Cait Interrupted

Hi friends,

Alas, where do I even begin…

Monday I was admitted into emergency. Now, in my mind absolutely no real emergency whatsoever. I say this because, for the last two days I was just indifferent. I felt empty, I felt like any feeling I ever felt was gone and that for the remainder of my so-called life I would always feel just this…just…desolate. Cait’s very own wasteland. A place that used to be bumping full of energy and smiles and happy-go-lucky type shit. Now it’s just nothing. An abandoned amusement park, no longer amusing.786e44a15f57dded1b6359cd0e6cfd32

This year has been quite the rollercoaster to say the least and fuck do I ever hate using that metaphor, but it is so true. Up and down, then stalls, then up and down, then some bitch loses her phone because she’s a fucking idiot for trying to take a selfie with a phone……UGH!!!!!!!!!!! This ride isn’t fun anymore.

I called my mom on Monday. I was sad. I often call mom when I am sad. I don’t mean too, and I hate to have her feel helpless because she isn’t here, but there are only few people I feel semi-okay/butnotreally/butitstheclosestIwillgettofeelingcomfortablewithsomeone.

If mom is busy, I call the ex. Now, before you guys go to any conclusions let me explain something to you. My ex and I have been broken up for two years now. In the beginning I would do my best not to call him in these moments, simply because I didn’t want him to feel used. I didn’t want him to feel like I only called him because for 8 years we were together and it was routine, it was comfort. However, he knows me. He knows I’m incredibly stubborn, he knows I hate feet, he knows the scars on my body (inside and out), he knows about my secret obsession with nutcrackers (shhhhh it’s a secret!). He just knows me. He perhaps, is my closest confidant.

On Monday, after being on the phone with my mom, I called the ex. We decided it was time to take me in. Where folks? TO THE LOONY BIN OF COURSE! Kidding! I get I’m crazy, but I am not quite girl interrupted yet. Hospital it is.

On the way to there, I was thinking two things: 1) This isn’t a real emergency? 2) So craving a Happy Meal…

We get there and it isn’t busy one bit. Thank gawd too. I would hate to have someone with a machete in their head or someone birthing a goat have to wait on me just because I am having a sad, sad day.

I was shocked. And I don’t know why I was so shocked, but when I got there everyone was so comforting. The nurses seem to genuinely care about my well being. They didn’t want me to leave, they didn’t want me to feel sadness anymore, they truly wanted to help me. So much in fact they bumped me up before a sick baby. Sorry sick baby, but Cait’s a baby too….

They brought me in to see a psychoanalyst. I forget her name, but she was quite lovely. They also brought in a general physician.I was broken friends. I couldn’t stop feeling sad, I couldn’t stop crying. How did I let it get to this point? ME! Cait the mother fucking great, the toughest cookie in town was crumbling.

I talked to ….lets call her Miss Lovely (psychoanalyst). She truly was lovely. She seemed to have compassion for me, she wanted to understand, she genuinely was listening to all my words and ramblings. She asked me questions, upon questions, but for once I didn’t mind. She asked me about my drug use, I was honest. About my diet, I was honest, about any past or present relationships and in that I tried not to share. I tried not to be honest, but in the end she knew the whole story.

Miss Lovely, then talked to the ex. Since he knows me best, sometimes I think better than I know myself. They both came in a short time later.

I will now be going to an outpatient treatment center. Just to have someone to talk to once 3a51a-depressiontwo8-2in awhile. Someone who can hopefully help me sort out my shit. Someone who is either willing or at least paid to listen to my stories (and I got lots of them stories).

It was funny, on the drive home, the ex turn towards me and… Miss Lovely was so fuck foxing, I should got her number….ugh!!!!! BOYS!!! We had a laughed. He dropped me off, helped cleaned my place a bit, tucked both Bear and I into bed and then it was Tuesday. A new day, still a sad one, but then it’ll be Wednesday, then Thursday, and if it’s true what They say (who ever They are), every day gets better. And I’ve finally taken steps to get better myself.

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Alright, folks. I must, MUST tell you all about a date I had recently. As you guys know by now I am single and although I am not quite ready to fla-mingle and get into another relationship, I’ve been hitting up the dating scene. I mean fuck, why not….free dinner, free movie….right?

Now, I am not really one for dates. Perhaps it has to do with never really going on one. My last relationship lasted eight years, and I can’t even remember us going on a date ever. Any who, so ya dating scene, is so not mine, but hey, it’s 2016, gotta stretch out a bit and try new things.

Lets get to the story now.

So I knew this guy, lets call him Bruce. Now, that is so not his name at all, but I always thought he looks like a Bruce. I always pictured Bruce’s as big burly men, slightly toned, but not enough to be a juice head. Bruces should be tall, polite, and mysterious. They generally have big foreheads, short brunette hair and only wears glasses to read.

So Bruce and I have known each other for years. In fact, he was one of the first people I met when I moved out here back in ’05. We went to the same university, and for the first two years in school we were involved in each other’s social circle. Eventually, he left to do a field study across the world. We kept in touch through emails, Facebook and even writing letters. (YASSS, it’s true, I still write letters.) 

When he came back a year later, we didn’t really see too much of each other. We had different majors, I made new friends, and he made new friends. We just drifted apart.Don’t worry friends, it’s not a sad drift. We just didn’t really have much in common anymore.

So flash forward to 2016.

I was getting fitted for a costume for this ‘Masquerade’ scene for a terrible, terrible movie. (Hint: 50 shades of terrible). While the designer was sewing me into a gigantic gown, I noticed a Bruce size man across from me. He was being attended by another lady. This Bruce size man, was wearing a mask and a tuxedo. (OH so mysteri-o-so). Not going to lie, I was slightly turned on.

To my surprise this Bruce size man was having the time of his life. He was smiling, chatting up the costume fitter and then he started to sing. Wait for it……When the moon…..is in the southern sky….and Jupiter aligns with Mars……

I couldn’t help but have a laugh. Just a little. So as he is singing, and as I am watching this Bruce size man do so, I belt out…. Age of Aquarius! Hey, can you blame me. This lady had been sewing me into this gown for what felt like hours, and this Bruce size man was my only form of entertainment. On top of that, I wanted to bang him.

He looked up at me. He smiled. Looked down. Then back up. Then back down. And did this rrepeatedly for a time. What a fucking wierdo…..Then he looks back up one more time….and…..Caitlin Ann! It is you? What the fuck is this man going on about. Of course it’s me, it’s been me since ’87. But who the fuck is this dude? Caitlin Ann, it’s me, Bruce. SFU? Resident buddies? Book club? HOLY FUCKBALLS! Took me a second to realize it was him. It’s the mask, man. Sorry it’s been too long my friend. {Side note: I never belonged to the book club officially, I just went for the food.}

Now I am all for conversation. I am also all for shooting the shit with strangers. But I am also for this lady to stop sewing me in this gown, and for this semi- awkward conversation to be over.Luckily it was. His fitting was done. FUCK MY LIFE! Now, I’m going to be on set with this fucker…Let me just clarify some things here. He’s a nice guy, I like him, but I wasn’t looking forward to making up small talk with an old friend. On top of that, my want to tap his ass, lasted a span of seconds and I was over it.

So yadadada…yadada….get on set…..shit happens…..yadada yadada….asks me on a date…..yada yada yadada….

Flash forward to the date.

Havanas on Commercial (Already, Bruce is getting points.) I LOVE HAVANAS. However, he loses points when I have to meet him there, because he still rides a bicycle.(Yay, for being environmentally friendly, but nay for being a pain in the ass for pedestrians and drivers everywhere).

So I arrived late, which is incredibly unlike me. I am usually the first bitch on the scene, but I wanted Bruce to know, that I have changed. That I am now, a woman, no longer a girl. No longer, Caitlin Ann but, Cait. 

Hes there already. Of course he is.

He greets me. Now, I’ve should have known it in this moment that this wasn’t going to be worthwhile. He walks over, arms wide open, gives me a hug and… wet willies my ear. MY FUCKING EAR. DUH FUCK?! I haven’t been wet willied since Full House fucking ended. I seriously felt violated. On top of his gross nasty ass fingers, being inside my ear, I haven’t cleaned my ears in months. Ugh…..

Moving on.

We get a table. He pulls out a chair as though it is for me and then proceeds to sit on the chair himself. He then laughs. DUH FUCK? Is this kid playing with me. Who the fuck are you? We are damn near thirty and so far you finger banged my ear, and teased me with a chair. So I quickly order myself a scotch (two of them, both doubles). 

So we for the most part we were just catching up. But he was constantly interrupting everything I was saying. LIKE EVERYTHING. I’m all for two sided conversations, ya know. I don’t want to hear my voice all the time, but I also don’t want to hear someone else’s cutting me off. At some point the conversation was becoming one sided. In fact, Bruce compiled all his stories of the last 9 years, we haven’t seen each other. Get this, Bruce pulls out a fucking piece of paper, that had a list of what he wanted to cover. NO JOKE! He opened it up and went down the list. I heard everything, from his time in Austrailia, his threesome in New Orleans, his Masters Degree, the time he stole a gerbil from a pet store and sold it too his coke dealer, toilet papering his ex’s house, the new book club he’s the Chairman of, his Halloween costume of every year since and the list goes on and on and fucking on…..Friends, this was so exhausting. I tried not to listen, but killing kittens would have been easier.

Alas, now we are eating. Maybe with food in his mouth, I can enjoy my meal. Nope! Not even close. He talked about where he is now in his life. How much money he has, all the people he knows, where he lives now…So I ordered myself a couple more scotches (singles this time, I have to drive after all).

By the time the bill came, Mr.Money Bags, has forgotten his wallet. (Mic Drop). I was actually shocked. I grab the bill and just as I am about to grab my card, he orders himself another beer. As much as I wanted to bounce ASAP I wasn’t going to stiff the server. I paid.

Ladies and gentlemen! PRIZE FOR THE DOUCHIEST OF DOUCHE BAGS, GOES TO THIS FUCKWAD RIGHT HERE!

So bills paid, we walk out together, asks me to come over. I decline. I let him know it was ‘interesting’ catching up and I wished him all best and B lined for my car.

How the fuck did I think going on a date with this lad would be fun?I mean we drifted apart years ago, why would I even entertain rekindling an old friendship. Honestly, what the fuck was I thinking. Not a great date. Not by any means.

Definitely swipe left for this fuck, GEEZE!

 

Freebee #5

I’ve been in a relationship now for almost 5 years. Come July 6th, me and my honey will be able to do something I look forward to every anniversary! No it’s not bumping naughty bits or actually celebrating the day with ‘togetherness’ and all the couply mushy shit, This is something far more greater, far more necessary, it’s adding another celebrity Freebee to our list! CAN’T WAIT! I know, I know, like I’ll ever be able to diddle Ewan McGregor’s light saber or have Adam Carolla drop a digit on me, but hey a girl can dream can’t she.

Now here’s my problem. Every year we add another freebee to our list, but I am troubled with who to choose. Nothing else matters in the world right now people! I need to figure out who my new celebrity freebee will be 2 months from now before the world can continue living.

First, I think it’s best I share my list thus far.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (AKA Ewan McGregor). Since Moulin Rouge I’ve fallen in love with this man and have not been able to escape it. He’s sexy, climbed out of the dirtiest toilet in Scotland, he can sing, he can move, he is in naked in half the films he makes, plus STAR WARS! HELLO! I was so obsessed with this man in high school, I made myself a marriage certificate where I hyphenated my last name with his, I wrote his name all over my binder and seriously considered getting a tattoo in a discrete location so that one day when we would meet, he would know I was his (or run the fuck in the other direction).

Conan O’Brien. This ginger gets me going. I don’t know if it’s because he’s funny as fuck or he has legs for days and make jeggings look reasonable. Sure, I would probably only measure up to his waist, but hey most men appreciate that, guys would rather have a girl head to head opposed to face to face. 

Jason Bateman: He’s adorable! He does great films, not in the public eye too much, definitely handsome and funny! I’m telling ya, boys that make me laugh deserve to be in my life just as much as I deserve to be in theirs! Fuck, I love funny people.

Adam Carolla: This Ace man is saucy, sexy(mainly because he doesn’t know he is), he actually works, he is a racist/set in his ways (although I just see it as honesty) and he complains about everything. I used to think I hated complainers and couldn’t stand them worth shit, but when Carolla does it he’s worth a shit or two. 

Now who to add next too my list! SO MANY CHOICE!

I really admire Seth MacFarlane! He’s easy on the eyes, can sing, dance, funny and you know he has got to have a huge tube steak!

Patrick Warburton you may not recognize his name, but you will recognize his voice. It’s deep, low, and sound like a black man pretending to be white. Any man, who has a voice like that makes me melt in more ways than one. He’s also a big guy, who could carry me like a princess, that is a bonus!

Finally the last person I’m seriously considering to be in the running is Zac Efron. Please understand this is a more of a eye candy thing, no substance. He might be funny, might be funny, I don’t fucking know, I don’t even know the guy. He’s body says he could slam me in a mattress and that is all I need.

Thoughts friends? I would ask my boyfriend for assistance, but the fact he has Anne Hathaway and Laura Linney on his list doesn’t make me want his input!

 

Sandy Sweet Dreams

A couple weeks ago I had the worst nightmare in the ENTIRE WORLD! Please let me exaggerate on this one.

In my dream, WAIT! HOLD ON! I got a beef to pick with Mr. Sandman here. Sandman or Sandy (as I call him), is supposed to make you fall into your sweet, sweet Slumber Land, giving you happy dreams of unicorns and Obi-wan Kenobi’s slaying Care Bears with his giant Jedi lightsaber. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED SANDY! Apparently, he decided to take a night off…meh who can blame the lazy fucker anyways

So with Sandy pushing my needs aside, my subconscious took over. (By the way subconscious-Fuck you, your drunk)

My Dream:

ImageThere is me, with a big belly. Like big enough to knock a mother fucker out. I’m wearing no make up. I’m in a hospital. My boyfriend is there. He tells me I am pregnant. I freak out, because I didn’t even know I was knocked up.Plus I’ve been killing it at the gym and now all those ass-kicking moments of me staring into the mirror while I lift my 2lbs of weights is wasted. Now,I got a big ass belly and an alien is just about to burst through my loins. (fuck you loins, fuck you baby alien).  I’m determined to go natural (fml). Nothing is making sense. Swiftly and without much pain, I release the beast from my gaping vagina. Pick up this kid which squirts blood all over my face. SHIT JUST GOT REAL! Then…..

I wake the fuck up!

No, shitheads, I’m not pregnant and I don’t plan on shitting out kids anytime in the near Imagefuture. But this so-called dream freaked me the fuck out. I wish I was officially afraid of the cock. I don’t need no seed implanting itself into my watering hole. However, I realize this cannot be so, as I need my daily dosage of my man’s cum gun. (Yasmin you’ve been good to me so far, don’t let there be a Mr. 1%).

I know I’m dramatic. But I’m an actor, what do you expect.

Anyways, whenever I have a dream and/or nightmare that sticks out in my mind, I have a tendency to dwell on the nightly visions until I look them up, either that or speak to my psychic Ima FulloShyt. So since it has been a couple weeks since this dream and Ima FulloShyt is out of town, I pulled out the old dream dictionary, (by pulled out, I mean I Googled)

***

Here are my findings:

If you dream you are pregnant it symbolizes:

You’re growing and developing. (Um no shit Sherlock, I’m on my way to menopausal.)

The birth of a new idea. (Yeah, I got some ideas, but I’m too retro for new ideas.)

If you dream of giving birth it symbolizes:

Fresh beginnings. (No matter how fresh beginnings are, they will never be as fresh as my farts or my vagina.)

Anticipation or anxiety when thinking about birth. (No really? I always thought giving birth would feel like 10 Asian oiling up my body for a shiatsu massage, plus the possibility of finally having a wide set vagina really makes me want to baby make like Easy Bake)

If you see a baby in your dream it symbolizes:

The pure, vulnerable and non-corrupt side of yourself. (Could I really be a virgin?)

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ALRIGHT! Enough of this Dreamology crap.  From now on, I’ll be sleeping with a dream catcher under my pillow, blankets between my legs, and I’ll make sure to take a shot of some illegal knockyouthefuckout through a tranquilizer dart to fill my head with happy thoughts before I hit the bed. Either that or masturbate (nothing like a good workout before bed).