The Official Rules Of Lisa: Part One

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Prior to the full moon, people are often lining up to start fights with me. If they aren’t outright starting fights (By the way, if you do attempt to start a fight via text message, e-mail, or Facebook messenger, you’re nothing more than a punk ass bitch.), they are rude, combative, or just plain bitchy. I don’t have time for that level of crap and I have even less time for drama, so I’ve made a list of official rules for people to understand my basically non-existent tolerance levels.

  • I am NOT a morning person. If you want to be met with sugary cheerfulness or anything more than a grunt or a mild “Good Morning.”, I am NOT your girl. Go to a bakery for the sugar. Come back around 5:00 PM when I am usually quite civilized.
  • When I have a migraine and you make any kind of noise within a half-foot radius of me, I have contemplated killing you and/or throwing heavy objects in your general direction. Blasting music or the radio at decibel levels that match a whale (Google it.), vacuuming, slamming doors, raising your voice, cooking or preparing anything with a strong smell, fucking with the temperature so I can’t breathe, etc., is pushing my buttons. Every single sound is like a freight train moving through my skull (Even my cats’ purrs nauseate me, and I LOVE them to bits.) and you’re not helping matters. I may not have killed you yet, but I’m thinking about it long and hard. I’ve already prepared my insanity plea.
  • When I am in physical agony due to a Fibromyalgia flare-up, which, much like a migraine, is completely out of my control, please don’t ask me how my day was when you can see the pain etched on my face. If I have managed to get out of bed and cook a meal, realize the gift that is and don’t yap at me. Take insane demands somewhere else until I am no longer suffering the effects of brain fog and can lance you with the truth, as opposed to your version of the truth.
  • I internally laugh out loud (Okay, I cackle with laughter.) when people offer to cook for me. Honestly! Order a pizza because I am silently judging you for not being as good a cook as I am. Yes, this might make me a terrible person (I don’t care if it does, really. Hell and I are well acquainted and Lucifer has an iron-clad restraining order.), but I hate eating things I can’t taste or that have questionable ingredients in them. It drives me insane. It’s nice of you to offer, but let’s not joke about serious matters. #FoodieThatCooks
  • If I am having difficulties sleeping, do we really need to point out the obvious? No, we do not. Insomnia is not a choice. Keep it moving.
  • I am direct and honest about what I suffer from and to what extent. Don’t ever question it. It’s not on the table for discussion, EVER. I’d never question someone saying they weren’t feeling well because quite frankly, it’s fucking rude. I’ve never said “It’s just laryngitis. You’re fine.” or “It’s just a cold, get over yourself.”
  • I’ve NEVER used a migraine as an excuse to not do something. I have NEVER used Fibromyalgia as an excuse not to do something. Are they legitimate reasons I cannot function a great deal of the time? Yes, but they are not “excuses”. If you insinuate such, there is something fundamentally wrong with you. Live in my shoes for six months, suffer this pain every single day, and we’ll see who’s making excuses then, okay?
  • Precisely WHO do you think you’re screwing with?!
  • Sometimes people develop verbal diarrhea. Bottled up craziness comes flying out of their mouth, as you watch on in morbid disbelief. You’re not sure whether to get a hose and clean them off or to just let them spew like a psychopath. If you behave this way around me and I walk away, you’re not “winning the argument”, because there isn’t one. I’m not “hiding from you”, either. I am choosing to be the adult and walk away until you have showered away your psychosis because murder is still illegal in this country and orange is NOT the new black.
  • Interestingly enough, the people who tend to behave like this are also the same people who never hear the crap they say to you. They are “perfect”, “innocent”, and “absolute angels”; according to them. They’re full of kindness and compassion. They’re full of something all right, but it’s neither kindness nor compassion. Save your raging vitriol for therapy because I will not accept that kind of treatment. I don’t care who you think you are.
  • One of my official rules is that I am supremely loyal, until you do something to terminate that loyalty. If you’re talking about me behind my back, verbalizing issues you have regarding me without speaking to me first (Venting is one thing, but NOT when it gets back to me.), or you’ve gone as far as to put those words in print, thinking I won’t find out about it; THINK AGAIN. The CIA’s got NOTHING on a Scorpio woman. I have ways of finding things out that will downright terrify you.
  • Don’t say things you cannot take back. I’m listening, and there are a lot of things I will NEVER be able to un-hear because they’re unforgivable. In the heat of the moment we have all said something unpleasant, rude, or wrong to someone else, usually a loved one. One of the things I respect about myself is my ability to apologize when I hear how I sound, which is usually quickly. If you cannot accept an apology, which is a basic human response that says “Hey, I’m not perfect either.”, then there’s something wrong with you. #1- We’re not all psychotically obsessive compulsive about the small stuff and #2- You have no right to judge me unless you are 1000% flawless. No one is, not a single living being on this planet, so accept the apology like a human-being. You’re not a flawless diamond, and neither am I.
  • Being truly genuine is rare, but it’s precisely how I am. I don’t need a pat on the back for doing something nice, or for doing the right thing(s). I simply do them. If you are keeping score, doing something nice only to throw it back in someone’s face at a later date, or anything else that is blatantly disingenuous, then do everyone a favor and don’t do anything because it is immensely hurtful to have anyone try to keep score like that. If you’re heartless, by all means, keep on being heartless. It’s your prerogative. I’ll pray for you.
  • The world doesn’t revolve around you, or me.
  • If you are going to be fake, please don’t do it around me. I don’t have the time, patience, or the inclination to be phony. Life is short, and it’s getting shorter every minute.
  • If you’re angry about something, USE YOUR WORDS. Being violent (ie: Throwing things at people) and nasty (verbally) isn’t acceptable when you’re a toddler, so why should it be acceptable for an adult?
  • I do not forgive the unforgivable. I find that incredibly unhealthy. And I NEVER forget. That’s not stupid, that’s wisdom.
  • If you want respect, try giving it. It’s something that has to be earned.
  • My personality is different from pretty much anyone you’ve ever known; as it should be. Dry wit is not rude or sarcastic. If I’m being sarcastic, I’ll be the first to say so, but don’t assume that everything I think or say is sarcastic or rude. If you cannot appreciate my presence or sense of humor; by all means, fuck off.
  • I don’t have to be YOU in order to live my life. Once again, life is short. I’m seeking happiness, not another source of abuse.
  • Communicate. Appreciate. Validate. And stop being a bitch/asshole. It’s unattractive.

copyright © 2016 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Silence, Leaf Blowers, & Sunday Dinner

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Waking up this morning, I had a plan. Thus far, that plan is at a standstill as I am still dealing with yesterday’s migraine. In turn, all I wanted was silence, in all its perfect glory. This, of course, is where the leaf blowers come in, and threaten to make me sicker.

After doing some mundane things earlier on in the day, the sound of three (I wish I were joking) leaf blowers on my property became unbearable. I was in the kitchen at the time doing some early prep for Sunday dinner, otherwise I might not have heard them in the back of the house, which is where I do most of my work.

I glanced out a window after a while because the noise was getting louder and closer, and there were no less than six people on my front lawn, three of whom had leaf blowers. I cannot tell you how annoyed I was, but I decided to let it go. If you can’t shoot people for being idiots, you might as well let them look like the idiots they truly are as they mind someone else’s business on a suburban street for all to see.

Yesterday my vile next door neighbor took it upon herself, as she does every Fall, to break out the leaf blower and blow every leaf off of her property onto mine. She blew them halfway to the middle of the front lawn, as if they magically got there on their own. Who does that, you ask? Someone not entirely sane.

She pretended she didn’t see me go to the mailbox before she started this nonsense, that I hadn’t answered a question when her husband stopped me to ask about my brother’s surgery, as he visited him in the hospital last week, and that she had not seen me Friday night when I came home from running errands. She was too busy gossiping, but believe me when I say her eyes are always on me and my business. As my brother would say “Don’t watch me, watch TV.”

Today, she did the same thing with the leaves, except this time she, her husband, and several other members of her family bagged the leaves up, because apparently they have nothing better to do on a Sunday morning. There are eighteen bags of leaves sitting at the end of my driveway, as if she did a good, neighborly thing out of some semblance of goodness that I can attest, does not exist. She put three bags in front of her driveway and the rest in front of mine, as if I am blind. She wants it to be obvious that she did it, but I’m smart enough to know her motives.

Don’t get me wrong, if this was a genuine move, I would be quite appreciative. I cannot afford to be an ungrateful bitch, and I’m not. However, she knew I was home. There were two cars in the driveway before she started and after she finished. There are several other houses on this street that could have used her brand of “assistance”. The neighbor next door lost her husband in April and is having a difficult time. I would think it would make a hell of a lot more sense to help her as she’s visibly struggling with such a severe loss, so believe me when I say this was far from genuine. If I were going to help someone, I would be doing the yard work for the other neighbor whose husband used to do to it for her and their family. That, at least, makes sense.

Here’s the issue, apart from my desperately needing quiet; This isn’t her house. If the leaves from my trees bother her, tough shit. They aren’t hurting anything or anyone, and there is no mandate in this township that says when or if you must bag up leaves or not. It is November, and it’s early November at that. The leaves can be bagged up for pick-up, if one chooses, well into mid-December. Generally the majority of mine get removed in early Spring because I’m not so OCD that it needs to be perfect. In fact, I’d prefer the chipmunks have leaves lying around in case they need them. Moreover, I have more important things to think about at the moment, and raking leaves is extremely low on the totem pole of thought. But hey, if she wants to waste over two hours, have at it. It will get colder, the wind will continue to blow, because hurricane season is not yet finished, and she’ll be back at it in a week or two weeks from now because both trees out front are FULL of leaves. They’re going to keep falling. It makes no sense to bag leaves up more than once, if one is going to do it at all.

Instead of treating me like a human-being that exists, she does this because the leaves bother her (God forbid a leaf get on her new car! The woman, I kid you not, threw a party to show her new car off to anyone and everyone, as if she hadn’t been driving a relatively new car before this. Did you just shake your head at the craziness of such a stunt? It’s very similar to driving around with the sale’s sticker on your car for months.), and what’s more, it bothers her that I do not say a word to her, not in English any way. I lack the ability to be polite to people once I’ve seen their true colors. I’m contemplating slipping a note under her husband’s windshield wiper when I go out tomorrow morning to thank him for bagging up the leaves, despite the fact that I know he wouldn’t do all that work on his own since he’s due for knee replacement surgery any day now. She thinks she’s being cute, but she has no idea who she’s screwing with. I should have taken video or photos, because if you’d seen the behavior as she barked orders at her minions, I mean family, you’d understand my reaction. I strongly suggest she see a doctor and get her medication adjusted.

Now that it is quieter, I am still hearing leaf blowers (and lawn mowers) throughout the neighborhood. It’s kind of like dogs that all bark in sync the second the mailman is on the street. If I knew where my ear plugs were, I might be able to quell some of the nausea the noise is inducing.

On the flip side, I LOVE preparing Sunday dinner, but since it’s just me (my brother won’t be eating solid food for quite some time and Case Study #2 is on his way to the airport.), I broke it up into three meals to prolong the culinary delights. I still have mushrooms to saute, some additional veggies to chop, and the centerpiece of it all to throw together. If I can get my stomach to settle down, dinner will be awesome and continue to be awesome for a few nights. 🙂

I have so many friends who don’t understand my love for cooking (My cousin once asked me how to make corn on the cob. I tried hard not to laugh as I explained the simplicity of it.), or who don’t cook at all, which is why I’m the one that feeds them when they visit, or when I visit them. Cooking is merely another art form I enjoy, it’s a skill set that not all people have. That doesn’t mean I don’t scoff when a friend of over 20 years happens to let me know that she’s learning how to cook for her husband. I had to explain that when cooking, you need to cleanse the palate in order to be able to taste what it is you are making and gauge the seasoning accordingly. When I received a giggly, moronic response, I rolled my eyes and have tried my level best to keep my mouth shut since. If you’re public with your stupidity, or you advertise it via social media, don’t expect me to pretend I didn’t just hear what you said. Don’t hand-feed the writer material!

And on that note my loves, I am off to the kitchen once more to put all of the finishing touches on one of my favorite meals. Buon appetito! 🙂

copyright © 2015 by Lisa Marino & Blackbird Serenity LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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