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.

I Got Answers!

You got questions, folks, well I got answers. No more asking Jeeves, when you can ask, yours truly. Well, okay this little bloggy blog is obviously more about me and not about why pluto isn’t a planet anymore, or why Trump is an asshole(but seriously if you don’t know the answer to that one….stop sniffing paint cans, friends) , AND hey I haven’t written in quite sometime and I feel we need to have another get to know you sesh, by you friendlies getting to know me. Think of it as the touchy feely without the touchy feely.

Lets roll.

What is the best feeling in your world? Letting out a steaming hot pee after drinking Americano’s all day and secretly allowing my sweet anal air whispers to be released after holding them all shift.

What is the first thing you do in the morning? Wake up.

How old are the oldest pair of shoes you own? 11 years folks! I know impressive, right? I got my mukluks from my mom in ’05 and still rock them to this very day. Although they certainly have seen better days and may not have a sole on them, but they are my little lost boy shoes, that I will keep FOR-EV-ER!

What is a weird attribute that you have? I name all my inanimate objects. For example: to grab some food I open  the Mr. Cocoa and for example right now, I am typing this on my Polly whiles sitting on a Ralph. I, however would not describe this as weird as much as I would describe it as unique.

What is/was your favourite Saturday morning cartoon growing up? Gargoyles.

What is your biggest regret? Aside from not taking a whiff of Amy Adams, beautiful locks on set, it would be buying the Backstreet Boys Greatest Hits…CD. Yeah, I don’t want to talk about it…but I will say this. I was depressed, shopping away my problems and in that weak, weak moment I thought they could show me the meaning of being lonely. Instead they should me the meaning of being a loser. Capital L on that too.

What turns you on, spiritually, emotionally, creatively? That’s an intense question. And I have an intense answer. NOTHING! Only joshing, folks. Obi wan-kenobi turns me on, plus he and I are on first name basis now, aren’t we Ben?

Do you have any Phobias? Yes, I do. SMALL ROUND THINGS. They gross me the fuck out. Marbles can die, Maltesers can die, don’t even get me started on peas and cherries. So you are probably thinking…what the fucking, mother fuck, fuck is this girls problem? Its a textile thing really. The feeling of these things in my hands makes me want to cut my hand off and donate it to the Salvation Army. Why? Because nobody fucking wants that shit.

What is one thing you seriously despise? Well, I will give you two. 1) Lines in journals. I absolutely can not toleratethem. Why? Well, I am a creative spirit and although I can colour in the lines on pictures, writing on lines/in between lines/beside lines/or whateverthefuck is not my thing. My writing/the chicken scratch that it is needs to be not restricted. It needs to flow up and down and in circles and spirals and whatever it chooses to do.  Honestly,   my journals look like I had an epileptic seizure trying to spell fu–_@#$%70958h3rck. 2) Would be questions.

What is a word you dislike? Egg. The way it sounds, the muscles in my mouth I have to use to say, how it is spelled. Everything about it really. Did you know all through public school I thought Freddie Mercury died of eggs. Yeah, perhaps that is where my first dislike of the word came from. Eggs, killed a musical, talented, prick. That and Humpty Dumpty is a shit head.

Worst roommate you every had? EV-ER-Y SINGLE ONE! Including my cat, she’s an asshole. (xoxo Olive.)

Is there anything you will not do under any circumstance? RED DRAGONS.

What is the worst pet you ever owned? Caterpillars, fucking caterpillar. What a waste of containers that was.

What is the hardest thing you ever done? MATH! Is that an answer? I am going to use it as one anyways.

What is something you would like to forget? The time I poured my ‘heart; out to my ex  after he pick me up on Halloween. Picture this: Cait, high and druSKhH1Fg1hF-8nk, crying, in a skunk costume, saying to my ex man, You don’t love me anymore.!!! Ugh so gross. I just grossed myself out right there. I hate when I get the feels, and say stupid shit. But my costume was dope and although I lost best costume to the Glitter Fairy Queen, I still had a great night. And he deserved to win anyways.

WELL! There you have it folks, short and sweet just like me! Sure, this one was a quickie but hopefully you left a little more satisfied knowing just a little more about me.

Until next time….

 

First World Problems

Here’s A List.

Just a list of MY first world problems.

These problems are problems that people in third world countries would roll their eyes at.

Therefore these problems, these first world problems, are not really problems worth worrying about.

Yet,alas,I do.

  • Taking the bus.
  • Phone battery dies from playing too much Candy Crush (either that or downloading too much porn).
  • Ty Pennington.
  • Having technology constantly changing, which means new and newer products are coming out all the time. Which means; me and my iPhone 4 are living in the past.Image
  • Realizing how much money I’ve wasted on Poggs.
  • The Red Wedding.
  • The last Batman movie. Unforgivable.
  • Drunken hiccups.
  • Freshman 15.
  • Hangovers.
  • Video Games glitching out.
  • Paying Rent.
  • Rent. (All five hundred, twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of it!)
  • When my beer isn’t on tap.
  • When a keg isn’t tapped.
  • Food babies.
  • Babies. More specifically the thought of a baby emerging from my vagina.
  • Forgetting to chew my food.
  • Not being able to get reception in the elevator.
  • Having to pay for laundry.
  • Being frowned upon when asking a Mongolian child to pump my air mattress in exchange for an acorn.
  • The Nanny.
  • Cleaning bath tubs after four years of never realizing I had to clean the tub.
  • NETFLIX Canadian version.
  • Slimy video game controllers.
  • Cleaning up your pets shit.
  • Cleaning up shit.
  • Having to drink tap water.
  • Twerking. (Now, this I believe, is also becoming a third world issue.)
  • When my birthday gifts begin to turn into what I need instead of what I want.Image
  • Twilight.
  • When any kind of button on sticks together.
  • When anything sticks together. Unless it’s Velcro. (Velcro needs to stick together.)
  • Kathy Griffin.
  • Knowing there is shit going on in the world, but being more worried about how long my iPhone update is going to take.
  • Running out of Q-tips.
  • Having to rub my ass with a leaf, instead of TP.
  • Losing a bet.
  • Being dutch-oven-ed by a man I lay with.
  • Moths.
  • Having to rent a movie because IOS Hunt is down.
  • Santa not getting me anything on my Christmas list.
  • A slow internet connection.
  • Having no beer in my beer fridge.
  • When Starbucks runs out of my usual tall, blonde.
  • Tall blondes.
  • The last three Star Wars Films.
  • Make up running down my face.
  • Make up no coming off my face.
  • Tasting my own sweat.
  • Video game load times.Image
  • Having to pay for weed.
  • Having too many hangers and not enough clothes to use them all.
  • Shoes smelling like feet.
  • Trips to the dentist.
  • Deodorant stains.
  • Toothpaste stains.
  • STAINS in general.
  • JB AND MC.
  • Realizing I forgot my sunglasses while driving into a sunset.
  • Having to say Happy Holidays instead of Merry FUCKING Christmas to strangers.
  • Paying for stamps.
  • Collecting food stamps.
  • Not being able to play an instrument.
  • Soggy cereal.
  • Remembering how I used to eat cereal, but don’t anymore because it gets soggy. (Mmmmm….cereal….)
  • The fact that I get all the questions wrong on Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader. (I still firmly believe they are not children, but genius midgets fooling us all.

Okay folks,

These are just a few of MY first world problems.

What are yours?

Oh here’s another one of my first world problems: having to listen to yours.

Cait Tid-Bits #1

I am going to start trying something a little different now in my blogging. Not worry, I won’t get to sappy. I’m thinking from time to time I will write little blogs here and there revealing things about it. Just little tidbits to let you inside my mind a bit and muck about. 

Here goes!

ImageI despise Ryan Gosling. I DO! I can’t quite put my finger on it either. Part of me things he is completely over-rated and the other part can’t get Young Hercules out of my head. 

All I know is if he Hey Girl‘d me I’ve smack his ass (and no not in a form of coitus).

 

I once confused someone’s fart for a two egg breakfast…

My favourite pass time is sleep.

I am claustrophobic. Like actually so. Getting into an elevator is like shitting out a brick. It’s hard and rough, but somehow I get through it. Airplanes are the worst for me, I’m ordering beers every time turbulence hits. (I once saw a cat on the airplane wing, but that wasn’t the beer)

I play the shit out of video games. Through and through. I can’t rush through any game, I need to find all the nooks and cranny’s. Games with zombies aide me in overcoming me fears of not being able to find hidden gems and achievements. LEFT FOR DEAD my friends, DON’T BE A HERO.

ImageYou know how they say, you are what you eat? Well, after a hearty bowel movement I tend to take a look back, you know to see if she sinks or floats. A couple of times for a couple of days it was all blue. I’m talking about Queen Elizabeth royal blue. I’ve never been able to look a blue sour candies the same again.

After a long 8 hour drive to my grandma’s with 5 passengers and a dog in a crammed vehicle my claustrophobic ass could not wait to get out of the damn clown car. Unfortunately, the old man pushed the breaks a little to far and as I was leaning forward my dog flung backwards and my finger….my poor finger….it was my dogs first unintentional enema. The poor pooch couldn’t look at me for a week.

My grandma knocked me out when I was a wee little lass. After her countless calls for me to go to bed, I put my acting skills to use and pretending to sleep on the couch with my eyes open, while Dallas was on the TV. So be the good, kind lady she was and still is she picked me up by the ankles, carried me up the stairs and my head hit the banister on the way up. Needless to say I was sleeping like bear hibernating.

I stole money from my mom’s purse so that I could buy rocks from my little sister’s rock selling store. I feel it was a terrible investment.

There is this place under my ear, close to my jaw line, that I loved to be kissed on.

In high school, I received a marriage certificate. My husband, Ewan McGregor. My mother’s response: Great Scot! He sure was, wasn’t he.

When my V-card got swiped, I cried like a baby.

The smell of curry makes: my skin shrivel up like a prune, my nose burn, my stomach churn and makes me want to vomit. I would rather eat worms then be near the terrible smell. (For those of you who don’t know, my first experience with Indian food, left me hugging porcelain for three days.)