kill me". She does get my point, thank God, and tells him to stop making me call random doctor's offices and let us just get going. He was, as you can imagine, not pleased with me for that. He's the type of guy who does not like to be wrong, especially when the person correcting him happens to be a women (more on that later). I could feel him fuming from the other room, I should have known at that moment that there was no repairing the rift that had been created by me enforcing my will over him, however minutely.

Then, after all that, he decided that HE wanted to drive me to the clinic because then Scooter could get started right away on the chores he had lined up for him. Get this, he planned for my brother to landscape the yard of the home is currently trying to sell with his not quite yet ex-wife. And Scooter has already done other work at his house, he took down his kids' childhood tree house, he cleaned asbestos out of the basement for a day before my Mom found out and put an end to it, and that doesn't even begin to cover the work he did setting up this guy's store. So, anyhow, more on all that later. Right now, I'm trying to write about this guy wanting to take me to the methadone clinic in the middle of this shitty part of Norwalk so my brother can do more work for him. I should mention, also, that it is eight in the morning, and his store doesn't actually open until ten. All his actual employees show up around ten fifteen and take their sweet ass time getting set up; but we, for some unknown reason, have to be there as close to the crack of dawn as possible. He seemed not to accept the fact that we were there for our mom, to see where she lives down there, to check out this business she's dumping money into, and most important, to get to know what this guy she likes is all about. And so far, he's making a really poor impression.

But we finally convince him that it would be best for Scooter to drive me and that we could find it, no problem, once we got to a place with WiFi and those are everywhere. It was like trying to convince someone that worms talk or something. He was dumbfounded by this talk of these newfangled devices called WiFi, Internet, Cell phones, Digital, GPS, it was like he'd rather we took a horse drawn carriage everywhere, for crying out loud. We didn't so much convince him as insist that that was the ONLY way it would work. And as I have said, he was not accustomed to a young women being so assertive and sure of what she wanted. I was being polite, but he was really getting on my nerves. At that point, however, I was still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. I kept telling myself that he'd been through a lot recently and he's was under a lot of stress. But the more I saw him in action, the more I thought he was just an ass. A pompous, misogynistic, self-centered, classist, sexist, greedy, delusional ASS!

I really have to end this installment of the Tale of the Dreaded Westport Weekend. My Mom is finally home and despite how angry I am at her, my brother convinced me, after a little while of being stand-offish with her when she returned, to keep it to myself because she would eventually figure out what an ass he(Larry) is on her own. He and my counselor both said that. I can't make her see this man for what he is. She already knows he treats her terribly, and she's acting the same way she has with so many other pathetic men she's had in her life. It's this shit that made me leave so young to begin with. I often feel as if I stepped out of this house just yesterday, that I may as well still be seventeen because so much is the same. I wanted to believe she had matured, like the rest of us have to some extent. We're all trying, some more successfully than others, to grow up. I guess she's trying too, because outwardly she seems to have changed for the better, at least somewhat. But she just still makes these hideous choices. I'm hoping she will see, in time, that she doesn't need this guy trying to control her. I can't wait to write about the way he treats women. I just promised I would start (and finish) to bake all the Easter stuff. She wants anise cookies, all these Easter breads, sugar cookies, sticky buns, I didn't even look at all the recipes yet. I'm going to be cooking for days. But I owe her, especially since this thing this weekend didn't work out. I'll fill in the details once I have more time. And I'd rather bake than do other things. At least I like baking. And I'm really perfecting some of these recipes, so I can make them for my own family some day.

Anyhow, it's snowing here today. It's going to be a good day. Despite the angry tone of this post, I'm feeling fine today. I didn't write about this weekend until it was processed somewhat for me, so the anger is more what I felt over the past few days. But now I'm just documenting it, and then moving on.

Coming Home to be Housekeeper

I kind of feel like I have accepted a job as a live-in nanny/housekeeper. I knew that part of the reason my Mom was so accepting of Mike and I moving in, with all our dogs no less, was that she wanted help taking care of the house and my siblings. I guess I just didn't realize that by help she meant do everything while she stayed with her new boyfriend three states away.

It should be noted, as well, that all my siblings should be able to care for themselves by now. Should be able to and able to are very different things, however. None of them can hold a job, and they have no way of earning any income, so my mother supports them all. This is not really something she is able to do easily either. They are under the impression that my mother is a bajillionaire. In reality, we are lucky to be considered lower middle class on a good day.

I moved out originally when I was seventeen, partially because I wanted to live with my boyfriend at the time but mostly because I couldn't stand living in the mayhem that had become our life. My parents had just got divorced and my Mom was a basket case. She didn't know what to do with the three teenagers and one pre-teen she was left to raise on her own. She was overwhelmed by all the responsibilities of caring for an enormous, old, falling apart Victorian home. And her heart was broken on top of it all. So it's not surprising that we were all, very suddenly, left to our own devices. And perhaps due to the fact that my parents had, for a time, fancied themselves ritzy, they had taught us shockingly little that would come in handy in the real world. And we all know that the school system doesn't do any of us a lick of good when it comes to filling out job applications or opening a bank account.

I had been lucky in that I had both parents in my life for the longest amount of time. I had also been lucky in many ways (although also unlucky in many ways) because my parents were able to send me to boarding school for most of high school. So I was super fortunate to gain skills there that my brothers and sister just didn't learn. For instance, I have a lot more discipline than any of them because I had to live by very strict rules and uphold firm expectations that taught me perseverance. They are still under the impression that everything should be handed to them on a silver platter, literally. But I really feel like we all didn't learn many skills which could have proved useful when it came time to make lives for ourselves. Our parents were terrible with money, and so are we. Although, I really believe I am accurate in saying that I am the most frugal and thoughtful when it comes to finances. That's really not saying much when the people I'm comparing myself to are members of my immediate family.

For example, my brother owes my Mom a ton of money. He has been living off her with no job for months. He was arrested in Virginia right after Christmas carrying a sawed-off shotgun (long story. But it sounds worse than it was. He was hiking part of the Appalachian Trail and he was in town waiting for a package and he didn't know his gun was a couple inches too short. What an idiot, I know). So he owes my Mom for the lawyer and travelling expenses, the whole lot. And finally he gets his taxes back, and what does he do? First thing, he goes out and buys a PlayStation Three and a bunch of new games. And then he wants to sit three feet from the T.V. in the living room and play video games all day. My Mom is furious, to say the least, and he has no idea why "she's being such a bitch". Can anyone believe that? I find it difficult and I witnessed the whole thing!

Anyhow, back to the overwhelming amount of responsibility I have just recently had dumped into my hands. My Mom opened a household bank account from which I must purchase groceries and any household supplies or necessities. I have to help my brothers get to their appointments and pick up their medication. I have been doing most of the cleaning and cooking when my Mom is home and all of it when she is away. I stacked the wood we just got, and the pellets - after we called around for the best prices. Holy Shit, it's never-ending. If I thought I was a maid to Mikey before, I just didn't know the half of it.

Anyhow, enough bitching and moaning for now. I'm making a pot roast and I'm worried it's not going to be juicy and tender but dry and tough. Oh, I hope not, it's taken hours! And I'm also trying to assemble a cream tart that is going to be done around two a.m. if I'm lucky. Oh, sad you, I'm sure everyone cares just so much about my disastrous life. Not. Until later.

Corporate Greedsters....I hope you choke on your money

I know I complain a lot. I know it's because I did a really bad job of making good choices when I was younger so now I'm paying for it with a life that amounts to barely scraping by and hating most of what I have to do every day. I love being alive when I can enjoy the good things in life, like food, comfort, friendship, animal companionship, and outdoor adventure. And now that I know what I should have done to create the life I wish I had, I'm trying to do that stuff now, but it's harder as you get older to finish school because you still have to pay rent and eat and all that stuff. So I see all these years stretched out before me where not that much changes and I'm still just stuck.

I'm in a really bad mood right now. I'm having female issues and there's no bathroom in the stupid shacks they make us work from - well, there's a bathroom in the back shack but not in the front. So when you have to go to the bathroom, you have to walk about a half a mile to get there. There is also no reliable heat and hardly any insulation so it gets really cold. Then you turn on the heat which blows really hot air right on your head and back until it feels like you're being roasted alive, so you turn the heat off and get cold sweats. Or you can sit with the heat on and the window open until someone comes by and bugs out about wasted energy.

I wish I could have a job that consisted of standing up for what's right in this world. I wish I could feel like I had some way or ability to change all the fucked up shit in this world. Or at least feel like I was trying to change things. Working at a fucking trucking company, I feel like I'm just exacerbating certain issues like poor fuel economy, high food prices, and pollution. Not to mention, by working at a company like this and not standing up for my rights it's as if I'm condoning the way they treat their workers. And not just us security guards, everyone in the whole warehouse except those at the very top get treated like they are no different than a truck wheel or a power jack.

My boss told me last week that he could "force" me to work mandatory overtime on Christmas week. I'm not scheduled to work Christmas. My family lives three hours away, I've already made holiday plans - unless he's going to tie me to the fuckin' chair and puppet my hands across the friggin keyboard - nobody FORCES me to do anything. Nobody but myself can force myself. Is it 1772? Am I a slave? An indentured servant? NO, NO, and NO!!! So Force? I don't think so. I, on the other hand, can force you to fire me and then I can force you to pay me unemployment while I sit at home and half assed pretend to look for a job while I really sit around and watch movies and smoke up all day long. I can force HIM to work Christmas when I call from Boston on the morning of and say I am not going to make it. More money, more responsibility. If no one takes the overtime, it's his responsibility to work the shift, he's the supervisor, I didn't take the f'n job. He's the one who decided to okay someone vacation time over the holiday before making sure it could be covered. Fuck him. This job is not worth it. I only see my family on the holidays. I look forward to it so much. Not to mention my mom is highly emotionally unstable and I am NOT telling her I'm not coming after I already told her I was. This is not a career for me. I can get a ten dollar an hour job anywhere. Sure, I like working alone most of the time - but I'm sure I can find something else where I'm alone a lot only during the daytime, and no holidays. I'm thinking of volunteering at a local humane society until I get my feet in the door, and then maybe when a paid worker quits I could get a job there. I would love, love, love to work with animals. I prefer animals to people more than I should admit.
Fuck, I could work at a gas station and it would be a lot less grief than this. When you don't love what you do, and when a job is not a career, and the pay is shit - it's probably not a good idea to attempt to leverage me with threats. Is he f'n crazy? Then he tells me because I don't have kids I should work the holiday. Can you say "Sue your pants off, asshole?" That's a lifestyle choice I have made consciously. The planet is overpopulated with kids whose parents suck at raising them and I'm going to be punished for opting against adding to the problem? Why not just say all gay people have to work holidays since they shouldn't have kids anyway? Why stop there? What about old people - make them work, they're useless anyway, right, corporate greedsters? Isn't there some sort of organization I can report this place to?

At least OSHA would probably have an issue with no bathroom available to us out front, heat that breaks all the time when we have to go out in the rain and snow. No hazard pay for working nights, outside in inclement weather. We never get safety bonuses like the rest of the warehouse. We have to work alone, in the dark with strange men coming from all over the country. I'm sorry, but I don't think it's asking too much to be compensated for all the risk we encounter. I also don't think it's out of line to want to work in a place which provides the basic necessities like bathrooms and heat. Right in our handbook and on signs all over the facility they claim to provide a safe, healthy, comfortable, and productive working environment. I don't feel safe, it's certainly NOT healthy, absolutely the opposite of comfortable - all of which lessens productivity.

On top of all this, they threaten to fire you if you look into unions activity at all. Human Resources works for the company, not the employee so how, really, am I supposed to feel protected by them? What recourse do I have? Is quitting or getting myself fired the only way?
I know it's not but I just don't know where to begin or if it's even a battle I want to fight. One shitty job is not so different from another shitty job while all I'm trying to do is work my way to the other side of shitty jobs and shitty life altogether. I've aways been a proponent of surrounding oneself with people you want to be like. I really, really don't want to EVER be like any of these people. I do not want to be a corporate slave drone all my life and I won't.

Grrr.

Thirteen Little Burps of Bitching Because My Mind is Good for Nothing Else:

1. Tired, Tired, Tired. Got tricked into working a shift for a co-worker - agreed to it - so stupid! Eight days straight - Need a day off!!

2. So mad at Mikey. He's a....I don't know what he is but when I think of how to describe it I notice I am gnashing my teeth, curling my lip, and growling barely audibly thinking about what I wish I could do to him right now. And they are NOT nice things.

3. Left side of head, above my eye slightly, basically right on my temple is swollen and hurts because above mentioned ASSHOLE thought a normal response to me not wanting to go to a loan appointment, that he made without asking me, was to sucker punch me in the side of the head.

4. You DO NOT punch people when they are not looking at you. Ex. Don't punch someone in the back of the head. If you do, you have no right to feel vindicated because you are a pussy that fights like a bitch.

5. If you are a man or even posing as a man or a very large, mean woman - you are not cool if you hit women. Unless you are totally getting your ass beat and then a little defensive flailing may be acceptable.

6. Boys, if your girl breaks up w/you, and you want to come off as nonchalant, then you need to stay cool, calm, collected. Think 'whatever'. Not, 'Well, fuck you, get out of MY house and give me back my shirt, bitch!'. Everyone knows when you act like that it's because inside you feel sad and ditched and you're scared to be alone. Take it like a man.

7. Settling for anything in life is basically the same as giving up. Is it not worth it or do you feel like you're not worth it? Okay, I realize that doesn't make sense to anyone but me; but not to worry since I am basically the number one reader of my own blog. It's all about me, don't you know?

8. I am writing like this as a list because my brain is frazzled. Have had no sleep. Sat outside in the field by house today for, like, three hours because I knew if I went inside I would massacre Mikey and destroy things of my own in my wrathful smackdown.

9. I haven't lost it like I lost it today in years. But I also haven't been sucker punched in years either. I don't know what the fuck he was thinking. He knows me well enough to know enough to be scared.

10. I may have busted his nose. But only as retaliation. Doh.

11. I am so sick of Mikey's whiny, complaining, never-take-responsibilty for anything, sweaty, pale, lazy, pathetic ass. It's so fucked up that so many people (myself) get stuck in places they don't want to be because even though they (I) work more than full-time we don't make enough money to live alone. It makes me consider prostitution. Oh, wouldn't that be the same thing?

Okay, I had two more points here but I had to come back and edit them because they were a little too mean. So I will reluctantly and awkwardly end here because, well, just because.

13 1/2 Little Thoughts

Everyday I'm all, "Oh, twelve fucking hours, how will I make it?" And now here it is and I'm saying, "Damn, four a.m., swee -eet, only three more hours and I haven't even cracked into the blogosphere".

Sometimes I just can't think of what to write because there are so many images and sentences swirling around in my head that to take just one feels false. So I'm gonna try something a little different.

1. NPR had a show the other day about unemployment blogging. One opinion is that bloggers are selfish, narcissistic, cry-babies. What do you think?

2.Why the hell is society set up in a way that forces us to have to work so fucking much. In our lives, do we spend more time working or sleeping? We sure don't spend the majority of our hours on earth having fun and chilling.

3. I hate police. Sorry if you're a cop, I hate you too. Were you picked on as a child? Yeah, me too and I didn't feel the need to prove myself by joining the biggest gang in the country to get paid to bully people. I know all cops aren't corrupt, but all of them are at least guilty by association.

4. Spring is nice. I like Lilacs and grass.

5. Why do so many men think they should get away w/out paying child support. It annoys me so much that women are held more accountable for children simply because we give birth. We couldn't do that without sperm, so responsibility is 50/50, right?

6. We hear all the time that it's not healthy to sunbathe, it could cause cancer. But are we totally sure that self-tanners aren't going to be found to cause cancer, you know, due to the chemicals which sink into our skin to cause our skin to change color? I mean, too much of anything could not be good.

7. Are there any cases involving search warrants issued due to blog content? Like if you post a pic of a needle in your arm with you sitting outside your house, can they use that to obtain a warrant?

8. Why do they teach such useless crap in school? Why don't they offer classes on topics relevant to everyday life, like tax prep class, home economics type stuff? Instead they spend hours focusing on just the convenient parts of modern history, the bits and pieces which make this country appear fair and progressive.

9. I only mention the next because it consumes so much of my brain power everyday. What is the point of dragging out this pointless, no-win, War on Drugs? They will never succeed in eradicating drugs, just accept it. Especially WEED!!!!

10. How can it be possible that a young, sane looking individual would truly believe that "Your Health Is Your Problem"? Is it simply a matter of not wanting to chip in for the benefit of another, don't want to give away any more tax dollars for those w/out insurance to have access to medical care? I bet the folks who believe such a thought have always been fortunate enough to have health care. I bet they have never been denied insurance due to a pre-existing disorder. I bet they have never made too much money to qualify for state medicaid, yet not been offered employer benefits. Do these folks think that if you break your leg and can't afford to fix it you should just walk around on the broken leg?

11. Annual dog licensing is bullshit!

12. I think it's kind of irresponsible for Brad & Angelina to adopt all those kids and try to raise them all themselves and with nannies. Those kids are going to have mad emotional baggage as adults, though I don't doubt they will never want for anything. Maybe they could pay for families who can't afford adoption to have an adopted child. That way, these kids will have more normal lives and get the attention they need.

13. And last but not least: Why would they have us work 12 hour shifts and tell us we can't leave our post, but then have no bathroom to go to without leaving our post? Therefore I am left no choice but to abandon my post several times a night. Doing so, however, leaves the "Guard" shack unattended when tractors show up. When it gets busy around 4:30 a.m. good luck making it to the bathroom, so I just peed in my coffee cup (I know that is gross, but haven't you ever been in that position. A la soda can in the car? Boys don't count, you have it so easy). I had to pee so bad I was worried I'd overflow the mug and leak onto the floor, all was good. Put the cup in a trash bag to be disinfected at home where Mikey will probably make me throw the cup away, a little Windex, and everything is good as new.

13 1/2. My Mom wears Bulgari perfume and she gave me some for x-mas. I hate to wear it because it makes me feel like my mom because I associate the smell with her. But I ran out of cheap perfume to spray in my shack at work. I have to spray something because the guy who works before me smells BAD!!! Anyway, I sprayed Bulgari past few times at work and all the drivers are commenting appreciatively on the smell. Makes me want to appreciate it more but it's my mommy smell. So it will always by homey not seductive for me.